Bread It and Weep

  Twin Berry Bakery - 3

  Wendy Meadows

  © 2021, Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Majestic Owl Publishing LLC

  P.O. Box 997

  Newport, NH 03773

  Author’s Note

  Hi reader! Thanks for grabbing my book. I hope you enjoy the twins, Rita and Rhonda, on their sleuthing adventures. :)

  If you’re ready to grab more books in the series, you can click below to view them all. :)

  Twin Berry Bakery Cozy Mystery Series

  Oh, be sure to join my newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases and other tidbits.

  wendymeadows.com/cozy

  Happy reading,

  Wendy Meadows

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  What’s Next?

  Sneak Peek: Live and Let Pie

  More from Wendy

  About Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  Rita drew in a deep breath of sweet, crisp autumn air, glanced around the yard filled with bright orange pumpkins basking in a late afternoon light, and smiled. “So beautiful,” she told Rhonda.

  Rhonda nodded. “Sure is,” she agreed feeling the autumn wind playing in her strawberry blonde hair. The wind was also playing in Rita's hair, making the two twin sisters appear like two breathtaking beautiful dreams that only the autumn air could see into.

  “Wonder where Billy is?” Rita asked.

  Rhonda shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?” she asked. What Rhonda did know was that her sister wasn't wearing a new pink and white dotted dress for nothing. Rita was having feelings for Billy Northfield.

  Rita quickly brushed at her dress and looked over at Rhonda. Rhonda was standing as comfortable as can be. The green and white dress she was wearing was happily flapping in the wind, playing a sweet song without a care in the world. Rita felt a little nervous and anxious about seeing Billy again. “Oh, why did I like that man?” she complained. “Billy is...well, he's only a simple farmer. We have absolutely nothing in common. I'm practical and he's...he works with his hands, not his mind. And...and...” Rita sighed and stopped talking.

  Rhonda grinned. “Sounds like you're falling head over heels for Billy.”

  Rita tapped a pumpkin with a white shoe and sighed again. “I like Billy,” she confessed, “but I am not interested in rushing into a relationship. The Pumpkin Festival is still taking place and our bakery is soaring.” Rita studied the white shoes she was wearing. Love or not love she had learned to wear practical shoes when visiting Billy's farm. “We've already solved two murder cases...and Erma has been so wonderful in running the bakery while we're away. It wouldn't be smart to consume my time with silly feelings when we have a bakery to operate.”

  Rhonda knew her sister was only trying to deny the truth by tapping into her 'Practical' box full of smoke and mirrors. However, she also knew that with love, it was better not to tease Rita too much. Rita was very sensitive when it came to opening her heart to...well, anyone. “There's no rush, sis,” she smiled and walked her eyes around the sweet pumpkin patch standing before her. Oh, how the autumn leaves danced across the pumpkins like two old friends sharing a cup of coffee on a cold night. “Just smell that air,” she said and drew in a deep breath. “So fresh...brisk...alive. And look at the landscape…pumpkins as far as the eye can see...trees dripping with red and burnt gold leaves...corn patches swaying in the wind...apple trees giggling in the orchards...so beautiful.”

  “You've been writing again, haven't you?” Rita asked.

  Rhonda blushed. “Oh...the last few nights I dabbled in some creative writing,” she confessed. “Nothing serious, though.”

  Rita moaned. “You're writing about Shelia and Phillip again, aren't you?”

  Rhonda's cheeks turned a darker red. “Maybe?” she winced.

  “Oh Rhonda, you've sent your story about Shelia and Phillip to every publisher you can think of.” Rita raised her right hand and covered her forehead. “It's not that your story is awful...because it isn't. Your writing style is very...unique. It's just that...well, a story about an unemployed thief from Hungary, who is very overweight falling in love with a woman from London who sweeps chimneys—a woman that is thinner than a broomstick—just isn't...copacetic.”

  “Shelia and Phillip's love is filled with humor.” Rhonda explained as her cheeks continued to turn redder and redder. “Shelia talks Phillip into leaving his life of crime and he agrees to help her sweep chimneys. Only he's too...fat...and gets stuck all the time and--”

  “I get it, I get it,” Rita cried out in a painful voice.

  Rhonda winced. “Maybe...I should turn their love story into a...musical?” she asked.

  Rita laughed. “Maybe you should let the two poor souls get married, move to a tropical island, and spend the rest of their days walking a warm beach?”

  Rhonda laughed. “Maybe?”

  Rita patted her sister's shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder what is going on in that mind of yours?” she asked.

  “Right now...oh, pizza,” Rhonda laughed again.

  “A pizza sounds good,” Rita agreed. “We can stop on the way home, grab one and have a movie night?”

  Rhonda gave Rita one of her 'Sister' looks. “You didn't come out to Billy's farm to go home empty handed.”

  “What do you mean?” Rita asked. Now it was time for her to blush.

  “You want to have dinner with Billy tonight,” Rhonda smiled.

  “Well...the thought did cross my mind, but the more I think about it...” Rita looked around, spotted Billy walking down a dirt trail toward the pumpkin patch, and shook her head. “Billy's coming. We'll talk more later.”

  Rhonda spotted Billy trudging along wearing his usual overalls and baseball cap, looking like a Georgia farmer if she had ever seen one. “Hey Billy!” she called out and waved.

  Billy smiled and waved back. “Sorry to keep ya waiting so long. Jose was having a problem with one of them tourist folk again and I had to talk some sense into the fella.”

  Rhonda giggled. “Did you hogtie the man, Billy?” she asked.

  Rita fought back a sweet giggle. “I bet he did,” she whispered.

  “Nah,” Billy called out as he exited the dirt path and walked up to Rita and Rhonda, “I just told him if he didn't like the price I charged for a bushel of apples he could take his business elsewhere.” Billy looked straight at Rita, watched her sweet hair play in the autumn wind, saw her lovely eyes glitter in the afternoon light, and lost his heart to the beauty of her face.

  “Uh, Billy?” Rhonda asked.

  “Huh?” Billy asked.

  Rita saw the way Billy was looking at her and blushed. “The...tourist, remember?”

  “Oh...oh yeah, the tourist,” Billy said and blushed himself. He felt like a silly high school kid preparing to ask the sweetest girl in the world if he could court her. “I told the fella to pay my asking price or leave,” he said.

  “And?” Rhonda asked, eager to hear Billy's story.

  Billy frowned. “The hardheaded fella decided that I wasn't being reasonable and wanted to argue with me,” Billy explained and rolled his eyes. “The fella told me that where he comes from in New York people are more civilized and pay reasonable prices. Now I may not be the smartest fella in the world but I know an insult when I heard one.”

  Rita and Rhonda both giggled. “What did you do?” Rita asked.

  “Well,” Billy rubbed the back of his neck, “the fella’s wife was standing close by with a newborn baby...real pretty little boy. I didn't want to lose my temper and all, so I told the fella it don't matter where you go, you pay as you go or stay home. The fella gave me one of them 'Mean' looks folks with no hearts have and left with his wife and baby.” Billy shook his head. “I just can't understand folks sometimes. I mark my apples as low as I can go but some folks just don't seem to understand that a man has to turn profit to put a little food on his table.”

  “You should have hogtied the man,” Rhonda smiled and tossed Billy a wink.

  “I might have done just that if the fella’s wife and baby wasn't with him,” Billy assured Rhonda and tossed her a wink right back. “Anyway, you ladies called me and said you wanted to come buy pumpkins to do some baking with?”

  “That's right,” Rhonda beamed. “Our pumpkin pies are selling quicker than we can make them.”

  “With Erma's help ,” Rita quickly explained. “Erma has a secret recipe and--”

  “Say no more, say no more,” Billy quipped. “I've eaten my share of Erma's pies and...” Billy patted his chubby farmer’s belly. “I didn't get this belly by denying Erma my business.”

  Rhonda looked at Rita and grinned. Rita smiled. “We're very grateful that Erma has taken us under her wing.”

  “Ah, don't think nothing of it,” Billy assured
Rita. “Erma has a piece of sweet corn in her soul that life just can't sour. Besides,” Billy lowered his voice and whispered: “Erma gets mighty bored sitting at home. But don't tell her I said that or she'll slap what sense I do have clean out of my head.”

  Rhonda had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. Billy, without knowing it, was not only the sweetest man she had ever met but funny, too. “Okay, Billy, will you help us pick out some pumpkins?”

  “We were planning to come tomorrow, but...” Rita paused. How was she supposed to tell Billy the real reason for her visit? Sure, Erma did need a lot of fresh pumpkins, but the pumpkins were of no real rush; Erma still had a few left at the bakery. “It's such a beautiful day we thought it would be nice to get some fresh air.”

  “Well, you couldn't have picked a better day,” Billy commented. He drew in a deep breath, nodded his head like a man pleased with a grand turkey meal, and looked around. “Yep, on days like this I sure am happy to be a farmer. Land couldn't be more beautiful if it tried. The Good Lord sure knows how to make His world pretty for the eyes and sweet to the soul. Yes, sir.”

  Rhonda glanced at her sister. Rita was staring at Billy with tender eyes that told Rhonda all she needed to know. “Billy,” she said as an idea struck her mind. “We're going to need apples, too...lots of apples.”

  “Apples?” Billy asked. “But I just sold you a store full of apples last week.”

  “Uh...we need more,” Rhonda said and nudged Rita with her elbow. “Isn't that right, sister?”

  Rita gave Rhonda a confused look. Then, to her horror, she saw her sister's eyes dancing back and forth. “We're fine and--”

  “We need more apples,” Rhonda quickly interrupted. “I think I'll let you pick out the pumpkins and I’ll walk over to the apple house.”

  Before Rita could say another word Rhonda hurried away, leaving her standing alone with Billy. Billy smiled. “That woman wants us to get married awful soon,” he laughed.

  Rita blushed. “She was obvious, wasn't she?”

  Billy nodded. “Ain't no way you two ladies went through all them apples I sold you,” he laughed again. “Erma may bake the best apple pies in town but she doesn't cut through apples like hot butter.”

  “I'm sorry,” Rita apologized.

  “For what?” Billy asked. He dared to look in Rita's sweet eyes. “I reckon it ain't no secret I think you're...well, prettier than a sunset falling over my farm.”

  Rita felt her cheeks turn red. “Well...thank you, Billy. That's sweet.”

  Billy looked down at her his work boots. “I was kinda happy when you called and said you wanted to drive out to my farm. I...like seeing you.”

  “I like you seeing you, too, Billy.” Rita looked down with nervous eyes. Now she was feeling like a silly high school girl waiting to be asked out on a date. “Maybe...we should look at some pumpkins?”

  “Oh, sure...sure,” Billy said in a quick voice and walked Rita out into the pumpkin patch. “These pumpkins are good for baking.”

  Rita explored the beautiful pumpkins with her eyes. As she did a wonderful feeling washed through a heart; a feeling of home. “It's very lovely out here,” she confessed and glanced around. “I love how the trees hug the edges of each field. I love how each tree is a different color...yellow...red...green...orange. Autumn colors are so beautiful,” Rita explained, feeling like a woman instead of a cop.

  Billy looked around. “My daddy always said autumn was the syrup in a good biscuit.”

  “I...yes, that makes sense,” Rita agreed, trying desperately to understand the mind of Billy's daddy.

  “Yep,” Billy said and drew in another deep breath, “my daddy said that when he got to heaven he hoped it would be autumn year around. Now that he's in heaven I guess he's finding out.” Billy looked at Rita. “Wasn't a better man,” he told her in a soft voice. “My daddy didn't get past the fifth grade but he built the best farm in all of Georgia with his bare hands.”

  Rita stared into Billy's eyes and saw a soft sadness settle in. “I bet your daddy was a wonderful man.”

  “Daddy would give a stranger the shirt off his back,” Billy nodded. “But he sure didn't take to people with a mouth on them. Daddy treated people with respect and demanded those same people return the favor. He was kind but tough. Daddy didn't let his family, friends or employees walk all over him, let me tell ya. Folks respected him for that.”

  Rita tried to imagine Billy's daddy in her mind. She saw an old man sitting on a front porch bathed in a late evening light, holding a cane, wearing overalls, and sipping sweet tea while staring out at a sleepy farm. “You miss your daddy, don't you?”

  “I miss my momma and my daddy both,” Billy told Rita without a second’s worth of hesitation. “My folks were the best around. Oh, I'm not saying they didn't have problems or didn't let their tongues slip up every now and then. I've taken my share of scoldings from my momma, my share of trips behind the wood pile with my daddy. But when you strip the bark to look at the wood, well, they were the best kind of wood a person could hope to meet.”

  Rita reached out and touched Billy's hand before she could stop herself. “Good people are rare,” she smiled. “I'm glad I'm standing in the presence of someone who is rare.”

  Billy looked down at Rita's soft hand touching his and nearly fainted. Why in the world, he wondered, was a beautiful woman like Rita standing in a pumpkin patch with a country bumpkin like himself? Why, Billy Northfield was just a plain old farmer who thought Shakespeare had a few bugs in his brain and who felt sorry for poor old Charlie Brown; poor kid could never kick the football Lucy teased him with. So why was Rita Knight, a beautiful dream, wasting her time with him? Billy didn't know. But before he could ask Jose came exploding out of nowhere with a panic stricken face.

  “Billy! Billy!” Jose yelled, “come quick! There's a dead man in the apple orchard! Hurry!”

  Rita looked at Billy. Billy didn't say a word.

  Rita hurried into the orchard with Billy, running over fallen apples, lumpy ground, and rocks. Endless rows of apple trees brushed past her as Billy dodged into one lane and then another, maneuvering through the orchard like a skilled hunter tracking a rabbit through the wilderness of Alaska. Rita wasn't even sure where she was at? The acreage alone consumed more raw land than Rita's mind could understand. “How does he keep up with it all?” she thought, dodging into another lane.

  “This way!” Jose cried, leading the way.

  Billy glanced back at Rita. “Reckon some fella might have had himself a heart attack,” he said in a calm voice. “Years back a fella dropped dead right inside of my apple house.”

  Rita nodded. It was possible, she thought, that a person exploring the sweet smelling area could die of a heart attack. But something on Jose's face worried her. Something in the young man's eyes told her that the dead man had not died from natural causes. “How much farther?” she asked Billy.

  “North part is not too much farther,” Billy said, turned his head back around, and focused on Jose. “What was this fella doing, Jose? We're only selling from the south end today.”

  Jose, dressed in his usual brown work shirt, stopped moving, turned, and looked at Billy with worried eyes. “I know, I know,” he said in an upset voice. “I went to the north part of the orchard to check on Maria. She and Juan are cutting bad branches today...and well, I'm a little jealous.”

  “Did Maria and Juan find the dead fella?” Billy asked, taking a second to catch his breath.

  Jose shook his head. “I didn't find Maria and Juan...all I found was a dead man.” Jose looked at Rita. “I didn't kill him...honest. I just...” Jose rubbed the back of his neck with scared hands. “This is the second time I found a dead body in the orchard...you're not going to believe me.”

  “Stop that nonsense,” Billy ordered Jose. “We know you ain't no killer. Why, you go out of your way to take a hornet’s nest off into the woods instead of spraying the thing down with hornet killer spray.” Billy shifted his eyes around the orchard, studied the silent lands, listened to the autumn winds whispering through the apple trees, and shook his head. “Won't be the first time a stranger decided to wander off and get lost,” he told Rita.