Read Online Diva 01 _ Diva Runs Out of Thyme, The by Krista Davis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Krista Davis
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Crime, Mystery Fiction, Large Type Books, Murder, Investigation, Murder - Investigation, Cookery, Women Cooks, Entertaining, Thanksgiving Day
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“Just try to be nice and stop grilling him. Is that too much to ask of you? After all, he’s going to be family.” The popping accelerated. She pushed the stop button, poured steaming popcorn into a bowl, and disappeared into the family room.
“And Natasha didn’t steal Mars,” I muttered in her direction.
By midnight, everyone except Mochie and me had gone to bed. A pecan pie cooled on a rack on the counter. The brownies rested in the fridge, next to the stuffing that was ready to be baked the next day. I’d cleaned and cut the green beans and toasted the almonds. I’d even found a few minutes to make a double recipe of cranberry sauce.
I was taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven when I heard the purr of an engine and a knock at the front door.
A lump formed in my throat. It could only be the police. They didn’t arrive at midnight with good news. They’d come to arrest me. Standing on my tiptoes, I peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anything. The knock came again, louder this time. Leaving the chain on the door, I pulled it open a hair. Mars’s mother stood on the stoop with a suitcase. I closed the door and unchained it as fast as I could.
“June! What on earth are you doing here?”
She picked up her bag and walked in.
“Sophie? What’s going on?” I turned to see my mom and dad standing on the stairs.
I shut the door against the cold night. June took off her coat, revealing a fuzzy lilac bathrobe. She hung her coat in the hall closet. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?” She looked up at my parents. “Hello, Inga, Paul.”
The kettle whistled and I ran to silence it before it woke anyone else.
June and my parents followed me into the kitchen.
“Perfect! It’s as though you knew I was coming,” June said. “Have any of your fresh chocolate chip cookies?”
“Of course.” I hauled some out of the freezer, cut the dough into chunks, and popped them into the warm oven.
Mom found china mugs and brewed a holiday tea scented with orange and cloves while Dad threw another log on the fire.
June nestled into one of the fireside chairs and Mochie jumped into her lap. My parents watched her curiously.
“You must think me audacious,” she said, “but I couldn’t stand another minute with that woman. Can you imagine, all I wanted was to put the kettle on for tea and she flew into a rage.”
“Natasha?” asked my dad.
“Every night I pray that Mars won’t marry her. Acted like I was an old coot who couldn’t do anything right. That kitchen of hers belongs in a restaurant. Cold. I think everything in it came from Italy. So many buttons and gauges you can’t tell what’s what. Not like this kitchen where you can settle in and get cozy. Everything about her is cold. Do you know she put plastic under my sheets because she thought I would wet the bed?”
“That doesn’t sound like her at all. Natasha puts a lot of stock in being a gracious hostess,” said Mom.
“You’re welcome to stay with us, June,” I assured her.
“I told her I was going to a hotel, but I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m so much more comfortable in my sister’s home.”
Her words stung even though I didn’t think that was her intent. It was her sister’s house. Maybe Mars should have bought me out and kept it in his family. Just because I liked it didn’t give me special rights to it.
The cookies and tea calmed June. It was creeping up on one in the morning and we were all bushed. Everyone said good night and I carried June’s luggage up to a second-floor guest room with an antique canopy bed that was too big for it. As she sat on the bed, June ran her hands over the coverlet. “Faye always let me sleep in here. There’s something special about this room. Reminds me of a fancy bed-and-breakfast.”
Bidding her good night, I tiptoed downstairs in the dark, trying to avoid squeaky spots on the stairs. With all the commotion, I thought I’d better check to
“Just try to be nice and stop grilling him. Is that too much to ask of you? After all, he’s going to be family.” The popping accelerated. She pushed the stop button, poured steaming popcorn into a bowl, and disappeared into the family room.
“And Natasha didn’t steal Mars,” I muttered in her direction.
By midnight, everyone except Mochie and me had gone to bed. A pecan pie cooled on a rack on the counter. The brownies rested in the fridge, next to the stuffing that was ready to be baked the next day. I’d cleaned and cut the green beans and toasted the almonds. I’d even found a few minutes to make a double recipe of cranberry sauce.
I was taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven when I heard the purr of an engine and a knock at the front door.
A lump formed in my throat. It could only be the police. They didn’t arrive at midnight with good news. They’d come to arrest me. Standing on my tiptoes, I peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anything. The knock came again, louder this time. Leaving the chain on the door, I pulled it open a hair. Mars’s mother stood on the stoop with a suitcase. I closed the door and unchained it as fast as I could.
“June! What on earth are you doing here?”
She picked up her bag and walked in.
“Sophie? What’s going on?” I turned to see my mom and dad standing on the stairs.
I shut the door against the cold night. June took off her coat, revealing a fuzzy lilac bathrobe. She hung her coat in the hall closet. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?” She looked up at my parents. “Hello, Inga, Paul.”
The kettle whistled and I ran to silence it before it woke anyone else.
June and my parents followed me into the kitchen.
“Perfect! It’s as though you knew I was coming,” June said. “Have any of your fresh chocolate chip cookies?”
“Of course.” I hauled some out of the freezer, cut the dough into chunks, and popped them into the warm oven.
Mom found china mugs and brewed a holiday tea scented with orange and cloves while Dad threw another log on the fire.
June nestled into one of the fireside chairs and Mochie jumped into her lap. My parents watched her curiously.
“You must think me audacious,” she said, “but I couldn’t stand another minute with that woman. Can you imagine, all I wanted was to put the kettle on for tea and she flew into a rage.”
“Natasha?” asked my dad.
“Every night I pray that Mars won’t marry her. Acted like I was an old coot who couldn’t do anything right. That kitchen of hers belongs in a restaurant. Cold. I think everything in it came from Italy. So many buttons and gauges you can’t tell what’s what. Not like this kitchen where you can settle in and get cozy. Everything about her is cold. Do you know she put plastic under my sheets because she thought I would wet the bed?”
“That doesn’t sound like her at all. Natasha puts a lot of stock in being a gracious hostess,” said Mom.
“You’re welcome to stay with us, June,” I assured her.
“I told her I was going to a hotel, but I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m so much more comfortable in my sister’s home.”
Her words stung even though I didn’t think that was her intent. It was her sister’s house. Maybe Mars should have bought me out and kept it in his family. Just because I liked it didn’t give me special rights to it.
The cookies and tea calmed June. It was creeping up on one in the morning and we were all bushed. Everyone said good night and I carried June’s luggage up to a second-floor guest room with an antique canopy bed that was too big for it. As she sat on the bed, June ran her hands over the coverlet. “Faye always let me sleep in here. There’s something special about this room. Reminds me of a fancy bed-and-breakfast.”
Bidding her good night, I tiptoed downstairs in the dark, trying to avoid squeaky spots on the stairs. With all the commotion, I thought I’d better check to
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