Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,11
to look into what happened, and since I was worried about Alex, too—not to mention how worried I was about what all that worry was doing to Jim—I agreed to take on the case. Naturally, Eve wasn’t about to be left behind.
Which made me wonder why she wasn’t even listening.
Instead, Eve’s eyes took on that glassy look they get when her head’s in the clouds and her imagination is getting carried away with it.
“Baileys chocolate cheesecake would be perfect,” she crooned, and when I looked at her in wonder, she rolled her eyes. “For the wedding, of course! My goodness, Annie, you’ve only got three weeks before the big day and you haven’t even made a final decision about the cake. Clara’s going to need to know. And soon.” Clara was a woman who made some of the pastries served at Bellywasher’s.
“Clara knows I want simple,” I reminded Eve. “She knows Jim and I want to keep the entire wedding low-key.”
“But there are details to consider, Annie. Fresh flowers on the cake? A fountain? Oh, a fountain!” Eve’s eyes glazed and I thought I’d lost her, but she snapped herself out of it before she could get too carried away on a cascade of fountain daydreams. “Porcelain figures? You know, a bride and groom? It’s all important. And you can’t know what you’re going to do about any of it until you decide once and for all what kind of cake you’re having. Chocolate cheesecake, that’s one delicious detail!”
“We don’t need it.” I said this in a way that sounded sincere, even though I am of the mind that everyone always needs chocolate cheesecake. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the basic food groups. “I had a big, splashy wedding the first time. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“The big and splashy part had nothing to do with how things didn’t work out between you and Peter,” she said, even though she didn’t need to point it out. I am nothing if not reasonable. I know the fancy gown and the limo and the flowers and the videographer had nothing to do with the fact that my marriage to Peter had gone kerflooey. That had happened thanks to the girl Peter met at the dry cleaner’s—and the undeniable fact that Peter is a weasel. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do big and splashy again,” Eve added.
“No.” I was as clear as I could be. It didn’t pay to beat around the bush with Eve. “We’re keeping it simple. That’s why we’re having the ceremony and the reception right at Bellywasher’s. No big church extravaganza. No reception it’s going to take us three years to pay off. Simple ceremony. Simple foods. I can’t expect Marc and Damien to spend the evening in the Bellywasher’s kitchen cooking when they should be enjoying the party. That’s why I’ve been thinking . . .” The idea had just occurred to me in the middle of the night before, and I hadn’t had a chance to run it by Eve yet. Excited, I leaned forward.
“I want to cook something special for Jim,” I told her. “You know, to serve at the wedding.”
Can I blame her for looking incredulous? I cannot. Even so, I found myself feeling a little offended.
“Hello, Annie!” Eve waved a hand in front of my face. “You and cooking? You don’t exactly get along. Remember the exploding stove? And the burned-beyond-belief chicken wings? And the—”
“Which is why it’s such a great idea.” Yes, I am ever practical, but apparently, when it comes to love, even the most practical woman can get a little crazy. I’d made up my mind and nothing was going to change it. Not even the thought of going near a stove and (gulp!) turning it on.
“It would be a total and complete surprise for Jim,” I said, convinced.
“Yeah, Bellywasher’s burning down on your wedding day. That ought to do it.”
I forgave her the sarcasm. After all, she was right.
And I was so enamored of the idea, I was beyond being able to listen to reason!
I scooted forward on my chair. “I was thinking I’d make some traditional Scottish dish. You know, like—” Since I hadn’t had the chance to give it much thought and I wasn’t familiar with any traditional Scottish dish beyond the biscuit cake Alex had made for me, I was stumped.
“Oatmeal?” Eve suggested.
Do I need to point out that I was thinking of something a little more upscale and a little less breakfasty?