Read Online Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery) by Virginia Lowell - Free Book Online
Authors: Virginia Lowell
Ads: Link
until Tuesday. Tomorrow is Saturday. We could hold the event tomorrow afternoon, maybe about one o’clock. I’ll have today and tomorrow morning to bake while you put the store together again.”
Olivia hated to give up her last hours of vacation leisure. “One p.m. sounds tight to me. We’re meeting with Constance and Greta at eleven a.m. Also, I’ll need some time to think before our meeting.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to think, I promise. I’ll do practically all the preparation. And a two-hour meeting is an eternity. We’ll have to plow through Constance’s agenda, whatever that is, plus the oohing over Greta’s fabulous cutter collection. If we get everything set up for the event before we leave for Constance’s office, Greta could come back here with us. Constance, too, for that matter. Please, Livie?”
“All right,” Olivia said. “A store event would be a great way to introduce Greta to Chatterley Heights, and it would help us spread the word about the sale of her cutter collection.”
“Uh-oh, what if Anita Rambert shows up and tries to corner Greta?” Maddie asked. “Geez, she might even try to convince Greta that you don’t have enough expertise to sell her collection.”
Olivia chuckled. “I’m not too worried. Greta sounds more concerned about trust than expertise. Anyway, all we have to do is put Mom to work at the event. She can pass the word, ever so gently, that Anita tends to jack up prices so she can take a substantial cut of the profits on private sales. Many collectors already know that, anyway, though they’ll put up with it if they can’t get what they want through another agent.”
“Ooh, and let’s not forget to ask Constance for help,” Maddie said. “She isn’t fond of Anita, and she isn’t as gentle as your mom.”
When Olivia opened the front door, cool air spilled out from the foyer. She stepped gratefully inside. Maddie followed, slamming the door behind her. The inner door to The Gingerbread House opened at once, and Bertha Binkman’s plump, cheerful face peeked out. “I thought all that noise might be you two,” Bertha said. “As soon as I saw Spunky in his chair by the window, I knew you’d beaten Willard and me back home. My goodness, you must be so hot and tired after carrying those heavy bags. Here, let me take one. Come on in out of that dreadful heat. By the way, I didn’t have anything to do, so I gave the kitchen a good scrubbing.” Bertha locked the door behind them and bustled off toward the kitchen.
Spunky hopped to all fours on his chair as Olivia passed, hoping to be allowed in the kitchen again. “Sorry, kiddo,” Olivia said. “The kitchen is sanitized, and we’ll be unpacking food, so you can’t come with us. It’s back to guard dog duty for you.” Spunky curled into a ball on the chair’s woven seat and closed his eyes. “Or you could just take a nap,” Olivia added, laughing.
While Bertha and Maddie stocked the kitchen shelves, Olivia switched on her laptop. She was hoping Del might have emailed, since he’d been stingy with his phone calls to her. As the computer awakened and yawned, Olivia helped Bertha tote the bags to a storage cupboard. “What brought you home early?” Olivia asked. “Don’t tell me you and Mr. Willard had a tiff, because that would destroy my fondest illusions.”
“Oh my, no,” Bertha said with her husky laugh. Olivia noted with relief that Bertha’s laughter no longer triggered a gasping fit. Since she and Mr. Willard had begun “seeing one another,” as Ellie put it, Bertha’s weight had gradually descended to what her doctor called “a healthy range.” She was now merely on the plump side, which was fine with Mr. Willard.
“Dear Willard and I had such a lovely time visiting museums and historical sites, but we were ready to come home. I must admit, we were both so curious to see Greta Oskarson.” Bertha hefted a sack of flour onto a high shelf and brushed off her hands on
Olivia hated to give up her last hours of vacation leisure. “One p.m. sounds tight to me. We’re meeting with Constance and Greta at eleven a.m. Also, I’ll need some time to think before our meeting.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to think, I promise. I’ll do practically all the preparation. And a two-hour meeting is an eternity. We’ll have to plow through Constance’s agenda, whatever that is, plus the oohing over Greta’s fabulous cutter collection. If we get everything set up for the event before we leave for Constance’s office, Greta could come back here with us. Constance, too, for that matter. Please, Livie?”
“All right,” Olivia said. “A store event would be a great way to introduce Greta to Chatterley Heights, and it would help us spread the word about the sale of her cutter collection.”
“Uh-oh, what if Anita Rambert shows up and tries to corner Greta?” Maddie asked. “Geez, she might even try to convince Greta that you don’t have enough expertise to sell her collection.”
Olivia chuckled. “I’m not too worried. Greta sounds more concerned about trust than expertise. Anyway, all we have to do is put Mom to work at the event. She can pass the word, ever so gently, that Anita tends to jack up prices so she can take a substantial cut of the profits on private sales. Many collectors already know that, anyway, though they’ll put up with it if they can’t get what they want through another agent.”
“Ooh, and let’s not forget to ask Constance for help,” Maddie said. “She isn’t fond of Anita, and she isn’t as gentle as your mom.”
When Olivia opened the front door, cool air spilled out from the foyer. She stepped gratefully inside. Maddie followed, slamming the door behind her. The inner door to The Gingerbread House opened at once, and Bertha Binkman’s plump, cheerful face peeked out. “I thought all that noise might be you two,” Bertha said. “As soon as I saw Spunky in his chair by the window, I knew you’d beaten Willard and me back home. My goodness, you must be so hot and tired after carrying those heavy bags. Here, let me take one. Come on in out of that dreadful heat. By the way, I didn’t have anything to do, so I gave the kitchen a good scrubbing.” Bertha locked the door behind them and bustled off toward the kitchen.
Spunky hopped to all fours on his chair as Olivia passed, hoping to be allowed in the kitchen again. “Sorry, kiddo,” Olivia said. “The kitchen is sanitized, and we’ll be unpacking food, so you can’t come with us. It’s back to guard dog duty for you.” Spunky curled into a ball on the chair’s woven seat and closed his eyes. “Or you could just take a nap,” Olivia added, laughing.
While Bertha and Maddie stocked the kitchen shelves, Olivia switched on her laptop. She was hoping Del might have emailed, since he’d been stingy with his phone calls to her. As the computer awakened and yawned, Olivia helped Bertha tote the bags to a storage cupboard. “What brought you home early?” Olivia asked. “Don’t tell me you and Mr. Willard had a tiff, because that would destroy my fondest illusions.”
“Oh my, no,” Bertha said with her husky laugh. Olivia noted with relief that Bertha’s laughter no longer triggered a gasping fit. Since she and Mr. Willard had begun “seeing one another,” as Ellie put it, Bertha’s weight had gradually descended to what her doctor called “a healthy range.” She was now merely on the plump side, which was fine with Mr. Willard.
“Dear Willard and I had such a lovely time visiting museums and historical sites, but we were ready to come home. I must admit, we were both so curious to see Greta Oskarson.” Bertha hefted a sack of flour onto a high shelf and brushed off her hands on
Similar Books
