Sweets And Secrets Cozy Mysteries 01 - Folk Tales and Fudge Brownies

  FOLK TALES AND FUDGE BROWNIES

  A.R. WINTERS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Loaf Or Death

  Sneak Peak: Innocent in Las Vegas

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Folk Tales and Fudge Brownies

  Copyright 2020 by A. R. Winters

  www.arwinters.com

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  T he aroma of flour and fresh pastries hit me as soon as I peeked inside the back door of Shepherd’s Falls Bakery.

  My aunt Betsy had asked me to come over and help with the cakes since she’d been selling out of them with all the tourists coming into town. But I couldn’t see her inside the bakery, and I wasn’t sure if this was a good time. The parking lot was full, and the whole staff of bakers and cooks seemed to be working intensely. The last thing I wanted to be was a distraction.

  “Well, don’t just stand there like you’ve never seen the inside of a bakery before, honey,” Janelle, the lead baker, called out. “If you’ve got two working hands—or even just one, for that matter—you’d better get on in here.”

  She tossed me a wink as I hurried in and closed the door behind me. “Sorry, Janelle.” I felt a little sheepish. She was right. I knew better than to play shy around her or my aunt. “Everyone just looks so busy. I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “Never, honey. We’re glad for the help.” She nodded toward the front of the bakery. The kitchen was mostly open so customers could see their baked goods being prepared, and from where I was standing, I could already count at least a dozen people up front. “Your aunt is out stocking the front counter. Go check in with her and then come see me when you’re ready to get your hands in some flour.”

  “Thanks, Janelle.” I smiled as I made my way through the crowded prep area and through the swinging doors that lead to the front counter.

  They were just as busy up front, with both cashiers handling a line of customers and my aunt doing her best to keep up with the rush as she moved from case to case restocking the cakes and pastries.

  “Oh, Jean, thank goodness you’re here!” There was a look of relief on Aunt Betsy’s face but I also knew she loved that kind of rush. Most people looked forward to some peace and quiet and a slower pace of life once they retired, but not Aunt Betsy.

  She bought the bakery that was named after one of her favorite spots—the Shepherd’s Falls—and then expanded the menu to include some locally grown farm-to-table food in addition to the huge selection of breads, cakes, pastries, and donuts. She even started catering to weddings.

  Staying busy was in Betsy’s DNA—at least, that’s what my parents always said when I was growing up and they would compare my restlessness to hers.

  I always took it as a compliment and hoped to still be as eager to get out of the house and make things happen once I hit sixty.

  “Hi, Aunt Betsy.” I gave a little wave as I surveyed the situation. “Where do you need me the most?”

  “It would be especially helpful if you could clone yourself right about now, dear.” Her eyes sparkled as she gave a half-shrug. “But maybe start by refilling the drip coffee? And then let’s see where we’re at with everything else.”

  “Sure thing.” I walked over to the sink to wash my hands and then started weaving through the crowd to get to the self-serve coffee maker.

  I almost made it too.

  Almost.

  There was a man at the coffee maker trying to balance the heavy-looking backpack on his shoulder as he tilted the pot to get the last few drops into his cup.

  “Excuse me, sir… I can start a new pot of coffee if you’d like.” I reached out to tap him on the shoulder when he didn’t respond, but he turned and took a step toward me just as I extended my hand.

  “Oh, come on.” He sucked in a sharp breath as my arm bumped his, sending hot coffee sloshing back over the side of his cup and onto his fingers and the floor below. “That’s hot! You’ve gotta be careful.”

  I froze, wide-eyed, as it felt like every head in the building turned to look at me. “I’m so sorry, sir,” I said, hurrying back to the counter to grab a towel. “Let me just get some soda water on this towel, and I can help get—”

  He waved me off before I could even finish my sentence. “Don’t worry about it. It’s… It’ll be fine.” It seemed like he had at least calmed down a little after the initial shock. Not that I could really blame him. Hot coffee didn’t feel the best when it was sloshed onto a person’s fingers. “Maybe I’m getting my bad luck out of the way early today.” He nodded toward the backpack that was still precariously perched on his shoulder. “This might be the day that I find him.”

  “I hope so.” I offered a tentative smile. “Looks like you might have some competition around here today though.”

  It was probably the understatement of the year. Our little town of Reedville was tucked away in the Cascade mountains and was known for three things—the gorgeous Shepherd’s Falls waterfall, my aunt’s bakery with the same name, and… Bigfoot.

  Chances were good that all the people flocking to the bakery would eventually make their way out to look for the other two main attractions.

  “You’ll have better luck using all the fancy equipment in that backpack to navigate your way over to the napkin dispenser,” a gruff voice that belonged to an equally grumpy looking man interrupted. “The closest thing to Bigfoot anyone’s gonna find around here is a grizzly—and I’d be surprised if most of you could manage that.”

  The Bigfoot hunter looked embarrassed, and I exchanged a quick glance with my aunt, who looked just as surprised as I was. Her bakery was always such a bright, upbeat place for customers and employees alike. And yes, maybe I’d just momentarily dampened that vibe a little with the coffee spilling incident, but this other guy had taken things to a whole new level of rude and awkward.

  I opened my mouth to at least offer some kind of defense for the Bigfoot hunter, but someone threw open the front door, causing the little bell above it to go haywire. I could barely see the face of the man standing in the doorway, but I could certainly hear him.

  “You guys!” He waved his arms in the air like he was about to land an airplane. “Everybody hurry! Come quick! I was just chased…” He paused to catch his breath as the crowd shifted and started to form a circle around him. “I was just chased out of the forest!”

  “Chased by whom?” asked the grumpy customer who had just been so rude to the other Bigfoot
hunter.

  “Who do you think? Bigfoot! Come on! He’s still around here somewhere!”

  Those excited words were more than enough to empty the bakery of customers in approximately point-five seconds. All except for Mr. Personality, the Bigfoot skeptic, of course.

  My aunt came around to the front of the counter and stood next to me as the crowd filtered out the front door. For a moment, nobody said a word.

  “They’ll never get tired of the chase.” Mr. Personality shook his head and sighed and then turned his attention back to Aunt Betsy and me. “And I guess that’s why I’ll keep chasing all of them. It’s tedious, but someone has to be the voice of reason who will stand up and shout that the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes, right?”

  “It seems you’ve taken on that responsibility.” Aunt Betsy kept her tone even as she watched the crowd hurry down the street. “Some people need to keep that hope alive though. Some of these tourists have spent their whole lives hoping for a glimpse of Bigfoot. Why try and take that away from them?”

  “Because it isn’t real,” was the immediate answer. The man shrugged and extended his hand. “Sorry, I probably should have introduced myself. I’m Kevin McKnight.” He paused and looked from my aunt to me then back again, maybe thinking we’d recognize the name somehow? “I’ve spent my whole life—well, my whole professional life, at least—covering these supposed Bigfoot sightings, writing about my experiences, and doing my best to approach things in a facts-based, science-based way. And the fact is, the sort of Bigfoot monster these people are hoping to see simply doesn’t exist.”

  “I suppose everyone has their part to play, Mr. McKnight.” Aunt Betsy’s eyes twinkled a moment, and the corners of her mouth twitched up into a hint of a smile. “For some people, that means chasing their dreams no matter what. Even if nobody else believes in them. Sometimes they need facts to keep them grounded. But sometimes we need the dreamers to remind us that people achieve impossible things every single day.”

  Kevin McKnight’s weathered, grumpy features softened just a little—barely even enough to notice if I hadn’t been staring—and I thought I even caught that same hint of a smile playing across his lips as Aunt Betsy spoke.

  I fully expected him to argue, though, and was more than a little surprised when he simply nodded and gave a little mock salute. “Well, ladies, I hope you both enjoy the rest of your day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some dreams to crush.”

  Aunt Betsy snorted and shook her head as he walked out the door. “And I even thought for a second that maybe I’d gotten through to him. It’s a shame, really. It must take a lot out of him to be so negative for a living.”

  “Would it be wrong to say I hope he gets lost in the woods?” I grinned over at Aunt Betsy. She clucked her tongue but couldn’t hide her smile anymore now that it was just the two of us.

  “No, dear, we shouldn’t wish for that.” She tossed me a wink as she walked back behind the counter to finish stocking the display cases. “But you know how we warn most of the newcomers in town to stay away from Angel’s Crest trail?”

  I nodded. That particular path up the mountain was notoriously difficult to navigate.

  “It’s a shame we didn’t have time to warn him.” Her eyes twinkled again, and I had to laugh out loud as I followed her around the counter.

  “But maybe it was for the best after all,” she continued. “Something tells me Mr. McKnight rather enjoys not being able to see the forest for the trees.”

  And that was one of the many reasons why I loved Aunt Betsy.

  Even if Kevin McKnight did end up on Angel’s Crest trail, Aunt Betsy and I knew he wouldn’t be in too much danger. She wouldn’t ever wish actual physical harm on someone. And I… mostly wouldn’t. He might see a bear, and he’d definitely have some new blisters to nurse when he got back down the mountain.

  But the real reason why people steer clear of that path is that while it does technically lead to the peak of the mountain, it has the absolute worst view. No sweeping vistas and no cloud-top perch looking down on the valley below.

  Just trees. Thick, dense, prickly evergreens that made it seem like the middle of any other forest anywhere on earth rather than the top of a majestic mountain. Ironically, the trail didn’t even offer a great view of the rest of the forest.

  Just… trees.

  But like Aunt Betsy said, maybe that was what Mr. McKnight preferred. Maybe that really was his part to play.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I let myself in through the front door of my parents’ house where I’d been staying ever since I’d left my teaching job in Turkey and had come back home to Reedville.

  The original deal I’d had with my parents was that I’d move back in with them temporarily while my dad recovered from a particularly bad case of pneumonia and bronchitis. That had been almost a month ago, though, and he seemed to be back to his old self, even able to go back to work at the library this past week.

  Which was definitely good news. Mom and I had been worried sick when his illness had taken a turn for the worse. But now that he was better, I knew I couldn’t just stay living with them in my childhood home forever.

  The subject of where I might go next hadn’t even come up yet, but I still thought about it from time to time. Would I leave the country again? Try to get a job teaching English somewhere abroad like I’d done in Turkey?

  Or maybe I’d stay in Reedville for a while. Put down some roots. Start a little vegetable garden.

  “Goodness, you look like you’ve had a long day, sweetheart.” My mom’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as I walked into the kitchen with my carryout bag from my aunt’s bakery. “Betsy must have kept you busy.”

  “She usually does,” I said with a grin as I set the bag down on the table where my parents were sitting. “She also sent some cake for you guys. Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”

  Dad’s eyebrows shot up as he peered into the bag. “My favorite. I’m pretty sure Betsy is directly responsible for the ten pounds I’ve gained since I’ve been off work.”

  Mom and I exchanged a smile. He wasn’t wrong. Aunt Betsy had sent over fresh bread, pies, cakes… even whole meals when my dad had been at his worst. She’d said the last thing my mom and I needed to worry about was trying to find time to cook a decent meal while we were taking care of him.

  We had all gained a couple of extra pounds during those weeks, but it had been totally worth it. Nobody baked like Aunt Betsy.

  It was the only thing I missed about that tough time.

  “Well, now that you’re feeling better, we can all start hiking together again and get back into shape.” Mom looked a little sheepish as she reached for the bag. “But… maybe one little piece of cake won’t do too much more damage.”

  I laughed. “I’m not sure this is the best time to be planning a hike anyway. Everyone within a fifty mile radius is out there right now convinced they’re hot on Bigfoot’s tail.”

  Dad sighed. “I heard there was some commotion downtown today. Everyone who came into the library mentioned something about someone getting chased down by Bigfoot.”

  “It was the same way at the garden center,” Mom nodded. “Of course, it’s the same every year around this time. Bigfoot fever seems to have caught on early this year though. The festival hasn’t even started yet.”

  I groaned. I’d been trying to avoid thinking about the annual Sasquatch festival. It was a big deal for Reedville and a major moneymaker for the local businesses since the town would be overrun by tourists and wide-eyed first-timers hoping for a glimpse of the elusive Bigfoot. There would be a costume contest, a scavenger hunt, bands playing, the whole nine yards.

  But man, it was exhausting.

  And I always felt a little pang of guilt at the end of the festival. After a lifetime of seeing those excited, eager looks at the beginning of the week turn into disappointment after a few long days in the mountains, I’d started dreading the entire thing.

  But like Au
nt Betsy said, people need to keep the hope alive somehow. And who was I to say for sure that Bigfoot didn’t exist? Just because I’d never seen anything that had made me a believer in all the years I’d lived here in the mountains, that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

  After all, there were all sorts of other things I believed in that I’d probably never see firsthand.

  I shook my head when Mom offered me a small piece of the cake. Dad had already started diving in, and I honestly enjoyed seeing him with an appetite again more than I enjoyed eating the cake myself.

  Plus, Aunt Betsy had already forced a couple of slices on me back at the bakery.

  “I’m just worried about what things are going to be like when the festival does actually start,” I said. “It’s already so crazy out there, and people’s tempers are starting to get short. You should have seen this guy in the bakery today. I thought there was going to be a fight!”

  “Oh, no. Please tell me nothing bad happened there, sweetheart.” Mom’s eyes went wide as she spoke between bites. “I thought I’d be able to stop worrying about you when you came home from overseas, but if fights are breaking out at the bakery now…”

  “Don’t worry, Mom.” I smiled. When I was a teenager and even into my early twenties, I would get annoyed at how much my parents worried. But now that I was staring thirty right in the face? It was sort of nice to know that someone still wanted to make sure I was doing okay. “You know Aunt Betsy wouldn’t stand for anything too crazy in her bakery. It was just this sort of awkward thing where I bumped into a guy and some of his coffee sloshed out and spilled on his fingers, so—”

  “Ah, so then he was angry at you?” Dad winced. “I would hope that he wouldn’t say anything too rude to a young lady.”

  I smirked. Clearly, my dad’s definition of young lady might need some updating. But again, it was a nice thought, right?

  “He actually ended up being a pretty nice guy once his fingers stopped steaming,” I continued. “But then this other guy popped up out of nowhere and started being really mean, telling the guy to go navigate his way to the napkins and how nobody was going to find Bigfoot because it isn’t real. Just all sorts of unnecessary stuff like that.”