Chapter 1
Lexy Baker-Perillo stared lazily out the floor-to-ceiling window that made up the front wall of her bakery, The Cup and Cake. A sigh escaped her lips as she watched the last leaf drop from the century’s old oak tree on the riverbank and float lazily toward the falls, picking up speed until it catapulted over the edge.
Fall was nearing an end. The trees were bare and the air had a chill—a sharp contrast to the palm tree filled Tropical Island where she’d just spent two weeks honeymooning with her hunky homicide detective husband, Jack Perillo.
The honeymoon had been wonderfully romantic and restful, but Lexy was happy to be back home and back into baking and running her business.
Turning, she inspected the front room of the bakery. The glass cases displaying her baked goods gleamed in the sunlight. The self-serve coffee station filled the room with the rich aroma of dark roast. The cafe tables, set up next to the window overlooking the scenic waterfall that gave the town of Brook Ridge Falls its name, were spotlessly clean … and empty.
While honeymooning, she’d left the running of her bakery in the care of her assistant and best friend, Cassie. Lexy felt a swell of pride her friend had handled everything perfectly with no problems at all.
Well, almost perfectly … sales had dropped off considerably in her absence, but it didn’t have anything to do with Cassie running the shop. Lexy turned back to look out the window. She knew the reason sales had fallen off—she was staring straight at it.
“It” was the new bakery across the street, which had sprung into business while Lexy had been on her honeymoon. When she’d left, the windows in the new bakery had been covered in brown craft paper. A small handwritten sign in the corner had been the only indication a bakery might take up residence. Today, that bakery appeared to be fully stocked and a line of customers filed out the door and into the street.
Surely her baked goods can’t be that delicious —could they?
More than likely, the big turnout had more to do with the fifty-percent-off sign in the shop window and the fact the sidewalk leading up to Lexy’s bakery had been dug up because of the new sewer lines they were installing. On the other side of the street, the sidewalk leading up to the other bakery were perfectly fine.
Lexy squinted over at the store trying to see inside. It looked to be set up almost identical to The Cup and Cake, with glass displays, cafe tables, and a self-serve coffee station. She’d even chosen a name similar to Lexy’s—The Brew and Bake—and had the sign made in the same shape and pink color as Lexy’s sign.
Lexy started as a familiar figure appeared in the door of The Brew and Bake.
That couldn’t be who she thought it was … could it?
Lexy sucked in a breath as the door opened to reveal her grandmother Mona Baker, or Nans as Lexy called her, and Nans’ three closest friends— Ida, Helen and Ruth. Lexy noticed with dismay that, not only had the traitorous senior citizens been inside the bakery, they were also carrying bakery bags that looked to be loaded with pastries!
Her hands curled into tight fists as she watched them walk across the street, giggling and looking inside each other’s bags.
Surely, they weren’t bringing pastries from the other bakery over to her shop?
But they were.
Lexy stood, whirling around to face the door as the four women came in.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Lexy demanded.
The women’s happy chatter stopped abruptly. They stared at her with puzzled looks.
“Don’t get upset dear. We’re just going to compare the inferior goods from the other bakery to yours,” Nans said as if Lexy should have known that’s what they were doing.
“Oh.” Lexy felt mollified since Nans had referred to the other bakery’s pastries as inferior. She relaxed her stance and unclenched her fists. “Why?”
“We’re going to do a taste test and Helen is going to take notes, then write up an article for the Brook Ridge Sentinel detailing the results and how your baked goods taste much better,” Nans answered.
“Provided they are better, of course,” Ruth added then grimaced as Nans elbowed her in the ribs. “I mean, we know they’re better, of course. We just need to prove it.”
“Right, so let's get some of the same types of pastries for the taste test.” Ida rubbed her hands together and made a beeline for the display cases.
The women rummaged through their bags looking at the items they’d purchased—lemon bars, brownies, éclairs, pound cake, blueberry muffins and cupcakes. They picked out identical items from Lexy’s display case and took them to a table, where they spread out some napkins on which they lined up the baked goods.
“Now these are from Lexy.” Ruth pointed to the row on the top, “And these are from that other place.” The way she said the words that other place, with a hint of disgust made Lexy smile as she pulled a chair up to join the older ladies.
Nans handed out the plates and forks she’d grabbed from the self-serve station. “We’ll each take a bite from each one and then discuss the differences like they do on those cooking shows on TV.”
Helen pulled open her gigantic beige patent leather purse and rummaged around inside it pulling out various items—a lipstick, tissues, duct tape—until finally producing an iPad, which she plopped on the table in front of her.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said as she reached across the table, her fork slicing off a corner of the brownie from The Brew and Bake.
Lexy held her breath as Helen brought the fork to her mouth. She made exaggerated chewing motions, moving her tongue around in her mouth and licking her lips. Then she wrinkled up her nose and made a big show of swallowing.
“Tastes stale.” She sat back and typed something into the iPad.
Lexy let out her breath. The others reached over with their forks taking little pieces of the pastries and putting them on their plates.
“Now let’s not mix up which pastry is from which bakery,” Nans said as she bit into a piece of lemon square then immediately made a sour face. “This is too tart. Don’t you guys think so?”
Ruth nodded. “Let’s take a bite of Lexy’s to see how it compares.”
The three other ladies stabbed their forks into the lemon square from Lexy’s bakery case.
“This is much sweeter,” Ida said. The others mumbled their agreement and Helen typed more into the iPad.
“I didn’t know you wrote for the paper, Helen.” Lexy spent a lot of time with the four women and had never heard her mention it before.
“Oh I don’t usually, but I have a special spot this month on account of the town bicentennial.They needed some extra reporters,” Helen said. “I used to write a food column there when I was younger.”
Lexy had almost forgotten about the town bicentennial with its big parade and festival at the end of the week. She’d entered the famous scone bakeoff with her great-grandmother’s recipe— she’d have to make sure it came out absolutely perfect if she wanted to compete with this new baker across the street.
“And we’re on the historical committee, too,” Ida added.
“Oh. That sounds like fun,” Lexy said.
“It is. You wouldn’t believe all the old dirt we’re digging up on this place. Scandals and murders,” Ruth whispered. “We’re making a display for the festival.”
“I tried to get on the baking committee as a judge, but they wouldn’t let me because I’m related to Lexy.” Nans bristled.
Lexy looked ruefully out the window at The Brew and Bake. “That’s too bad. I might need a little extra help winning the competition this year.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Helen said. “Your baked goods are hands above theirs. Just look at how dry this brownie is.”
Helen cut into the brownie, which did look rather dry inside. “It’s not moist and fudgy like yours.”
“That’s true,” Ruth said following Lexy’s glance across the street. “I don’t know how the other place is getting more business. I think it has to do with the sewer construction … they’ve dug up half the sidewalk on this side, making it all but impossible for people to even get to your store.”
“Thanks guys.” Lexy’s heart warmed at their support.
“It’s the truth,” Ida said, then spit out the piece of éclair she’d bitten into. “Why this éclair is practically rancid. I can’t understand why anyone would go to her bakery more than one—”
“Jiminy Crickets, is that what I think it is?” Helen’s eyes, which had grown as big as moon pies, were riveted on something down the street in the opposite direction of the new bakery. Her mouth hung open in shock revealing the half chewed brownie inside.
The rest of them quickly swiveled their heads in the direction of Helen’s gaze.
Down at the end of the street, all sewer work had stopped. The workers were staring at one man who stood with his bottom-half inside a manhole, his top-half extended out and he was holding something up in his hand.
Nans gasped, the cupcake she’d been holding fell to the table with a light thud.
“Heavens to Betsy … is he holding a human head?”
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