Cooking up a Mystery
4.5/5
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About this ebook
When Eric discovers that Laney's in danger, he vows to protect her. But can he make a lasting promise? Will she trust him? . . .and when they overhear a threat that could cause national turmoil, will anyone believe them? There's more brewing than herbal tea in Cooking up a Mystery.
**Includes over two dozen recipes**
Read more from Gail Pallotta
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Reviews for Cooking up a Mystery
11 ratings3 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5“He’d wrapped her in shame and disgust and tied it as tight around her as if he’d bound her to a chair. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t untie the knots.” Laney Eskridge, the protagonist in Gail Pallotta’s Cooking Up a Mystery, is hurting from the mistreatment in her first marriage and has no time for romance as she starts her dream restaurant. When she meets recuperating college professor Eric, will she rebuff his offers of friendship and possibly more because of her past?The novel starts off a little slowly for my liking. The action picks up about mid-book with more mystery in the restaurant itself, some of it revolving around an unseemly simple painting.Eric sounds like a winner, yet he can’t figure out why he scares Laney off sometimes. I read this thinking, “Slow down, pal, she’s giving off signals that say not to move too fast!!” So his puzzlement eludes me.I love a good secondary character, and George is a wonderful one! He isn’t part of the romance, but he does want to help the romance along. He will do anything within his power to help Laney and gives extra of his time and thought to help her. He is just sweet and loveable. Nominated for a best secondary character.I like that Laney spends a good deal of her time actually at her restaurant, and we see her interactions there. I always think that it is important the main character truly works the job she supposedly holds. Kudos to Pallotta here.Overall a great read.I received a copy of this book from the author and publisher through Celebrate Lit. I am voluntarily leaving my thoughts, which are solely my own.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I like how the author lays a foundation in the first part of the book. It allows readers to get familiar with each character. The author doesn’t rush the story and let’s us savor each detail. Yes I was hungry the whole time I read the book. I could smell the delicate pastries and the hearty meals that was prepared by our star character, Laney. She is determined to make her place a success even it takes her away from everything else. I think maybe she is hiding behind her success because she has some emotional baggage to deal with. Eric is perfect for Laney even though she fights her feelings for him. I liked how they met and thought it was a unique way to start a friendship. Eric is definitely intrigued by Laney and doesn’t give up easily. I liked Eric’s integrity and caring way he has about him. There is a faith element scattered throughout the story that is just the right amount without feeling preachy. The mystery really picks up in the second half of the book when Laney continues to hear banging noises in the kitchen when no one is in there. I would not be able to stay there alone like she does at night. I’m glad others started to hear the same noises because I was beginning to wonder if she was imagining things. The author does a great job of leaving hints like little crumbs as Eric and Laney start to investigate the building. I couldn’t wait to find out where the story would go. It has all the elements of a cozy mystery with enticing food, relatable characters and a little lesson on forgiveness and trust. It is a great recipe for an entertaining read filled with surprises and a great ending. I really enjoyed this story and the wonderful recipes included at the end of the book. It’s like getting a cozy mystery and mini cookbook packed together to fill you with joy. I received a copy of this book from Celebrate Lit. The review is my own opinion.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Laney longs for her tea shop to be successful, but she's still grieving her mother's death and her former husband's faithlessness. Full of doubt and worry, she hears noises at night and wonders is she's losing her mind. But then her assistant hears the noises, too, and thinks it's a ghost. The story moves along in a gentle manner as Laney's customer base grows. There's the beginning of a romance, as well. Eric has a broken foot and signs up for Laney's Delectable Delights--but he wants Laney to deliver everyday, not her assistant. While Laney and Eric grow fond of each other, they both doubt their ability to commit to a lasting love. Then Eric proves to very helpful in discovering the mystery of the kitchen noises. All in all, this was quite a treat, especially with the recipes at the end of the book.
Book preview
Cooking up a Mystery - Gail Pallotta
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Cooking Up a Mystery
Gail Pallotta
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cooking Up a Mystery COPYRIGHT 2020 by Gail Pallotta
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Contact Information: [email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Scripture quotations, marked KJV are taken from the King James translation, public domain. Scripture quotations marked DR, are taken from the Douay Rheims translation, public domain.
Scripture texts marked NAB are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition Copyright 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Recipes are used by permission from Heavenly Delights, A Collection of Recipes from Mission Love Seeds.
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
Prism is a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
The Triangle Prism logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
Prism Edition, 2020
Paperback Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-9881-3
Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-9880-6
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For Rick
Acknowledgements
A special thank you to Linda Dixon, Mary Kay Poland, Lisa Lickel and my family for their input and encouragement. To my publisher, Nicola Martinez, and editor, Jamie West, for believing in my books.
All of the recipes are used by permission from Heavenly Delights, A Collection of Recipes from Mission Love Seeds.
I’m especially grateful to Pam Nichols Griffin, Barbi Carroll-Hawbaker and John Hawbaker of Mission Love Seeds for contributing the recipes. Mission Love Seeds was created to help children throughout the world and responds locally after disasters to demonstrate God’s love. Visit at missionloveseeds.org or on Facebook.
Thanks to God for His many blessings.
What People Are Saying
Gail Pallotta has cooked up a delectable mystery with all the right ingredients: rich characters, page-turning suspense, and heart-touching romance. One warning. Don’t read this when you’re hungry! With all the great food references, you could gain five pounds!
~ Nancy Mehl, ACFW Carol Award Winner and Best-Selling Author of the Defenders of Justice and Kaely Quinn Profiler Series. nancymehl.com
1
Laney Eskridge took a breather from polishing the bakery display case and surveyed the dining area in her small tea house. A soft glow from the lamppost out front shone through the large window and danced on the blue flowered curtains. She rubbed the fabric of a tie back between her thumb and forefinger. Sometimes in the quiet moments after the customers and George, her assistant, left, she gazed around and marveled that the place belonged to her. Mom had named it Laney’s Delectable Delights. She would’ve loved the decor.
Pot and pans clanged in the kitchen.
Laney jumped. Was the rolling worktable bashing into the wall? Not by itself. Horror that an intruder wrecked the new appliances buckled Laney’s knees. She leaned against the counter and slid to the floor.
Clanks, bonks, and crashes reverberated. Laney buried her head between her legs and trembled like a leaf in a storm. Rattling and slamming resounded. Tears cascaded down Laney’s face. Had she lost everything? Silence fell as suddenly as the commotion had started, and the aroma of her bread baking tickled her nostrils. She raised her head and wiped her cheeks. Calling on all the strength she had left inside, she stood. Would her wobbly legs take her to the kitchen?
~*~
Laney rolled the gray food warmer up a cement walkway past a white hydrangea. Each click pounded the importance of every customer in her head. How could a person with no college degree run a business? She never would’ve opened the place if she’d known Mom would die. She breathed in false confidence and pressed the bell by the beveled glass door. No one answered.
She shielded her eyes from the May sun and tapped her foot. Come on. I have work to do. Her gaze fell on a mountain laurel bush and nearby dogwood blossoms. Soon summer would bring tourists to the North Carolina Mountains, and she’d hardly noticed the spring flowers. She rushed around like a mosquito in a chef’s hat trying to cook and serve enough food to keep Laney’s Delectable Delights afloat. If only she and Mom could’ve run the business together, as they’d planned.
Mom would be minding the restaurant, and the future would look secure. Laney wouldn’t wake each day trembling with fear she might have to close because she’d mismanaged money and supplies, or she hadn’t cooked enough gourmet meals to bring in customers. Last night after hearing those horrible noises, she’d dreamed the sheriff evicted her and padlocked the business.
Was anyone home? Laney shifted her weight and mashed the bell several times. Still no one responded. She glanced at the food warmer then the SUV and started to leave. Instead, she cracked the portal. Mr. Crider, it’s Laney’s Delectable Delights here with dinner.
Right, come in.
Weariness rang in the baritone voice.
Laney yanked the handle on the food warmer and it clicked over the foyer. From there she rolled it into a den.
A man with mussed blond hair sat in a brown leather easy chair with crutches leaning against the armrest. His left foot lay on a footstool, and a plaster cast up to the knee stuck out of the wide leg of his Bermuda shorts. Laney flinched at what probably was a broken bone.
He flashed a toothpaste ad-worthy smile, and Laney couldn’t help but admire his handsome, rugged features.
Dinner smells delicious.
The heat of embarrassment rushed to Laney’s cheeks as she tried to reign in her sudden infatuation. She’d sworn off men after Brian.
Every time she dredged up Brian’s name, it triggered a disgusting smirk. Was he in her kitchen last night? She wouldn’t put it past him, but not likely. He’d left town with his new bride. She swallowed her emotions and concentrated on this order.
It was difficult not to think of Mr. Crider as part of the male gender, but she would. Other than George and her poor deceased dad, she carried so much animosity toward men she might offend him without trying. Seeing someone so striking had thrown her off guard, but she’d regained her senses. The scars Brian left on her heart would show up in time no matter how good looking the guy was. From here on, she’d think of Mr. Crider as a customer with a hurt foot.
Thank you. I’m glad the dish whet your appetite.
He pointed to the food warmer. It smells like the pot roast my mother cooked when I was growing up.
Laney pulled back her shoulders at his compliment. Should I put your meal in the kitchen?
No, Mr. Crider couldn’t navigate to the other room.
He stared at her with powder blue eyes as though she’d asked him to fly over the moon.
Perhaps, the coffee table.
He couldn’t reach it from the easy chair. No.
Amusement filled Mr. Crider’s chuckle. If it isn’t too much trouble, could you bring over the TV tray?
Of course.
Laney followed his gaze to a pine serving tray leaning against the wall beside the television and retrieved it.
He grasped his injured appendage with both of his large hands, lifted it, and moved the footstool out of the way with his right foot. She set up the tray, and he peered at her with a helpless look in his eyes. Sympathy that Laney had buried in the tough shell she put on to survive in business, surfaced.
I’m happy to bring a dish from your kitchen if you prefer it to paper and brew whatever you’d like to drink.
As soon as the words left Laney’s mouth, she wanted to pinch herself. She needed to bake cookies and prepare ingredients for tomorrow’s menu selections.
That’s very kind of you. I’ll take the dinnerware and a glass of water.
Thank goodness that wouldn’t take long. Laney’s nerves raced for wanting to return to the tea house as she charged into a large kitchen, filled a tumbler with water, and grabbed a blue-banded china plate.
She marched into the den, and Mr. Crider sat there looking as pitiable as the toddler who lived next door to them when she was a kid. He’d broken his little arm, and seemed so over-burdened with that big cast. It had been long ago, but a twinge of sympathy hit her in the stomach for the little tyke, and to her surprise, Mr. Crider. She squatted beside the tray, scooped roast beef, peas, carrots, and new potatoes from the warmer onto the dish, and stood. Your friend ordered today’s special around three o’clock. When did you hurt your leg,
she asked in her most supportive tone.
The corners of Mr. Crider’s lips turned down. I fell on the steps at school and broke my foot. I’m a math professor at Triville Community College. I have a minor in history, but the subject’s a thing of the past.
He gestured with his hand. Ahh, no pun intended, but everyone’s into social studies nowadays. There’s no demand for history, per se. Anyway, a rather embarrassing moment in front of my students.
Laney glanced at the food warmer. She wanted to grab it and go, but she focused on Mr. Crider and gave him her undivided attention.
Thank goodness, the year ends next week, and one of my cohorts graciously agreed to administer my tests. I’m not due back until the fall.
He directed his gaze at the cast. I might tutor later, but after this, I’m glad I didn’t sign up to teach summer school.
He spoke freely as though it relieved him to voice his angst.
Anyone can have an accident at any moment. If your students don’t realize that then it’s time they did.
He straightened in his seat. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but of course, you’re right. Thank you. Please, call me Eric.
Ahh, he looked so vulnerable, and a hint of sweetness lined his sad eyes. If Laney hadn’t caught Brian with another woman after she’d worked to send him through dental school…But she had. The divorce was horrible. No men, no dating, no heartache. All right, I’m Laney.
She motioned toward the food. Well, there you have it. I need to head back to the store. My assistant, George, left early, or he would’ve brought your order.
Laney clasped the handle on the rolling food warmer.
Stop!
Eric’s voice rang out.
Laney jumped. What’s wrong?
~*~
Eric couldn’t let her leave. He’d been wallowing in pain in his easy chair, thoughts as dreary as rain filling his head. Then Laney called out to him from the front door. He heard the food warmer clicking across the parquet floor, and a scent that reminded him of his mother’s cooking wafted into the room. A vision with a beautiful smile and a soft, caring voice appeared. Her long, auburn hair and hazel eyes had burst into his melancholy existence like a ray of sunshine. He had to at least have a phone number.
What had she called her service? Roger had told him he sent the meal before he left to go overseas on business. No telling when Eric would talk to him again. Laney headed toward the door, the food cart clacking behind her on the way out of his life. His heartbeat accelerated. The throbbing in his foot beat in his head. He couldn’t think. She’d asked him what was wrong. Uh, it’s a little cold. The roast beef.
She turned and glared at him.
He wanted to slap himself. If he added two plus two, right now, he’d probably get five, and he had a PhD in math. The doctor had said to stay put, no movement at all that wasn’t an absolute necessity for seventy-two hours. The cast might as well have been a bear trap. He couldn’t stand up and chat or follow her to the door. He wasn’t himself.
Laney’s facial muscles tightened. Cold?
She could’ve shot the word from a cannon the way it boomed into his psyche. Irritation, horror, or a mix of both lined her tone.
Eric’s insides crumbled. He’d stopped her all right, and he couldn’t believe the words it’s a little cold had come from him. He cared about people and tried to lift their spirits. When he helped students overwhelmed with personal problems, his mother claimed it was a gift. Seemed he’d lost or misplaced it today. He pointed at the pot roast lying on his plate. Actually, this is scrumptious. It’s good even cold.
Laney stared at him as though he had mashed potatoes for brains.
He patted the cast. It’s the foot. It really hurts. Have you ever broken a bone? I mean a really bad break?
She shook her head.
It throws the whole world out of kilter.
Her eyes softened the tiniest bit around the corners. I’m sorry your meal isn’t what you expected. I don’t want any of my customers unhappy.
Eric flashed the biggest grin he could with pain pulsing through his foot. I’m happy. This is wonderful. I can’t wait to savor every bite of it.
Confusion filled her eyes. All right, I’ll tell you what. Just to make sure you’re convinced you’ve gotten your friend’s money’s worth, I’ll send a free meal tomorrow to make up for the…the…cold roast beef.
Send it?
He’d made an idiot out of himself for nothing.
Yes, my assistant, George, will arrive about this time.
No. You have to bring it.
I, I, I have to bring it?
Laney sputtered again. I need to cook at my tea house.
Let me explain.
Could he explain? His foot ached so bad he wanted to scream. If only he’d taken a pain killer before she arrived, but how could he have known? He’d expected a pimple-faced kid in a pair of baggy jeans.
Laney put her hand on her hip, wrinkling the black sheath skirt that showed off her curvy figure and narrowed her eyes.
I haven’t eaten a meal like this since I left home. How I loved those aromas coming from my mother’s kitchen.
His mom was ill and couldn’t visit him. Something about the scent of the pot roast comforted him. I don’t want a free meal. I’d like to order dinner seven nights a week for the next thirty days. I’ll pre-pay, but I want you to bring the food. It doesn’t matter what time, on your break, after you close, whenever it’s convenient.
There. That was honest, coherent, and simply put.
She pressed her finely shaped lips together, and then they parted slowly as though she still wasn’t sure she wanted to commit. Do you want a custom order, or would you like the daily special?
Eric dared not make his request difficult. The daily special.
Laney bit her bottom lip, staring at him.
He drummed his fingers on the chair’s arm as he waited for the answer.
All right.
She stuck out her hand and shook Eric’s. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?
Best to leave well enough alone. No, I’m fine. I appreciate your help and the meal. Tomorrow, bring the cost for the rest of the month, and I’ll write you a check. Roger left the door open for you. Would you lock it?
Of course. Have a nice evening.
She left, the food warmer clicking behind her.
Eric stared at the cast. He had thought he’d have nothing to look forward to with this nasty turn of events, but he couldn’t wait until the next food delivery. Laney would have a warm, happy reception, and he would not say anything disparaging about her food. Geez,
he mumbled to himself as he ran his hand over his face. He grew a bit dizzy from the pain, or was it Laney that dazzled him?
What was he thinking? Knowing his situation, he shouldn’t date. Every time a relationship grew serious, he pulled back. He’d promised himself he’d not enter another one until he knew he could never hurt that person the way his father did his mother. The kids in his classes were his family, and he had the strong faith his mother had instilled in him. It would give him strength when she…he placed his hand over his mouth. It was too soon. He’d not think of it now. Mother had claimed he was nothing like Dad, but Eric looked just like him, and he was his son. That dogged him. He was thirty-eight and still single.
~*~
Laney turned the lock, shut the door, and put a spring in her steps for the first time since Mom’s funeral. She knew in her mind Mom was gone, but it seemed more like a bad dream than a reality. She rubbed her stomach, trying to soothe the ache still in it. Today, she’d landed her first regular customer. Never mind that he seemed a little weird acting the way he did over the roast beef. Mom would be proud. Laney hummed a happy tune as she plunked the warmer in the rear of the SUV. Then she slipped into the driver’s seat and backed out.
A couple of ducks waddled across the road from the lake. Laney ran her hand around the steering wheel while she waited. Would George leave before she arrived? If he did, would she lose customers? To launch this new business she needed every penny she could earn. Some people didn’t even bother to collect a penny or two in change if that’s all they were due, but she couldn’t pass up a single one.
If only there were two of her, or if she could hire Mom’s friend, Nancy, to mind the diner when George had class. Nancy had attended culinary school, and Mom had loved her. It was only a dream. Laney could barely pay for lights, air conditioning, and water.
She arrived at the restaurant with visions of piles of bills and meals frozen because no customers arrived to eat them flashing in her mind. Twilight cast its shadows against the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. The lampposts in the strip center shone on the white and blue lettering on the front of the Williamsburg building. It looked so peaceful, as though all was right with the world with no hint of the commotion in her head or the noise she’d heard last night.
Hoping she’d have a late customer, she pulled around back and parked. In a flash, she grabbed the food warmer and charged to the weathered rear entrance