The Pie Contest Catastrophe, A Jericho Falls Holiday Novella Jericho Falls Cozy by Brook Peterson

Author:Brook Peterson
Format: epub

9

Farm Fresh

I limped dramatically out of the building, down the steps and across the street to The Vintage Grill. The place wouldn’t open for another half hour, but that was fine by me. The less town residents I ran into, the better. My ‘beard’ was getting itchy and every time I touched it a few more of my ‘whiskers’ fell off. You might say there wasn’t much time before this carriage turned back into a pumpkin.

Jeanne and Eric were in the alleyway, unloading fresh fall vegetables from their hatchback. There were huge ears of corn, bright yellow squash, deep red tomatoes and gorgeous green and purple cabbages.

“Hi guys,” I said.

Jeannie jumped. “Chloe! You scared me half to death. Ugh, what are you wearing?”

“Sorry. Just a little pre-Halloween fun.” I looked down as if I were admiring my costume.

They smiled…sort of.

“Anyway…” I went on, “did you hear that Chef Savoy was hospitalized last night?”

Jeannie gasped. “What happened?”

But it wasn’t Jeanne’s reaction I was most interested in. It was Eric’s.

At my mention of the chef’s name, Eric’s hand became tighter around the handle of the market bag he was holding. His knuckles grew white.

As Jeannie continued to express concern for our visitor, I watched Eric’s face turn stony with hatred. His jaw tightened.

“It’s shocking,” I agreed.

She turned to her husband. “Isn’t this terrible, honey?” Her surprise and concern were most certainly genuine.

“Maybe he had it coming,” Eric said with his signature Texas drawl. With that, he spun on the heel of his cowboy boot and stomped inside their restaurant.

Jeannie swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. Ever since he missed out on judging the pie contest, he’s been in such a terrible mood.”

Missed out. Jeannie truly believed that Eric wasn’t invited to judge the contest. She didn’t know that he refused once he heard Chef Savoy would be involved.

“Jeannie,” I asked, “do you think it’s possible that Eric has met Chef Savoy before?”

She shrugged with a look of disbelief.

I went on, “I have a feeling there’s a connection between them. Do me a favor. Once your husband cools down, ask him if he knows Chef Savoy somehow.”

“You don’t suspect Eric of…” Jeannie’s voice faded.

“Of course not,” I said. I hated to lie to such a good friend.

Once I’d limped my way back up the hill to Jericho House, I went straight to my apartment to get out of this ridiculous and uncomfortable outfit. I donned my usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, shaking out my long, golden-brown hair over my shoulders. This was rare. I almost always had it wound into a braid or tied back in a ponytail. But after that tight top-notch, it felt nice leaving it down.

I slipped into a light jacket and headed for the main house, where I found Grandma Lily. She was whistling as she peeled a Golden Delicious apple over the sink.

“You seem chipper. Things must have gone well at Mrs. Gillespie’s?” I said.

“Oh, yes, just fine. Poor thing, she’s as frail as can be these days.

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