Butter Off Dead Read Online Free PDF

but the tone was hard to ignore.
    Christine uttered an equally sharp reply I couldn’t decipher, her pale skin flushed. Jack Frost spun his barstool, showing her his back, and barked an order at J.D.
    But she was all smiles when she returned. We drank our beers and ate our nachos and fries—Red’s makes the world’s best waffle fries. We chatted about the film festival, the winter slowdown, business, art, food. How much fun it is to hang out and play pool, even though the Caldwells usually win.
    â€œThey must be cheating,” Nick said, “but I can’t figure out how.”
    â€œThat,” Kim replied, pointing a nacho at him, “is because you are too lame a player to recognize masters at work.”
    Fighting words.
    â€œHey, Caldwell,” Danny Davis said on his way out. “Let me sell that rust heap GTO for you. Get you in a real ride.”
    Kim looked at him sharply, jaw tight. Kyle turned in his seat. “You faker. Half an hour ago, you called it a piece of junk. You trying to con me?”
    â€œYour choice. You want to drive around like some old fart trying to hang on to his youth, or grow real balls.”
    Men and car talk. One more thing I’ll never understand.

• Three •
    M onths before Christine roped me into helping launch the film festival, I’d started my own winter project: developing the Merc’s signature drink line. “You need another project like the proverbial hole in the head,” Fresca had said. Just when I thought she understood that a business has to keep reinventing itself to stay current.
    So instead of my usual double latte and
pain au chocolat
from Le Panier, I started Saturday off with a chai mix taste test. Unlike the popcorn seasonings, we hadn’t created these ourselves. Instead, we’d put out a call inviting home cooks, restaurateurs, and other entrepreneurial types to submit their blends. We’d credit the winner on the label, and handle marketing, sales, and distribution. They’d also get to use our commercial kitchen for a reduced fee.
    We already had our own custom coffee, Cowboy Roast, roasted and blended to our specs in Pondera. We also sold Montana Gold’s Wheat Coffee, a whole-grain substitute. This spring, the women of Rainbow Lake Garden would plant mints, lemon balm, and other herbs, and comesummer, harvest the herbs, dandelions, and raspberry leaves for the Merc’s line of Jewel Bay Jewels, refreshing herbal teas.
    But no black teas for the time being. Not exactly a made-in-Montana product. My neighbors and I hoped to recruit someone to open a tea shop in the village, serving high tea, low tea, and all kinds of tea in between. Huckleberry scones, huckleberry creamed honey, huckleberry clotted cream. The Village Merchants’ Association and the Chamber of Commerce had joined the effort. One prospect had turned us down. A second had toured the village earlier in the week but had yet to give us her decision.
    I measured out chai mix, created by a local woman after a visit to a friend in India. Added hot water and stirred. Sipped.
    Not bad. A touch sweet, but then, while I adore chocolate—the darker, the better—I don’t have the sweetest tooth. That, I leave to Tracy and Candy Divine.
    I rinsed my mouth and tried the second blend. Both had impressed the first-round judges: Tracy, Fresca, and Heidi Hunter, owner of Kitchenalia. Sweetened with stevia, this one would score well with the calorie-conscious, an important factor in product development. A less traditional flavor combination than the first. Pepperier, if that’s a word.
    â€œYoo-hoo, Erin!” A voice rang out over the sound of the front door chime as two women entered. Mimi George, Zayda’s mother and the owner—with her husband, Tony—of the Jewel Inn, the chalet-style restaurant at the north end of the village. Best breakfast joint around. Dinner service would resume in the spring, when the