Page 19 of Murder in The Summer House

Kelly smiled. “You sound just like Beckett and Birch.”

“Bring Birch along if you like. Lucien’s probably already contacted him anyway.”

“Birch is out of town on one of his secretive, weird missions. But we should all plan to get together this weekend when he returns. You’ve got to meet Jade Weingarten. She’s a true-crime blogger.”

“Just the person I need to talk to about starting our own blog,” Brogan realized. “See you guys later. Hungry people to feed. Enjoy your meal.”

“You, too.”

The women parted company. But all the while, Brogan began to see how they could expand their horizons and help more people. Perhaps Lucien was right. It was time to let Jack and Maeve go onto their next phase and enjoy their new life together. Didn’t Maeve deserve to see all those places she’d dreamed about seeing with the man she loved?

Maeve Calico wasn’t afraid to fly. In fact, the woman wasn’t scared of anything. Okay, Maeve might be a tiny bit fearful of ghosts, but that didn’t count. Wasn’t that the grandeur of having Irish DNA? While Ireland might not have invented ghosts, the country certainly had its fair share of people who believed in spooky legends—tales of fairies, leprechauns, witches, and the like. So if Maeve Calico wanted to see her beloved Ireland again, there was no reason to stand in her way.

The lesson here was clear. People moved on. Change was inevitable.

It was realizing that shift that explained the excitement building in her belly. Getting the chance to exchange ideas with like-minded people could be a game-changer. Adding Beckett and Kelly into the mix, along with Birch and Jade, might be just the kick they needed.

When Brogan returnedwith the food, Lucien and Gavin had already marched Graeme to the guest cottage and put him down for the night. The dogs had eaten supper and then curled up next to the French doors, spooning each other.

“Graeme’s sleeping it off,” Lucien informed her.

“Good, because I invited Beckett and Kelly to stop by later for strawberry shortcake and coffee. This way, we jumpstart their participation without waiting days for them to catch up.” She went on to tell him how Birch and Jade could help. “From what I’ve heard, Birch knows people. He’s always an invaluable investigator, and Jade could help us with our blog.”

Lucien eyed Gavin and motioned for him to join them at the table. He handed out the food. “I’m all for eating straight from the containers tonight.”

“Fine by me. I need to mix up the batter for the sponge cake and get it in the oven to bake,” Brogan noted.

“Sit down and eat first. I’m sure we can rustle up something to serve them without baking a cake.”

Gavin cleared his throat, his brown eyes glistening. “I can eat super fast, then throw together cake batter. If you have a set of individual cake pans and strawberry shortcake is what you want, it’s simple enough to have dessert ready in thirty minutes.”

Brogan’s eyes lit up. “Really? You wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“I’m in a holding pattern here, waiting to take Mr. Sutter back to Santa Barbara. I need something to occupy my time.”

“Will four-inch pans work? I have a set of those. Or is that too big for the sponge cake?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it work. I make a great sponge cake.”

“And you can do this fast? Because they’ll be here in under forty-five minutes, an hour maybe. Whenever they finish their meal at the restaurant.”

Gavin nodded with delight. “When I’m not driving around celebrities, I whip up pastries and desserts for my girlfriend’s food truck. Daisy calls her business Food Mood. A couple of years ago, we took this broken-down van her brother had rusting away in his front yard and revamped it into a restaurant on wheels. Now, we own this blue and white, beachy-themed portable food shack that stands out wherever it goes.”

“So, limo driver is your side hustle while driving around cranky celebrities?” Brogan concluded.

Gavin lifted a shoulder. “We’re trying to save enough money to buy a house.”

“What’s your dessert specialty?” Lucien asked.

“My grandma’s cinnamon rolls. I’ve wanted to be a pastry chef for as long as I can remember. Every time we park in downtown Santa Barbara, especially during the work week, we go through gallons of coffee during the breakfast rush. And everybody wants a cinnamon roll with their coffee. We always sell out before noon. Before you ask, making those means waiting for the yeast to rise. That takes longer than an hour. And if I hear you right, we don’t have time for all that right now.”

Brogan looked across the table and saw an eager young man waiting for an opportunity. “By all means, turn on your creativity. Show us what you’ve got. I don’t even care what you come up with at this point as long as I can serve it with coffee.”

Gavin grinned and rubbed his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

While Gavin fretted over cake batter, Brogan decided to check out Vollaway Holdings and see if the website offered a portal to contact anyone inside the company. She was delighted to find a PR department and quickly created an initial email expressing the desire to communicate about the house on Lynley Circle.

Thirty minutes later, Brogan looked up to see Gavin slide his cakes out of the oven, smelling like miniature vanilla masterpieces. She couldn’t help herself. She went over and pinched off a corner of one of the cakes. “This tastes like a light, airy French genoise. Lucien, you have to taste this.”

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