Inherit the Word (The Cookbook Nook Series) by Daryl Wood Gerber Page B

and thyme for the evening’s soup selection. Would you go, please? I can’t spare any staff.”
    Bailey, edgy since her mother’s departure, begged to tag along. How could I refuse?
    • • •
    THE CRYSTAL COVE Grocery Store was an intimate place, with wooden shelves, wooden bins, and a rustic wood floor. The owner, a baker by trade, made all the breads. A farmers’ market couldn’t have offered more fresh fruits and veggies. The herbs that Katie wanted, all locally grown, were offered in rattan-tied bunches. Hanging above the herbs were bags of spices.
    I grabbed three bundles of each herb on Katie’s list and a bag of turmeric. “You are jumpier than a dolphin in an ocean full of sharks,” I said to Bailey, who hadn’t stopped pulling on her left earlobe since we’d entered the store, a clear indication that she was tense. “How about downing some cola?”
    “No. I’m good. Sure, I miss my caffeine, but I want to conquer my craving. A healthy body means a healthy spirit.”
    “Okay, Miss Zen, then what’s eating you?”
    Her voice drifted to a hush. “Mom. Right before we left, I called her to check in. She was still shopping with the mayor. She has a tendency to binge shop.”
    “Like you,” I teased.
    Bailey screwed up her mouth.
    “Are you worried that she’s running into money trouble?”
    “No. Not at all. But binge shopping encourages her to buy things that don’t, um, look good on her. You know, things that don’t fit, though she convinces herself they do.”
    I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. As long as she doesn’t remove the sales tags, you can talk her into taking anything back.”
    “You’re right. I’m acting crazy.”
    “Concerned.”
    “Nuts. Speaking of which”—Bailey knuckled my arm—“what’s this I heard about you on The Pier this morning? You thought you saw David?”
    My cheeks warmed. “Who told you? Dad?”
    “Your aunt.”
    Which meant my father told her. So much for him thinking it was perfectly fine seeing my dead husband occasionally.
    “She’s worried.”
    Aha. That explained why my aunt had hovered near me while rubbing her amulet a couple of times today. I’d have to inform her that insanity couldn’t be frightened off by a few positive prayers. On the other hand, going crazy was not on my agenda. I made a mental note to call the therapist and set an appointment. What could it hurt?
    “Well?” Bailey said. “I’m waiting for a response.”
    “I’ve got David on the brain. It’s this thing with the Lucky Cat and the key and the coins.” I inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I want to know the truth.”
    I headed for the checkout line and saw Mitzi Sykes ahead of us placing item after item on the conveyor belt. She was wearing ginormous rings and multiple strands of necklaces. As she chatted up the clerk, using grand hand gestures, her metal bangles clanked. I flashed on the conversation with Flora, the Grill Fest contestant who was the owner of Home Sweet Home. She had spotted Mitzi spying on her husband. Mitzi wouldn’t have been able to do so in that getup, I thought. Way too noisy.
    I moved toward her. “Hey, Mitzi, who’s having a party?”
    Mitzi smiled. Her red lipstick made her luscious lips look even bigger. “Me. Well, not me. My client. You know the fellow who designed the Nature’s Retreat Hotel?”
    I did. Local architect. Big ego.
    “He’s such a gourmet. Snails. Lobster. Seven different kinds of cheeses. Bananas Foster for dessert.”
    I felt a bump on my grocery cart from behind and pivoted. Mitzi’s husband, Sam, was trying to inch by me. Slung over his arm was a mini-basket filled with fixings for spaghetti.
    “Sorry,” he said. “Do you mind?”
    I didn’t.
    He placed a dividing rod between his and Mitzi’s purchases, then rummaged through his pockets, mumbling as if he had misplaced something. Mitzi paid for her goods, and the clerk bagged them. Then Mitzi rolled her loaded cart toward the exit.
    “Babe, wait,”