Macaroni and Freeze by Christine Wenger Page B

money.” And then switching tacks, I asked, “What can you tell me about the ladies from the Church of the Covenant of Saint Dismas?”
    â€œWell, they call it the Church of the Covered Dish due to all the potluck suppers they have.” Jill smiled, and I laughed out loud.
    â€œI love it!”
    â€œThey’re fruitcakes.” She took a bite out of her omelet. “To think that they would accuse Priscilla of stealing from their amateur cookbook, which they typed onan old relic on someone’s kitchen table ages ago, is just crazy. How would Priscilla even get a copy to steal anything from?”
    I shrugged. “Well, she used to live in Sandy Harbor, and those types of cookbooks for charity do get around. Maybe Priscilla bought one, or maybe someone from the New York area sent it to her as a gift. Maybe she found it in a used bookstore out in California. Who knows?”
    Jill took a sip of water. “She did love collecting cookbooks from all over. When she ran out of room, she had me send boxes of them to the Sandy Harbor Library.”
    Jill tapped on the table with a manicured nail. “And be assured, Trixie, that as long as I’m still taking care of Priscilla’s finances, I will see to it that the donations continue. I imagine now that she’s deceased, the Sandy Harbor Library can have her entire collection just as soon as the library is repaired.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œReally. Not only did Cilla want to come here to lend her name to the contest, but she also wanted to contribute money to the library personally.”
    â€œThat’s incredibly nice of her,” I said. “I mean, w
as
nice of her. And totally out of character, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œI do know what you mean, Trixie. Sometimes Priscilla was hard to take. She had . . . uh . . . some personality quirks.”
    â€œShe sure did,” I said. “But getting back to thechurch ladies, they were awfully mad, particularly Dottie and Marylou. They showed their cookbook to Priscilla at the contest and they complained that it was taken mostly word for word. Copied, in fact. The whole thing.”
    â€œI haven’t compared the two, but Priscilla wouldn’t plagiarize. She was a cooking and baking icon.”
    â€œAre you sure, Jill?” I asked, holding my breath for the answer. If Jill Marley was Priscilla’s assistant, she might know the answer to that.
    Jill shifted in the booth and didn’t meet my gaze. “Could I have some coffee, please? I’m just dying for a cup of coffee.”
    I waved at Nancy and mouthed the word “coffee,” pointing to Jill. Nancy hustled over.
    I decided that I wanted to compare the two cookbooks for myself and find out just how mad Marylou and Dottie were atPriscilla.

Chapter 8
    N ancy shook her head. “Trixie, you barely ate any of your meatball sub. Let me get you another one, a fresher one.”
    â€œBox it to go, please, Nancy. As long as everything is running smoothly here, I think maybe I’ll take another nap.”
    â€œI’ll take care of that sub, boss, and give it some legs. Take it home and relax,” Nancy said, then turned to Jill. “Jill, can I get you a fruit hand pie? They’re divine. We have apple, cherry, and peach.”
    Mmm. Peach was my favorite . . . well, one of them.
    As if she’d read my mind, Nancy looked at me with a smile and said, “Don’t worry, Trixie. I’ll get you a peach hand pie with some legs, along with the sub.”
    â€œThanks, Nan,” I said.
    â€œJill, can I tempt you, too?” Nancy said, pen poised above her pad.
    â€œI should watch my waistline, but what the heck? I’ll have a cherry hand pie to go also,” Jill said.
    We both got up. When Jill reached for her purse to pay, I shook my head. “It’s on the house, Jill. My treat.”
    â€œThank you, Trixie. See you tomorrow for