“And did you?” I asked, knowing what her answer would be. Bernadette in a mood was not to be trifled with.
“Yes, but you know I’d never actually kill anybody! But my shift supervisor called me earlier, saying not to come in. That the Shady Palms News staff was already sniffing around the hospital trying to get the dirt on me. They’re going to paint me to be the villain, just like—”
“Just like they did to me,” I said, suddenly exhausted again.
She grimaced. “Look, I didn’t want it to be like this, but I helped you out last time. Now I need you to help me. Please.”
I hated to admit it, but she was right. She’d risked her job standing by me last time, and if nothing else, I prided myself on paying my debts. I usually avoided conflict, but there was something about my family that fired me up every time. Though if I was back in the sleuthing game, I knew I couldn’t do it alone.
Guess it was time to go next door and beg forgiveness so we could get the gang back together.
Chapter Eight
I come bearing a peace offering,” I declared, holding up the cookie bag as I stepped into the Brew-ha Cafe.
“Ooh, what did you bring us?” Elena abandoned the framed photo she’d been hanging above what seemed to be . . . an altar. I knew she said she was putting one up, but I didn’t realize she meant a full-blown altar, with cloth, candles, flowers, framed photos, the works.
I stared at her work. “Wow. That’s . . . a lot. I guess it fits our brand, at least.”
Elena reared back like I’d slapped her. “I didn’t do this for a brand! This is to give thanks and remember those who came before us. The customers aren’t allowed back here, so don’t even think about putting this on social media.”
Adeena jumped in before it could go any further. “So you’re finally ready to share your side of the menu?”
I handed over the cookies and fiddled with the clasp on my purse so I wouldn’t start wringing my hands. Sana and Valerie had loved them, but were they good enough for the Brew-ha Cafe? “I thought I’d start with the classics and then expand from there. I present to you ube chocolate chip cookies two ways: one with semisweet chips and the other with white chocolate chips. Tell me which you prefer. I’m honestly a little torn.”
They took turns sampling my offering, giving each cookie their undivided attention. Elena said, “If you’re going to serve the cookies as is, I’d say the semisweet gets my vote. It plays well with the earthiness of the ube, but is still a chocolate chip cookie. The white chocolate is a bit too sweet for me.”
Adeena, whose capacity for sugar was probably some kind of Guinness World Record, said, “I disagree about the white chocolate being too sweet. It’s so good! But it lacks oomph, you know? If you’re playing with the classics, why not add macadamia nuts? Then it could be your take on white chocolate macadamia cookies. Which are my favorite cookies, FYI,” she said to Elena.
Now this I missed. The creativity, the collaboration, the sheer inspiration I got from working with people who knew me well. “Love that idea! Thanks, Adeena. We’ve got our beginner cookies down, so I’ll make a large batch for today. Any idea what I should tackle next?”
I put it out there in the spirit of collaboration, not because I was completely idealess and needed their help or anything.
Elena raised her hand. “Well, one of my favorite treats are those lemon poppyseed muffins every coffeeshop has, but they’re a little too sweet and too big for me. They should taste like breakfast, not dessert.”
I jotted this down in the Notes app on my phone. “I love those muffins! And while a healthy version makes me sad, I’m sure other people would appreciate the option. I could replace the lemon with calamansi for extra kick, maybe have a glaze or curd on the side for those who want something sweeter. Anything else?”
“Since it’s summer, Adeena and I thought we should offer a frozen treat. We don’t have an ice cream maker, but paletas are super easy. We just need ice pop molds.”
Adeena nodded. “We figured we should start small. One flavor each to represent us. I already told her I want a kulfi-inspired ice pop.”
“Mine’s going to be arroz con leche since it’s my favorite dessert. You need to think about what your signature paleta flavor will be.”
My mouth watered as I remembered the Mexican ice cream carts that were everywhere in Chicago, the tinkling bells announcing the arrival of the paletero with ice pops in all sorts of delicious flavors, such as the rice pudding Elena was so fond of. A paleta that would represent me, huh? That would require some serious thought. Though one thing occurred to me.