Read Online To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) by Nancy CoCo - Free Book Online Page A

out people go on vacation to get away from their computers and cell phones. Unless they were high schoolers—then they had perpetual cricks in their necks from staring at the social media on their phones.
    Mal came running up, wagging her stumpy tail and leaping on me for attention. “I can’t pick you up until I free my hands,” I told her.
    “You should teach her not to jump up on people,” Frances called after me.
    “I know, I know.” I put the bags down behind the front desk, then picked Mal up for puppy kisses and hugs. “How do you resist this?” I asked and held her out.
    “You can’t spoil her if you want her to interact with the residents.”
    “I know, you’re right.” I put Mal down.
    Frances wore a lilac print dress she had belted around her middle. Even though it was warmer out today, she wore a solid lilac sweater and sat on her perch behind the counter. “Who’s this?” she asked and nodded toward Sandy.
    “I’m sorry, Frances Wentworth, this is Sandy Ever . . . I’m sorry, what was your last name again?”
    “Everheart,” she said and stuck out her hand. “Sandy Everheart.”
    “Nice to meet you, Sandy.” Frances shook her hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
    “I’m here to see if there is something I can help Miss McMurphy with.”
    “Are you looking for a job?” I asked. “Because I just posted an ad in the paper.”
    “Were you looking for a candy maker? Because that is what I do.” She smiled at me, and the expression lit up her face. “I’ve been through culinary school and I majored in candy making.” She reached into the notebook she held and pulled out two sheets of paper. “My resume and references.”
    “I see.” I glanced at the resume. She graduated from a school in New York. “Top of your class, too.”
    “Yes, I’m very good with chocolate,” she said. “For my final project, I created a to-scale miniature of the New York skyline. Here’s a picture of the project.” She took out her cell phone and pulled up a photograph and showed it to me.
    “Impressive,” I said. “But I don’t need a chocolatier.” I handed her back her resume.
    “No, please keep it,” she said. “I will take any work that you have in the kitchen.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Why? It looks like you apprenticed at Li-Lac. In the West Village, New York?”
    “I did and I have references.” She flipped through her resume to show me the references.
    “You should apply at the Grand or the Island House or even that new Grander Hotel. Surely they can do a better job of using your services.”
    “I tried them.” Her shoulders slumped. “They already have their staff hired.”
    “I see.” My heart went out to the emotion in her eyes. “With a resume like this you can work anywhere—Chicago, New York, Atlanta . . . anywhere.”
    “My home and family are here.” She took her resume from me. “I am taking care of my mother. I can’t go off to some big city.”
    “You won’t feel bad about washing dishes?”
    Her expression lit up. “No, ma’am. I would be grateful for anything you have available in your kitchen.”
    I studied her and thought, what could it hurt to let someone help with the dishes? Especially if I’m running around for a week or two shooting Peter’s reality show. “When can you start?”
    “Oh, my goodness, right away. Thank you!” She took my hand and shook it. She then shook Frances’s hand and finally bent down and offered her hand to Mal, who gave her her left paw.
    “Look at that,” Frances marveled. “You’ve taught Mal how to shake.”
    Sandy laughed. The sound was clear and sweet as bells. “I think she feels my excitement.” She stood. “Seriously, when do you want me to start?”
    “Frances will get you the paperwork to fill out,” I said. “This is a seasonal position. I’m not sure we will be open in the winter.”
    “Okay, I understand.”
    Frances reached into her desk and pulled out employment sheets.