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The heat of August was making the kitchen of Bitter Beans almost unbearable. I fanned myself with one of the baking pans as I waited for my dough to rise. The island was usually pretty immune to high temperatures, but this heat wave was making me think we should switch from pastries to popsicles until Mother Nature's hot flash settled down.
My name is Paige Comber. My plan when I graduated school was to jet off to Paris to train at the Cordon Bleu. My mom, instead, shipped me off to work in my granny's bakery. She wanted me to get a healthy dose of reality. Rather than grinding days of mindless drudgery, though, it had turned into a crazy summer. Couple of murders, an attempt or two on my life, but on the flip side, I met this really great guy named Nate. And bonus! We learned a few weeks ago he was my best friend Johnny's secret cousin.
I glanced up at the clock and wondered when Granny would be back from her afternoon walk. Usually, I was up with the roosters to do our daily bake, but there was a town council meeting this evening and Nate had asked if I would cater. How could I say no? Granny was supposed to be covering the front counter, but her posse of gal pals had insisted she get caught up on all the gossip. And seeing how the gossip might have something to do with Nate, I told her to go do some investigating and bring me back all the juicy details.
When Nate's uncle died, he had been in the process of selling the island to a land developer to turn the whole place into a cruise port. But Nate and Johnny fought back and secured historical status for the town. Sadly, it was turning out to be a lot more headache than I think either of them were bargaining for. At least the citizens were onboard. Heck, they loved the island even more than Nate, who was still a bit of a newcomer. But in order for the plan to succeed, there were going to be new building regulations and remodeling restrictions. Preservation and restoration is all fun and games until it hits a person's bank account. Tonight was to gather ideas to ensure that investing in Seaside's charm was a financially beneficial arrangement for everyone.
Nate had the brilliant insight that it is hard to talk reasonably with the hangry, so that's where I came in. I was grateful there was something I could do to help. There is power in my cinnamon rolls and I was pretty sure the smell of fresh coffee and yummy things would make all the information a little easier to swallow.
I pulled my tray out of the proving drawer and shoved it in the oven. Then, I took a satisfied step back. My work was done for a few minutes. I retied my long, chestnut hair into a sweaty ponytail and grabbed ice water to cool down.
I walked out into the bookshop, grateful for the ceiling fans overhead, and I straightened the shelves for the umpteenth time. Bitter Beans had an old-timey western feel to it. Little tables with checkerboards circled a potbelly stove Granny fired up in the winter. The hardwood floors were smooth from the years of feet treading their surface. Granny kept the store stocked with books on local history and summer reads well suited for bingeing on the beach. Captain, my Granny's orange, stripy cat lifted his sleepy head to see who was disturbing his afternoon nap, stretched, and then curled up again. He was a bit of a Seaside celebrity and folks came from far and wide to snap a selfie with him.
Or at least, usually they did. The day had been surprisingly light and I wondered where all the customers were. Had school started early? I peered out onto the street. It was disturbing not to have a line of people. I wandered back to wipe down counters when suddenly I heard the bell over the front door tinkle.
Granny came storming in, her eyes flaring with anger. Her turquoise purse, which matched her turquoise kitten heels, swayed dangerously from her wrist.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Do you know what that ex-boyfriend of yours did?" she inquired, cocking her hip in outrage.
"No...?" I replied.
She pointed a bright pink manicured nail at the door. "He's netting customers out of our stream like a fisherman scooping up tuna."
"What?" I asked.
She gathered herself and patted her black bouffant into place. "He's got a sign outside his bar offering fresh coffee and breakfast. Fresh coffee, my patootie. I've seen his empty metal cans in the trash, pre-ground and bought off a grocery store shelf. But those tourists don't know they're being taken for fools. The ferry traffic sees him before they make it here and swallow down that swill. No wonder business has been slow." She crossed her arms. "I mean, not even Yvette and her café would stoop so low. NOT EVEN YVETTE."
Yvette owned a place on Main Street that served sandwiches and ice cream. Occasionally, we had some crossover, but there was an understood treaty between shop owners not to cross into each other's territory. I couldn't believe Trevor would do something like this. I mean, he was always ambitious, and not above a little political play. But for him to fire that sort of a shot across our bow? Advertising coffee? We were THE coffee shop on Seaside.
But then I thought of his girlfriend, Madison, and the pieces started to fall into place. She was a "winner take all" kind of girl, and had no loyalties to the people who made up this island.
"As if I didn't have enough to recover from with those horse tranquilizers and missing most of the Founders Festival... to have a fellow Seaside businessman up in my business! He even put on his sign he's got air conditioning!" She was so angry she snorted. "AIR CONDITIONING!"
I resisted the urge to wipe away the traitorous trickle of sweat that was dripping down my brow.
"And don't you tell me that air conditioning sounds pretty good on a hot day like today!" she said.
"Who would ever say anything like that? It feels great," I lied.
"Because if I wasn't so hopping mad at him, I would absolutely go into that Saloon of his myself for a blast of that icy cold air." She dabbed her neck. "I'm calling the A/C installer right now and don't think you can talk me out of it." Granny sashayed behind the counter. "Good thing I saved up for a rainy day."
A psychopath had tried to kill Johnny a few weeks ago and Granny was caught in the crossfire. It happened during the Founders Festival, which is like the Christmas season for Seaside businesses and she took a pretty big hit to her bottom line.
"Is everything going to be okay?" I asked with concern.
"Oh! Sure, sure..." Granny said, pulling out a thick, yellow pages directory from a drawer. "We'll weather this storm. It's not even a storm! It's just a bit drizzly." She glanced in the direction of Trevor's bar and her eyes narrowed. "But I'm going to make sure that young man gets a little education on how we conduct ourselves on this island." She tucked the directory into the crook of her arm and turned toward the door to her apartment. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to slip into something more fabulous for my battle armor this evening."
Before I could even respond, the timer went off. I hurried off to pull my buns out of the oven before they burned. I could hear her heels clicking up the stairs.
I did not envy Trevor.
You do not get on Granny's bad side.
Her words troubled me, though. I wondered how bad missing the Founders Festival really was. I loved Bitter Beans and hoped Granny wasn't downplaying how serious things were. The fact she mentioned it at all meant that it was probably pretty bad.
My mind went over the events of that week. I had spent so much time sleuthing, but not much time behind the counter. I mean, yes, the sleuthing had saved Johnny's life, but now that the crisis had passed, were her dreams at risk? She'd never blame me for this financial hiccup, but that didn't keep me from blaming myself.
As I placed the buns out to cool, noting that we still didn't have any customers, I vowed I'd do whatever it took to help Granny fix it.