Holiday Horseplay: A Tinsel Pine Cozy Mystery, #0

By Wendy Meadows

Sometimes a kind gesture is a simple cup of coffee.

 

Carol Green is a divorcee two weeks shy of the big Five-O, with a lot to shoulder. Her daughter, Mary, has been booted out of job and room by her ex-boyfriend's father. Carol offers her a place to stay in her campervan – something Mary point-blank refuses. To help her daughter, Carol must tether down her life.

 

When Carol pulls into a town called Tinsel Pine, she overhears a man walk away from a deal with a woman, Miss Lucy Inkerman, selling a stable and horses. One man's loss is another's gain – and Carol doesn't hesitate to put a bid in.

 

It is a place that needs some tender loving care, something Carol has in spades. She feels like a fish out of water as she gets to know the town. William Goudy, a good-natured storeowner, is willing to point her in the right direction... until he is found murdered on his doorstep.

 

Carol finds herself at the center of a crime she did not commit in a town she is a stranger to. She must work with the Scrooge-incarnate Chief of Police, Brogan Peterson, to find out who killed William before anyone else is targeted. Carol is a tough woman, but could her own need for mystery put what is precious to her in the firing line?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Majestic Owl Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215991176

Wendy Meadows

USA Today bestselling author, Wendy Meadows, is a passionate Cozy Mystery Author whose meticulously crafted stories showcase witty women sleuths and engaging plots. Her primary influences include but are not limited to mystery genre greats Joanne Fluke, Ellery Adams, and James Patterson. To date, she has published dozens of books, which include her popular Sweetfern Harbor Series, Maple Hill Series, and Alaska Cozy Series, to name a few. In a previous life, Wendy worked as a Graphic Designer, earning her Graphic Design Certification at the prestigious New York based Sessions School of Design. With this valuable artistic background, she designs her own book covers. In fact, she began writing fiction soon after designing numerous book covers for other fiction authors. When she isn’t writing about female detectives and their tactful crime solving, you can find Wendy either tending to her hobby farm, playing video games, relaxing on her back porch, or coloring in her growing collection of adult coloring books. She also loves spending quality time with her husband, two sons, two cats, and one adorable Labradoodle. Together, they call “The Granite State” home sweet home. To find out more about Wendy Meadows both personally and creatively, feel free to visit her official website at www.wendymeadows.com

Book preview

chapter one

M om, are you even listening? Mary demands from the other end of the line.

I jerk out of my stupor, staring at the endless hypnotizing gray ribbon that is the highway. I’m headed up the East Coast at a leisurely fifty miles an hour, wiping at the occasional speckles of snow that dot my windshield.

Um, sorry, Mary. Could you repeat that? I’m afraid your dear old mom isn’t entirely with it today.

In truth, I’m groggy and desperately seeking a rest station that serves halfway decent coffee. Edging closer day by day to my fiftieth birthday, I’ve found that Folgers simply can’t cut the mustard any longer.

I said I’m not going to stand for this any longer. Mary enunciates every word precisely. You’re turning fifty in less than a month, Mother. You cannot be jet-setting up the coast in a cargo van all alone at your age.

I’m half-tempted to point out that she’s not in a stable position herself. She was recently—and wrongfully—evicted and fired from a privately owned groomer’s for having the audacity to break up with the owner’s son. Unfortunately, the owner had also been her landlord, and she’d lost both home and job in one fell swoop. But the petty impulse to lash out fades quickly. As much as I love my transient lifestyle, Mary has a point. It’s getting harder and harder for her to track me down for visits, and I desperately want to get to know my estranged little girl.

I’ll tell you what, I say, as I pass the sign announcing the exit to Tinsel Pine, Connecticut. I’ll settle at the next town I see if you’ll promise to come live with me. Just for a little while, dear. You know I worry about you surfing couches. Someone might try to take advantage.

Mary leaps on the offer like it’s made of pure gold. "Deal. You settle someplace and live someplace that isn’t your van, and I’ll move."

I smile a small, self-satisfied smile and nod to myself. Though it’s a bit of a stretch for me to tether myself to one place, having Mary with me is more important. It really is for the best.

The exit for Tinsel Pine forks off the main road ahead and I flick my signal on, sliding gracefully into the narrow off-ramp. I’m going to get off now, Mary. Please say hello to your father for me.

Mary’s voice softens in response to my request. Though we divorced years ago, Daniel and I never really stopped loving each other.

I will, Mom. Drive safely and let me know when you’re settled.

I promise to text the second I’ve settled in the neighboring town and she hangs up. Ahead, the lights of a town twinkle at me, bright in the gloom of the gathering storm clouds. I adjust my spectacles, trying to get a better look at the place I’ll be calling home. As I glide ever closer, things come into focus.

The main thoroughfare that leads into town is decked out in gold, red, and green tinsel. Strands of lights cling to the wrought-iron lamp posts that dot the street, casting colorful pools of light onto the narrow sidewalk. Rows of shops line the street, their awnings drooping beneath the weight of the previous night’s snowfall. The name of the nearest catches my eye and I let out an involuntary sigh of relief. A neon sign above the awning depicts a golden mug, filled to the brim with steaming coffee.

The sign boldly proclaims the place as The Golden Caff, and the tagline beneath claims it serves the best coffee in the county. I’m not sure if it’s a claim that holds any weight, but dimes to donuts it’s better than the average gas station fare. At least there is a chance the pot has been changed since five in the morning.

Parking my van in an open space, I exit and make my way up the barely scraped sidewalk, skirting a drift of snow someone left near the door.

When I bump the door open with my hip, a chime goes off somewhere deep within the shop. Despite this, almost no one pays me any mind as I make my way to the counter. There are only a few patrons in the shop. Unsurprising, given I’ve hit them at the lull between lunch and dinner. A young woman wearing a bright yellow uniform informs me she’ll be with me momentarily and bustles into the back before I can respond.

I’m left standing in the middle of the room, coffeeless and cold, unable to do much but listen in on the bickering pair that sit in the booth at the back of the shop. My eyes drift in their direction without my conscious permission. I’ve tried to be less of a snoop as the years have gone by, but part of it is wired into my DNA. I’d originally gone to Berkeley in order to become a behavioral therapist. Though those plans had eventually fallen through, I couldn’t help but listen in. Listening is my business, whether I had a degree in it or not.

You can’t just leave me high and dry, Phillip, the woman exclaims. You promised you’d take it as is.

The woman speaking is a tall, leggy blonde clad in a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized uniform. Her nametag is a brassy color and shaped like a steaming coffee cup and bears the name Lucy in bold letters. Lucy wears the harassed look of a woman who’s had too many problems and not enough coffee for one day.

The man, Phillip, is much shorter than his companion. He wears his short hair well, and a look of disdain even better. That was when I thought it only needed a paint job, Luce. You can’t expect me to take that scrap heap and make something out of it. You’ll have better luck selling those horses to make glue. And the stable just needs a date with a wrecking ball.

Lucy’s eyes fill with sudden tears and she leans across the table, reaching an imploring hand toward Phillip. Come on, Phil. You said you’d take it off my hands. You know I can’t afford the upkeep now that Hal is gone. I’ve got two kids to think about.

My