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Authors: Fern Michaels

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Chapter 10
B
ack home in Charleston, just like clockwork, and despite jet lag, Toots awakened at her normal time of five thirty. She had a busy day ahead of her. First and foremost she planned to travel to the new bakery to find out what, if anything, was going on. Knowing Charleston was full of superstitions, folklore, and numerous tall tales, Toots seriously doubted there was any merit to Bernice's stories of witches and evil.
After taking a quick shower, she dressed in a pair of khaki pants, a white blouse, and her favorite navy blue loafers. She pulled her dark auburn hair up in a topknot, added a touch of peach blush, mascara, and her favorite coral lipstick. Ready to face the day, she raced downstairs to make a pot of coffee for Bernice. For as long as she could remember, this had been their morning routine. Toots always had the coffee brewing and a large box of Froot Loops, whole milk, and loads of sugar ready for their breakfast. Since Mavis had been on her healthy diet, losing one hundred pounds, both she and Sophie had gone along with the regimen to lend their moral support. Showing once again that no good deed goes unpunished, they had almost died from sugar withdrawal each and every day when Mavis served up oatmeal and fresh fruit for breakfast. Now that Toots was back home, it was time to hit the Froot Loops and the sugar. Healthy breakfasts be damned.
Downstairs, Mavis was already in the kitchen, preparing oatmeal with sliced strawberries and whole-wheat toast. “Good morning, Toots. I thought you would sleep in today, this being your first day home.”
“No, I told you girls last night I plan to investigate the new bakery. You want to go with me?”
“No, I can't. Would you mind if I borrowed one of your vehicles to drive to the post office or FedEx, if they have one close by? I have several packages that I need to get in today's mail.”
“Of course not. Sophie seems to think there's a big mystery surrounding you and your packages. Is there?” Toots asked.
Mavis looked down at her bowl of oatmeal, unable or unwilling to meet Toots's gaze. “No, not at all. Remember I told you I had promised I would send all those packages up north?”
“Yes, I do, but I still think something fishy is going on with you. Sophie does too.”
Bernice chose that moment to enter the kitchen, putting a stop to their conversation. “It's been a long time since I walked into the kitchen and found a pot of coffee brewing. How long do you plan to be home this time?”
Mavis appeared glad for the reprieve and continued slicing strawberries.
“As long as it takes. Why?” Toots asked.
Bernice poured herself a cup of coffee, removed the half-and-half from the refrigerator, then added three heaping spoonfuls of sugar. “I don't know. I just thought after all that ghost talk last night, it might've scared you off. Are you really going down to that bakery?”
Toots rolled her eyes. “Of course I am. Now I'm going to finish this coffee and leave. Mavis, if you want to borrow the keys to the Lincoln, Bernice will give them to you with directions to the post office, FedEx, whichever. Sophie and Ida are still upstairs sleeping. I have no clue when they'll be down. Just make sure they have some breakfast.”
“Well, I can see that you're back to your same old bossy self,” Bernice quipped.
“Yup, and you'll be lucky to keep your job if you start sassing me,” Toots said with a smile.
“You've been saying that for thirty years,” Bernice snapped.
“And I'll be saying it for thirty more if we're lucky. Now I'm out of here.” Toots grabbed her purse off the counter, scooped up the keys to her Land Rover, and headed for the garage.
Bernice flipped her the bird.
It felt good to Toots to be back in her own vehicle. While she loved the sporty red Thunderbird she had purchased in Los Angeles, it was just a toy car. What was even better, she knew Charleston like the back of her hand and could get anywhere with no need to study maps, use a GPS, or get directions. In addition, though morning traffic in Charleston was heavy, it was nothing like the traffic in Los Angeles. Twenty minutes later, she found herself parking her Land Rover in front of The Sweetest Things, the bakery Bernice thought was spooked. The Sweetest Things. She liked that name, thinking it was very appropriate. Inside, the sweet smell of dough rising, sugar bubbling, and melting butter teased her senses like a drug. It had been so long since she'd had real sugar, her body might react in strange ways. The bakery appeared empty. Had it not been for the sweet, tantalizing smell wafting throughout the small shop, she would have thought it was closed.
The thought had no sooner entered her mind when a woman of no more than thirty appeared from the back of the kitchen. She was small and slender, with short blond hair worn in a spiky do; her bright blue eyes were the color of the sky. A cheerful grin greeted Toots. “Hi. My name is Jamie. Can I help you?”
“I've been dying for some sweets and was told to come here.” Damn! Talk about putting your foot in your mouth. Toots remembered a man had just died while waiting in line for his sweet treats. She hoped she hadn't offended the young woman.
“You came to the right place. I've been baking for five hours and need to take a break. How about you pick something out? I'll pour you a cup of coffee, and you can join me. On the house.”
That was the last thing Toots had expected. It didn't look as though people were beating down the doors. Why the offer of free sweets and coffee, she had no clue, but she was going to take Jamie up on it. Plus, she wanted to find out exactly what had happened to that man who died while waiting in line. The poor woman looked beat, like she could use a break.
“That's a lovely offer, dear. But you don't look like you have a lot of customers. Why would you give away all these lovely desserts?”
The young woman poured two cups of coffee and filled a plate with a variety of pastries before coming out from behind the counter to sit down at the small table in front of the window. “I don't suppose you've heard what happened here?”
Yes, she had, but she wanted to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. A small white lie was in order. “No, I haven't. I've been in California for the past several months.”
“I guess that's a good thing,” the young girl said. “Otherwise, you might not be sitting here eating these pastries or drinking this coffee with me.”
“I can't imagine why you would say that. This place is adorable.” And it was. Decorated in shades of pink and red, the shop looked like something right out of
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.
Colorful and sweet. Toots placed her hand beneath the table and crossed her fingers. It was her second lie in less than five minutes.
“I know this isn't the most popular area in Charleston, especially for a bakery. When my grandmother died, she left this building to me. I spent the last six years working in the bakery department of a large chain grocery store. I'd always wanted to have my own bakery, and when Mimi died, I figured it was finally my chance. My assistant and I spent days preparing all the baked goods. I'd spent weeks decorating, ordering, just doing all the general things required to open a new business.
“I blew my advertising budget to hell because I had so much positive input from the locals. On opening day, we had a line wrapped around the building, and I was in my heaven. Then the worst thing possible happened. While a man was waiting in line, he suffered a massive heart attack and died. I have to admit he was a hundred pounds or more overweight, and I'm sure the heart attack would have happened no matter what, but Charleston being Charleston, word spread quickly that my bakery was”—Jamie paused, a slight smile lifting the corner of her lip—“to die for. Haunted. With all the local superstitions and folklore, that was all it took to ruin me. I've heard some are even calling me a witch. I've had a few tourists come in, but that's about it. I've got enough money to keep the place going for another month. After that, it's all she wrote. So now you know my sob story. What's yours?” Jamie took a sip of coffee.
Bells went off in Toots's head. Her gut told her this was the right thing to do, and before she changed her mind, she formed a quick financial plan. Rightfully, she should check with Abby first, but then those days were over, she reminded herself. No longer accountable to anyone other than herself, she could make a snap decision if she wanted, and the hell with it.
“Have you ever thought of getting a partner?” Toots asked, her voice laced with excitement.
“Yes, I have, but I don't know of anyone who's willing to toss their money into a bakery, especially now, in these terrible financial times. Though it'll break my heart, I think I'm going to have to chalk this up to experience and move on.”
Not wanting to reveal her plans before she'd given them five minutes' more thought, Toots asked, “Have you been to a banker? I have a good friend in town who is president of the Bank of Charleston. Maybe I could put a good word in for you.”
Jamie shook her head; a smile that didn't reach her eyes showed pretty white teeth. “My credit sucks. There is no way a bank would lend me a plugged nickel.”
Toots looked at her watch. Five minutes had passed. It was time to make a decision. There was one final test, and if it worked, her decision was made.
“Do you make pralines here?” Toots asked.
“Actually they're one of my specialties. I just made a batch. Hang on, and I'll get you one.” Jamie raced back to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a plate piled high with pralines.
She held the plate out for Toots. Not needing an invitation, Toots took a praline off the plate, sank her teeth into the rich, sweet, sugary confection, and her decision was made.
“I think you've just found yourself a partner,” Toots said.
Chapter 11
F
our hours later, Toots parked the Land Rover in the garage. She was barely out of the vehicle before Sophie and Bernice practically pounced on her.
“Where in the world have you been? We've been worried sick about you,” Bernice said.
Toots got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked inside the house without saying a word. Sophie followed her inside like a bad odor.
“I'm here now. That's all that matters. And besides, it's none of your business. You all are the nosiest bunch of old women I've ever seen,” Toots remarked.
“We thought maybe you'd had a heart attack!” Sophie informed her. “People die when they go to
that
bakery. If you weren't my best friend, I'd kick your ass right now.”
After Toots had a few seconds to gather her thoughts, she decided she couldn't put off the inevitable. “Where are Mavis and Ida? There's something I need to discuss with all of you.”
“Mavis went to FedEx. Then she said something about stopping at Catherine's clothing shop. Ida went with her. She said something about looking for a salon so she could have her hair done and a manicure and pedicure. I expect they'll be gone the rest of the day,” Bernice said.
Being her usual sarcastic self, Sophie spoke up. “Please,
please
tell me you haven't found your ninth husband. If that's the case, I'm going to have you committed to the nearest nuthouse.”
Toots shot daggers at Sophie. “Do I look like an idiot?”
“You want the truth or a lie?” Sophie asked.
“What I want is to smack that smirk off your face right now,” Toots said.
“Go for it,” Sophie singsonged.
“Seriously I need to talk to you all. I did something today, and I want your opinion.”
“I hope you didn't have a bikini wax,” Sophie said smartly.
“You have an ugly mind,” Toots responded, though she couldn't help but smile when she recalled Ida's telling them about the time she'd had a bikini wax. “I met the young woman who owns the bakery. Her name is Jamie.”
“And that is supposed to impress me how?” Sophie questioned.
“If you could keep your big trap closed long enough, I might be able to tell you,” Toots said. “The young woman is about Abby's age. Apparently she inherited the building from her grandmother and sank every dime she owned into the business. When that obese man died in front of her store, her business went from what might have been fantastic to a few stray tourists here and there.
“She invited me for coffee and pastries. By the way, she makes the best pralines I've ever tasted. That alone should draw a crowd. Long story short, I went with my gut instinct—as you know I'm famous for doing—and offered to buy half of the business. I am now half owner of The Sweetest Things.” Toots looked at the two women, saw the expressions on their face. Shock and awe.
“Have you been drinking?” Bernice asked.
“I think she's been smoking pot,” Sophie announced, almost beside herself.
“Do you realize what you've done? You'll lose every dime if you decide to make it public that you are part owner of that wicked place. I heard she was a witch,” Bernice said, her voice rising to near hysteria.
“I knew you would say something like that,” Toots commented. “That woman is no more a witch than you are. She's had some bad luck because of horrible circumstances, but that's no reason for her to throw the towel in. If you tasted one of her pralines, you would know exactly what I'm talking about,” Toots said with a smile.
She watched Bernice and Sophie, the looks on their faces. Stunned didn't begin to describe their expressions. Their mouths hung open like treasure chests waiting for more booty to be shoved in. Toots figured their tongues would start flapping again momentarily.
Bernice was the first to regain her composure. “Surely, you're not going to throw good money after bad. I know you like sugar and all that bad crap, but this is even off the scale for you, Toots. First you buy a tabloid newspaper. Now you're telling us you're buying a bakery, and it's probably haunted. The owner is a witch, and you think you can make it work simply because you like her pralines?”
“I agree with Bernice,” Sophie said. “You're out of your freaking mind. Or you've just got so much money, you don't know what to do with it. I'm inclined to believe that it's a little bit of both. What do you think Abby will say when you tell her you've bought a bakery? It even sounds stupid!”
“And this is coming from the woman who does séances and talks to dead people? Give me a break! Why do you think I was gone so long? What do you think I did? Just run to the bank, make a withdrawal, hand it to the woman, and say, ‘Here, have at it'? Well?”
“Yes, actually I do. As I recall it, your gut instinct hasn't always been right,” Sophie remarked.
“When?” Toots challenged.
“Let me think.” Sophie tapped a manicured nail against her temple. “Wasn't
it you
who invested one hundred thousand dollars in those charcoal underpants? I remember when you wrote me about that over twenty years ago. You said they would be the next Wonderbra or better. What did you think? That you were going to save the world from obnoxious odors?” Sophie laughed out loud.
“It was only a hundred grand. It wasn't that big a loss. And for the record, I just saw an infomercial the other night that was advertising charcoal underwear, so there!”
“And what was that deal with the flying car? Didn't one of your husbands invest a bucket load of money in that scheme?”
Bernice perked up at that. “I remember that. Even though I don't like to fly, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Yes, I believe that was George. If I recall correctly, he thought of himself as George Jetson when that flying-car deal came around.
I
didn't invest the money. It was his to do with as he pleased. So is there anything else you want to rub in my face?” Toots asked.
“I'm sure I'll think of something,” Sophie replied.
“Well, while you're busy
thinking,
I'm going upstairs to take a shower and change. I'm going to make dinner tonight.” With that, Toots turned on her heel and walked through the kitchen, into the dining area, and up the stairs into her own room. Had she made a mistake? Was she just another old lady with too much money who didn't know what to do with it? No, she didn't think so.
She truly believed Jamie and her bakery could be very successful. Yes, she had invested in a few things here and there, but only because of her desire to help others less fortunate, and so what if she lost a few thousand dollars along the way? It was her money to lose. Though she had to agree with Sophie, the flying-car deal had been a bit out there.
She quickly showered and changed into a pair of black slacks and a bright red top. She loosened the topknot and let her hair cascade around her shoulders. She went over to her dresser and looked in the mirror. Not bad for sixty-five. She dabbled a little blush on her cheeks, a little gloss on her lips, then slipped into a pair of comfortable sandals and was back downstairs within twenty minutes.
Bernice and Sophie were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.
“Why did you dress up just to cook dinner?” Sophie asked.
“Because I felt like it,” Toots shot back.
“I cannot believe you're actually cooking. The only thing I've ever seen you make is a bowl of Froot Loops and coffee, and I think, though I am not positive about it, that you're good at toast,” Bernice said dryly.
“There's a first time for everything. If I'm going to be operating a bakery, I need to learn my way around the kitchen. So tonight I'm making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches! Hot damn! You'll have your own show on the Food Network before it's all over with. Emeril Lagasse, look out.” Sophie slurped her coffee.
“I have to start somewhere. I remember making grilled cheese sandwiches for Abby when she was little. She loved them. If you don't like them, you don't have to eat them.”
Toots made quick work of putting together a stack of sandwiches. She removed the bread from the bread box, placing the slices assembly-line style along the counter. She topped each slice of bread with a big slice of cheddar cheese and topped that off with another slice of bread. She placed them all on a baking sheet, threw the baking sheet in the oven, and poured herself a cup of coffee before joining Sophie and Bernice at the kitchen table.
Again, Bernice's and Sophie's mouths hung open. “You don't bake grilled cheese sandwiches, you dummy,” Sophie said.
“Says who?” Toots asked.
“Anyone over the age of six,” Sophie added. “You
grill
them, in a skillet, on top of the stove. That's why they're called
grilled
cheese sandwiches.”
“She is right, Toots,” Bernice stated. “And I'll eat one, if they're not burnt.”
“I appreciate your support. Both of you. I'm trying, okay? I have other talents besides cooking, just so you know.”
The words were no more out of Toots's mouth when the scent of burnt cheese wafted toward them. Smoke billowed from the sides of the oven like a thick fog. She raced over to the stove, grabbed a kitchen towel, and yanked the bubbling cheese from the oven. She looked over her shoulder to see Sophie and Bernice laughing so hard, tears were rolling down their faces.
With her one free hand, Toots gave them the finger.
Between laughing and spitting, Sophie spoke up. “Looks to me like those other talents might be something you want to pull out of your apron,” Sophie cackled. “Get it? Apron?”
“Yes, yes, yes, I do, Sophie. I can't cook, but I'm trying, okay? And whatever you do, don't you dare tell Mavis and Ida about this incident. Bernice, you neither, or I will fire you.”
Bernice's bright blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. You've been saying that for thirty years.”
“You know, someday I might just do it, too,” Toots said as she dumped the pile of burnt cheese sandwiches into the sink.
The girls were probably onto something. Maybe it was her forte in life just to be the money person, not the actual baker in this case. Obviously, her talents lay elsewhere, such as in decorating. Now, that was something she knew how to do.
“Okay, I can't cook. I'm having a bowl of Froot Loops for dinner. Anyone care to join me?”
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