Chapter 13
The Cup and Cake had never looked better.
The front door was new and solid. Jack had personally selected it from a catalog with the intensity of a man choosing body armor.
The display cases were new too, gleaming under the warm lights, already filled with the morning’s output — and in the center case, on a raised stand with a small hand-lettered sign, Lavender Honey Crème Br?lée Tarts.
The sign read: Award-Winning Recipe. Permanent Menu Item. Don’t Ask About the Diamonds.
Lexy had debated that last line. Ida had insisted.
The back door had been replaced with reinforced steel, double-bolted, with a security camera that fed directly to a monitor behind the counter. With the money from the contest, Lexy had been able to buy the sturdiest door on the market.
The crystal whisk trophy sat on a shelf behind the register, next to a framed copy of the New England Bakes magazine feature. The original recipe card was somewhere safer now — a small fireproof safe in the bakery office.
It was Tuesday morning, just past nine, and the ladies were at their table by the window, with the view of Main Street and the waterfall.
Lexy walked over with a tray — five tarts, golden, perfect, the sugar tops gleaming like polished amber. She set one in front of each of them and kept the fifth for herself.
“On the house. Because I love you. But also because you’re terrifying and I’ve learned it’s best to keep you fed.”
Nans cut into her tart. The sugar cracked.
The custard yielded. The lavender and honey hit her palate in a wave that was warm and floral and just sweet enough, and beneath it, something else — something that tasted like memory, like the kitchen she’d grown up in, like her mother’s hands covered in flour.
She closed her eyes. “Worth fighting for.”
“Worth almost getting arrested for,” Ida corrected, her mouth already full.
Helen took a delicate bite and smiled. “Rose would be proud.”
Ruth picked up her iPad. “Frankie called this morning. He wants to know if you ship.”
“I do,” Lexy said.
“He wants a family discount.”
“He’s your family.”
“And you’re my family. It cancels out.” Ruth tapped something on her screen. “He also says to tell Nans she ‘has a future in his line of work,’ which I am choosing to interpret as a compliment and not a job offer.”
“Noted,” Nans said. “And declined.”
The loose ends came out over tea the way they always did.
Crane’s operation had been referred to federal authorities — three more front businesses found in New Hampshire.
Sal took a plea deal, full cooperation. Needles too, though apparently his testimony was mostly about how cold the parking lot was and how he’d like it on the record that he told Sal the whole thing was a bad idea from the start.
“He did seem like the reasonable one,” Helen said.
“He’s a criminal, Helen,” Ruth said.
“A reasonable criminal,” Helen said mildly.
Bella Notte had new owners, a young couple from Concord turning it into an actual Italian restaurant. They’d asked Lexy to supply desserts.
Lexy smiled. “I said I’d think about it. After I check their flour.”
Outside, Main Street was quiet. A woman walked a dog past the waterfall. A delivery truck pulled up to the dry cleaner three doors down.
Nans watched the delivery truck for a moment longer than necessary.
“Nans,” Helen said. “Stop investigating the dry cleaner.”
“I’m not investigating. I’m observing.”
“You’re observing with intent.”
Nans sipped her tea and said nothing, which was, as always, answer enough.
A comfortable silence settled over the table. Then Helen said, “There’s one thing that was never resolved. The missing diamonds — the ones Crane said were short from the count.”
“Sal swore he didn’t take them,” Lexy said. “Crane’s supplier swore the count was right.”
“So where did they go?” Ida asked.
Nobody had an answer. A few loose diamonds, somewhere between Montreal and a bakery doorstep, had simply vanished. It was the one piece of the puzzle that never fit.
Ida reached into her purse. She rummaged for a moment, then pulled out a small paper bag and poured something into her palm.
Tiny glittering gems tumbled out and caught the light — winking and sparkling against her skin like a handful of tiny diamonds.
Everyone at the table went still.
“Relax,” Ida said. “It’s rock candy. I found it at the candy shop.”
Helen stared at the crystals in Ida’s palm. “Why did you pour them out like that?”
“Because it was funny.”
“It was not funny.”
“It was a little funny,” Lexy said.
“It was hilarious,” Ida said, and popped one into her mouth. It crunched.
Nans laughed. Ruth put down her iPad long enough to take one, which was the closest Ruth came to admitting something was funny. Lexy took two.
Inside the bakery, it was warm. It smelled like lavender and honey and butter and coffee. The display cases were full. The recipe was in the safe. The trophy was on the shelf.
And at the good table by the window, the Ladies Detective Agency ate tarts and rock crystal gems and drank tea and planned absolutely nothing illegal for at least a week.
Ida gave it three days.
She was probably right.
——————