Margaritas, Marzipan, and Murder by Harper Lin

Author:Harper Lin [Lin, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Lin Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

On the way to the café, the weight of my thick hair reminded me to ask Sammy for a stylist recommendation. “Ask Sammy about hair. Ask Sammy about hair. Ask Sammy about hair. Ask Sammy about hair.” I mentally repeated the phrase.

When I walked through the back door, Sammy was pushing the boxes I’d moved back to where they belonged on the shelves.

“Did you do this?” she asked immediately. She was very possessive of the storeroom organization. She considered it a personal point of pride that she knew where everything was and could produce it in seconds.

“Ask Sammy about hair,” I said out loud.

“What?”

“Sorry, I’ve just been reminding myself. Yes, I did that. I’m sorry. I was trying to organize and—you know how when you try to clean up a room, sometimes it gets messier before it gets cleaner?” The look on Sammy’s face indicated she was not familiar with that phenomenon. “Well, that’s what happened. Also, can you recommend a good stylist? My hair is getting long, and I don’t know who to go to.”

“Everything was organized just fine before you went on your little…” She looked around as though baffled by what I’d done. “Your little rampage here. Don’t do that again or at least tell me if you do. I can’t find the napkins for the life of me. And Chase Williams down at Beach Waves. I’ve been going to him for years.”

“Chase does hair? I had no idea.” Why had no one ever mentioned my childhood neighbor had grown up to be a hair stylist? “And the napkins are over on the left side of the third shelf. P for paper.”

Sammy looked at me blankly.

“I alphabetized everything. A through G is on the top shelf, H through N on the second, O through U on the third, and V through Z on the bottom.”

Sammy blinked. She opened her mouth and closed it. She held up one finger. “Why not N for napkins?”

“I thought all the paper products should be together.”

“And alphabetized under P.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sammy looked at me, and from her expression, I couldn’t tell if she wanted to hug me, pat me on the head, or cry. “Please do not organize.”

I laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“Yes. That bad.”

“I thought it kind of worked.”

“Oh, Fran.”

“No?”

“How many supplies do you think we have that can be categorized as V through Z?”

“Water?”

“We get that from a tap,” she whispered, sounding somewhat exasperated.

“Good point.”

“Please don’t organize again.” I was now certain she wanted to pat me on the head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You better be glad I love you.” She gave me a hug then looked at my face and shook her head.

“You better be glad you’re great at your job. You couldn’t get away with talking to your boss like that just everywhere, you know,” I teased.

“Is that a threat?” she joked back.

“No, the café would go under without you. It was just a statement of fact.”

Sammy laughed. “Come over here and help me put everything back where it belongs.”

I tilted my head to see how Becky was doing out in front.

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