This second woman, presumably a sister—maybe even a twin, Bert wondered—had her own silver hair cut short, creating a line with her excellent cheekbones. A splash of red rouge on the cheeks and darkened eyelashes showed that she wore makeup when Susan didn’t. Moreover, she wore a pair of high waisted jeans with a grey blouse that had embellished frills in the front.
It was a sight different from the flowing dress and scarves of the first woman.
She stomped over, a folder clutched so tightly in her hands that it was bending. Upon spotting Bert standing there, she attempted to calm the angry creases along her weathered face. She gave a half-hearted smile before turning to Susan and looking up at her. “I just finished looking over your budget for the grand opening party.”
“Karen, can’t you see that I’m with a customer?” Susan insisted with a bob of her head toward Bert. “Whatever this is about, it can wait until later.”
Karen looked at Bert again with a pained smile. “I’m so sorry about this.” Her attention was then immediately turned back toward Susan, stepping closer and making an unintentional point of showing off that she was shorter. “No. We need to discuss this now.”
“Absolutely, not. Our friend, Bertha from a few streets over, is seeking my help with a new recipe.”
“No, this is urgent. This affects the business,” she hissed, growing impatient and doing a poor job of keeping up any kind of happy front for the sales floor.
“Business? I don’t think you have any place to tell me about business.”
Karen put her hands on her hips defiantly. “What?”
“Who won the Better Business Award?”
“I don’t give a . . .” her voice trailed off, stopping herself before she swore in front of a customer. At the very least, she knew that was unbecoming. She chewed her lip, smearing the pink lipstick there slightly, and Bert wondered if she might just chew right through it. “Now, Susan, or I’m shutting the store down early today.”
Susan rolled her eyes openly. “Very well, sister.” She turned to Bert, pulling a pamphlet out of her dress pocket. “I’m so sorry about this, Bertha. I do hope this doesn’t deter your business.”
“Oh, of course not,” Bert said, putting her at ease.
Susan held out the pamphlet. “My advice is to sign up for my wildcrafting course that I teach here at the shop on Thursday evenings. Well, it’s more than wildcrafting. It is sort of an introductory class to various topics including healthy eating, beneficial movement, cooking, the works. I’ll be teaching other courses down the line that go into more specifics about each topic. There’s a one-time enrollment fee that you’ll be required to pay on the day of the first class. Everything you need to know is here.” She pressed the pamphlet into Bert’s hand.
“Thank you,” she replied quietly, unsure of the offer. She hadn’t intended to sign up for a night class. After all, she had so much work to do already. She just wanted to buy a few herbs and spices for her recipe.
Susan seemed to read Bert’s concern. “Trust me. You’ll get the best ideas for herb and spice combinations from my class, as well as how to pick your own wild plants and herbs. If you’re interested, the sign-up sheet is just over there on the counter.” She pointed, and then with a little nod, she followed her red-faced sister off to the back room.
“Talk about sibling tension,” Bert whispered to herself.
Chapter 2
Bert had intended to head right back to the shop to help Shiv with the post-lunch cleanup. Many people who worked downtown often stopped in for a tasty baked treat during their lunch hour and it was always quite an ordeal. Shiv often had to push Bert out the door for her to even get any sort of break in the day.
However, instead of heading straight back, she found herself distracted by the pamphlet.
Her first impression had been to just forget the class altogether. She had no desire to spend her evenings—her only free time—taking some sort of course in plants. What would she end up doing with the information after all, besides a touch of cooking?
However, as she looked over the highlights, she was intrigued.
Not only did the class have full segments on cooking and mixing herbs, but also about how to find and pick local plants that worked wonderfully in a variety of dishes. What really intrigued Bert, however, was the focus on health.
It seemed the class also acted as a crash course in the healing properties of plants, as well as the benefits of specific kinds of exercise for older women. Bert was in her early sixties, but she had been thinking over and over how she could get a little more activity in her day.
Perhaps the class would help with that.
It wasn’t like she was feeling sick, but she did feel a tad sluggish in the evenings and had been simply compensating with more coffee. She wanted to get away from coffee as a crutch and find some good new healthy habits to boost her daily energy.
After, finishing reading through the bullet points for the third time, she decided on it. Slipping the pamphlet into the front pocket of her purse, she walked over to the counter where she spotted someone else already leaning over and inscribing their name on the sign-up list.
Bert waited patiently for her to finish.
“Signing up?” the woman asked with a lopsided smile that looked a tad unnatural.
“Yep, you?” Bert asked, being genial.
“Just finished signing my life away,” she joked, handing the pen over.
“Thanks.” She leaned over the sheet, seeing about three other names already listed in addition to her own and the woman who’d just signed it. Tayler Haddie was the woman’s name, jotted out in jagged and scribbled handwriting.
She stood behind Bert, almost pressing up against her without realizing it, in a green form-fitting top and a long black skirt. Her hair was cut short, very short, to an old-school Hollywood bob that didn’t quite match the woman’s face. Speaking of her face, she wore heavy make-up in dark colors as if she were trying to cover up the obvious wrinkles of age.
Bert could tell the woman had good taste but hadn’t executed any of it well. It was a shame really because she wasn’t so bad looking for someone who was likely in her fifties or sixties.
“You ever taken a class with Susan Green before?” Tayler asked, leaning a bit too close for Bert’s comfort.
She took a step sideways to give a little room between them, all while attempting to be nice. “No, I haven’t. Didn’t she just open up her business?”
Tayler nodded. “She did just open for business, this shop anyway.” She pointed around the room.
“So, she was teaching classes before this?” Bert supposed that must have been how she’d been awarded the Better Business Award.
“Yes, ma’am. As a matter of fact, she held apprenticeships on her farm for the past twenty years.”
“Apprenticeships?”
“Yes. Teaching people wildcrafting, herbal remedies, and cooking all first hand. Apprentices stayed out there with her for a full month.”
Bert was honestly taken aback. It sounded like Susan knew what she was doing and had run a successful business for years. Having grown up on a farm herself, Bert knew just how much work it could be. While she’d originally had her doubts, she was liking the idea of this class more and more.
“I’m telling you, she’s the best in the business.”
“Oh, you’ve taken classes with her?” she asked, honestly interested to hear the opinion of someone else who’d been through the course.
“You bet. I apprenticed with her, in fact.”
“That’s awesome.” Bert paused, a curious question popping up in her mind. “But if you spent a month on the farm, why are you taking classes now?”
“Oh, I only made it through a few days of the apprenticeship. My mom got suddenly ill and I had to leave the farm.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, she’s in heaven now and much happier for it, I’m sure.”
Bert couldn’t help but in
stinctively touch the little gold cross beneath her shirt she always wore. “I understand completely.”
“Anyway, it looks like we’re going to be classmates.”
“I guess so.”
The woman stepped close again, making Bert uncomfortable. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “But you should probably know, Susan Green can be pretty harsh.”
“Harsh? What do you mean?”
“She’s just got one of those personalities like sandpaper. She’s brilliant and has a wealth of information, but she tends to rub people the wrong way.”
Bert silently agreed. With the way Susan had so openly boasted right out of the gate, it was certain she would offend one person or another. She wondered if Tayler had any stories of her own, having lived on the farm with Susan even for a handful of days.
“Well, anyway. I should get a move on, I think. I’ll see you Thursday,” she said, waving as she walked toward the door.
“See you Thursday.” Bert waved back and felt a little bad for hoping to not have to sit next to Tayler when the time came.
She wasn’t going to hold her breath.
Chapter 3
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Harry said through gasps, slowing down along the edge of the sidewalk and putting his hands on his knees.
Bert brought her own pace to a stop and turned back to look at her boyfriend. “I thought cops were supposed to be physically fit. Don’t you have to pass some sort of physical exercise test?”
“Yeah, when you’re joining up with the force—which for me was too long ago to count,” he sighed, brushing back his thick gray hair from his face. Usually, he had it brushed back and slicked down with pomade, but today it had fallen out during they're first-ever couple’s exercise routine.
“They don’t do routine physical check-ups?” she scolded, somewhat surprised.
“No, they do,” he admitted, sitting back on the grass of the Old Market park—a semi-large area of grass, trees, and other plants in the middle of a circle drive. “They just aren’t as strict for us older guys—especially those of us who are detectives and not beat cops.”
“Because you’re not chasing down petty criminals on a daily basis?” she joked.
He rolled his eyes. “I still don’t know why we have to do this whole jogging bit.”
“It’s not jogging. We’re power walking,” she reminded him, walking over and easing down onto the grass next to him. She knew getting back up from the ground would be a touch difficult, but she was also grateful for the excuse for a short break.
“Okay, why are we power walking?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.
“Because it’s a part of our homework for the class I’m taking. A power walk three times a week to increase mobility and health.” It had been two weeks since Bert had signed up for the class at Susan’s shop. She’d already been to two sessions so far, which had both been enjoyable and eye-opening. She could see why Susan had been given the Better Business Award. She was a master at working with people, even if she came down on them occasionally with some hard truths.
She was likable all while being blunt and honest—which was a feat, to be sure.
Throwing his hands behind his head, Harry leaned back onto the grass with a pained groan. “I’m not thirty years old anymore, you know? I’d say I’m pretty healthy for a man in his mid-sixties.”
Bert leaned over on one arm to look at him with a scolding gaze, one eyebrow knowingly cocked up.
“What?” he demanded.
“You’re in shape, you think?”
“Yeah,” he insisted.
“Then how come a simple walk through the Old Market is wearing you down?” she joked.
“Hey, this isn’t a simple walk,” he said gruffly, brushing his bushy mustache back and forth in a sign of irritation. “This is a power walk.”
Bert smiled at him. “Well, the more often we walk, the easier it will be.”
“I lift weights every morning. Isn’t that enough?” he asked, pointing to the reason for his toned body. Of course, no amount of weight lifting would hide his slight gut.
“No. That’s strength training. You also need cardio and stamina training as well.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t have a slice of pie every day,” she pointed out, poking him in the chest. She had to admit, despite his lack of stamina for extended exercise, his chest muscles were still rock hard.
He grunted unhappily, scratching at his chin where the morning stubble was still present. “Why did you have to sign up for this blasted class, anyway?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“I thought it was a cooking class,” he returned. “Shouldn’t I be getting more tasty pie out of this deal?” he huffed sarcastically.
“No, it’s an all-around health class. It includes a slight overview of multiple topics like healthy activity in your middle to late years, cooking with herbs and spices—which is why I signed up—and even a touch of wildcrafting.”
“Wildcrafting?” he scoffed.
“Yes, identifying and picking plants for your own home cooking and remedies.”
“Isn’t that sort of dangerous?” he pointed out, his eyes narrowing at her unhappily. “What if you pick something and it’s poisonous?”
Bert rolled her eyes. “That’s why you take classes like this, to learn which ones are edible and which aren’t. And Susan’s class focuses on the native plants to Nebraska and the Midwest.”
Leaning on an elbow and looking at her, he grunted again. “I still don’t like it. I’ve seen a few deaths in my time as a homicide detective which were related to someone eating something they shouldn’t have. Sometimes kids, but unfortunately some were adults who should know better.”
Bert didn’t like the slightly condescending tone he’d taken on. “I’m telling you, Susan knows what she is doing and is being very careful in her teaching as well. She’s been showing others how to wildcraft for years. Besides, I always like the idea of picking my own food.”
“So, start a garden,” he shot back.
“Where? In my apartment window?” she asked. Bert hated to admit it, but she’d never quite had the green thumb she wished for. She loved the idea of gardening and harvesting her own veggies, herbs, and spices. However, throughout her years, she’d always ended up killing the plants.
That was why wildcrafting had a slight appeal for her. She could identify and pick things without worrying about having to grow it herself.
“How about a community garden? You could rent a garden box and grow herbs and veggies to your heart’s content.”
“I don’t know,” she said with trepidation. If she rented plot space, not only was she wasting money on the seeds and tools if the plants up and died, but she was also blowing hard earned cash on the ground itself.
Of course, Harry likely thought her current class was also a waste of money.
“Heck, we could even do it together. It would get me outside and out of the office, like you want, without me having to run around the city like this.”
Bert smirked at him. She liked the idea of doing a project together. She and her late husband often worked on little household projects together. It always managed to bring them closer together. “I’ll think about it,” she agreed.
“Good.”
“But I am learning how to identify plants,” she reiterated, not wanting to give up her class quite yet either. She knew she hadn’t gotten to the sections of the course on cooking and herbs yet, but she was already getting ideas just being in the shop once a week. She wondered if they’d talk about that topic at the coming class that same evening.
“Okay, what is that plant then?” Harry insisted, pointing toward something that was growing beneath a wooden park bench where it likely didn’t belong.
“Are you testing me?” she gasped.
“Do you know it or don’t you?” he said with a twinkle of pride in his eyes, certain she wouldn’t get it.
Bert brac
ed herself on Harry’s shoulder and pushed herself up. She was a little stiff and achy, but it wasn’t too difficult. Walking over to the bench, she bent down for a look. “Well, it has tiny white flowers like Queen Anne’s Lace, but also leaves that are a tad similar to wild carrot.”
“If you don’t know it, that’s okay,” he said with a satisfied laugh.
“No, no, hold on. It also has purple splotches all along the stem. That is the biggest indicator.”
“For what?”
“It’s poison hemlock,” she noted.
“Poison?” he blurted out.
“Yep. I’m ninety-nine percent sure of it. It was one of the major one’s Susan told us to watch out for and not pick. It grows everywhere in this region.”
“You already learned all this from two classes?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, you can tell that teacher of yours I don’t like her,” he joked, pushing himself back up to a sitting position. Bracing his hand on one knee, he stood up.
“You are a pain in the rear end, sometimes, Detective Mannor,” she said, using his job title like a mother uses a child’s middle name.
Harry laughed, taking her arm in his as the continued their walk back toward the shop.
Chapter 4
“Okay, I’m heading out. Can you manage closing again?” Bert asked Shiv while she threw her purse on her shoulder. It was almost time for her third class at the herb shop and she was hoping they talked about spices this time. While she was enjoying everything the course had to offer, she was really looking forward to finally cranking out a delicious herb and cheese pie for the brunch crowd.
She was even thinking up ideas for book bargains to accompany the release of the pie. She thought of putting out a display of modern cookbooks all centered around brunch foods. She knew a lot of people enjoyed buying and reading cookbooks, even if they never really used them.
Also, she couldn’t wait to try out a new recipe on Harry and Carla. They were her main sounding boards for new dishes and treats at Pies and Pages shop, along with her dedicated employee Shiv—who was like a daughter to Bert.
Tea, Thyme, an Murder (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 13) Page 2