Avery Aames [Cheese Shop Myst The Long Quiche Goodbye (epub)

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.“Is something wrong?” I asked.Meredith yanked her arm.In trotted my niece, Amy, her cocoa bean eyes wide, her pixie face lowered.What had the little imp done this time?I hurried to them with Matthew and Pépère at my heels.I steered Meredith and Amy away from the front door, to the empty area by the display window.We huddled around the duo as if circling the wagons.“Tell them,” Meredith ordered.Amy’s chin quavered.“I.I.” Gumdrop-sized tears fell from her eyes.“I.”“Ah, heck,” Meredith cut in.“She hit the Woodhouses’ daughter in the nose.”A light sparked.I spun to my right.A boxy woman in a T-shirt with a huge zinnia on it stood just inside the front door.She held up her camera and took another picture.I cringed.Z for Zinnia.The Délicieux reporter.She was getting an eyeful.CHAPTER 2At seven A.M.the next morning, after packing the twins’ lunches, I sat on the wraparound porch of my two-story Victorian home, a cup of cinnamon-laced coffee in my hands, and I debated the punishment I had meted out to Amy.Matthew, afraid to discipline the girls since their mother ran off, had ceded the decision to me.Had I been too lenient? Too harsh? How could I be sure?I set my deliberations aside and instead focused on the initial interview with the reporter from Délicieux.In that regard, I was quite pleased with myself.At first, Zinnia had been resistant to release the rights to the photo with the angry family huddling around tearful Amy.I had signed a model’s release, she reminded me.I begged and pleaded, but she didn’t yield.I asked about her career, her family, how she got her name—a hippie mother dedicated to flower power, she confided.I even offered to let her take multiple pictures of the family at the opening night party, but she remained bullheaded.However, when I treated her to a taste of Tuscan Tartuffo, the ultimate in Italian cheeses, made with raw milk Pecorino and black and white truffles, fabulous alone or drizzled with a nutty honey, she caved.That was putting it mildly.In truth, she had nearly swooned.Everybody does.Success, Pépère often told me, is a result of being persistent.And clever.At half past seven, dressed and showered for a busy day, I scooped up my rescue cat Rags—a fluffy Ragdoll with the easiest demeanor in the world, his silver, rabbitlike fur marred by one brown spot near the tail—and I headed off to The Cheese Shop.I let Matthew deal with the girls and their breakfast.Late May is my favorite time in Providence, when dog-woods, azaleas, and daylilies are in bloom.With a bounce in my step, I strolled down the lane of colorful vintage houses like mine and turned right.Sunlight glinted on the face of the clock tower that stood in the middle of the Village Green.The scent of lilacs growing against the Green’s white picket fence was intoxicating.At Hope Street, I made a right and sauntered past the brick buildings with green awnings that housed Mystic Moon Candle Boutique, Europa Antiques and Collectibles, and Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe.At each, I took a moment to admire the display windows and make mental notes of what I could tweak in my own.Minutes later, I ambled into The Cheese Shop, certain that the day was going to be a snap compared to yesterday’s mishmash.Was I ever wrong.Soon after my arrival, Grandmère pushed through the front door and ground to a halt.Prior to her retirement, she often came in early, gave me a hug, then headed for the office to balance the books and pay bills.She didn’t look ready to do any of the above.She tapped her tiny foot like a riveter.Rebecca slipped in behind her, mouth grim, arms at her side.Hand the girl a musket, and she could have been a soldier ready for battle.“Good morning,” I said cheerfully, my heart doing a not-so-cheerful jitterbug.Grandmère approached with unbridled fury in her coconut shell brown eyes.“I won’t have it, Charlotte.”“Me, either,” Rebecca said.“Have what?” I asked, knowing full-well what they meant.They were upset about the deal I had cut with Meredith in regard to Amy.Guess I was too lenient.“Allowing the girl to work in Fromagerie Bessette during the days she is expelled from school is no punishment at all, and you know it,” Grandmère said.“She loves The Cheese Shop as much as you do,” Rebecca added.True.Ever since she had arrived on my doorstep, Amy had made a habit of showing up at the shop after school.She lingered over the wheels of cheese and quickly proved she could distinguish a cheese simply by its aroma.A good nose was a gift.I had it.So did Pépère.Was it wrong to let Amy spend extra hours in an environment that she loved, learning about something that could one day be her future?Reluctant to have a confrontation where locals could spot us, I steered Grandmère and Rebecca to the little office beside the kitchen.It was bigger than a bread box but certainly not big enough for me, Grandmère, Rebecca, Rags, and the sixteen-year-old techie I had hired to create our new website.“Bozz?” I said.“I know you just got started, but I need you to step out for a moment.”The boy sat hunched in the oak desk chair with Rags draped over his shoulders like a stole.A set of iPod buds were stuck in his ears.His fingers tapped fervently on his cell phone, texting Lord-knew-who [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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