Page 7 of Mail-Order Avis (A Mail-Order Mystery #3)

Seven

A week had passed, and Avis was pleased with the progress. Reed had suggested she hire one of the men from the men’s camp to help. It was a good suggestion. She chose Jasper (Jes, for short) McEnder, cousin to Ewan McEnder, Tamsin’s father.

“Uncle Jes is real good with wood,” Tamsin had told her before he started. “He helped build the auditorium and talked Da into moving west and settling here in Fiddler’s Gap.”

So far, Mr. McEnder had lived up to the praise.

He made sure the shelves in the kitchen were sturdy, fixed some in the pantry, and installed a screen door so they could let a breeze in on hot days.

Reed also helped, though he tended to stick close to her.

He was more concerned with her menu than anything else, and no matter how often she assured him it was all under control, he insisted she write down every recipe she planned to use.

“I don’t measure anything,” Avis said for the tenth time that week.

She planned to open the following week. The pantry was full, the dining room was ready, and she’d hired two waitresses.

One was an older woman, Hattie Glover, the widow of a mule trader, who’d moved to Fiddler’s Gap for a quieter life.

Hattie was also quite the battle-ax. In her early fifties, she’d seen a thing or two and struck Avis as very wise.

The other waitress, a shy nineteen-year-old named Cora Belle Jenkins, was Hattie’s opposite.

Hattie wouldn’t tolerate backtalk or bad manners, but Cora Belle…

Avis had a feeling that once she warmed up, she’d be a chatterbox.

She was prim and proper, which suited the wholesome image Avis wanted for the café.

“Have you written anything down?”

Avis jumped at the sound of Reed’s voice. “Don’t scare a body like that!”

“Sorry,” he said, joining her at the stove. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re quiet on your feet. I can hear Hattie coming. She mutters to herself.”

“What about Cora Belle?”

Avis smiled. “She’s quiet…for now.”

He grinned. “She’ll come out of her shell, you just watch. Besides, she’s a pretty girl. I bet more than a few young gentlemen will start having lunch here just to get a glimpse of her.”

“So long as she doesn’t start any trouble. I want to run an establishment that’s on the up and up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat.

Avis tried not to roll her eyes. She had to admit, he’d been a huge help in more ways than one.

He’d helped her order supplies, drove to Baker City to pick them up, organized the pantry, and helped arrange the dining room.

They’d created the menus together, and he constantly stressed not overtaxing herself, especially since she was the only cook.

He still insisted she hire another, but she wanted to see how things went first. She figured she’d write the recipes down then.

“Look, I know I keep badgering you about this,” Reed said.

Avis smiled, knowing what was coming. “And?”

“You’ve got to write those recipes down. Your cook will be lost without them. You can’t expect someone to memorize everything by watching you.”

She turned to him, fighting back a grin. She probably shouldn’t tease him, but she couldn’t help it. Her dream was coming true, and the excitement was starting to show. “Oh? And why not?”

He frowned, hands on hips. “Because I can tell you right now, you’re going to have more customers than you know what to do with the moment this place opens.

We had a lot of picnickers in town last weekend, with more coming this weekend.

And there’s a concert the weekend after.

That means more folks in town, and they’ll want lunch, dinner, and probably breakfast too. ”

A slow smile curved her lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He let his arms drop and took off his hat. “So write the recipes down.”

“But I won’t have a cook hired by then…”

He raked a hand through his hair. “No, but you’ve got me. And I’m not cooking blind.”

Avis stared at him. “You? You’re going to cook?”

“You know I can.”

Okay, he had her there. He’d cooked a few dinners since she’d arrived, all of which had been excellent. “What about your mayoral campaign?” she asked, trying not to smirk. After all, what kind of campaign did he need when he was the only one running?

“I’m fine. I can handle both. You don’t have to worry.”

Avis arched a brow. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Confound it, woman, are you going to let me help or not? You know you need it.”

“I wasn’t going to advertise the fact that I was opening,” she said.

He laughed. “Avis, the minute people find out this place is open again, they’re going to flock to it. This is a small town, it’s what happens. Plus, you’ve got that men’s camp full of hardworking fellows who have to cook for themselves. They’ll probably be your best customers.”

“Don’t they have their own cook at the men’s camp?” she asked, curious.

“They did, but he up and moved to Portland.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “So, when are you going to start writing those recipes down?”

Avis heaved a sigh. “Very well. I’ll write a few down. I’ll start with my chicken and dumplings, then my beef stew. Of course, my roasted chicken. And I’ve got a few pie recipes. That should give you enough to…”

“Thank you,” he said, exasperated. “That’s all I wanted. It’ll make your life much easier.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a half smile. “You really like to cook, don’t you?”

“I learned from my grandmother and one of my aunts.” He gave a light shrug. “I took to it like a duck to water.”

“Your mother didn’t cook?”

“Oh, she did. But she wasn’t as good as my grandmother or Aunt Jane. I was the logical choice to manage the family’s restaurant. My mother, on the other hand, was an excellent seamstress. So she ran the dressmaker’s shop.”

“And your father was good with sundries, so he ran the general store. That it?”

Reed shrugged. “Yep.”

Avis smiled at him. He really was just trying to help, and he wanted her to succeed.

He’d more than made up for the circumstances that brought her here, and while she didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, she had to admit she liked having him around.

He was knowledgeable, polite, and made her laugh.

“Thank you for all your help, Reed.” She looked around the sparkling, well-stocked kitchen. There were just a few things left to get. One of which was the menus from the printers in Baker City. They were supposed to be ready Monday. She and Reed planned to go together to pick them up.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just admiring our handiwork. Jes said the sidewalk board will be ready this weekend.”

Reed smiled. “He’s a good man, Jes. I’d like to see him settle down and raise a family. I bet he’d clean up nice.”

Avis thought of her handyman. Jes McEnder was big, broad, and wore a beard that made her fingers itch to grab a pair of scissors.

He was a bear of a man with a heart of gold.

He even played the fiddle but refused to join the orchestra.

Jes said he didn’t think he was good enough.

He also confessed he couldn’t read music.

“Well, from what I hear, there are a few widows in town he might be interested in.”

Reed’s eyes widened. “You’re not suggesting Hattie, are you? She’s liable to chew him up and spit him out.”

Avis laughed. “No, not Hattie. Besides, she told me she doesn’t plan on marrying again. She’s been a widow for over a decade and said, and I quote, ‘Why would I take another husband when I just have to clean up after him?’”

Reed chuckled. “I’ll admit I don’t know her very well, but I’m sure I will soon enough.” He turned toward the stove. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“All right.” Avis went to the hutch and pulled out two cups and saucers. “I made cookies earlier.”

“Great. Get them, and we’ll have them with our coffee.” Reed took the cups and saucers from her and set them on the worktable.

Avis went into the pantry, retrieved a few cookies from the large jar, and placed them on a plate.

This was the first time they were sitting down together like this.

During the days they worked on the café, that’s all they did.

Each evening they returned to the Murray House exhausted, ate dinner, then went straight to bed.

She carried the cookies to the table by the only window in the kitchen. When she sat down, she waited for Reed to bring their coffee. He grabbed the cups, then went to the box and retrieved the cream.

“Here we are,” he said, sitting down and rubbing his hands together. “I haven’t taken a break like this in quite a while.” He looked her in the eyes. “You’ve been working me like a dog, Miss Prescott.”

Avis rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You forget I’ve been working just as hard.”

“Not at all. But I admit, you are a slave driver.”

“So are you,” she shot back.

“How so?” he asked, pouring cream into his cup and adding a spoonful of sugar. He stirred slowly, never taking his eyes off her.

Avis tried not to fidget. “Well…you keep pestering me for my recipes.”

“To save you from one big, fat headache. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He smiled and took a sip of coffee.

Avis fixed her own cup, then sat back and sipped it slowly. It was hot outside, but the coffee still tasted good and warmed her in places the sun couldn’t reach. It felt like a reward and filled her with satisfaction.

“You look happy,” Reed said with a smile. “Is it because we got so much done in such a short time?”

“That’s part of it,” she admitted. “But it’s also the fact that this is what I’ve always wanted for as long as I can remember.”

“So you’ve said before.” He leaned slightly toward her. “I’m happy for you, Avis. I really am. I hope the café is a great success.”

Avis smiled but said nothing. She was enjoying his company, the sound of his voice, and most of all, the genuine concern in his eyes. He wanted her to succeed and that meant more than anything else.

She reached for a cookie and took a generous bite. He did the same, and they munched in companionable silence. Before they knew it, their cups were drained, and the plate was empty.

“Well,” Reed said, “I guess I’d better mosey back to the church and pester Samuel. He has some things he wants me to look over.”

“For your campaign?” she asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Not to mention the plans for my house.”

“You’re building one?”

“Of course. The mayor of Fiddler’s Gap can’t keep living at the Murray House, now can he?”

Avis shrugged. “I don’t know. But this is Fiddler’s Gap. You have to admit, it’s not like most towns.”

He laughed. “No, it most certainly is not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d best be going.” He picked up his cup and saucer, along with the empty plate, and took them to the sink.

“I’ll get them, don’t worry,” Avis called after him. “Where do you plan to build?”

He turned and stuck his hands in his pockets. “There are a few places I’m looking at. I could build along Cole Lane, on the other side of town. Or maybe further out. I haven’t quite made up my mind.” He put on his hat, tipped it to her, and left the kitchen.

Avis smiled as she took her cup and saucer to the sink, then reached for the box of Snowflakes to wash the few dishes. It was empty. “Well, that won’t do.”

She went into the pantry and reached for a new box. As she pulled it from the shelf, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. “What’s this?” Avis bent to pick it up.

You shouldn’t ask so many questions...

“What in the world?” she muttered. “What questions?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh…” Could this have something to do with Mr. Penrose’s hasty departure?

Was this note directed at him or at her?

She’d asked the Murrays about the pieces of paper she’d found with the initials L.L.

on them, but they hadn’t been able to figure out who they belonged to.

The only other people she’d brought it up to were Ellis and Arabella Palmer, who owned the hotel, and who’d offered to share some of their recipes for the café.

Avis stared at the note, then searched through the pantry to see if there was another message tucked away somewhere. Jes had worked in here. How could he have missed it? Unless, someone left it recently…

Now part of her wished Reed hadn’t left.