Brownies and Broomsticks: A Magical Bakery Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

course the real credit goes to my niece and my wife.”
    “Well, keep ’em around,” said a portly man with muttonchop sideburns. “They sure turn out some tasty eats.”
    I busied myself in the kitchen, happy for the kudos but mostly waiting for the
Morning News
columnist toleave. No use tempting fate with a closer encounter than we’d already had.
    Mrs. Templeton approached the counter where Lucy stood and handed her a check. “The coffee was too strong, and that egg casserole was too rich.”
    She had to be referring to the strata. The old crab hadn’t even sampled it, so how had she managed to develop such a severe opinion? Frowning, I turned toward them.
    Her eyes snapped to me. “The brioche would have been quite decent if you hadn’t ruined it by baking that egg in it. A bit of strawberry jam would have been far better.”
    I was silent.
    She sniffed and continued. “But overall it was an acceptable meal, and the association was able to successfully conduct its business.”
    Lucy looked down at the check in her hand. “Uh, Mavis.” She leaned forward and spoke in a low voice as she held it out. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.”
    “Nonsense. I’m treasurer of the association, and I’m paying exactly what this job is worth.”
    “But—”
    “And not a penny more.”
    Ben left his position by the door and joined his wife. “Is there a problem?”
    “No,” Mrs. Templeton said.
    “Yes,” Lucy said at the same time. The set of her shoulders, the pinched muscles near her mouth and the look she shot at Ben all shouted her distress. Conflict was not my aunt’s forte—nor mine. Tension hung heavy in the air.
    And there was Steve Dawes, drinking it all in as if we were finally going to provide some news fit to print.
    I was relieved when Ben stepped forward and my aunt leaned back a fraction. He took the check Lucy offered with her fingertips, perused it for a moment and then frowned at Mrs. Templeton. “Mavis, this is less than half of what we agreed upon. You know we can’t take that as full payment. It doesn’t even cover our expenses.”
    “You didn’t lose any money by having to close the bakery for the meeting,” she countered.
    “We had to scramble to cater to the DBA at all, given we aren’t due to open for three more days.”
    “So now you’re ahead of schedule.”
    Ben shook his head. “Mavis, either you pay the full amount we agreed upon in writing or I’ll have to go to Jack Jenkins.”
    Her red-tipped talon came out and shook in his face. “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “Oh, but I would. After all, it would be bad business not to bring this up to the president of the association.” Throwing her own words back at her.
    “On the contrary, Benjamin. It would be very bad business to cross me. Several people have found that out over the years. I can put your little bakery under inside of a month.”
    She whirled and stalked out.
    Slowly, I closed my mouth. Tried to swallow. The dozen or so business owners left in the bakery were dead silent. Lucy’s face creased with worry, and Uncle Ben flushed red under his beard. In the corner, the reporter wrote furiously in his notebook. I wanted to run over and yank it away from him.
    “Well.” Ben cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, thank you all for coming to this, the Honeybee’s pre–grand opening.”
    With that, conversation resumed, though I detected a slight edge to the voices.
    Ben came into the kitchen and strode toward the back door. “I need a moment.”
    Lucy watched him go, threw a look at me and moved out front. Immediately I heard a man compliment her on the food and service, followed by a woman chiming in with her agreement.
    At least someone liked my food. I began loading the dishwasher. What if Mavis Templeton—Ms. Nastiness Personified—ruined the Honeybee? Could she do that? I had a sinking feeling the answer was yes, and she’d sleep like a baby afterward, too. Moving to the counter for another pile of