Lost and Fondue

Table of Contents

 

 

PRAISE FOR

“Avery Aames has cooked up a delectable culinary mystery with a juicy plot and a tasty twist.
Lost and Fondue
is fun, flirty, and full of local flavor . . . A tasty morsel of a mystery that will leave you hungry for more.”

—Kate Carlisle, national bestselling author of
the Bibliophile Mysteries

 

“[A] delightful debut novel.”

—Lorna Barrett,
New York Times
bestselling author

 

“A delicious read. Charlotte Bessette is a winning new sleuth, and her gorgeously drawn world is one you’ll want to revisit again and again. More please.”

—Cleo Coyle, national bestselling author of
the Coffeehouse Mysteries

 

“Rich characters, decadent cheeses, and a scrumptious mystery.”

—Krista Davis, author of the Domestic Diva Mysteries

 

“Avery Aames serves up a yummy mystery featuring cheese purveyor Charlotte Bessette, an adorable new character whose love of family rivals her love of good food. Fans of amateur sleuths, prepare to be charmed.”

—Joanna Campbell Slan, author of
the Agatha Award–nominated
Paper, Scissors, Death

 

“Absolutely delicious! This is the triple cream of the crop: a charming heroine, a deceptively cozy little town, and a clever cast of characters. This is more than a fresh and original mystery—Aames’s compassion for family and friends shines through, bringing intelligence and depth to this warm and richly rewarding adventure.”

—Hank Phillippi Ryan, Agatha Award–winning author of
Drive Time

 

“The charm of the story is greatly enhanced by a very rich cast of characters.”

THE LONG QUICHE GOODBYE
LOST AND FONDUE

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

 

LOST AND FONDUE

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2011

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-51450-4

 

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Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
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To Jackson. This One’s for you.

Thanks are owed to so many who have helped me on this journey.

First, thank you to my husband, my port in the storm. You keep me on course. To my sister and the rest of my family for your love. To my critique partners Krista and Janet for your honesty and creativity. To my blog pals at Mystery Lovers Kitchen and Killer Characters for making me think outside the recipe box. To my Cozy Promo pals for a great forum where new ideas are welcomed. To my Sisters in Crime Guppies and subgroups for your endless enthusiasm. To Kim Lionetti and the Bookends Literary Agency team for your counsel and friendship. To the Berkley Prime Crime team of Kate Seaver, Katherine Pelz, Kaitlyn Kennedy, Teresa Fasolino, and Annette Fiore Defex for your vision and your artistic talents. To Dana Kaye and your publicity team for such attention to detail.

Thank you to bookstore owners everywhere, but most particularly to those who have welcomed me on this journey. Thank you to librarians. Over the years, you have inspired me to read and to share my love of reading with others.

And last but not least, thank you to all my readers. Thank you for your emails and comments on my blogs or social networking posts. You make me smile on a daily basis.

“The Ziegler Winery will be the perfect site, Charlotte. So historic!” Meredith, my best friend since grade school, twirled in the middle of The Cheese Shop, arms spread wide, the flaps of her red raincoat fluting outward. Moisture from today’s rainfall sprayed off her like a sprinkler. “With just a pinch of
mystère
.”

I shuddered. “More than just a pinch.”

“Fiddle-dee-dee!” Meredith spun again, bubbling with the kind of excitement I expected from a kid on Christmas, not a thirtysomething elementary school teacher.

“Whoa, whirling dervish.” I reined her in before the zippered corners of her jacket could slaughter every display I had set out. April was the best time of year to add fresh touches to Fromagerie Bessette, before tourist season kicked into high gear. I’d added amber-colored tablecloths embroidered with spring motifs to all the display barrels, and mounded them with wheels of tasty Gruyère and decorative containers of pesto, mustards, and jams, as well as tasty crackers made of goji berries and pistachios. My grandfather, Pépère, said I was inviting disaster, putting the jars out where little children could accidentally whack them in passing. But children weren’t what I was worried about at the moment—Meredith and her unbridled enthusiasm were. I steered her to a safe place.

“Just think what turning the abandoned winery into a liberal arts college will do for our town,” Meredith went on.

Bring an odd assortment of lookie-loos, that’s what. A few months ago, a handful of Providence teachers and a band of concerned parents decided that Providence needed a college. They invited potential donors to join the quest. Meredith not only suggested that they convert the Ziegler Winery into the college, but that they hold a fund-raiser there.

Back in the late eighteen hundreds, Zachariah Ziegler, one of Providence’s first mayors, landed on the idea to build a winery. Not just an ordinary winery, a mock castle with spires and towers. Its sprawling grounds, befitting a king, dwarfed the nearby Quail Ridge Honeybee Farm. Then Ziegler’s wife went insane. She killed her son and committed suicide. Soon thereafter, Ziegler shut down the operation. In 1950, upon her father’s death, Ziegler’s daughter deeded the winery to the town of Providence and hightailed it to New York. The town council suggested the winery be boarded up.

“Oh, did I tell you?” Meredith leaned in close, as if expecting to be overheard. She couldn’t be. It was only seven A.M. I didn’t open the shop until nine. “
Vintage Today
has been at the winery all week giving it a facelift. But, shhhh, it’s a secret.”

Vintage Today
was a home makeover show that didn’t know the word
understatement
. I could only imagine what they’d do with the winery’s oak-paneled tasting rooms and the musty cellars.

Meredith removed her newsboy-style cap and fluffed her tawny hair. “Isn’t it exciting? We’ll have so many new faces. Professors and administrators and—” She cut a sharp look toward the kitchen. “What’s that?”

“What?” My heart did a jig.

“That incredible smell.”

I chuckled at my overreaction. Talking about Ziegler’s Winery had put me on edge. “Honey-onion quiche,” I said. In addition to selling cheese, The Cheese Shop offered homemade quiches. I tried to come up with a new recipe every week. Today’s was made with honey from Quail Ridge, applewood-smoked bacon, sweet Vidalia onions, and Emmental cheese to give it a nice bite. The first batch was minutes from coming out of the oven.

“I have to buy one before I leave.”

“I’ll give it to you, compliments of the house.”

“You’re the best. Anyway, where was I?” Meredith tapped her lower lip with her index finger. “Right. The big bash to celebrate. I know it’s short notice, since it’s tomorrow, but I thought we’d add mariachis at the entrance.”

“I adore Latin music, but why mariachis?”

“They’re festive. Maybe some of your grandmother’s actors will dress up in serapes and sombreros and carry guitars.”

Something this avant-garde would be right up Grandmère’s alley. In addition to being town mayor, she ran the Providence Playhouse, which put on a mixed bag of productions, to say the least.

“They won’t have to play the guitars, of course,” Meredith went on. “They’ll pretend. Karaoke style, you know. Piped through speakers. I’ll have the gals at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe help me decorate. Doesn’t it sound fun?” She painted the air with her fingers. “And we’ll have a scavenger hunt to look for the buried treasure.”

“That’s a rumor.”

“Old Man Ziegler swore on his deathbed that there was treasure.”