Strawberry Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 13 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) by Carol Durand, Summer Prescott Page B

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    “So
how much damage was done?” tall, dark and handsome detective Chas Beckett
asked, digging his fork into a luscious pile of collard greens. He knew that
after the harrowing day Missy had, comfort food was in order, so he took her to
one of their favorite local cafes for dinner.
    “I
don’t know yet,” she sighed, tearing off tiny pieces of cornbread and dipping
them into the sauce of her barbequed beans. “I’m meeting a contractor tomorrow
for an estimate on repairing the structural damage. The stove is unsalvageable,
and there will have to be a new countertop installed on one side. I’m just glad
that no one was hurt.”
    Chas
nodded. “That’s the important thing,” he agreed. “Is Cheryl okay? That had to
have been quite a shock.”
    “Yes,
she’s fine. A little shaken up, understandably, but fine. I’m sending her to
the Dellville store to help Ben and Chris out while we rebuild,” Missy replied,
sipping her sweet tea.
    “Well,
please know that I’ll help in any way that I can,” his blue eyes were filled
with compassion that made Missy’s throat close with emotion. Chas’s father had
passed several months ago, leaving the detective with an actual fortune, and
Missy knew that he could help her out financially, but she had been keeping her
family’s business afloat since her parents were killed in a tragic accident
when she was seventeen, and she wasn’t about to relinquish her stubborn independence
because of an unforeseen event.
    “I
know, Chas. Thank you,” she said, reaching across the table to squeeze his
hand. She loved this man with every fiber of her being, which was funny and
ironic, because neither of them had been open to the idea of having a
relationship when they’d met, and now they were inseparable.
    Her
phone buzzed, interrupting the moment, and she looked down at it with mild
annoyance. Recognizing that the caller was the same person she’d hung up on
when the explosion occurred, she took the call, apologizing to her charming
dinner companion as she answered.
    “Melissa
Gladstone,” she gave her standard answer.
    “Oh
my goodness, I’m so glad you’re okay,” the still-vaguely familiar voice
exclaimed. “Was that an explosion I heard earlier?”
    “Yes,
it was, and yes, I’m fine, thank you. Who is this exactly?” Missy asked without
diplomacy, her rough day catching up with her.
    “It’s
Robin Campbell. I’m the Production Assistant from Horizon Studios in
Hollywood,” the caller admitted, somewhat apologetically. “Look,” she began,
before Missy could protest or hang up. “I know you have two businesses to run
and that you’re a very busy gal, but I want you to know that I’ve been authorized
to offer you a significant sum of money if you’ll agree to do a Bayou Baker show for us once a week in one of your cupcake shops. We’ll do everything we
can to make certain that we stay out of your way and let you do your own thing,
but I think that our viewers will really appreciate having a glimpse into your
world,” she pleaded.
    It
was on the tip of Missy’s tongue to nicely but firmly decline, but then she
remembered the costs involved in rebuilding the part of her shop that had been
affected by the fire.
    “What
do you consider a significant sum of money?” she asked, carefully not
committing, but leaving the door open to that possibility.
    “I’d
be happy to fly out there tomorrow and talk with you about it,” was the
enthusiastic reply. “We can discuss terms and contracts, and if you’re
comfortable with everything, we can get started as early as next week.”
    “I
have a lot on my plate for tomorrow,” Missy mused, still torn.
    “No
problem, I’ll work around your schedule. We can meet at two o’clock in the
morning if you need to,” Robin assured her. “Thanks so much for agreeing to
talk with me. You have my  person tomorrow,” she said, hanging up before Missy
could change her mind.
    “What
was that all about?” Chas asked,