Old Town Virginia’s entertaining guru and occasional sleuth Sophie Winston – a young Martha Stewart in the making – juggles Fourth of July fireworks, a houseful of guests, and homicide in the latest Domestic Diva culinary mystery from New York Times bestselling author Krista Davis.
With a big crowd descending on her Northern Virginia home, it’s a good thing event planner Sophie Winston is an expert at entertaining. Whipping up patriotic pastries is as easy as pie for her, though meeting the man her widowed Aunt Melly just impulsively married in Las Vegas is a little more awkward. Especially when Melly’s longtime, now-heartbroken secret admirer is there too, which could lead to some fireworks.
But the house party really gets explosive when Sophie’s favorite tour guide falls victim to a killer—and evidence points to Sophie’s own father. Will DNA really incriminate her dad? And what’s the real story with her new uncle-by-marriage and the mysterious pal he’s brought along with him? Some of the secrets Sophie’s discovering are raising flags—and while the police department casts suspicion on her father, she has to declare her independence as a detective to find the real culprit, and serve justice along with her red, white, and blue cupcakes . . .
Includes delicious recipes, fabulous decorating tips, and easy entertaining hacks!
Release date:
May 26, 2026
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
336
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Our daughter has moved to an exciting town. My husband and I would love to take a weeklong vacation to visit and explore. Hubby says we should stay with her the whole time and buy her something significant for her apartment with the money we would spend on an expensive hotel room. I’m afraid we’ll be cramping her style. What do you think?
Worried Mom in Boring, Oregon
Dear Worried Mom,
Benjamin Franklin allegedly said, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” You know your daughter better than anyone. Would you be in the way? Is there a guest room? A roommate? If you think your daughter would enjoy your company overnight, stay with her for three days. Then check into a hotel for the remainder of your stay.
Sophie
It had only been two days, and I already smelled trouble. Several members of my family as well as their friends were staying at my house for the grand July Fourth celebration and it was quickly turning into a very long visit. A few minor squabbles had erupted that made me feel as though I had been dropped into a Fourth of July Vacation movie where the entire family began to fuss.
It didn’t help things that a stranger was with us.
My father’s sister, Melly, had been married for forty years to a kind and humorous man whom we all loved. He had passed away two years ago, leaving Melly lonely and depressed. When Gus Eberle came along and suggested Melly join him in a seniors-only trip to Las Vegas, even my parents thought it would be a fun getaway for Melly. But Gus and Melly shocked everyone when they returned to Melly’s big country farmhouse as husband and wife.
They had all arrived in Old Town on June 30. I had enough bedrooms to accommodate most of them, although as one of the youngest, Roscoe O’Brien was sleeping on the foldout bed in my little den. To his credit, he hadn’t complained. Stan Cox, Gus’s friend, had driven up with Gus and Melly, but was staying elsewhere.
I had rented a tour bus outfitted with tables and, most important, a bathroom. A scrumptious tea with sandwiches and cookies was served each day throughout the tours. Our guide and driver, Tony Fontana, knew everything about Washington, DC, and the Declaration of Independence. He enjoyed sharing racy stories about American history that may or may not have been true but were fun even if a few people were turning in their graves.
One day we ate lunch in the Dirksen Dining Room where Senators are like movie stars. My guests were still talking about that experience. Because the Fourth would be very busy, I had planned a free day for July 3 so everyone could do what they wanted. No rising early, no rushing, no having to be anywhere on time except for a fancy dinner hosted by our friend Natasha. Unfortunately, relaxing did not apply to me.
The first worrisome surprise came when I found my front door unlocked in the morning when I left the house. Not only did I check to be sure it was secure every night before I went to bed, but I recalled locking it the night before. Maybe one of my guests needed something from their car. That thought made me feel better though I wasn’t convinced it was the case. Or maybe my sister, Hannah, had opened the door and failed to lock it. She was coming in very late each night.
I ambled along behind Daisy, my hound mix, as she followed her nose across the street to the home of my best friend, Nina Reid Norwood, who yawned as she waited with Muppet, her little white fluffball of a dog.
“Remind me why we’re up so early,” groused Nina.
“So we can walk the dogs before it gets too hot and so I can buy fresh breakfast breads for my houseguests.”
“Are you sure they’re worth it? You have a toaster. I’m told they sell perfectly good sliced bread at the grocery store.”
“You would be the first to complain if I didn’t serve something special. And the toaster doesn’t walk Daisy.”
At the mention of her name, Daisy stopped and looked back at me.
“You’re a very good girl.”
Assured that all was well, she sniffed a spot that intrigued Muppet.
The first rays of the rising sun glowed in the sky as Daisy and Muppet rounded the corner, passing homes that were decked out in red, white, and blue for the holiday.
We crossed to the next block and Daisy steered us into an alley just in time for us to hear a gate unlatch and see my Aunt Melly’s new husband, Gus, step out of someone’s backyard!
I pulled Nina and Daisy back in a hurry lest Gus spot us. When I peeked around the corner, he was dashing along the alley away from us.
“Was that Gus?” asked Nina.
“Ohh, this is not good.”
“I’ll say! Poor Melly! Do you think he saw us or was he running so he could get back to your house before Melly wakes up and realizes he’s gone?”
We heard the latch snap closed on a dark red gate with a rounded top.
“I hope he didn’t see us. That’s Dollie Peabody’s house. Now exactly what would Gus be doing at Dollie Pea body’s house?”
Dear Sophie,
I am proud to be an American. But all those red, white, and blue banners and flags and adorable plates and napkins add up! How can I express my spirit for less?
Penniless Redhead in Blue Bayou, Arkansas
Dear Penniless Redhead,
Look around your home. You can use a white or blue tablecloth or place mats. You might have a red lantern or a blue vase. How about baskets? Or throw pillows? You could tie red, white, or blue ribbons on them. Grab the napkins for next year when they go on sale.
Sophie
Nina shot me a horrified look. “At this hour? I think there’s only one possibility. We just saw the male version of a run of shame.”
“They’ve only been married a month!”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I think I have to! What would you do?”
“She has to know.”
“I wondered why my front door was unlocked. He doesn’t have a key. That explains it. Maybe he’ll wake Melly up when he gets to my house and crawls into bed with her. Then she’ll ask where he’s been and find out.”
Nina snorted. “Oh right. Men always immediately confess to being with another woman. Yeah, that happens all the time—not!”
We walked on. “Gus told us he’d never been to Old Town before. Of course, his wording didn’t exclude the possibility that he knew someone who lived here. And Dollie is about his age.”
“You know what they say about her. She has a ‘way with men.’”
“In simpler terms, she seduces them? She’s been widowed three times and divorced once. And she’s no spring chicken anymore. Surely she’s not still, you know.”
“Why does she walk around with her right hand up and her fingers curled as if she were carrying a handbag?”
“I have no idea. It’s kind of funny. I have a feeling she’s quite a character.”
“How well do you know her?” asked Nina.
“Not well. She goes to a lot of the charity events I handle. She’s always very friendly, as if she knows me. At one time, she was remarkably beautiful. Have you seen the portrait of her that hangs over her living room fireplace?”
“You’ve been inside her house?” asked Nina. “Where was I?”
“It must have been a meeting about organizing a charity event. The painting is stunning. Long blond hair cascades onto her shoulders. She’s wearing a white satin wedding dress with long white gloves. Sapphire earrings bring out the vivid blue of her eyes. She could have been a movie star.”
“Well, I am sorry to say that she doesn’t look like that anymore. I know we all want to look young, but the excessive amount of makeup she uses in an effort to appear younger only ages her more. I suspect she would be a stunning older woman if she didn’t try so hard to look young. It must be difficult to embrace the ravages of age having been so gorgeous.”
“Dollie hails from a long line of Old Town residents. She told me about her great-great-great-grandfather who was a surgeon during the Civil War. She still has his surgical kit.”
“Cool! What did it look like? My husband and I would love to see it.”
“The mere thought of the suffering people went through when they’d had amputations back then makes me very queasy. Thank heaven we have anesthesia today. I declined her kind offer to show me the surgical kit.”
Nina waited outside with the dogs while I entered Big Daddy’s Bakery, still wondering what Gus’s connection to Dollie might be. Gus had been very knowledgeable on the tours we took over the previous two days. We all noted how well read he must be about the country’s history. Maybe he had run into Dollie somewhere and taken her up on an offer to see that surgical kit? Although—it was an odd time of day for that kind of visit. And why wouldn’t he use her front door?
I selected croissants in plain, ham, and chocolate. And for those who didn’t care for croissants, blueberry muffins, carrot muffins, and cinnamon rolls.
Forty-five minutes later, I was still thinking about Gus and his early-morning foray as Nina and I set up breakfast in the backyard on my covered porch. The skies were a gorgeous blue with not a cloud to be seen. Nina had set up coffee and tea outside and they were ready for everyone to help themselves. I brought the waffle maker outdoors along with ripe, red strawberries, plump blueberries, and whipped cream for those who didn’t care for maple syrup. A long basket of the breakfast breads graced the center of the table.
In anticipation of my family visiting for the big July Fourth celebration, I’d kept my eye on blue and white Johnson Brothers Historic America plates with old images of the Capitol, Boston, ferryboats, farmhouses, and colonial homes. I’d gotten lucky with a huge set at a yard sale. I couldn’t believe that no one in that family wanted them. Slowly, I gathered enough to accommodate everyone this weekend and even added a few in red and white for fun.
Red, white, and blue bunting draped my fence. Blue hydrangeas bloomed in profusion as though I had planned it that way. I had debated about napkins. Cotton ones were always best, but with seven houseguests plus friends dropping by, I did not want to waste time in the basement laundering them. Caspari’s elegant Flags and Hydrangeas paper napkins were just the ticket.
My parents and Dad’s sister Melly were the first ones up. Nina and I caught them tiptoeing down the stairs so as not to disturb anyone else.
“I didn’t have the heart to wake Gus,” said Melly. “I hope his snoring didn’t keep you up.”
Nina and I exchanged a glance. I wasn’t quite sure what to say but thought it best to omit any mention of Dollie Peabody. At least for the time being.
Dad smiled at his sister before turning to me. “Something smells delicious.”
I led them out to the porch.
Mom poured coffee for everyone. “I see Gus isn’t the only one sleeping in.”
I hustled into the kitchen to whip up omelets for those who might prefer a savory breakfast. When I brought them to the porch, my guests were relaxing over coffee, discussing what they might do that day.
No sign of Roscoe or Cyril yet. My sister, Hannah, who was staying on a blow-up mattress in the main bedroom with me, had crept into bed at four in the morning. Daisy, had nudged me awake to let me know.
“Good morning.” Stan Cox appeared in the backyard. He wasn’t a big man, but slim, as if he were a runner. He had a medium brown mustache and wore his beard in the current short fashion that looked like he’d forgotten to shave for a couple of days. He had hitched a ride with Aunt Melly and Gus. Melly had introduced him as Gus’s friend. He wasn’t staying with us but appeared each day to hang out with us. Pleasant and polite, he wasn’t an objectionable person by far but curious nonetheless. He claimed to live in Berrysville, but my parents thought it odd that they had never met him. Berrysville was a very small town and news about newcomers spread fast. I had asked him what he did for a living. He told me he was a freelance graphic designer. It sounded like a great job. He could travel wherever he felt like going and still get his work done.
We welcomed him, and he helped himself to breakfast.
I relaxed with everyone for a few minutes, enjoying their company. It didn’t matter what they were talking about. It had been too long since I’d seen them and just being with my parents and Aunt Melly was a wonderful gift to me.
Nina phoned her husband. We all heard her say, “Hi honey. They’re having a super breakfast across the street at Sophie’s house. Beats the toast and jam we were going to have.”
He agreed to join us.
I thought I heard people stirring inside the house and popped back to the kitchen to whip up more ham and cheese omelets. I could hear footsteps on my creaking stairs just before Cyril Chevalier entered the kitchen.
“I hope walking up and down from the third floor isn’t too hard on you.” Cyril was a friend of my father’s and in the same age group as Melly and my parents. I felt as if I had known him forever.
“Not at all. I’m thoroughly enjoying the third-floor room. You did a wonderful job renovating it. I can feel the age of the house there. The windows that begin at floor level for starters. Especially at night, I love looking down on the lights and people who are walking by. I can imagine the many things this house has seen. Life in the 1800s must have been so different. Old Town was something of a hub during the Civil War. I like to imagine the spies who probably walked by this house or may have even hidden here.” He smiled at me. “What are you cooking?”
Cyril struck me as a gentleman. He was always neatly dressed and clean shaven. A professor emeritus of engineering, he wore rectangular metal-rimmed glasses which gave him a slightly bookish appearance that suited his personality. As far as I knew, he had never married.
“We’re eating al fresco this morning. I thought I’d take some omelets outside.”
“Perhaps I could help you with that. Are they ready?”
Just as Cyril was carrying omelets to the porch, Aunt Melly’s brand-new husband, Gus, entered the kitchen and looked around. “I thought I smelled coffee, but I don’t see any.”
Unlike Cyril’s neat attire, Gus wore a ratty brown bathrobe that had parted enough for me to see turquoise boxers imprinted with yellow rubber duckies.
“Good morning! Coffee and breakfast are outside on the covered porch.”
“Wonderful. I’m famished!”
Of course he was. He’d been out visiting local widows instead of sleeping.
He followed me as I carried a large bowl of fruit salad through the dining room to the French doors in the living room, where a covered walkway connected the house to the porch and breakfast. I glanced around to see if we needed more of anything, but everyone appeared to be having a good time and there was plenty of food.
“Mornin’, folks,” said Gus.
Everyone chimed in, “Good morning!”
In the meantime, Nina’s husband had arrived and taken a seat next to her. His dark brown hair was shot through with silver. While it should have made him look older, it brought out the vibrant blue of his eyes. Two deep horizontal furrows crossed his forehead, probably from worry, and there was a dent in the bridge of his nose from wearing reading glasses. “Hello, Sophie. Thanks for including us. I feel like family.”
“And we think of Nina as one of our girls,” said Mom. “It’s so nice that you’re home and can join us.”
Gus piled food onto a plate and slid into an empty seat next to Melly. But before he ate, he leaned over and gave her a sweet peck on the cheek.
Nina and I exchanged a glance. How dare he? What nerve!
Melly seemed pleased, though. She must not have noticed that he left the house while she was sleeping. Or maybe he was a habitual early riser, so it had seemed normal to her.
I poured myself a mug of tea with a bit of milk, but as I settled at the table, I could hear my phone ringing inside. I intended to ignore it, but Mom said, “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“No. I’d rather be out here with you.”
“Sophie! It could be important. Is that what you do when I call from home? Where is Hannah? What if she needs us?”
“Mom, she’s upstairs, fast asleep.”
“I can’t stand it.” Mom left and returned with my phone.
I had no choice. I excused myself and walked into my living room with the phone to my ear. Carol Harrison was calling to find out what we were wearing to Natasha’s party that night.
Natasha had sent out elaborate invitations made to look as if they had been handwritten in the 1800s on yellowed stationery.
Natasha requests the favor of M. Sophie Winston to dine with her on Friday, July the third, at half after six. The favor of an answer is requested. Attire: Appropriate for the year 1826.
It was, remarkably, the most coveted event of the year. Even more so than the charity balls! Local costumers had soon run out of men’s jackets cut short in the front with two long tails in the back. Waistcoats and neckwear had also been in demand. Apparently, the fashion for men in the 1820s was to have padding inside jackets designed to give them a large chest and small waist, which prompted several amusing articles as it had when they were the fashion.
Women’s dresses were a bit easier but local seamstresses found themselves in high demand. Silks and cottons in bright colors were easy to come by. The sleeves were enormous puffs. It was an era of romanticism in fashion, with pearls and ribbons in high demand. The hats, as it turned out, would have given today’s fascinators a run for their money.
No one had expected the dinner to have become the talk of the town, but it led to other, lesser dinners of the same nature and propelled Natasha into the spotlight, which was exactly where she wanted to be.
Natasha and I had competed at everything as children. Everything except the beauty pageants she loved. These days we each had an advice column answering questions about the domestic life. She even pursued my ex-husband, Mars. But he had broken off their relationship and as far as I could tell, never wanted to go through that relationship again despite her efforts to reconcile.
Sometimes I felt as if she still meant to compete with me. In general, while I always wanted to do my best, I wasn’t big on competition. But Natasha thrived on it. When possible, I tried to give her the impression she had won. After all, it was so important to her, and I didn’t care.
When Natasha was seven years old, her father abandoned her and her mother. Years later, genetic testing turned up a half sister and a second wife to the very same man who had disappeared from Natasha’s life. He had abandoned his new family in the same manner. He walked out one day and never came back. He had a type, though. The second wife was remarkably like Natasha’s mother, Wanda, and the two wives now co-owned a new age store in Old Town.
My parents were convinced that the abrupt departure of Natasha’s father had spurred her to excel. She longed to be the Martha of the South and already had her own local TV show. Maybe my parents were correct about her father’s absence driving her ambitions. Natasha could be highly annoying, yet on occasion, she was surprisingly thoughtful. We all had our strengths and drawbacks.
When I returned to the table, everyone quit talking as if they expected me to report about the phone call. I had to laugh. What if it had been a client? I took my seat at the table to indulge in a chocolate croissant and told them that I pitied those invited to Natasha’s party who hadn’t made arrangements for their attire in advance.
I noticed that Mom was watching Aunt Melly and Gus carefully. “Melly and I thought we would do some shopping today. We can’t wait to browse through the antique fair in town. We’ll grab lunch in one of the cute restaurants.” She smiled at me, and I knew that was a suggestion to everyone for my benefit so I wouldn’t have to prepare lunch.
“That suits me.” Dad selected a ham croissant from the basket of breads. “I know the rest of you are burned out on tours, but I’d like to visit the George Washington Masonic Memorial and time permitting, the Apothecary Museum.”
Gus stopped eating. “Me too! I’ll go with you.”
Nina gazed at her husband questioningly.
“Having been to those places, I pass. I have a rare long weekend at home and golf is on my agenda.”
Roscoe O’Brien, with whom I had gone to high school, finally dragged himself to breakfast. I was surprised how quickly he joined in the plans. Hannah brought up the rear. Wearing an oversize T-shirt and shorts, she walked onto the porch barefooted, followed by none other than Dollie Peabody!
Dear Sophie,
I chose to live in a very popular place where a lot of people want to go on vacation. I love my friends and relatives but some of them seem to think my house is a B&B. Aside from the cleaning, I’m tired of staying up late and entertaining them. I invent excuses but am afraid I’ll get caught and that’s more stress! How do I stop this?
Not a B&B in Las Vegas, Nevada
Dear Not a B&B,
You don’t have to make up excuses. Tell them you are sorry that you cannot accommodate them, but you would enjoy meeting them for dinner or a drink. The end. You are not under any obligation to entertain or provide a bed for everyone who visits your town.
Sophie
I sucked in a deep breath and looked over at Melly and Gus. Dollie’s eyes were ringed in black eyeliner, reminiscent of a raccoon. She had used a generous hand with foundation and a bright pink lipstick. “Good morning. My, but it smells good. Sometimes I wish I knew how to cook but it’s just too much work and makes such a mess.”
“Everyone, this is Dollie Peabody. One of my neighbors.”
My mother promptly invited Dollie to join us.
“I’m so sorry,” she drawled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast, but I desperately need to speak with Sophie.”
I tried my best not to show my horror. I looked from her to Gus and back. My heart pounded. I hoped there wouldn’t be an ugly scene. Poor Melly!
Dollie ignored Gus as if they were strangers and he did a fantastic job of showing more interest in his waffle. I introduced everyone.
“You have to tell me where you shop,” said Melly. “I love that outfit. Did you buy it in Old Town?”
Dollie plucked at the silky pink fabric of her dress, which showed off her sun-bronzed décolleté. “This old thi. . .
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