Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  "Good grief," Gianna sighed. "I really need to find a place of my own."

  * * *

  The next day, Josie and I were in the middle of finishing up the second coat of paint in the bakery when Gianna and Grandma Rosa walked in.

  "It's looking good, Sal." Gianna examined the display case that had been delivered that morning. "When do you think you guys can open?"

  "The health inspector is coming tomorrow. Provided there are no issues, and I don't think there will be, we should have our license by the end of next week. Just in time to open on the first day of September."

  Gianna squealed and clapped her hands. "That's awesome."

  Josie grabbed her arm and motioned all of us toward the back room, where she pointed at the block table. "Look what my Rob made for us. It's going out front as soon as the wall dries."

  It was a wooden shelf that held two porcelain figurines seated at a table with a plate of cookies and a teapot between them. I'd almost cried when Josie had first shown it to me.

  Grandma Rosa nodded her approval. "Robbie is very talented." She turned to me and lifted three handmade cloths from the bag she was holding, placing them on the table for all of us to admire. Two were ivory, and one was cream colored. "I made these for your tables. They will look nice, no?"

  My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the cloths she had so lovingly crocheted. All of that work just for me. My eyes grew moist and I hugged her tightly. "Grazie mille."

  She chuckled and patted my cheek, while answering in English. "You are welcome. And that is not all. I have one more thing to give you. Now that Alana confessed to taking the teapot, it will be coming back to us soon. When that happens, it will belong to you."

  My jaw dropped so far I thought it must have hit the floor. "What are you talking about? That's your teapot."

  Grandma Rosa shook her head. "It is a tradition to pass the teapot on. It started with my great-grandmother and was passed down to the next generation and so on. It always goes to the eldest daughter of the family." She pursed her lips. "At least it is supposed to. My mother ignored that rule."

  Gianna opened her mouth in surprise. "But what about Mom?"

  My grandmother waved her hand impatiently. "Do not get me wrong. I love your mama more than life itself, but she is not interested in such things. She would use it to keep her lipstick in or something weird like that."

  Gianna and I grinned at each other. It was the truth. Our mother could care less about the sentimental value attached to the teapot, and the net worth meant nothing to her either. Mom's main interests, besides her family, were clothes, cosmetics, tanning, and her real estate career. Provided she ever made a sale, that is.

  Grandma Rosa kissed me on the forehead. "I know you will take good care of it. One day when you have a daughter, you will pass it on to her."

  My heart ached at the thought. "That might never happen."

  She tapped her snow-white head with her index finger. "It will happen. I know. There is a good man waiting for you out there. And you will find him soon."

  "Hey, check this out." Gianna opened one of the drawers to the butcher-block table. "There are two fortune cookies in here." She handed me one and snapped open the other. "'Knowledge comes to those who wait.' Oh brother. I knew I was nowhere near ready to take that exam." She sighed.

  "You'll ace it. Don't believe what a silly fortune cookie—" I snapped my fingers. "Holy cow. That's it."

  "What?" Josie asked.

  "Our theme for the shop. Fortune cookies."

  Josie arched one eyebrow at me. "You want us to sell fortune cookies? Sal, I don't know if people would pay money for—"

  "You can make them, right? I mean, they're not difficult and the ingredients are all pretty inexpensive."

  "Well, yes, but like I said—"

  "Let me finish," I went on excitedly. "Every time someone makes a purchase, we'll give them a free fortune cookie. I don't know of any other bakery that does something like this. It's unique."

  Gianna's eyes lit up. "That's awesome. People will love it!"

  Josie shrieked and hugged me. "What a great idea, Sal."

  Grandma Rosa smiled. "Like I said, you have a head for business. And you are a very good sloth, too."

  The three of us turned and looked at my grandmother in confusion.

  "I'm lazy?" I asked. "Grandma, I know I haven't helped much around the house lately, but—"

  My grandmother shook her head. "No, not that. You know, a detective."

  Gianna hid her smile. "Um, that's sleuth, Grandma."

  Grandma Rose shrugged. "Yes, that is what I said."

  "You didn't open your cookie yet," Gianna said to me. "Let's see what the future has in store for you."

  With the three of them watching, I laughed and removed the wrapper, then broke the cookie in two. A shiver ran down my spine as I read the words.

  To the world you might be one person, but to one person you are the world.

  "What's it say?" Josie asked.

  "It says I should run a business." Okay, it was a little white lie but I couldn't help myself. If I told them the truth, Josie would have me at the nearest bar looking for Mr. Right that evening.

  I put the strip of paper in my jeans pocket and smiled to myself. How nice it would be if this fortune did come true. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

  When Grandma Rosa's eyes met mine, I suspected she had figured me out, but she only winked and said nothing.

  Josie grinned. "Welcome home, Sal."

  * * * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Catherine lives in Upstate New York in a male dominated household that consists of her very patient husband, three sons, two cats, and dogs. She has wanted to be a writer since the age of eight when she wrote her own version of Cinderella (and fortunately Disney never sued). Catherine holds a B.A. and dual major in English and Performing Arts. She has worn several different hats over the years, including that of secretary, press release writer, newspaper reporter, real estate agent, and most recently auditor. In her spare time she enjoys traveling, shopping, and of course, a good book.

  To learn more about Catherine, visit her online at:

  http://www.catherinebruns.net/

  BOOKS BY CATHERINE BRUNS

  Cookies & Chance Mysteries

  Tastes Like Murder

  QUEENIE BABY: ON LOCATION

  (Queenie Baby Mysteries)

  by

  Christina A. Burke

  * * * * *

  Author's Note:

  Queenie Baby: On Location is the short story prequel to the first Queenie Baby Mystery, Queenie Baby: On Assignment and fits chronologically in Diana's world before that book. It answers the question: What happened last summer?

  CHAPTER ONE

  "I ran away!" my sister cried.

  I held my ear away from the phone as she continued dramatically, "I can't be with those kids one more minute. They're driving me freakin' crazy! I hate summer vacation. Must've been a man who dreamed it up."

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why are you calling me, Ashley?" I asked.

  "I need a vacation, so I'm spending the weekend at your house," she said.

  I cringed. No way. "I'm not a bed and breakfast, you know," I began. "I have a busy weekend. I have a gig tonight and tomorrow night."

  "I'll go with you. Get out and see how the single half lives," she replied.

  My sister had married right out of high school to a guy who put the red in redneck. They had three kids and an assortment of critters on their two acres in the country. I didn't blame her for wanting to see how the rest of us lived, but I didn't want it to be at my sanity's expense.

  "It's not a good weekend," I said, trying again.

  "Oh, is Phillip the accountant staying over?" she asked coyly. "Things must be going pretty well."

  Actually, things weren't going at all with Phillip. He'd dumped me last week after I had fallen asleep at a cocktail party for one of his clients. In my defense,
I had been gigging non-stop and running on very little sleep, but I doubt the four martinis I had consumed to survive the utter boredom of the party had helped. I wasn't particularly upset about being dumped. Phillip was nice enough, and the sex was decent, but there had never been any real spark between us. The biggest downside of losing Phillip was having to find a new accountant, which probably came in second only to having to find a new gynecologist. At least I didn't have to worry about my gynecologist asking me out. She was a little Chinese woman of about sixty, who always marveled at my Amazon-like height and fussed at me for being in the sun too much.

  "No, I'm not seeing Phillip anymore. But that's not the point," I explained. "I have a busy schedule right now. I can't have people just dropping by for the weekend unannounced." I was so booked up this summer, that I had asked Carol at Greene's Staffing Services to take me off the roster until Labor Day. Being a temp wasn't usually as exciting as being a rock star, but most days it paid better. This was the first time in five years of temping that I had taken a whole summer off to play music. It was heady stuff. This rock star thing might work out after all.

  "Diana, I'm not people," she said in a huff. "I'm your sister." She wasn't scoring any points with that argument.

  "Let's plan something for the fall when I'm not so busy," I reasoned.

  "I'll take your next rotation with The Grands," she said suddenly.

  That left me speechless for a few seconds. Taking care of our four grandparents when our parents were out of town on one of their many vacations was an ordeal like no other. "Are you serious?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, knowing she had won. "Besides, I'm pulling up to your street now. Do we have a deal?"

  "Okay, if you're sure," I said, feeling a little guilty over getting the better end of the deal. I glanced out the window just as she pulled her green minivan up to the front of the building. I looked down at, my white shih tzu-Poodle. "Your Aunt Ashley is here to spend the weekend," I said in my aren't-you-a-good-boy voice.

  Max growled.

  I sighed. "You said it."

  I watched Ashley run around to the back of the van and pull something out. I squinted. What was she getting? And then I saw it.

  "Stop right there!" I yelled, throwing open the window and bumping my head as I leaned out. "Not part of the deal!"

  She looked up and shrugged. "Deal's made. Live with it," she shouted back as she took the walker to the passenger side of the car.

  I watched in horror as Aunt Pearl emerged from the car and began her turtle shuffle towards the front door. I closed the window and headed downstairs in defeat.

  "There's my Queenie Baby," Aunt Pearl called from twenty feet down the sidewalk. "I'll be there when I get there," she added, inching her way along. She gave me a little wave, and I waved back, closing the window with a growing feeling of defeat. It was one thing to argue with Ashley. It was another thing entirely to argue with Aunt Pearl. It just wasn't done. At least I'd never seen it done successfully. Aunt Pearl always got her way.

  With resignation, I turned from the window, left my condo, and made my way down the stairs towards the entranceway. I opened the door just as Aunt Pearl was hobbling her last few steps.

  I gave her a hug and then followed Ashley back to the van under the pretense of helping with the bags. "You call bringing Aunt Pearl to my house a vacation?" I asked incredulously.

  Ashley slammed the back door closed. "No," she replied. "But it's better than being at home with Aunt Pearl, three kids, and my idiot husband."

  True, I suppose. "Why isn't she at The Meadows?" I asked.

  "Because Mammaw had her cataracts removed yesterday, so she's staying with Dad and Anne over the weekend. And you know as well as I do that Aunt Pearl can't be on her own for very long. Anything could happen," she said, throwing up her hands.

  And it usually did, I added to myself. My divorced parents had come up with an unusual arrangement to take care of their aging charges. "The Parents" consist of my mother, Brandy, and my stepfather, Dave, my father, George, and my stepmother, Anne. They live next door to each other in The Meadows, a 55+ golf community. On purpose. As in they bought houses right next to each other because they get along great and hang out together. They moved to The Meadows because each of The Parents have one elderly relative of their own still living at 80+, A.K.A. "The Grands." Mammaw and Aunt Pearl lived in one assisted living apartment and Granddaddy Hacker and Uncle Grover lived in another.

  "This makes no sense, Ashley," I said, trying again to reason with her. "You aren't going to get any time to relax. I can't watch Aunt Pearl. I am playing out tonight and tomorrow night. Why not leave her with Dan?"

  "Oh, believe me, that was my first choice. But Aunt Pearl said if I didn't bring her with me that she'd drive herself home as soon as Dan passed out on the couch. I can't have that happen again on my watch."

  "Yeah, the last time was a disaster," I agreed. "But you're going to be stuck Grand-sitting at my place. Not exactly a vacation."

  "We'll take her with us," she said with determination.

  I looked at the sidewalk where Aunt Pearl was creaking along towards the front door with at least another ten feet in front of her. "Take her with us?" I cried. "I don't know how we're going to get her up the stairs, let alone out on the dock of the Pirates' Cove. Where, by the way, I am supposed to play in three hours."

  "Almost there," Aunt Pearl called back to us. "This darn walker slows me down. I'm starting a fitness plan next week. Gotta use it or lose it!"

  Ashley looked at Aunt Pearl and back to me. "We've got to make this work. I'm on the edge. I need a break. Now!" Her right eye twitched wildly.

  Now I knew my sister pretty well, and this was definitely outside the norm for her. She had always been a drama queen, but I had never seen her this stressed before. Oh Lord, she was going to rope me into this.

  "Okay, just calm down. Let's get Aunt Pearl into the house, and then get you a glass of wine."

  She nodded eagerly. "A big glass."

  * * *

  Getting Aunt Pearl into my condo was agonizingly slow. A step at a time with Ashley pulling and me pushing. At least my neighbor, Mrs. Kester, was away for most of the summer. She wouldn't have been able to resist sticking her big nose into this. When Aunt Pearl was finally seated comfortably in my oversized recliner with Max curled up on her lap, I opened a bottle of wine and poured Ashley and myself two generous glasses.

  "What are you two up to in there," Aunt Pearl called, craning her neck.

  "Just having a glass of wine, Aunt Pearl," Ashley said.

  "Well, pour me a glass while you're at it. This is my vacation, too," she called back.

  Ashley gritted her teeth. "Aunt Pearl, you know you can't have wine with your heart medication."

  "Not on it anymore," Aunt Pearl said. "Doctor said I'm too old to worry about it. So bring me some wine."

  I looked at Ashley, who rolled her eyes and grabbed the bottle from me. She poured an inch into a glass.

  "Give her more," I whispered. "Maybe she'll fall asleep."

  Ashley glanced towards the living room and added another two inches to the glass. "Here you go," she said brightly as she handed the glass to Aunt Pearl.

  Max growled.

  "Bad boy," Ashley scolded. "What's wrong with your dog, Diana?" she asked crossly.

  I shrugged. "Guess he doesn't like you."

  "Shows he's got good taste," Aunt Pearl cackled. "Don't you boy?" she said, scratching Max's head. He flipped onto his back so that she could scratch his belly.

  Ashley looked hurt.

  "Not nice, Aunt Pearl," I chided.

  "Oh, she knows I'm just jerkin' her chain. She's a good girl, too," Aunt Pearl said in the same voice she had just used on Max.

  Ashley shook her head and held her glass up for a refill. "When do we leave?" she asked.

  "Where we going?" Aunt Pearl called. She had bat ears. Nothing got by her.

  "Diana has a gig tonight. I'm going to go wit
h her. You're staying here," Ashley explained.

  Now that didn't sit too well with Aunt Pearl. "I'm going with you," she said stubbornly.

  I walked into the living room, and Ashley followed. "Tonight I'm playing out on one of the docks. It's a lot of walking," I said. "But tomorrow I'm playing at a restaurant, so you can come with us then."

  Aunt Pearl looked at us, knowing she had us in a corner. Throw a fit and Ashley would have to stay home with her. Promise to be good and she could have whatever she wanted. "Hmmm, well I suppose I could stay home and rest. Maybe have a bit more wine and surf the net…" Her voice trailed off as she looked up at Ashley.

  I could see Ashley staring off into the distance, trying to ignore the comment. "Sure," I said. "You can use my laptop."

  "I'm not sure that's a good idea," Ashley finally said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Because she's going to sit here and drink wine and watch porn all night!" Ashley ground out.

  Porn? Really? At ninety? I stared at Ashley like she'd finally lost it.

  "Don't give me that look. It's true!" Ashley said.

  "Yep," chimed in Aunt Pearl. "I do like me some porn. They didn't have it in my day. I'm making up for lost time." She must have seen the aghast look on my face because she shook a bony finger in my direction. "I don't want you making a fuss about it. I'm ninety, and if I want to watch porn, I'll damn well watch porn. It's not like I'm starring in it. Although, that's not a half-bad idea," she said, mulling it over. "I bet there's a niche market out there for women of a certain age." She finished her wine with one big gulp and shook her glass at Ashley, indicating she wanted another.

  Ashley rolled her eyes. "See what I'm dealing with?" she asked as she refilled Aunt Pearl's glass.

  I followed Ashley back to the kitchen. "What type of porn does she watch?" I whispered.

  "I'm not having this discussion," Ashley whispered back. "Isn't it bad enough that I had to change my internet passwords to keep her from using the kids' iPad to surf for porn?"