Southern Sewing Circle 1 - Sew Deadly by Elizabeth Lynn Casey

Author:Elizabeth Lynn Casey [Casey, Elizabeth Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Rose Winter’s home was by far the most modest of the bunch with its small one-story cottagelike exterior. Unlike Debbie’s and Georgina’s homes, this one had just two windows facing front and a narrow porch that failed to wrap around the sides. Nonetheless, it exuded an undeniable warmth and charm that made you long to close yourself up inside its walls with a good book or a pair of strong arms.

The walkway, bordered on both sides by freshly planted yellow and white mums, conveyed a welcoming feel almost as if it was pulling you inward, begging you to come and stay for a while. The small front porch boasted a pair of rocking chairs and a small wicker table perfect for a pitcher of lemonade and a couple of glasses.

“See? I told you, Victoria, having just one chair on your front porch doesn’t work. You want to fit in—you get another chair. Or two.” Margaret Louise huffed her way up the steps behind Tori, stopping long enough to lift the aluminum foil lid that covered the librarian’s dish. “Are those miniature Black Forest tortes?”

“They most certainly are.” Tori pulled the foil back even further to afford her friend a better look. “My great-grandmother used to make these for special occasions. Like holiday gatherings and birthday parties.”

Leona’s twin sister leaned even closer, inhaling the dessert’s aroma like that of a fine wine. “You didn’t use a boxed cake mix.”

“Me? A boxed cake mix? You can’t be serious.” A laugh escaped her mouth as she leaned forward and hugged the woman. “Actually, I may have given in to temptation and taken the easy route if it weren’t for the fact I’m trying to make a good impression.”

“Store-bought whipped cream?”

“Nope. I made that from scratch, too.”

Margaret Louise pursed her lips as she replaced the foil across the plate and straightened up. “Black Forest tortes . . . from scratch? You’re in, Victoria.”

“If only it was that simple.” She folded the edges of the foil around the plate and shifted it to her other hand, the tote bag with her pillow and sewing box dangling from her wrist. “I don’t think a homemade dessert is going to make everyone forget there’s a murder suspect in their midst.”

“It’s a start.” The woman tucked her arm inside Tori’s and pulled her toward the door. “People who make Black Forest tortes for their fellow sewing circle members don’t poison coffee.”

“What about people who make coffee?” The second the words were out she regretted them. She’d vowed to herself on the way over she wasn’t going to talk about Tiffany Ann’s murder. If it came up, she’d deal with it then. But if it didn’t, she’d count her blessings.

Margaret Louise pulled her hand from Rose’s front door. “People who make coffee? What are you talking about, Victoria?”

“Can I tell you later?” Tori waved at Rose as the elderly woman approached the door. “I want to avoid the topic of Tiffany Ann as much as possible.”

“As if that’ll happen, bless your heart.

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