Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery) by Virginia Lowell Page B
Authors: Virginia Lowell
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chair and offered it to Greta, who sank into it. “You are wise beyond your years,” Greta said. “I had hoped that returning to the town of my birth would free me from all the envy and the wagging tongues, but I see now that I was idealizing my childhood. I was happy then, and protected. I was perhaps a bit spoiled by loving parents.” Her wistful smile softened her features. “I had hoped to erase . . . But one cannot go back in time.” She straightened her spine. “But one can go forward, I hope.” Greta had spoken so softly that Olivia wasn’t sure she had understood.
* * *
S hortly, The Gingerbread House would open its doors to the public for the first time in over a week. The crowd had expanded, now filling the porch, the steps, and much of the front lawn. The Chatterley Heights communication network had performed at peak efficiency to spread the word about the cookie event Olivia and Maddie had thrown together to welcome Greta Oskarson back home. Olivia noticed a number of unfamiliar faces, which told her how well the news of the fabulous antique cookie cutter collection about to go on the market had spread. Olivia felt almost as nervous as when she’d watched her first customers explore the newly opened Gingerbread House. She wanted everything to look and taste perfect.
Olivia’s excitement took a hit when she glanced at the front window and saw Binnie Sloan’s round face sneering at her. Next to Binnie, a camera pressed against the window, hiding Ned’s thin, pinched features.
Maddie emerged from the kitchen holding aloft a large tray piled high with rosettes. Glancing toward the window, she said, “Ah, the vultures descend. I’m not referring to the guests, I hasten to add.” Maddie turned her back to Binnie and Ned as she centered her tray on a small table. “Aunt Sadie’s embroidered tablecloth is perfect,” she said. “I love the way the gingerbread boys and girls are playing ring-around-the-rosy along the edge. Aunt Sadie is a creative genius, and I’m not just saying that because we share significant DNA.” A sharp rapping sound made Maddie frown toward the window. Ned snapped her picture.
“Speaking of shared DNA . . .” Olivia watched as Binnie slapped her ever-present notebook against the window so she could jot something down. “I can’t wait to see what she says about us on her blog.”
“We really, really need a heavy curtain for that window,” Maddie said. “I’ll ask Aunt Sadie to make one for us. I’m thinking along the lines of a thick tapestry.”
Olivia felt her cell phone vibrate in the pocket of her light linen pants. She resisted the urge to answer it, and the vibrating stopped. As Olivia rearranged a display of royal icing mixes, her cell vibrated again. She checked the caller ID. “It’s Del,” she said. “I’ll take it in the cookbook nook.”
“I’ll load up the last couple of tables with goodies,” Maddie said as she headed toward the kitchen. “Then we’ll be ready to throw open the doors and let the festivities begin.”
Olivia’s cell phone had stopped vibrating by the time she reached a private corner in the cookbook nook. She flipped it open and found that both calls had been from Del. Olivia hesitated. She so wanted to talk to Del, but that might take a while. She wanted to give him her full attention.
Once more the phone in Olivia’s hand began to vibrate. Del, again. Now she was worried. She answered at once. “Del? Is everything okay?”
“Livie, I’m so glad I finally caught you.” Del sounded breathless. “Are you alone?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking.”
“Does that mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” Del asked.
“Yes, I’m alone in the cookbook nook at the moment, but there are zillions of people waiting to come inside. We’re hosting a cookie event to welcome Greta Oskarson back to Chatterley Heights. What’s going on?”
“Listen, Livie, I can’t talk for long, but I wanted to let you
* * *
S hortly, The Gingerbread House would open its doors to the public for the first time in over a week. The crowd had expanded, now filling the porch, the steps, and much of the front lawn. The Chatterley Heights communication network had performed at peak efficiency to spread the word about the cookie event Olivia and Maddie had thrown together to welcome Greta Oskarson back home. Olivia noticed a number of unfamiliar faces, which told her how well the news of the fabulous antique cookie cutter collection about to go on the market had spread. Olivia felt almost as nervous as when she’d watched her first customers explore the newly opened Gingerbread House. She wanted everything to look and taste perfect.
Olivia’s excitement took a hit when she glanced at the front window and saw Binnie Sloan’s round face sneering at her. Next to Binnie, a camera pressed against the window, hiding Ned’s thin, pinched features.
Maddie emerged from the kitchen holding aloft a large tray piled high with rosettes. Glancing toward the window, she said, “Ah, the vultures descend. I’m not referring to the guests, I hasten to add.” Maddie turned her back to Binnie and Ned as she centered her tray on a small table. “Aunt Sadie’s embroidered tablecloth is perfect,” she said. “I love the way the gingerbread boys and girls are playing ring-around-the-rosy along the edge. Aunt Sadie is a creative genius, and I’m not just saying that because we share significant DNA.” A sharp rapping sound made Maddie frown toward the window. Ned snapped her picture.
“Speaking of shared DNA . . .” Olivia watched as Binnie slapped her ever-present notebook against the window so she could jot something down. “I can’t wait to see what she says about us on her blog.”
“We really, really need a heavy curtain for that window,” Maddie said. “I’ll ask Aunt Sadie to make one for us. I’m thinking along the lines of a thick tapestry.”
Olivia felt her cell phone vibrate in the pocket of her light linen pants. She resisted the urge to answer it, and the vibrating stopped. As Olivia rearranged a display of royal icing mixes, her cell vibrated again. She checked the caller ID. “It’s Del,” she said. “I’ll take it in the cookbook nook.”
“I’ll load up the last couple of tables with goodies,” Maddie said as she headed toward the kitchen. “Then we’ll be ready to throw open the doors and let the festivities begin.”
Olivia’s cell phone had stopped vibrating by the time she reached a private corner in the cookbook nook. She flipped it open and found that both calls had been from Del. Olivia hesitated. She so wanted to talk to Del, but that might take a while. She wanted to give him her full attention.
Once more the phone in Olivia’s hand began to vibrate. Del, again. Now she was worried. She answered at once. “Del? Is everything okay?”
“Livie, I’m so glad I finally caught you.” Del sounded breathless. “Are you alone?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking.”
“Does that mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” Del asked.
“Yes, I’m alone in the cookbook nook at the moment, but there are zillions of people waiting to come inside. We’re hosting a cookie event to welcome Greta Oskarson back to Chatterley Heights. What’s going on?”
“Listen, Livie, I can’t talk for long, but I wanted to let you
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