Maybe some of your grandmother's actors will dress up in serapes and sombreros and carry guitars. Something this avant garde would be right up Grandmere's alley. In addition to being town mayor, she ran the Providence Playhouse, which put on a mixed bag of productions, to say the least. Karaoke style, you know. Piped through speakers. I'll have the gals at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe help me decorate. Doesn't it sound fun? I let out an exasperated sigh. If something valuable was buried beneath the winery, I'd bet dimes to dollars Ziegler's daughter had unearthed it before she skipped town.
Unless, of course, she'd found a body buried there, and that was why she really left. I set the breakfast on one of the mosaic cafe tables, poured the water into two of our big-bowled wineglasses, and offered Meredith half a croissant swathed with soft Taleggio cheese and homemade raspberry jam. Melt-in-your-mouth goodness. As I took my seat, Meredith handed me the list. In addition to the scavenger hunt, she'd written down sack races, tag football, and Frisbee contests.
Over fifty people had been invited. A tiny moan of gourmet delight followed her words.
Lost and fondue - Anaheim Public Library
I gulped. Fondue is not your typical buffet item. It's lovely for an intimate group of six or eight, but fifty or more? On a day's notice? Oh, my. Anyway, it'll fit into the party's theme. Lost and Fondue. Get it? We're finding a new college. Meredith leaped to her feet. Let's have platters of cheese, too. You have to include that Humboldt Fog and, hmmm, that rosemary-crusted sheep's cheese. And that Red Hawk from the Cowgirl Creamery. I made an open-faced salmon melt, like you suggested. Major yum! Red Hawk cheese was one of my all-time favorites. It had a buttery flavor and the smoothness of a Camembert.
The closer to room temperature it was served, the better. That was true for any cheese. She's part of this tight-knit group that hopes to go on to the Sorbonne or to the Pasadena Art College of Design or the Pratt Institute. They're coming to paint pictures of the winery before it becomes a college.
Sort of like a Degas gathering. I've gotten them some press. Isn't that cool? You remember Freddy, don't you? I warmed all over, remembering my first kiss with Freddy on stage, behind the curtain, in the Providence Elementary auditorium. He was eight, I was seven. His lips had tasted like peanut butter. You both have so much energy, and you're kindhearted, and—" Meredith's voice caught ever so slightly. Over the past few months, I'd been dating Jordan Pace, one of our local cheese makers, a man with the good looks of a movie star, the voice of a crooner, and the edginess of a gambler.
Lost And Fondue (A Cheese Shop Mystery)
Except in his case, he liked to keep his past—not his cards—close to his chest. While I packaged a pie in a gold box and tied it with strands of raffia, she kept talking about Freddy and her niece and the other talented artists. Seconds after she departed, Rebecca, my young assistant, trotted in dressed in a yellow raincoat and matching knee-high boots.
She smacked the heels of her boots on the rug by the front door to rid them of water. Beneath, she wore a yellow crocheted sweater dress that fit her coltish frame perfectly and looked suspiciously new. I kept myself from commenting on her spending habits. She didn't need me to mother her. She set straight to work, unwrapping cheeses and laying them on the cutting board. An inch of rain in less than twenty-four hours wasn't my idea of beautiful, just sloppy.
A foot of fresh snow and a snowball fight with Matthew's twin girls—now, that would be fun. We hadn't had snowfall in weeks and probably wouldn't until next year. In the course of the past year, I had fallen head over heels for my preteen nieces. At the insistence of my grandparents, I had taken my cousin and his girls into my home when Matthew's wife abandoned him for a cushier life with Mumsie and dear old Dad back in their cottage in England.
Cottage, ha! A twelve-acre estate complete with a bowling alley and a dressage ring. So far, having the four of us live under one roof was working out just fine. If only I could stop the girls from sliding down the white oak banister of my old Victorian home.
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Even beneath their frail weight, the banister creaked. I worried for their safety but pushed the angst aside. In many ways, children are like cheese. Wrap them too tightly with protective wrap, and they'll suffocate. Cookies and Scream. Virginia Lowell. Killer Knots. Nancy J. Final Sentence. A Roux of Revenge. Connie Archer. A Dog Gone Murder. Elaine Viets. A Clue in the Stew.
Crime Rib. Leslie Budewitz. Died Blonde. Maple Mayhem. Jessie Crockett. Ladle to the Grave. The Wedding Soup Murder. Rosie Genova. Highlights to Heaven. Floral Depravity. Beverly Allen. One Dead Cookie. A Broth of Betrayal. Gayle Leeson.
Lost and Fondue (Cheese Shop Mystery Series #2)
Butter Off Dead. All Sales Final. Josie Belle. Perish by Pedicure.
Lost and Fondue
Death on a Platter. Town in a Cinnamon Toast. The Fashion Hound Murders. Marked Down for Murder. It's a Wonderful Knife. Christine Wenger. Diners, Drive-Ins, and Death. Pearls and Poison. Duffy Brown. A Second Helping of Murder. Town in a Strawberry Swirl. The Diva Wraps It Up. Krista Davis.
Death Al Dente. Town in a Sweet Pickle. Wreath Between the Lines. Fixing to Die. Tangled Up in Brew. Joyce Tremel. No Mallets Intended. Victoria Hamilton. The Diva Serves High Tea. Pressing the Issue. Guilty as Cinnamon. Tempest in a Teapot. Amanda Cooper. Murder and Marinara. Caught Read-Handed. Terrie Farley Moran. Macaroni and Freeze. Picked to Die. Sheila Connolly. If Catfish Had Nine Lives. Paige Shelton. Sugar and Iced. Jenn McKinlay. Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies. A Gala Event. Vanilla Beaned. First-Degree Fudge. Christine DeSmet. A Souffle of Suspicion.
Dark Chocolate Demise. The Cakes of Wrath. Jacklyn Brady. For Whom the Bluebell Tolls. Town in a Pumpkin Bash. Muffin But Murder. Death of a Chocolate Cheater. Penny Pike. Murder Gone A-Rye. A Batter of Life and Death. Ellie Alexander. Buried in Bargains.