One Dead Cookie (5 page)

“Probably less than half the time,” Olivia said.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Well, I guess I—”

“Yippee! Oops, sorry about the decibel level.”

Olivia felt a surge of relief. “I get to come up with the ideas, though.”

“I promise you are free to ignore all my brilliant suggestions,” Maddie said. “I can’t
wait to get started. Only don’t feel pressured by that.”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Olivia said, laughing. “I’ll go commune with nature and
see if it triggers a brilliant cookie idea. Since you’re already at the store and
bursting with nervous energy, you can open. So there.”

“Done,” Maddie said. “Go commune.”

Olivia switched her ringtone to vibrate and looked around for a promising direction
to try next. Numerous gardens fanned out before her, forming a large semicircle
divided by curving paths. To her left, Olivia saw flowering shrubs and trees shading
wooden benches. The scene looked inviting, a good place to sit and ponder the enormity
of her creative baking task and the woefully inadequate amount of time left to accomplish
it. Instead, Olivia turned to her right, a sunny area with small, low patches of greenery
dotted with bits of color. Bland, yet pleasant. Olivia’s watch told her she had well
over an hour before Maddie might need her at The Gingerbread House. She decided to
explore the few remaining gardens before settling on a tree-shaded bench to wait for
a tasty idea to pop into her head.

The fully risen sun warmed Olivia as she followed a winding path between two patches
of bushy green plants. She picked a stiff leaf from one of the plants and bent it
in half. It released a rich lemony fragrance. She couldn’t find a marker to identify
the plants, so she used her cell phone camera for a close-up of the leaves and sent
the photo to her computer. She put the leaf in the pocket of her linen pants, hoping
it wouldn’t stain.

Olivia strolled past several plots filled with culinary herbs, many of which she recognized,
such as Greek oregano with its fuzzy leaves. Oregano made her think of pizza, which
caused a tummy rumble. She’d raced out of the house without eating. She thought the
small plants with tiny leaves might be thyme, and the large grayish leaves on the
next batch of plants had to be sage. The last garden held lavender, which Olivia recognized
from her mother’s herb garden. It would be lovely later in the season, with its long
stems and spiky flowers. This early in the spring, the plants hadn’t reached the bud
stage. Olivia wondered if Bon Vivant harvested their lavender, as her mother did.
Olivia knew the buds dried into fragrant potpourri, which she
doubted Bon Vivant would go to the trouble of creating. The restaurant must be using
the buds for cooking. Olivia picked one fragrant stalk.

A young couple emerged from Bon Vivant carrying coffee cups. The woman pointed toward
the flower gardens, and the two of them headed in Olivia’s direction. A server held
the door open for a second couple and led them to a table on the patio. Feeling guilty
about the lavender stalk in her hand, Olivia escaped to the shade. The copse of trees
wasn’t large, but it felt like a dense forest. When planting the young flowering trees,
Bon Vivant had chosen to preserve several older, larger trees.

Olivia chose a bench under an old oak, well hidden from the restaurant. She checked
her cell, which she’d left on vibrate, and saw with relief that she had no messages.
She had about twenty minutes to relax and hope for culinary inspiration to descend.

Olivia squeezed a lavender leaf between her fingertips and breathed in the sharp sweetness.
Her mother would undoubtedly take one whiff, go into an otherworldly state, and discover
a new path to universal peace. Olivia wasn’t a trance sort of person, but she let
her mind wander. It led her to potpourri. She didn’t actually like potpourri. She
closed her eyes and tried to focus on the use of lavender in baking. Instead, she
remembered the organic, lavender-scented spray cleaner her mother insisted on using
to clean the kitchen counter.

A shout in the distance told Olivia she wouldn’t enjoy her solitude for much longer.
She needed an idea, and she needed it now. To purge the scent of lavender cleanser
from her stubborn mind, Olivia dug the folded lemony leaf from her pocket and held
it to her nostrils. Heavenly. Lemon-scented cleanser, now that was a product she could—
Enough with the cleansers, Livie. Think about cookies.

A childhood memory flashed into Olivia’s mind. The scene came back to her so clearly,
she could remember the aromas. Her mother, Ellie, did nothing in a tentative way.
When she tackled an activity, she did so with every fiber of her ethereal being. Olivia’s
lifelong love affair with decorated cookies and cookie cutters had begun when her
mother had gone through her baking phase.

At age nine, Olivia had still wanted time with her mother, so she spent every possible
moment in the kitchen, sometimes at the expense of homework. Her mild-mannered, intellectual
father had expressed concern, in his distracted way. Her mother, however, insisted
that school should never get in the way of a child’s education. Cookie cutters illustrated
history, Ellie had said. While they mixed, rolled, and cut out shapes from the dough,
Ellie told stories about fairs in medieval England, where maidens would devour cookies
shaped like men, hoping to summon bridegrooms.

Ellie’s teachings had included information about edible and poisonous plants. She’d
insisted her daughter learn to recognize the difference between the two. Olivia had
forgotten most of the details, but she’d retained one fragrant lesson about edible
plants. Her mother had a habit of leaping from one topic to another through an obscure
route. She’d been explaining meringue powder, composed mostly of dried egg whites
and used in royal icing. Without a moment’s pause, she had launched into a tutorial
on everything meringue, including meringue cookies. Olivia remembered feeling dizzy
as her mother twirled around the kitchen, collecting baking ingredients. At one point,
Ellie opened a high cupboard and selected a jar of lavender buds she’d harvested and
dried the previous summer.

Olivia was surprised by how precisely the conversation replayed in her mind. Ellie
had opened the jar of dried
lavender and breathed in the scent, closing her eyes in ecstasy. “So luscious. Smell
this, Livie,” she’d said, holding the jar under her daughter’s nose.

Olivia had wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell. “Ugh. Too strong.”

“Such a sensitive child,” Ellie said. “That’s a good thing, Livie, and don’t let anyone
tell you different.”

“Um, okay.” Olivia had no idea what her mother was talking about, but she was always
willing to resist any opinions that clashed with her own.

“And now, my child, prepare to be amazed and astonished.” Ellie whipped up a light
dough, added lavender buds, and dropped it by small spoonfuls onto a baking pan. A
gentle lavender fragrance sweetened the kitchen air as the cookies baked. When Ellie
removed the pan from the oven, Olivia saw pale lavender nuggets that looked too pretty
to eat. Her mother let them cool on a rack before popping one into her mouth whole.
“Utterly delicious,” Ellie said with a happy sigh. “These are meringues, Livie. Try
one.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a taste experience you will never forget,” Ellie said.

Olivia picked up a meringue and sniffed it. Definitely lavender, but more pleasant
than the buds her mother had waved under her nose. The cookie felt firm, yet light
as air. Following Ellie’s example, she tossed the morsel into her mouth.

“That’s my girl,” Ellie said.

As the meringue dissolved in her mouth, Olivia experienced an explosion of sweet perfume
that snaked up her nostrils. “Wow,” she said. “That was…Wow.”

Ellie giggled like a child as she reached for another meringue. Olivia’s hand was
close behind. Between them they
finished off half the pan, yet the cookies had been so light that Olivia felt she’d
eaten nothing more than scented air.

The generic ring of a nearby cell phone startled Olivia back to the present. She smiled
at the lavender wand in her left hand. It no longer irritated her. In fact, she felt
downright friendly toward the tiny purple buds the lavender plants would soon produce;
they had given her part of the answer to her dilemma about flavors for the cookies
she’d promised to create for Maddie’s engagement blowout.

Sadie Briggs, Maddie’s aunt and a skilled seamstress, had designed Maddie’s wedding
gown. The dress was pale yellow satin with tiny lavender buttons down the back of
the bodice. Aunt Sadie embroidered beautifully and she had decorated the dress with
tiny flowers. According to Maddie, the flowers were lavender to deep purple. So lavender-flavored
sugar cookies would be perfect for the engagement party.

Since Maddie’s wedding dress was yellow satin, lemon sugar cookies seemed the logical
choice for a second flavor. Not terribly original. Olivia sniffed the leaf she had
stuffed in her pocket. It was still fragrant and definitely lemony. If she could identify
the plant, maybe she could include it in a cookie recipe. Assuming it tasted as good
as it smelled and wasn’t poisonous, that is. She’d need an organic source for both
herbs. Maybe the restaurant would have…

Once again, a generic ringtone disrupted the peaceful setting. The sound came from
behind Olivia’s bench. This time a quiet voice answered on the first ring. Olivia
decided it was time to leave. Too many distractions. As she reached toward her empty
coffee cup, the disembodied voice spoke in a low, brusque whisper. There was a hard
edge to the voice that sent a chill through Olivia. She guessed the
speaker was a man, but it was hard to tell. A very angry woman might sound as harsh.

Instinctively, Olivia sank down on the bench seat, out of sight. She felt a bit silly,
not to mention uncomfortable, and she doubted there was any real danger. On the other
hand, an encounter with an irritable stranger wasn’t her idea of an ideal start to
her day.

After a minute or so of silence, Olivia began to relax. Perhaps the stranger had wandered
farther away. Olivia checked her watch; she’d need to leave soon if she wanted to
arrive at The Gingerbread House not long after opening. She prided herself on being
available to customers during working hours, if at all possible. Olivia slid her two
herb samples into her pants pocket and retrieved her empty coffee cup.

“Are you crazy? What were you thinking?” The words were whispered, but even so, the
anger came through. After a pause, Olivia heard the voice again, but the only phrases
she could make out were “People around…Meet me…” and, after a few moments, “stupid
thing to do.” Olivia thought she heard the crunch of footsteps on undergrowth…then
silence. She waited until it felt safe to peek over the back of the bench. She saw
nothing and heard only the scurrying of small animals and a male mourning dove cooing
for a mate. Olivia wished good luck to the lonely dove as she hurried back into the
sunshine.

*   *   *

A
sweet buttery scent greeted Olivia as she entered The Gingerbread House. Maddie must
have just taken a freshly baked sheet of cutout sugar cookies from the oven. Olivia
was glad she’d stopped for a light breakfast at Bon Vivant before heading to the store.
Otherwise, she’d be tempted to down a dozen or so of those cookies.

On the sales floor, a middle-aged woman listened with rapt attention to the store’s
newest sales clerk, Jennifer Elsworth. With her honey brown hair and clear green eyes,
Jennifer was an attractive young woman. Though quiet and serious, her impressive knowledge
of vintage cookie cutters and baking more than compensated for her lack of animation.
Jennifer gave Olivia a quick nod of acknowledgment but kept her attention focused
on her customer. Olivia approved. Jennifer had shown up at the store two days earlier
looking for a job, and Maddie had interviewed her. To demonstrate her knowledge and
sales prowess, Jennifer had walked up to a customer who was “just looking” and skillfully
convinced her to purchase several vintage cutters. Maddie had hired her on the spot.

Jennifer hadn’t yet discussed her background or why she had moved to Chatterley Heights.
In fact, Jennifer had shared nothing about herself, which made Olivia uneasy. Maybe
it was time to create a job application form. She hadn’t seen a need before now. They’d
hired only one permanent part-time employee, Bertha Binkman, who had spent forty years
as the Chamberlain family housekeeper. Because of Olivia’s friendship with Clarisse
Chamberlain, she knew Bertha well and trusted her implicitly. Not that Jennifer seemed
untrustworthy; quite the opposite. And they did need help in the store.

The kitchen door opened, and Maddie breezed through carrying a tray loaded with decorated
cookies. She offered their customer first choice. With a guilty grimace, the woman
took two. Jennifer declined.

“Welcome, stranger,” Maddie said as she carried the tray over to Olivia. “Did you
get any breakfast? I can offer you a pizza-shaped cookie with fondant pepperoni.”

Among the various foods shapes, Maddie had indeed
included several cookie wedges decorated with pepperoni-like circles of fondant. Olivia
selected a cookie “slice,” telling herself that one scrambled egg did not constitute
a full breakfast. She bit off the narrow end, almost expecting it to taste spicy.
It didn’t.

“There’s something disturbing about cardamom-flavored pizza,” Olivia said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Maddie deposited the cookie tray next to the coffee
urn they always kept filled for the public. “Not many customers so far, but we’ll
get more business once word spreads around town that fresh cookies have appeared.
Come on, let’s talk while we can. Jennifer has everything under control. She is a
marvel.”

Olivia followed Maddie into the kitchen, where their own Mr. Coffee was spitting out
the last drops of a fresh pot. Maddie poured two cups while Olivia dug to the back
of the stuffed refrigerator for the cream and sugar. “There must be eight batches
of cookie dough in here,” Olivia said. “You’ve been working.”