Free A Dollhouse to Die For (A Deadly Notions Mystery) by Cate Price Page A

places, you’ll know what’s reasonable. Do you
have
to have a brick-and-mortar shop? A lot of your business is online now, right?”
    “Yes, but . . .”
    It wasn’t just that. It was the camaraderie, the coffee, Martha’s treats, all of it, that I cherished. Walking into the store each morning was a pleasure that never got old.
    As a teacher, I’d spent years working on other people’s schedules, on someone else’s lesson plans, hours that I wasn’t paid for. Now the hours I put in were for myself, and it would rip my heart out to have to let it go.
    Joe maneuvered me gently down the wide hallway toward the kitchen. “Come and have some wine, and look at the fantastic stuff I bought for making miniatures.”
    On the kitchen counter, a mound of translucent sea scallops sat drying on a tea towel, ready to sear in the pan. Joe cooked a gourmet meal for me every night. I recognized his famous potato–celery root purée prepped in a baking dish next to a bundle of bright green asparagus. My stomach rumbled, seeing as it contained nothing but brandy and a slice of Martha’s cake.
    I poured half a glass of wine and tried not to think about how much the scallops cost.
    Joe pointed at the butcher-block table. “See this, Daisy? It’s a Dremel Moto-Shop jigsaw-workshop combination. I was talking to that girl Mac at the show, and she recommended I start with this.”
    I stared at the appliance that was about the size of a portable sewing machine.
    “It’s five power tools in one. Isn’t it great?” Joe was nearly bouncing up and down in his excitement. “And check out this X-Acto Deluxe Hobby Tool Set. There’s three knives, eight blades, a coping saw, pin vise, routers, you name it.”
    I sipped my wine, glad that he’d found something he was so passionate about. The timing wasn’t great, seeing as it looked as though money would be tight now, but I didn’t know how to begrudge him his dream when he had always been so supportive of mine.
    He grinned at me. “Think I still need a soldering iron and some C-clamps though.”
    Joe was the same way whenever he did a project at the house. Instead of looking in the toolbox for the three nails he needed for the job, he’d go to the hardware store and buy a brand-new pound. If he was painting, he’d buy another paint roller even though the one we had was perfectly fine. Heck, even the roller covers could have been reused if he’d washed and dried them carefully from the job before.
    As a teacher on a limited budget, I’d had to scrimp and save to buy school supplies for the kids out of my own pocket. Renting this home out as a vacation place for years and finally having enough to pay it off were a testament to my thriftiness.
    “Don’t worry, Daisy,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Things will work out. They always do.”
    Things worked out because I made them happen
.
    Jeez, I sounded like Chip Rosenthal now.
    I forced a smile. “Well, I still need a dining table and chairs for Claire’s dollhouse if you want to practice.”
    He clinked his glass with mine. “All right! My first customer!”
    • • •
    T he oppressive humidity from August was gone, and the brisk mornings were literally a breath of fresh air. The coolness caught in my throat, and I shivered in delight. Fall was my favorite time of year, but it was always so short. A rush of garden cleanup, preparing for Halloween and Thanksgiving, and before you knew it, it was winter, with its dark mornings, darker evenings, and treacherous roads.
    As I put food into the bird feeder in the garden, I heard the call go out. A rising, chattering chorus from the birds scattered high in the branches of the oak trees.
    Breakfast is served! Come and get it!
    I fed Jasper and then hurried upstairs to get ready. Marybeth was picking me up at the store, and I needed to go over a few things with Laura before she arrived.
    When I came back downstairs, Jasper was hunched on the ground, staring out of the