Key Lime Die: A Key West Culinary Cozy - Book 2 Read online

“What do we do?” Marilyn asked.

  Tiara was at a loss for words and just shook her head.

  “And what are we going to do with all of these?” Marilyn looked around at the pies they’d made for the morning, never having guessed that they wouldn’t be needed. All week she’d been wasting good ingredients and throwing out the best pies in the Keys, but she simply couldn’t sell something that was day-old, it went against her grain.

  “Well, we have our email list,” Tiara thought aloud. “We could send an email out saying that the first thirty customers to come into the shop this evening will receive a free pie. It won’t make us any money, but it will bring some of our regulars back in, and maybe help us to keep them. We can turn this around by mandating that the only prerequisite to getting a free pie, is for the customer to review the shop.”

  “How did I ever end up with such a genius for a daughter?” Marilyn beamed proudly.

  “I ask myself that all the time,” Tiara teased.

  While her daughter turned immediately to their main computer and began tapping out an email blast to their customer list, Marilyn put their stock of luscious pies into the adorable bright yellow boxes with SubLime Sweets written in lime on the top and sides.

  “I think we should start planning ahead,” Tiara mused. “We’ll prepare the usual amount of pies and goodies, and make a list of places to donate the pies that don’t sell during the day. We can make a delivery to the fire department one evening, the police station the next, and I’m sure we can think of some other places. Endorsements from respected public heroes can be a very positive thing.”

  Marilyn blushed at the thought of the police station. A vivid vision of the handsome detective, Bernard Cortland, immediately came to mind. She hadn’t seen him since the Spring, and enjoyed the thought of providing him with an excuse to come into the shop.

  “I’ll send out a complaint about the bad reviews. We can pretty much prove that those people didn’t come in here in the past week, but, if they won’t do anything about it, then at least we’ll have some positive feedback to refute them,” Tiara said, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. “Do you still have that iPad that I bought for you?”

  Marilyn looked guilty. “Umm…yeah, of course, why?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “It’s ok Mom, I know you haven’t used it, I just want to set it up so we have one more device that can hook up to the internet,” she grinned at her technologically challenged mother.

  “It was very a nice gift,” she replied, relieved that her daughter wasn’t upset that she hadn’t used it.

  “Where is it?” Tiara asked, amused.

  “In the bottom drawer on the right in my office.”

  Heading down the hall to retrieve it, the clever young woman spelled out the plan. “The last three pies we’ll keep whole and cut up for anyone who comes in after the full pies are gone.” Smiling, Marilyn was yet again thankful for her intelligent and beautiful daughter. She cut slices of pie and put them in a chilled container.

  The worried owner found out firsthand that the internet is a remarkable thing. She had no idea how many people checked their email immediately. Apparently plenty of them did, and it felt like they all came to the store at once. Everyone who stopped by was on the SubLime Sweets email list, had been in the shop before, and enjoyed Marilyn’s Key Lime pie. Tiara was absolutely right, they were the perfect candidates to leave feedback, and to facilitate the reviews, she made sure everyone made it to an internet “station.”

  Marilyn was handing out pies, then taking pictures and chatting with patrons who hadn’t been in for a while. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and clusters of people used the opportunity to catch up with friends and neighbors. One group of young people had sliced their pie and were all digging in with gusto, out on the front patio.

  Marilyn took a deep relaxing breath in and let it out slowly. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the constant ebb and flow of the presence of other people. The silence that had permeated the shop for the past few days had been oppressive. What she was experiencing in these moments was the reason that she made pies in the first place. People were enjoying themselves, smiles on their faces, tearing into the most delicious Key Lime pie they’d ever had.

  The image of Bernard surfaced in her mind again. Maybe she should take a pie over to the police department even if they did sell out tomorrow. It might be really nice to enjoy the company of a handsome man while eating her favorite dessert. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it formed. Now was definitely not the time to start going down that road. It was time to focus on the strategies that she would need to keep her business afloat and insulate her from whatever trickery Joseph tried next. Gazing contentedly at the folks eating and visiting in shop, her daughter laughing with an elderly gentleman at the counter, she knew she was on the right track, and that made her heart glad.

  Joseph Hernandez had nothing on her. She’d always hated smear campaigns, and now she had a chance to retaliate, not with more smear but with her own success. Living well truly was the best revenge. Tomorrow she and Tiara would begin their very own Key Lime campaign.

  Chapter 3

  Marilyn had been consumed with creating a list of things she could do to win back her customers. The list which ranged from the fun to the ridiculous included: Trying to persuade Jimmy Buffet to perform at her shop, hosting a Key Lime pie eating contest and having Tiara stand in front of the shop in a Key Lime pie costume for a few mornings. Clearly, she was going to need her market-savvy daughter to weigh in on some of the planning and ideas.

  Enjoying her normal morning routine had become difficult lately. There was no time for her yoga classes or to just bask in the golden light of the Florida sun. She missed having Tiara right upstairs, now that she’d moved out to share an apartment with a couple of her girlfriends. Needing to hear a familiar human voice, Marilyn picked up her phone and dialed her daughter’s number.

  “Good morning sleepy head,” she sang into the receiver when she heard the independent young woman’s groggy voice.

  “Why are you calling me at,” she heard a pause as Tiara looked at the clock, “seven in the morning mom?” The cranky demand made Marilyn want to giggle, but she knew that wouldn’t be a wise choice before Tiara had a chance to wake up and have some coffee.

  “Business, love. Is there any way to get a list of all the people who work at Joseph’s?”

  “Maybe,” Tiara didn’t sound invested in giving the question her full attention. “I don’t know. I’ll take a look around when I wake up,” she groaned.

  “Okay, just one more thing then,” Marilyn blurted before her offspring could hang up and roll over for a couple more hours. “Could you see if Jess and Stacey would be willing to work with me tonight? I want to take a load of pie slices to sell at the Sunset Celebration in Mallory Square and I could use some extra hands.”

  There was silence on the line as Tiara thought for a moment.

  “That’s a great idea, you haven’t done that in quite a while. I’ll ask around and see who’s available. How much will you pay them?” her practical daughter got straight to business.

  “You’re my money expert, you figure it out,” Marilyn challenged cheerfully, hearing a sigh on the other end.

  The two worked out some details and hung up a few short minutes later. As much as Marilyn tried to stay upbeat and positive, she wrestled with the possibility that she might ultimately not be able to stand up against her wealthy competitor.

  It was an unusual and terrible thing, walking to the store with such a sense of trepidation. The injustice of it all made her want to sit on the edge of the curb and have a good cry. She hadn’t let herself cry yet because she knew she had to save all of her emotional strength to figure out how to get through another day without mortgaging her house or selling the pie shop. If worst came to worst she could move the business back into her house and sell on a small scale until she was able to relocate. She could even lease he
r shop out and make some extra money. The thought of taking two steps backward, after having experience the thrill of success, wasn’t comforting in the least.

  A new thought occurred to her as she fumbled with idea after idea in desperation. She could do Key Lime pie classes for tourists and locals. That would certainly set her apart from the competition. Maybe all of the bad juju that had been flooding her existence lately, was just a means which was meant to prompt her to “think outside the box.”

  As soon as she opened this morning she would make phone calls to everyone in the Key West phone book. She knew quite a few people in the community and would be perfectly happy to call complete strangers as well if it meant keeping her shop alive.

  By the time her first batches of pies were in the cooler and she’d opened all the windows, her can-do attitude had diminished greatly. The prospect of marketing well enough to grow her business grew much more daunting when she looked around her empty store. She held on to the fact that at least there had been people here last night. That was something.

  Marilyn glanced the already-made pies, then to open door where yet again, there was no line of customers waiting. She turned sadly to walk back to her office when she heard the bell above the door jangle, signaling that someone had just come in. Marilyn whirled around, bolstered by the activity.

  “Good morning,” she trilled brightly with perhaps too much verve.

  She didn’t recognize the customer who’d come in. The woman was elegant, with long dark hair, wearing a soft Chanel #5 scent, and sporting an expensive-looking handbag. She glanced about the shop with what seemed to be a degree of disinterest, but finally made eye contact, and Marilyn saw how truly beautiful she was. She was clearly meticulously maintained, but was a natural beauty as well.

  “Can I help you?” Marilyn asked, hoping the woman wouldn’t just ask for the bathroom.

  “Are you the owner? Marilyn Hayes?”

  A tickle of fear traveled down her spine. A woman this fashionable couldn’t be serving her papers for some reason, could she?

  “Yes, I am,” Marilyn matched the woman’s neutral tone.

  “I’m Cynthia Hernandez.”

  Marilyn was too stunned to reply.

  “I’m Joseph’s wife…actually soon to be ex-wife,” she explained further, misinterpreting Marilyn’s silence.

  “Oh,” was the best response that the flabbergasted owner could come up with.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Joseph is the one who’s been posting mean things about your shop,” Cynthia looked around as if trying to determine whether the things he’d said might be true after all.

  “I run a spotless shop, I am a stickler for cleanliness and I never talk on my cellphone at the front register…well almost never, and certainly not if a customer is in the shop,” Marilyn calmly insisted.

  Cynthia’s laugh was a scathing commentary, accompanied by a facial expression that made her look like she was smelling something unpleasant.

  “I appreciate you coming here to tell me that,” Marilyn replied, confused. She had no idea why this woman would come in here to talk about her ex-husband…or soon to be ex-husband.

  “I just know how Joseph is, and I thought I should warn you,” she added cryptically.

  “Warn me?” Marilyn raised her eyebrows.

  “He can be ruthless with things like this. It’s some sort of inner competition he has with everyone and everything around him,” she grimaced, looking uncomfortable for a long moment. “It’s probably my fault that he’s doing this to you, I feel somewhat responsible. It almost seems like he’s taking out his anger over our divorce on your business. I think he hates it that you’re successful,” she shrugged.

  “Great,” Marilyn sighed, feeling defeated, despite her earlier confidence. Her heart sank with every word out of Cynthia’s pouty little mouth.

  The soon-to-be-ex-wife of her nemesis took out a small piece of paper with her phone number and email address written on it in a barely legible scrawl.

  “I just want to help if I can. If you need anything you can always ask,” her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and she turned to go.

  “Actually,” Marilyn said before Cynthia reached the door. “There is something.”

  “Oh?” her delicate eyebrows rose in inquiry.

  “Is there any way that I could get a list of the employees at Joe’s newest store, the one right down the block from here? I feel like they probably wouldn’t want to do mean things like this to my shop and…well, it would be nice to talk with them individually.”

  “You might be surprised,” was the cynical response. “But I can get them for you.”

  “Thank you,” Marilyn smiled, feeling more successful than she reasonably should have. “So you’ll email me?” she verified, as Cynthia turned toward the door again.

  “No, I probably have something in my car, wait just a moment,” she said, exiting in a hurry.

  “Okaaaaay,” Marilyn said aloud to herself once Cynthia had left. What a strange woman. What possible good could come from dropping by with a warning? Confirmation of her suspicions was nice, but it wouldn’t save her from getting bulldozed.

  When Joseph’s wife came back into the shop, Marilyn was able to get a better look at her full curvy figure. She had large hips that suited her, and a few extra pounds, but her outfit was so perfectly tailored that the weight looked great on her.

  “Here, this should help,” she said coolly, showing Marilyn a piece of paper.

  The paper was a basic employee contact sheet. She scanned the list of names, trying to see if she recognized any. Cynthia took the paper gently between two fingers and placed it on the stainless steel countertop facing herself.

  She pointed her finger down the list and gave Marilyn a description for each person as she went.

  “Paige Donoghue, a baker. Silvia Hopkins, also a baker,” Cynthia shuddered, making Marilyn wonder why. Either Silvia made horrible pies, or her husband flirted and/or maybe even slept with the girl. “Juan is my brother-in-law, he doesn’t really have any skills. Joseph sends him off on errands and various tasks then pays him buckets of money for doing almost nothing. He does it to show off to his brother, not out of generosity, that’s the whole competitive thing again. Rachel Pearson, she’s the…”

  “Phone girl? Takes the orders? Yes, I know. I’ve talked to her once. Do you know how old she is?”

  “A mere child, high school maybe, this is only a summer job for her,” she waved her hand dismissively.

  Marilyn nodded, thinking that sounded about right, judging by her manner and tone on the phone.

  “That’s all, there are some bicycle delivery guys who work between the stores but they don’t speak English.”

  Marilyn pursed her lips, considering what a complete disaster this all seemed to be.

  “Well, thanks for stopping by,” she said, not really knowing what else to say. She held up the paper with Cynthia’s information, “I’ll call if I think of anything else.”

  As the elegant woman left, Tiara came in and made a face at Marilyn, “Who was that?” she whispered.

  “Joseph Hernandez’s soon to be ex-wife,” Marilyn supplied, feeling more than a bit depressed.

  “What did she want?” her daughter’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “To help me, oddly enough. She basically implied that Joseph won’t stop with his Key Lime campaign until we are out of business,” Marilyn frowned. “I don’t know why she thought that giving me the warning would help me, and the thought crossed my mind that Joseph may have sent her to try to gather info, but, she offered to help if she can. Who knows, maybe she’ll turn out to be a good source of information,” she shrugged, wondering if she was trying to convince her daughter or herself.

  “What’s that?” Tiara nodded at the page in her mother’s hand.

  “It’s a contact sheet for the employees of the store just down the block,” she handed over the paper.

  “Wow, nicely done, Mo
m, I’m impressed,” she read through the names. “Hey, I went to high school with a Paige Donoghue, I bet it’s the same one.”

  “That could be helpful,” Marilyn said, glad for any glimmer of hope, no matter how small.

  “By the way, I was able to secure five people to help you out at the Sunset Celebration tonight,” she said, still perusing the list.

  “Well done, Miss Reliable,” Marilyn teased, proudly. The tiny pulse of life and hope that she’d felt walking to the store this morning was slowly returning. She would sell pie at the Sunset Celebration tonight, Tiara could win over Paige, and apparently Cynthia Hernandez was willing to help their cause as well.

  “Mom, nine o’clock,” Tiara whispered, gazing over her mother’s shoulder. Marilyn turned to see three women coming into the shop, their eyes going right to the display case. Customers! Things were looking up already.

  “Hello ladies, what can I help you with today?” she greeted them warmly.

  Marilyn’s slight hope turned into a full grown ebullience over the next few hours. There were a few more customers, not nearly as many as there had been in the past, but far more than zero.

  Chapter 4

  At the Sunset Celebration, Tiara’s friends showed up full of youthful energy and optimism, causing the pie sales to skyrocket.

  The Sunset Celebration, conveniently held at the end of their street, was so much fun, a truly Key West activity. It made Marilyn remember why she’d come here in the first place. It was her perfect escape - no wonder it felt so strange to wrangle with pesky problems here, this place had always been her refuge. She cheerfully handed out all of the pies that they had brought and ran back to the store to restock for the girls when they sold out. The plan was to make sure that everyone knew exactly where their pie was from, this activity should put SubLime Sweets back on the “must-have” list. Marilyn wanted these kind citizens to wake up craving her pie.

  When she finally settled back into the shop, Marilyn decided to reward herself with a piece of pie, now that she’d regained her positive perspective. Just as she transferred the velvety goodness onto a plate the phone on the counter rang.