Page 3 of Mail-Order Avis (A Mail-Order Mystery #3)

Three

A vis woke early the next day. Her body ached, and her mind felt clouded. But her heart brimmed with resolve.

She’d spent most of the night thinking about what she was going to do, even taking dinner in her room. She needed the quiet and hadn’t wanted to be around other people, especially Mr. Barclay.

Avis got up, dressed, washed her face, and fixed her hair.

This wasn’t what she’d expected, being stranded in a town like Fiddler’s Gap, but by golly, she was going to make the most of it.

And if there was any chance, any chance at all, that she could fulfill her dream of owning her own café, then she was going to take it.

Downstairs, Alicia was finishing up breakfast with the help of the young woman Mr. Barclay had mentioned yesterday. What was her name again? Tamsin?

Tamsin stood near the kitchen door, her hands dusted with flour, and Avis noticed a streak of it along her jaw.

The girl looked about sixteen or seventeen, with a long auburn braid slung over one shoulder and a sharp, appraising gaze that made Avis feel like she was being weighed, measured, and heavily filed under Will She Last the Week?

Clearly, she’d already heard about the mail-order bride debacle. By now, the whole town probably had.

“Good morning,” Tamsin said, wiping her hands on her apron. Her sleeves were rolled past her elbows, revealing freckled arms that hinted at hours spent hauling hay or sacks of potatoes.

“Good morning, Miss Prescott,” Alicia said cheerfully. “I’m sorry the two of you didn’t get introduced last night. This is Tamsin McEnder. She’s been helping around here. The child’s strong as an ox and twice as dependable.”

Avis offered Tamsin a smile. The girl gave a polite nod in return, though her eyes never stopped studying her. They weren’t unkind. Just curious and maybe a little skeptical. Like someone who knew what hard work looked like and wasn’t sure Avis had it in her.

Good grief, Avis thought. I hope the Murrays don’t think that too. “It’s nice to meet you, Tamsin.”

“Likewise,” the girl replied. “If you need help with anything, just holler.” With that, she turned back to the dough she was kneading, her braid swinging with the motion.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Avis headed toward the kitchen table and eyed the coffee pot on the stove. “I’m afraid I’ve missed breakfast with the others,” she added with a blush.

“I’m not worried about that,” Alicia said. “You must’ve had a long journey. Land sakes, we know so little about you, other than Reed said you know how to cook. If that’s true, then I can’t wait for you to try my flapjacks. Sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee and breakfast.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Avis almost called her Alicia but decided Mrs. Murray was more proper. “Mrs. Murray, what can you tell me about the café? Is it for lease?”

“Yes, it is, dear. Samuel and I own it. We had it leased out, but poor Mr. Penrose. The man did his best, but he didn’t quite have the knack for the restaurant business.”

“What happened?” Avis asked as Alicia poured her a cup of coffee.

“We helped him get everything set up, and he never had a problem getting customers, especially on the weekends. But he tried doing the cooking himself, and he just wasn’t very good at it.” She gave a knowing smile. “I hope you’re a better cook than he was, dear.”

Avis stared at her a moment. “Mrs. Murray, may I ask you a question?”

Alicia began piling flapjacks on a plate. “Go ahead, dear.”

“It sounds like you and your husband have already talked about my taking over the café and bakery. Is that true?”

“Why, yes, dear. We’re going to see if a trial run works. Reed insisted.”

She brought the plate to the table and set it before her. It held three flapjacks, scrambled eggs, and bacon. It looked and smelled wonderful. Avis’ stomach gave a loud growl. She blushed and looked up at Alicia. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t just thanking her for the food. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she stared down at the plate. Please let this be real, she prayed. Please let this work. Her dream was so close she could almost touch it… and was terrified of losing it.

Maybe, just maybe, if this worked out, she could buy the café and bakery from the Murrays one day. But first, she had to see it and find out what kind of shape it was in. And, of course, see what the terms might be.

Avis ate quickly, and when she was done, headed upstairs to freshen up. Alicia told her she would fetch her husband, and together the three of them would walk to the café.

Soon, Avis was waiting on the front porch of The Murray House. When the couple emerged, the three of them strolled toward the middle of Main Street.

“It’s right down this way,” Reverend Murray said. “Juniper Street. It’s a decent size, but now I’m thinking we should have made it bigger.”

Avis fought the urge to wring her hands as he unlocked the door. Overhead was a wooden sign that simply read: Fiddler’s Gap Café and Bakery.

Okay. She could live with that.

When the reverend pushed open the door and they stepped inside, it was nothing like she imagined. Yet… somehow, it was exactly what she needed. A wide smile spread across her face.

Dust floated in a shaft of morning light, the counters covered with it. But from the looks of things, all the space needed was a good cleaning.

Avis could see it already. Tables full of customers, the smells of the kitchen wafting through the dining room, the bakery case full of pastries and pies.

She imagined a blackboard menu with specials scrawled in cheerful chalk, warm bread cooling by the window.

Laughter. Coffee. Good food. And of course, the soft ring of the little bell above the door as customers came and went.

This wonderful place could be hers.

For the first time since the reading of her uncle’s will and Henrietta upending her life, Avis felt like her dream wasn’t dead. Dusty, maybe. Even a little singed. But still breathing.

“Well, hello. I didn’t expect you to still be here,” came a familiar voice.

She turned. Reed Barclay stood in the doorway, a hammer in one hand and a bucket of who-knew-what in the other.

“What do you mean?” Avis asked, folding her arms. “Did you not think I would inspect the café?”

“Now, now, you two,” Alicia said quickly, stepping between them. “You’ve both had a bit of a shock, but it’s past now. We’re moving forward. Reed, what are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, lifting the hammer and bucket. “I’ve come to help. This place needs a good cleaning for one. And I doubt Mr. Penrose took the time to fix anything. You two haven’t had time to get to it either, so I’m here to help.”

“Well, now,” Alicia said, smiling over at Avis. “Isn’t that nice? You have help already.”

Reed stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the space. “Place looks worse in daylight.”

“Maybe I should light some candles,” Avis muttered.

“Then you can really see how bad it looks.” She crossed her arms more tightly.

She didn’t know why he irritated her all of a sudden.

Maybe because she was clinging so tightly to this dream.

She had to make it work. And she still didn’t know what the terms of the lease agreement might be.

That uncertainty gnawed at her more than she liked to admit.

He gave a short laugh. “You think grit alone is going to turn this place around? You’re going to be starting from scratch, Miss Prescott.”

Avis looked at him squarely. “Work is what will make this place shine again, Mr. Barclay. And I’m not afraid of it.”

He nodded slowly and tapped the hammer against his palm. “You’re right, of course. But you’d be wise to take my offer of help.”

“I will if I have to,” she said, looking him up and down.

Maybe he wanted to help because he still felt guilty about what happened.

But then, it wasn’t his fault, so far as she knew.

Still, a nagging thought tugged at her. What if he had sent the letter?

What if he changed his mind after the fact and told her it was all a joke when she showed up?

It was a possibility. The only people who might know were Alicia and Samuel.

If they’d known Reed a while, they’d recognize his handwriting.

They saw the letter yesterday but didn’t say anything.

Avis turned toward the counter and ran a finger over its dusty surface.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Who needed a husband when she could have this?

Her own café and bakery. A place to call hers.

In a small town full of weekend tourists.

With the railroad coming through, Fiddler’s Gap would continue to grow.

And if it grew, so would her business. This could be the fresh start she hadn’t dared hope for.

She turned to Alicia and Samuel. “Have you thought about the terms of the contract?” Her voice caught just slightly at the end.

Not enough for them to comment on, but she felt it.

If she lost this chance, she didn’t know what she’d do.

It was more than a job. It was her life, standing there under a layer of dust and hope.

“For the lease?” Samuel asked. “Yes, of course we have. In fact, I have it back at the house, but we wanted you to see the place first.” He glanced at Reed and back.

“Reed’s right. It’s going to take some cleaning up and likely a few repairs.

I haven’t had the chance to get to them, just as he said.

” He leaned toward her slightly, lowering his voice.

“You’d be wise to take him up on his offer. He’s a good worker.”

Avis cringed at the thought. But if he was the only help available, she’d have to accept it.

She walked across the dining room to the far side of the café, where a cozy fireplace sat under a mantle.

It would need to be cleaned out. She knelt to examine the hearth and saw that someone had burned some papers inside. Letters?

She reached in and pulled out the corner of what looked like a partially burned envelope. She couldn’t make out the words, but a few initials had survived at the bottom: L.L. There were other letters, but she couldn’t read any of the unburned scraps. “Hm. I wonder what this is.”

“Would you like to see the kitchen?” Alicia asked from behind her.

Avis tucked the singed paper into her skirt pocket and stood. “Yes, very much.”

Alicia smiled, and Avis followed the Murrays into the kitchen. Mr. Barclay trailed behind them, still looking around like he was making a mental list of everything broken. She hoped he didn’t start pointing things out.

“Oh my,” Avis said as she stepped into the kitchen. “Look at that lovely stove.”

Alicia beamed. “Cyrus Van Cleet spared no expense when it came to that stove. He said the Cooke brothers, the ones who own that huge ranch, have one almost like it. The whole town of Clear Creek knows about their stove.”

Avis laughed. “Is he trying to make this stove famous too?”

Reverend Murray chuckled and crossed to the far wall. “We think so. But it’s a good stove. You’ll be glad to have it.”

“As you can see,” Alicia added. “There’s plenty of workspace, and the stove is big enough for most things. But, if need be, we can install another.”

“Two stoves?” Avis asked, surprised.

“It gets busy in here,” Reed said behind her. “You’ll appreciate another stove when it does.” He stepped closer to examine the stovetop. “This one’s not bad. Not as nice as the one I worked with in Philadelphia, but solid.”

Avis didn’t respond. He was right, of course, but she wasn’t ready to admit that out loud. “Well,” she said, turning back to the Murrays. “What’s next?”

Alicia clasped her hands together. “We thought a sample of your cooking would be nice. Would you consider making dinner at our boardinghouse tonight?”

Avis laughed. “You want to test my cooking?”

“Yes, dear,” Alicia said, giving her a hopeful look. Was she nervous asking?

Avis nodded. “Well then, I’d love to cook dinner for all of you. It would be my pleasure.” She gave them a smile, then turned back to inspect the kitchen more closely.

“Why did Mr. Penrose leave this place?” she asked.

“He said it was a family emergency,” Reverend Murray said. “We’re not sure what kind. He never shared the details. But he did leave town in a hurry.”

“Oh dear.” Avis moved to a large hutch against the wall and opened one of the cupboards. It was full of dishes. “Is there anything the place needs? He didn’t take anything with him, did he?”

“No, he left everything as far as we know,” Alicia said. “Between you and Reed, you’ll have this place cleaned up in no time. Not to mention, discover if anything’s missing.” She reached for Avis’ hand. “Then it’s just a matter of prepping everything for a reopening.”

Avis blinked. “Reopening?”

“We were thinking… two weeks from now,” Alicia said gently. “That should give you time to figure out your menu, make a list of what supplies you’ll need, and handle any repairs.”

Avis stared at her with wide eyes. Her throat tightened. This was it. A chance to start over. She gave them a slow, thoughtful nod. “What do I have to do?”