Muffin But the Truth--A Bakeshop Mystery by Ellie Alexander

Author:Ellie Alexander
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Chapter Fifteen

The morning breezed by. Andy’s latest roast was a hit with customers, as was my caramel apple strudel. We sold out of both by late morning. The bakeshop saw a steady stream of customers coming in for spiced lattes, almond croissants, and Sterling’s breakfast burritos on their way to work and school, along with the usual crowd that lingered at the coffee bar or on the comfy seating in front of the atomic fireplace in the basement with their laptops or a good old-fashioned paperback.

The leisurely early September vibe was a welcome relief from summer’s rush. I had time to stop and linger, catching up with friends and familiar faces. It never ceased to amaze me that Mom had created a space where everyone felt like family. I loved that I got to continue that tradition and that our guests were comfortable lounging on the couch or chatting up Sequoia and Rosa at the counter upstairs.

I was delivering a tray of mason jar lasagnas for lunch when I spotted Miller, Kit, Gus, and Josie passing by the front windows. Elisa wasn’t with them. I wondered if she had finally had enough. Or maybe Josie had sent her back to LA to hold a press conference about Maddy’s untimely death at Bamboo’s headquarters. That sounded about right for Josie Jones.

I glanced at my watch. It was nearly time for the backstage tour. This was my chance to observe them without needing to acquiesce to their every request. I hurried downstairs to change out of my apron and let the team know that I was going to be gone for an hour or so.

As I had predicted, the temperature had warmed with the afternoon sun. I let the heat warm my face. The Lithia bubblers gurgled, letting off a strong odor of sulfur. Posters for upcoming shows, theater performances, and a high alpine run around Mount A plastered the welcome kiosk. Otherwise, downtown was relatively quiet. There were the usual lunch goers and a handful of tourists, but with school back in session it was clear that we were entering the slow season again.

I was glad I had layered. On my short walk up the Shakespeare steps that led to the backside of the OSF campus, I peeled off my sweatshirt and tied it around my waist.

Lance was waiting for me by the ivy-covered doors that led to the Elizabethan. “Darling, there you are. I was worried we were going to have to proceed without you.” He gave me a peck on each cheek.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“Don’t give it a thought.” Lance dismissed my apology with a flick of his hand. He wore slim black slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled partway up. Even in casual attire (for Lance) he exuded an easy confidence. “I have them all down at the Black Swan anyway. One of my actors agreed to a monologue and then a quick private tour of the inner workings of our theater lab.

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