“Of course,” I say, because agreeing seems safer than pointing out that her reputation concerns rank somewhere below my concern for the actual dead person.
“Good. Because we need to discuss the closing party for the symposium.” Her grip on the clipboard tightens. “I’ll need suggestions immediately, now that Dilly is no longer here to ride me like a rented mule.”
The image of Dilly riding anyone anywhere makes me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giving a mournful smile.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” I offer. I’d mention that Fish and Chip should definitely be a part of it, if not the center of the hoopla, but knowing her, she’d just recommend I keep them in cages.
“See that you do,” she snaps, already turning away. “This entire event is becoming a disaster, and I refuse to let it tarnish my professional standing any further.”
I’m pretty sure the fact she was found holding the murder weapon will tarnish far more than she could ever imagine.
She stalks off toward a group of bakers who immediately scatter like pigeons, leaving me wondering how someone so unpleasant managed to raise someone as decent as Dexter.
“Josie!”
I turn to see Ree and Georgie approaching, and my mood immediately skyrockets. Ree looks polished in a rust-colored blazer that coordinates perfectly with her auburn hair, while Georgie sports a green kaftan printed with pink Ferris wheels that somehow manages to be both ridiculous and oddly charming.
But it’s what they’re carrying that stops me cold.
“Are those bouquets completely comprised of churros?” I ask, staring at the carefully arranged bundles of fried dough they’re wielding as if they were expensive floral arrangements.
“Breakfast of champions,” Georgie declares, offering me a cinnamon and sugar dusted stick. “Ree’s idea. She said we needed to blend in with the food crowd.”
“I said we needed to look professional,” Ree corrects, settling into a chair with her churro bouquet balanced across her lap. “Georgie interpreted that as bring pastries that can double as weapons.”
“Multi-purpose snacks,” Georgie defends. “Very practical for surveillance work.”
Before I can agree or respond, or nosh on a churro or two, Savvy’s voice cuts through the chatter from the small stage at the front of the pavilion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please!”
The crowd settles into their seats with the discipline of people who’ve attended enough conferences to know the delicious drill. Savvy stands center stage, looking every inch the successful businesswoman, her smile bright enough to power the entire pavilion. Her blonde bob reflects the sun like a high beam.
“First, I want to thank everyone for coming out this morning despite yesterday’s tragedy,” she begins, her Southern accent lending gravity to the words. “I know Dilly would have wanted this conference to continue. That woman never met a show she didn’t thinkshould go on.”
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd.
“For those who don’t know me, I’m Savvy Sparrow, owner and head baker at Sweet Dreams & Sugar Schemes back in Tennessee. We specialize in desserts that are almost too pretty to eat—emphasis on almost, because life’s too short for cake you can’t devour.”
Light laughter bubbles through the audience. And after hearing her motto, I like her twice as much.
“Now, before we dive into the technical aspects of advanced cake construction, I’d like to introduce someone special. Josie Janglewood, owner of Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland, would you join me on stage?”
Oh geez. Public speaking ranks somewhere between standing in line at the DMV and untangling Christmas lights on my list of preferred activities, but I paste on a smile and make my way to the stage.
“Tell everyone a little about your beautiful park,” Savvy encourages, handing me a microphone that feels just as heavy as that marble rolling pin Delora clobbered poor Dilly with.
“Well,” I begin, scanning the sea of expectant faces, “Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland features ten themed areas we call Hollows, each with its own unique attractions and charm. And, of course, we have our mascots, Fish and Chip, who, as you can see, have completely stolen the show.”
The crowd turns to look at the cats, who wave with their paws regally from their thrones. Applause erupts, and I can practically see the dollar signs floating over their furry little heads.
“Thank you, Josie!” Savvy reclaims the microphone as I retreat to safety. “Now, let me tell you about my sweet mama and how she taught me everything I know about baking and life.”
She launches into a presentation that’s equal parts cooking demonstration and stand-up comedy. Her accent thickens as she talks about her mama’s bakery back in Tennessee, and her analogiescomparing men to various baked goods have the audience in stitches.
“Now, my mama always said that men are like sourdough starter,” Savvy continues, gesturing with a whisk. “They need constant attention, they smell funny if you neglect them, and if you mess up the recipe, you’ve got to throw the whole thing out and start over.”
The crowd erupts in laughter.
