Return of the Evening Star by Diane Rios

Author:Diane Rios
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2019-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Brisco started the car with a roar of the engine. The crows took off from the trees, caw-caw-ing at the racket, circled the meadow once, and flew away to the west, leading the way to Fairfax, where Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather were waiting.

Lord Winch said goodbye and got in earl san the sigh

B w gine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE NEXT MORNING WAS GRAY AND COLD, and eerily quiet. No ambulances had come to the hospital that morning, Mrs. Goodweather realized with some foreboding as she made the breakfast tea. Although she was glad no new victims had arrived, it could be a sign that there simply were no more victims to be had.

Mrs. Goodweather shook her head as she poured herself a cup of tea and went to wake Chloe. The gala was tomorrow night. It was time to make the pies.

This was the most important thing to get right, for it was the pies that held the key to their plan. While Chloe dressed, Mrs. Goodweather gathered the last of the stores, and brought out the small packet of powerful blueberries. She poured them into a pot on the stove, added a few splashes of water, a small spoonful of sugar, and stirred.

“I will boil these down into a syrup, my dear, and while it is cooking, we can roll out the crusts. You can help with that!”

Chloe joined Mrs. Goodweather in the tiny kitchen where Mrs. Goodweather showed her how to mix butter and flour with a little salt until it became pebble-sized crumbles. Then she added a little water and shaped the dough into a ball. Chloe sprinkled more flour on the counter and Mrs. Good-weather plopped the ball of dough down to be rolled out.

Chloe rolled and rolled, sprinkling more flour whenever it began to stick. Finally, Mrs. Goodweather was satisfied, and they set to work cutting the crust into circles. Mrs. Good-weather said practically, “I wish I had my favorite pie tins from home for these, but since I don’t, we’ll make them turnovers instead, like small hand pies.”

She brought the simmering blueberry mixture from the stove to the table, and a rich, jammy aroma filled the little kitchen. Bits of blueberries swam enticingly in the purple syrup, but neither of them was tempted to taste it.

Mrs. Goodweather showed Chloe how to carefully spoon the berries and syrup onto half of the dough circles and fold the other half over, pinching the edges together to make the turnovers. As they crimped and pinched the edges of the pies closed, Mrs. Goodweather thought out loud.

“Now, these are going to be served at a very grand party. They need to look as though they belong there. They need to look fancy, like they came from a catering company. Hmmm . . . ah! I’ve got it! Shakespeare, my dear, come over here. Now, wash your little paws, that’s it.”

Chloe laughed, watching her dear little friend wash his tiny white paws in the water and dry them on the towel Mrs. Goodweather offered him.

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