Read Online The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss by Krista Davis - Free Book Online

bushes. Probably Joe’s cat spying on his personal jungle now that it was quiet again.
    Collecting bits of garbage, I made my way up the other side of the garden, and then proceeded to the guesthouse.
    I straightened up a little. Evidently some people had made themselves comfortable in the small living room. The guesthouse had been updated but they had wisely left what looked to be original beams in the ceiling. The stone fireplace bore signs of age, too. The guesthouse was quaint and charming, no matter what Natasha thought.
    I threw away napkins and forks that had been left in the downstairs bathrooms and collected champagne glasses. In the little kitchen, I poured out leftover champagne and stored the empty glasses in a box to return to the caterer–until I found one flute with tablets dissolving in it.
    I held the glass up to the light. Medicine? Antacids? Who took meds with champagne? Shaking my head, I was about to pour out the tablets, when I thought better of it. No one was sick. I hadn’t heard any complaints. Still, I had been involved in enough odd situations to make me wary. I stashed the glass, complete with tablets and remaining champagne, in the box. It was silly of me, but maybe it would be best to take precautions and preserve it in case one of the guests complained of being sickened.
    Leaving the box in the kitchen, I headed for the stairs. Long and narrow, they were typical of historic homes in the area and were probably part of the original structure. But the door at the bottom of the stairs was locked. Who would have done that?
    For just a moment, I wondered if someone was staying in the guesthouse. But I had placed flowers upstairs in the morning and hadn’t noticed any personal belongings.
    I should probably ask Coco. Maybe someone was staying over. But it was late, and I was tired, and as soon as I checked the upstairs I could go home. I knocked on the door. “Hello?” I studied the doorknob. Nothing vintage about it. It was the kind my parents had in their house. It could probably be unlocked with a straightened paper clip.
    Sighing, I gazed around. A small writing desk! In the top drawer I found pens, paper, and one paper clip. That was all I needed. I unbent one end of it and slid it into the hole in the doorknob. I felt it hit the tumbler inside and pushed gently. It made a little popping sound. I turned the knob and the door swung open.

CHAPTER SIX
    Dear Sophie,
    I’m so upset. I was melting chocolate to bake brownies and suddenly it turned into an impossible clump. I had to throw it out and start over. What went wrong? Did I buy bad chocolate?
    —Baking Mom in Lumptown, North Carolina
    Dear Baking Mom,
    Your chocolate was fine. It just seized, a very common occurrence when water, or even steam, comes into contact with melted chocolate. Next time, don’t throw it out right away. You might be able to rescue it by stirring in a little bit of cream, milk, or vegetable shortening. It will be thinner than plain melted chocolate, so you may wish to reduce a liquid ingredient in the recipe slightly.
    —Sophie
    I flicked on the lights and walked up the old stairs. The bedroom looked fine. Someone probably hit the lock by accident. I hustled into the small bathroom.
    In the dim light that floated in from the bedroom, I could make out a man collapsed over a tall claw-foot tub. I drew in a sharp breath in surprise. His head and shoulders weren’t visible, only his backside. Was he sick? “Hello?” I choked out. “Do you need help?”
    When there was no response, I pushed through my instinct to bolt, and walked toward him. Gently prodding his back, I said, “Hello? Are you all right?”
    He was bent at the waist over the high side of the old-fashioned bathtub. His legs didn’t look right to me. He wasn’t kneeling. They were at an odd angle. I dashed out of the room and down the stairs as fast as I could go.
    My heart racing, I sprinted to the house and burst into Joe’s kitchen.