Bossy Cakes: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 3) by K. P. Hilton
Authors: K. P. Hilton
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Animals, cozy, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Amateur Sleuths
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Chapter 1
Betty Hitchens stood next to the taxi cab that had pulled up to the curb in front of her house, doing her best to not yell at her daughter.
She failed. “Hurry up, or we'll miss our flight!” she called out. She tried remembering that her daughter was twenty-one, an adult, and not a kid anymore. Still, she did live with her mother, and Betty thought that meant she needed to respect the rules of being under her roof. Her daughter, Brianna, frequently acted as though she deserved free reign. So there Betty was, daily trying to strike a balance between the two of them.
“We have a plane to catch,” Betty said, a little less loudly but with more emphasis. Brianna stood with her boyfriend, Ethan, who had his arms wrapped around her short, slight frame as though she were about to embark to Antarctica for six months instead of Florida for a week.
“You have to call me and text me,” Ethan was saying. Betty could hear them, and she was surprised at how much it seemed as though Ethan was going to miss Brianna. He was usually a laid back, take-everything-as-it-comes sort of guy. He got and lost jobs, didn’t stress overdue bills, and really only ever seemed to concentrate on Mud Hole Jones, the rock band he played in. The musical group was starting to get known in and around Yellow Rose, the small Texas town Betty lived in. She always got a kick out of seeing the band's orange and white bumper stickers, which seemed to be plastered on the back of every car owned by anyone under twenty-five in town.
“Okay, really, I have to go,” Brianna said, kissing her boyfriend one last time and untangling herself from his lanky limbs. She bent and grabbed her purse, the last thing she needed since all of her and her mom’s luggage was in the trunk of the yellow cab. The driver sat behind the wheel, looking as impatient as Betty felt. He was a sloppy looking man of about sixty and he wore a Dallas Cowboys hat pulled low over his eyes. His window was down and Betty heard him mumble, “Finally,” under his breath. Despite the stress, she couldn't help but smile.
When they were both in the back seat of the cab and it had pulled away from curb, Betty looked at her daughter.
“Ethan is really going to miss you.”
Brianna shrugged. “I think he’s more worried that I’m going to meet a guy in Florida who gets up before noon and is actually focused on getting a steady job.”
Betty looked to her daughter. “Are you?”
Brianna smirked and shook her head. “Sorry for you, but no. I love Ethan, and he loves me.”
Betty nodded and didn’t say anything else. She and Brianna had argued enough times about Ethan, and she had learned that every time they fought Brianna just dug her heels in deeper. Deep down Betty knew there were worst people for her daughter to be involved in. He was a slacker, but Betty knew he would never physically harm her, or cheat on her, or a million other things worse than maybe not being able to afford dinner every now and then.
It was an hour long trip to the airport and Betty started to wish she had driven and parked her car in the long term lot about the same time the taxi driver lit up a cigar. She leaned forward and asked if it would be okay if he didn’t smoke, but the guy just grunted and rolled his window down an inch further.
Brianna had always been a worrier, a trait she had inherited from her father. She started early on the ride, looking to her mother with wide eyes. Betty sighed, bracing herself for the barrage of questions.
“We left the flat iron at home, and I think it’s plugged in.”
Betty laughed and shook her head. “We didn’t, and it’s not. I packed it up with the rest of the bathroom stuff this morning.”
“Okay.” Brianna nodded, momentarily satisfied.
“What else?” Betty asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you’ve got more worries floating around that pretty little head
Betty Hitchens stood next to the taxi cab that had pulled up to the curb in front of her house, doing her best to not yell at her daughter.
She failed. “Hurry up, or we'll miss our flight!” she called out. She tried remembering that her daughter was twenty-one, an adult, and not a kid anymore. Still, she did live with her mother, and Betty thought that meant she needed to respect the rules of being under her roof. Her daughter, Brianna, frequently acted as though she deserved free reign. So there Betty was, daily trying to strike a balance between the two of them.
“We have a plane to catch,” Betty said, a little less loudly but with more emphasis. Brianna stood with her boyfriend, Ethan, who had his arms wrapped around her short, slight frame as though she were about to embark to Antarctica for six months instead of Florida for a week.
“You have to call me and text me,” Ethan was saying. Betty could hear them, and she was surprised at how much it seemed as though Ethan was going to miss Brianna. He was usually a laid back, take-everything-as-it-comes sort of guy. He got and lost jobs, didn’t stress overdue bills, and really only ever seemed to concentrate on Mud Hole Jones, the rock band he played in. The musical group was starting to get known in and around Yellow Rose, the small Texas town Betty lived in. She always got a kick out of seeing the band's orange and white bumper stickers, which seemed to be plastered on the back of every car owned by anyone under twenty-five in town.
“Okay, really, I have to go,” Brianna said, kissing her boyfriend one last time and untangling herself from his lanky limbs. She bent and grabbed her purse, the last thing she needed since all of her and her mom’s luggage was in the trunk of the yellow cab. The driver sat behind the wheel, looking as impatient as Betty felt. He was a sloppy looking man of about sixty and he wore a Dallas Cowboys hat pulled low over his eyes. His window was down and Betty heard him mumble, “Finally,” under his breath. Despite the stress, she couldn't help but smile.
When they were both in the back seat of the cab and it had pulled away from curb, Betty looked at her daughter.
“Ethan is really going to miss you.”
Brianna shrugged. “I think he’s more worried that I’m going to meet a guy in Florida who gets up before noon and is actually focused on getting a steady job.”
Betty looked to her daughter. “Are you?”
Brianna smirked and shook her head. “Sorry for you, but no. I love Ethan, and he loves me.”
Betty nodded and didn’t say anything else. She and Brianna had argued enough times about Ethan, and she had learned that every time they fought Brianna just dug her heels in deeper. Deep down Betty knew there were worst people for her daughter to be involved in. He was a slacker, but Betty knew he would never physically harm her, or cheat on her, or a million other things worse than maybe not being able to afford dinner every now and then.
It was an hour long trip to the airport and Betty started to wish she had driven and parked her car in the long term lot about the same time the taxi driver lit up a cigar. She leaned forward and asked if it would be okay if he didn’t smoke, but the guy just grunted and rolled his window down an inch further.
Brianna had always been a worrier, a trait she had inherited from her father. She started early on the ride, looking to her mother with wide eyes. Betty sighed, bracing herself for the barrage of questions.
“We left the flat iron at home, and I think it’s plugged in.”
Betty laughed and shook her head. “We didn’t, and it’s not. I packed it up with the rest of the bathroom stuff this morning.”
“Okay.” Brianna nodded, momentarily satisfied.
“What else?” Betty asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you’ve got more worries floating around that pretty little head
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