I point to the shirt. “I hope you don’t stretch that out.”
“Now that’s a proper morning greeting,” she says chirpily. “Nothing like waking up to a good side of snark to go with your coffee.”
“You don’t have to be up so early,” I say.
“I haven’t slept past five since I was seventy.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Did you figure out who killed Jefferson Pike?”
I put a batch of pumpkin chocolate chip muffins in the oven and set the timer. “No.”
“Don’t look so glum. You can’t win ’em all, kid. That makes you, what? Three for four now?” she says, referring to my track record for catching murderers.
“I guess so.” Except this time, I’ve let Will down. In just a few hours, the world will know that he’s J.W. Quicksilver, and his name will be forever linked with a murder investigation.
I need to make more muffins. Baking for me releases endorphins the way running does for other people. Plus, since I missed my regular baking session yesterday morning, we could use the extra batches to catch up on inventory.
I’m on my third batch of my famous apple walnut cream cheese muffins when Jill and Sarah walk through the door at the same time. “Yum! Someone’s been baking up a storm,” says Sarah, who appears well rested today. She surveys the countertops. “Looks like you’ve been super productive this morning.”
“Just practicing for the day I’ll have to do it all on my own,” I snap.
Yikes. That sounded a bit aggressive.
Jill and Betty Jean give each other a look. Paco looks at me as if to say, Someone hasn’t had their coffee yet.
“I’ll go check out the pantry supplies,” says Jill.
Betty Jean follows her lead. “And I’ll go wipe down the tables. Again.”
They scurry off, leaving Sarah and I alone in the kitchen. Paco looks at the door like he’s thinking about bolting too but then changes his mind and lies back down in his corner.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” I say to Sarah. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“That’s all right,” Sarah says kindly. “I know this Jefferson Pike murder has you busy.”
“Only it shouldn’t. I’m a baker. I own half a café. At least, for now I do. I shouldn’t be running around playing amateur detective. Travis is right. I need to leave the police work to the professionals.”
“But you’re so good at it. If it wasn’t for you, the mob might have taken over Whispering Bay.”
She has a point. But what good are my detective skills if I lose the one thing I’ve dreamed of all my life? Running my own café. I can’t do it without a partner. I don’t have the resources.
If anything, living with Betty Jean these past couple of days has taught me to say what I think. “What good is solving crime if I lose my business? Or my partner?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know what’s going on. I know you want to go into business with Heidi. It’s okay. I don’t blame you. Just … tell me how we’re going to do this, so I’ll know what to expect.”
“You think I want to go into business with Heidi Burrows?” Sarah sounds truly shocked.
“Don’t you?”
“No! At least, not like you think.”
She sits on a stool and chuckles.
“I’m glad you think this is funny.”
She tries to look serious. “Sorry, but the idea of leaving you and going into business with that pretentious Heidi is just … well, it’s ridiculous.”
“I’m confused. If you’re not going into business with Heidi, what are the two of you doing playing kitchen together? And you hired Betty Jean without consulting me. When you offered to loan me the money to pay Will back, I thought it was just you being nice, but now I think it’s because you feel guilty on account of—wait. You think Heidi is pretentious?” I sag against the kitchen counter. “Thank goodness. I thought I was the only one.”