by Joanne Pence
“I do! That’s the problem!” She leaned forward and rubbed her temples. “But she kept pushing a wedding dress cut too low with a bouffant skirt that puffed out at the waist. I’m short. I’ve been clothing this short body for many years, and so I know that with so little material on top, and so much on the bottom—the skirt was wider than it was long—I would look like a marshmallow, a miniature marshmallow, and I did! The dress swallowed me up completely, but she insisted it was perfect and I ‘needed’ to buy it without letting my mother or sister or anyone else give an opinion. She said families only confuse the bride.”
“That may be true,” Stan murmured, giving a shudder at the mention of Angie’s mother and sisters.
“And then, she thought the reception should be decorated in blue. I’m not a blue person. I’m Italian!”
She heaved a sigh. “Finally, I realized the only thing I ‘needed’ was a new wedding planner. One not so bossy!” She picked up one of the See's chocolates in the candy dish on the coffee table and took a bite, chewing morosely. Raspberry cream. She didn’t even like raspberry cream, but ate it anyway. She was truly miserable. Wedding planning was a stress test and she was losing.
Stan also ate one, and wandered off to the kitchen as he licked the chocolate off his fingers.
“This isn’t going the way I want, Stan,” Angie called. “What am I going to do?”
“Tell you what.” Stan’s voice sounded muffled, his head inside the refrigerator as he perused the left-overs. He always said he could get better food eating Angie’s leftovers than at some of the most expensive restaurants in town. “Why don’t I help you cook dinner tonight? After we eat, you’ll feel a lot better, I’m sure.”
Despite his words, Stan couldn’t cook. “Go ahead and eat whatever you’d like, Stan. Paavo’s coming over later, and we’re going out to dinner.” She took another chocolate, this one a caramel chew, as she thought about her handsome fiancé. She loved everything about his looks from his thick, dark brown hair, to his high forehead, penetrating light blue eyes, high cheekbones, and aquiline nose with a small jog in the middle where it had been broken more than once. He was broad-shouldered, his body long and lean, and everything about him exuded power and, to her, more sexiness than any one man should possess.
The whirring of her microwave pulled her from her daydreams.
She reached for a third chocolate, a pecan butter cream, her favorite. Before this wedding was over, she will have learned what was inside each chocolate just by looking at the swirls on top. “This is all making me so nervous, I’m putting on weight. I haven’t even settled on my bridesmaids yet. Do you know how many sisters and cousins I have? And they all expect to be part of the wedding. At the same time, Paavo keeps saying he wants a small wedding. You know how much he hates crowds. It’s a nightmare.”
“It’ll all work out.” Stan put a placemat on the dining room table and in another minute carried a plate with two pieces of Chicken Kiev.
“You can make yourself a salad or some broccoli as a side,” Angie suggested.
“No, no. This is fine. I wouldn’t want to overdo it.” He cut into a piece and hot, garlicky butter oozed onto his plate. One bite and he was in heaven. “I tell you, Angie, if you were marrying me, I’d be home every night for dinner.”
“I know.” One of the ironies of her relationship with Paavo was that his busy schedule often caused him to work late into the night and miss dinner. At the moment, he had no complicated cases that she knew of, which meant he should have time to help with their wedding plans. “I hope, once we’re married and living together, we’ll share more meals. That reminds me, I’ve got to clear out some of my things so he’ll have room here.”
“Oh my God!” Stan put down his fork before he’d finished, a remarkable thing for him. “You aren’t saying he’s moving into this apartment, are you?”
“Of course he is. I can’t fit into his house. It has only one bedroom, one bathroom. Not even a dining room.”
“Angie, you can’t expect him to live in your father’s apartment building!” Stan said, digging in again with gusto to make up for lost time.
Angie had already recognized that it wasn't a stellar idea, but she hated hearing Stan say it. “My father might own the building, but we’ve always considered this to be my apartment. I’ll clean out the den and make it Paavo’s ‘man cave.’ He’ll like that.”
Stan took another bite, savoring the rich flavors as he digested the information. “But if you do that, where will you put your desk and computer and all the books you have that you’ve used to start businesses?”
“For all the good that’s done me!” Angie interrupted. Now, she was not only tired, but dejected as well. Her inability to create a rewarding career for herself was one of the banes of her life. She had a talent for cooking, but even though she had tried to become a cake baker, candy maker, newspaper food columnist, restaurant reviewer, took part in a radio cooking show and a TV cooking show, and on and on…nothing ever worked out.
Stan frowned as he savored the last bite of Chicken Kiev. “It’s not going to work, Angie. As a man, I can tell you that Paavo will not be happy here. If I were him, I’d hate living in your apartment. In fact, I’d do everything I could to postpone the wedding just to avoid it. Just wait. He’s going to try to back out of this. First step will be breaking dates with you, and then he’ll start suggesting the wedding be postponed. You’ll see.”
“Paavo never breaks dates with me…unless he has no choice because of a homicide, which is perfectly understandable,” she said, glaring fiercely. “Fortunately, you’re nothing like Paavo.”
He sniffed. “No. I tell you exactly what I’m thinking; Paavo doesn't. He doesn't want to upset you so he’ll suffer in silence, growing more and more unhappy every day until, finally, he'll walk out on you!”
“Nonsense!” she said, but even as she said it, she knew Paavo held things inside if troubled. He would turn quiet and distant instead of blathering and complaining the way she did. When she first met him, she thought he was cold because of that. Quickly, she learned how much he felt—sometimes too much.
Stan put his plate, fork and knife in the dishwasher. “He’ll deny it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll like being here.”
Angie fumed. How could he think he knew more about Paavo than she did? And yet, Paavo never actually said he wanted to move into her apartment, just that he agreed she couldn’t fit all her stuff into his little house. “I’m busy, Stan. Why don’t you go home?”
He poured himself a generous glass of the Beringer Petite Sirah sitting on the counter. “You can kick me out, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore my advice.” Holding the glass high in the air, he headed out the door. “I’ll bring it back next time.”
She folded her arms and sat back on the sofa, not sure if she was more irritated at Stan or herself, as she glanced at the half-empty box of chocolates. But she couldn’t stop the question reverberating in her head: What if Stan was right?
Homicide Inspector Paavo Smith walked into Katie Kowalski’s house holding the hand of Katie’s young son, Micky. Katie was the widow of Paavo’s first and long-time partner in Homicide, Matt Kowalski. They had gone through the police academy together and had been best friends.
After Matt had been killed in the line of duty, Paavo made sure he visited Katie and spent time with Micky at least one Saturday or Sunday afternoon each month, and often two or three times a month. He particularly enjoyed taking Micky to a park, to baseball games, playing sports with him, and doing at least some of the things he thought Matt might have done with his son if he had lived.
Katie stood in the living room of the small house to greet them. “Welcome home!” she said. “Micky, why don’t you go wash up and change your clothes! You look like you fell into a pig sty!”
“Aw, okay. Bye, Uncle Paavo! Thanks for everything!”
“Bye, Mick! See you soon.”
Paavo faced Katie. “The field had a few mud-pu
ddles from last night’s rain, and Micky found every one of them. Often on purpose. But I think he’ll be feeling pretty good about himself when he joins that T-ball team next week. If you’d like me to take him, I’ll do my best to get off work on time so I can.”
Katie didn’t answer right away, but looked at the floor a moment before lifting her gray eyes to his blue ones. “Paavo, I don’t know how to say this. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and Micky, but I’d like you to stay away…for a while, at least. I’ve met someone.”
His brow furrowed. He had expected this day would come, but not so soon. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter, except that he’s not a cop. He’s a fine man, and good to Micky, and…” He waited as she struggled to find the right words. “I need to move on with my life. It’s too hard when I see you.”
She bowed her head and folded her arms tight against her stomach. When she looked up at him again, her words poured out quickly and pain-filled. “When you’re here, I remember too much. I remember Matt too clearly. And you! When Matt was here, the three of us spent a lot of time together, and when he was gone, I thought…” Tears filled her eyes.
“Katie,” he whispered.
She shook her head as if to shake off the emotions that gripped her. “I knew there was no chance for me, that you never saw me that way, but I thought if you ever broke up with Angie, that maybe”—she shrugged—“but it’s not meant to be. It never was. Now this man, his name is Daniel, he’s a good man. My head tells me to give him a chance. But my heart—as long as you’re here, I’m stuck in the past. I can’t forget Matt. I can’t forget you! So, I ask you, please give me time. Give me space.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I had no idea.”
“I know!” She stepped closer to him. “You’re a good man.” She cocked her head, her smile wry. “Obtuse as all get-out, but a good man.”
“What will Micky think if I just stop seeing him?”
“He loves you,” Katie said. “You’ll see him again, and spend time with him again in a few months. But not now.” Her tears flowed freely. “Can you understand what I’m saying? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?”
“I understand, Katie.”
He turned to leave.
“Paavo.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and when he turned around she put her arms around him. She held him tight, as he did her. She cried, and his heart broke for what had been in the past, and would never be again. He held her a long moment, then stepped back.
“Good luck to you, Katie. I hope it works out and you find happiness.” He put his hand on her cheek, brushed aside her tears, and then left.
Paavo sat in his car. His hands gripped the wheel, but he didn’t start the engine. He should see Angie tonight, but Katie’s words were too fresh, too painful. He had no idea that she ever considered such feelings towards him. Obtuse, she had called him. Maybe so.
Now, as much as hearing she wanted to start fresh and find someone else to love heartened him, another part of him cried that it was wrong, that she was Matt’s wife and always would be. Matt had been a six-foot-five, two hundred fifty pound lug with a laid-back competence and professionalism that Paavo admired, and a sense of humor that made him a fun guy to be around. How could anyone ever supplant his best friend in her life?
At the same time, he understood completely what she was saying. His visits to her and Micky had kept Matt alive in his mind as well. He had never really gotten over Matt’s death. They had been best friends as well as partners, and Paavo had made sure that he never grew that close to his current partner, or to anyone else in Homicide. In a sense, he feared ever again going through the sadness, bitterness, and even guilt that had plagued him after Matt’s death. Matt had been alone when he died, and Paavo always felt he should have been with him, been there to protect him, to save him.
Now, he held himself back from others in Homicide. He was a colleague, but little more.
He called Angie and told her something had come up, that he couldn’t make it tonight. She sounded disappointed and troubled. She tried to question him, but he had no answers, and soon ended the conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, but tonight he needed time alone; needed time to think.
Continue with Cooking Spirits wherever fine books and ebooks are sold.
About the Author
Joanne Pence was born and raised in northern California. She has been an award-winning, USA Today best-selling author of mysteries for many years, but she has also written historical fiction, contemporary romance, romantic suspense, a fantasy, and supernatural suspense. All of her books are now available as e-books, and most are also in print. Joanne hopes you’ll enjoy her books, which present a variety of times, places, and reading experiences, from mysterious to thrilling, emotional to lightly humorous, as well as powerful tales of times long past.
Visit her at http://www.joannepence.com. Also, to hear about new books, please sign up for Joanne’s New Release Mailing List
The Rebecca Mayfield Mysteries
Readers enjoyed the interaction between Homicide Inspector Rebecca Mayfield, who works with Angie’s fiancé Paavo Smith, and Angie’s cousin, Richie Amalfi, in the Christmas novella, The Thirteenth Santa, and asked for more!
Rebecca is a by-the-book detective, who walks the straight and narrow in her work, and in her life. Richie, on the other hand, is not at all by-the-book. But opposites can and do attract, and there are few mystery two-somes quite as opposite as Rebecca and Richie.
ONE O’CLOCK HUSTLE – North American Book Award winner in Mystery
TWO O’CLOCK HEIST
THREE O’CLOCK SÉANCE
FOUR O’CLOCK SIZZLE
FIVE O’CLOCK TWIST
SIX O’CLOCK SILENCE
Plus a Christmas Novella: The Thirteenth Santa
The Angie & Friends Food & Spirits Mysteries
Angie Amalfi and Homicide Inspector Paavo Smith are soon to be married in this latest mystery series. Crime and calories plus a new “twist” in Angie’s life in the form of a ghostly family inhabiting the house she and Paavo buy, create a mystery series with a “spirited” sense of fun and adventure.
COOKING SPIRITS
ADD A PINCH OF MURDER
COOK’S BIG DAY
MURDER BY DEVIL’S FOOD
Plus a Christmas mystery-fantasy: COOK’S CURIOUS CHRISTMAS
And a cookbook: COOK’S DESSERT COOKBOOK
Supernatural Suspense
Ancient Echoes
Top Idaho Fiction Book Award Winner
Over two hundred years ago, a covert expedition shadowing Lewis and Clark disappeared in the wilderness of Central Idaho. Now, seven anthropology students and their professor vanish in the same area. The key to finding them lies in an ancient secret, one that men throughout history have sought to unveil.
Michael Rempart is a brilliant archeologist with a colorful and controversial career, but he is plagued by a sense of the supernatural and a spiritual intuitiveness. Joining Michael are a CIA consultant on paranormal phenomena, a washed-up local sheriff, and a former scholar of Egyptology. All must overcome their personal demons as they attempt to save the students and learn the expedition’s terrible secret....
Ancient Shadows
One by one, a horror film director, a judge, and a newspaper publisher meet brutal deaths. A link exists between them, and the deaths have only begun ....
Archeologist Michael Rempart finds himself pitted against ancient demons and modern conspirators when a dying priest gives him a powerful artifact--a pearl said to have granted Genghis Khan the power, eight centuries ago, to lead his Mongol warriors across the steppes to the gates of Vienna.
The artifact has set off centuries of war and destruction as it conjures demons to play upon men's strongest ambitions and cruelest desires. Michael realizes the so-called pearl is a philosopher's stone, the prime agent of alchemy. As much as he would like to ignore the artifact, when he sees horrific deaths and experiences, firs
t-hand, diabolical possession and affliction, he has no choice but to act, to follow a path along the Old Silk Road to a land that time forgot, and to somehow find a place that may no longer exist in the world as he knows it.
Historical, Contemporary & Fantasy Romance
Dance with a Gunfighter
Gabriella Devere wants vengeance. She grows up quickly when she witnesses the murder of her family by a gang of outlaws, and vows to make them pay for their crime. When the law won’t help her, she takes matters into her own hands.
Jess McLowry left his war-torn Southern home to head West, where he hired out his gun. When he learns what happened to Gabriella’s family, and what she plans, he knows a young woman like her will have no chance against the outlaws, and vows to save her the way he couldn’t save his own family.
But the price of vengeance is high and Gabriella’s willingness to sacrifice everything ultimately leads to the book’s deadly and startling conclusion.
Willa Cather Literary Award finalist for Best Historical Novel.
The Dragon’s Lady
Turn-of-the-century San Francisco comes to life in this romance of star-crossed lovers whose love is forbidden by both society and the laws of the time.
Ruth Greed, wealthy daughter of a shipping magnate, finds a young boy who has run away from his home in Chinatown—an area of gambling parlors, opium dens, and sing-song girls, as well as families trying to eke out a living. It is also home to the infamous and deadly “hatchet men” of Chinese lore.
There, Ruth meets Li Han-lin, a handsome, enigmatic leader of one such tong, and discovers he is neither as frightening cruel, or wanton as reputation would have her believe. As Ruth’s fascination with the lawless area grows, she finds herself pulled deeper into its intrigue and dangers, particularly those surrounding Han-lin. But the two are from completely different worlds, and when both worlds are shattered by the Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906 that destroyed most of San Francisco, they face their ultimate test.