Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

smile this time appeared genuine, but I knew how hard this must be for her.
    I followed Dinah for a couple of minutes, seeing which members of the crowd chose which items to taste. I didn’t recognize quite as many people here as I had in the Barkery—not surprising, though. I’d lived in Knobcone Heights for about five years and met most people through their pets. Those who chose to visit Icing didn’t necessarily have animals at home.
    I stayed for maybe twenty minutes, saying hi and introducing myself and welcoming everyone—and inviting them to come back and buy more. The bell at the top of the front door to this shop rang often, making it clear that a lot of people were coming and going. I’d had the bells installed so that if we were in the kitchen or just one of the shops, we’d be aware of customers’ entries into the shop that we weren’t watching.
    Since I was much more used to chatting with dogs and cats these days than with people, I was growing exhausted. I ducked back into the kitchen to check on our supplies of samples and saw, unsurprisingly, that they were disappearing fast. But fortunately I’d told everyone, when I’d invited them, what the hours scheduled for our party would be: we would close at five, which was only half an hour away.
    I planned to reopen at seven o’clock in the morning for the breakfast pastry crowd, not to mention provide treats for their pets. Which meant I’d have to rise hours earlier to start baking—fortunately, with one of my assistants joining me soon. On weekends, when both Judy and Dinah would work full-time, they would alternate which one came in first. At other times they would alternate which one had the day off.
    I felt fairly certain that I’d be able to work things out so I’d be able to keep my part-time vet tech job. Worst case scenario, I would hire more helpers, also part-time. I’d have to make sure I could afford them, though.
    Sleep? I’d fit it in somewhere. Most important was that I’d be able to have Biscuit with me when I was working here, even though I’d have to make sure she stayed in the Barkery.
    Speaking of which, I decided I’d been in Icing long enough. Before we kicked everyone out—er, ended the party—I wanted to make sure things were still going well in the other half of my new venture.
    I hadn’t seen Neal in Icing, but even so, the crowd was flowing the way he’d initiated in the Barkery: in the door, circling the shop, then leaving. I squeezed my way into the line and began flowing toward the exit with everyone else. As I got outside, I saw with relief that there were only a few people now in line waiting to get into each of the stores. We should be able to end the party without hurting anyone’s feelings.
    The sidewalk on both sides of the stores looked busy, which was a good thing, as did the town square across the street, where people enjoyed the park with its grass and knobcone pine trees or just passed through to get from one area of shops to another. This upscale shopping district in this upscale town attracted a lot of customers. They and their dogs needed refreshment. Treats. And drinks. We had coffee and soft drinks available in Icing, and water bowls on the floor along one wall inside the Barkery as well as outside of it.
    My smile was pasted onto my face with overuse today, but that was okay. I still had to greet the remaining party attendees. I got into the line that was entering the Barkery, knowing I’d have to cut in without waiting but still wanting to greet people.
    A man edged up as though he, too, wanted to ignore protocol and courtesy and follow me in. I raised my brows in what I hoped looked like a chiding-but-friendly glance.
    “Carrie?” he asked. “Are you Carrie Kennersly?”
    I nodded. “Yes. Can I help you?”
    “I really hope so. My name is Jack Loroco. I’ve already been inside looking the place over, bought some samples, and got someone to point you out. I’d like to talk with