Read Inherit the Word (The Cookbook Nook Series) for Free Online Page A

“Anybody knows that.”
    Lola ignored her. “I offer all sorts of fish-and-cheese dishes at The Pelican Brief.”
    “Maybe that’s why your clientele is dwindling.”
    Lola forced a smile. “I’m adding an avocado aioli.”
    The audience
ooh
ed, which made Lola beam and hushed Natalie.
    After each contestant described his or her concoction, Lola raised her hand and said, “Sorry, weak bladder. Can we take a break?”
    The mayor declared a fifteen-minute recess. When everyone returned, she would tell the contestants, “Start your burners.” She directed people to use the upscale portable bathrooms in the parking lot, brought in especially for the occasion.
    Lola hurried to me. “Jenna, is it okay to use the shop’s loo?”
    I nodded. “For you, anything.”
    As she raced to the restroom in the hall between the shop and the café, Aunt Vera and I moved behind the sales counter to prepare for what we hoped would be an onslaught of sales. The buzz in the shop was electric. A racing event couldn’t have been more exciting.
    “I hope everyone in attendance will purchase at least one item from the shop,” Aunt Vera said.
    Sure enough, as if she had cast a spell over the crowd, customers started filing toward us.
    While I was ringing up an order of checkered oven mitts, a set of red-striped measuring cups, and
The Absolute Beginner’s Cookbook
, which was a book that taught novices like me how to boil an egg, a blare rang out.
    “What the heck?” Bailey, who had been pitching grilled cheese cookbooks, darted toward me. “Fire? Where’s the fire? None of the burners are on. The café’s closed.”
    “You,” Pepper said, and eyed Rhett, who was hovering by the vintage table chatting with Katie. He raised his hands—
innocent
. Pepper was one of the few who thought Rhett was guilty of arson.
    “Out, everyone,” the fireman contestant shouted. “Let’s go.” A number of his ever-at-the-ready buddies were in attendance. They scattered, some down the hallway toward the café and others out the exit along the boardwalk of Fisherman’s Village.
    Rhett, who was not a fan of fire—he had been trapped in The Grotto’s blaze—hurried out with the rest.
    “Shoot!” I said. The customer tried to pay for the items. “I can’t, ma’am. Let’s do what the firemen say. I’ll leave your purchases right here. You’ll be first in line when we’re allowed back in. Promise.” I inhaled. I didn’t smell smoke.
    Cinnamon rushed to the exit and motioned for people lingering inside to hustle. “C’mon, everyone,” she said with authority. “Go now. Hurry.”
    I grabbed Tigger and followed the pack to the parking lot. Poor little guy chuffed his concern. I whispered into his ear that this was a false alarm. At least, I hoped it was.
    In minutes, the fireman contestant and a few of his pals returned. Holding his hands over his head, he addressed the panicked people. “No fire, folks. Nothing’s going to go up in flames.”
    But then he sidled up to Cinnamon and spoke softly. Her eyes went wide. She said something to him sotto voce, and suddenly his pals bolted to the perimeter of the throng and stood, military-style, at attention.
    “Listen up, people,” Cinnamon said, addressing the crowd. “I want you to remain calm. We’ve had a casualty.”
    A collective gasp rose from the throng. Questions ensued.
    Cinnamon said, “I’m sorry. I have no answers yet. Please stay put.” Then she raced toward the café.

Chapter 4

    S TAY PUT? HOW could I stay put? This was my shop, my café. I sprinted after Cinnamon as she cut through the dining room and the kitchen. Cinnamon flung open the exit door to the alley and stopped. I came to a halt behind her. “What happened?”
    Someone bumped into me. I turned. Pepper Pritchett, Cinnamon’s mother, stood right behind me.
    “Mother. Jenna. What are you—” Cinnamon blew out a quick burst of frustrated air. “Go back to the shop, both of you.”
    “This is my