Peppermint Pudding Peril by Beck Tammy

Author:Beck, Tammy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2023-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Thank you for meeting me here,” I said to Isaac when he got out of his car in front of Eleanor’s house. Dottie was with us, too. She also wanted to help, and I’d let her come along.

A part of me wanted to look after her, protect her, but she was a grownup, and she mourned Eleanor’s loss too.

“Of course,” Isaac said. His blue eyes glinted with kindness. “I’m glad you asked me to come. This isn’t easy.”

I shook my head. It really wasn’t.

I’d gotten the keys from the police and unlocked Eleanor’s house. When we stepped inside the old colonial revival-style building, I took a deep breath.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it, and a wave of nostalgia hit me.

The last time I’d been here, Eleanor had handed me the deed to the store and the apartment, telling me that I was the rightful heir. It was here that she’d confided in me that she’d secretly been the owner of the burned down bakery, and it was time for me to fulfill the Desmarais’ legacy.

My eyes stung with tears, and I took a deep breath, letting it out in a shudder.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked in a low voice.

“I’m okay,” I said with a snivel, and he squeezed my hand in support. “Let’s just take care of things.”

We moved through the house. I watered the plants in her living room while Isaac took out the trash, and Dottie put the contents of the fridge in a box so that we could donate it,.

When I was done with the plants, I walked upstairs to the bedroom. Her bed was neatly made with a patchwork quilt, and she had two pictures on her nightstand. I assumed they were of her two late husbands—Larry and Clinton.

I picked up the photo of Clinton and studied the sepia picture. This man had been a distant cousin. It was thanks to him, in a way, that I had ended up with the bakery, able to live out my dreams of baking and selling my goods to the rest of the town.

A loose piece of paper behind the frame folded under my finger, and I turned the frame around. When I tugged at the loose edge, I pulled out a piece of paper.

I would get lost with you at Cedarwood Hollow all over again. - C

It must have been a love note of some kind. C for Clinton? Was this where he and Eleanor met?

On the back of the note, a name had been written.

Audrey Desmarais.

Another Desmarais?

A bookcase stood close to the window, with books stacked on top of each other rather than being arranged standing side-by-side. On top of one pile lay a book bigger and heavier than the others so that the pile looked top-heavy. The other books were dusty, but this one had clearly been opened and used recently.

I took the book off the shelf and opened it.

The first few pages had photos in them—photos of Eleanor when she was much younger, and of Clinton, who I recognized from the photo on the cabinet.

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