Free Creamed at the Coffee Cabana: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) by Constance Barker

Chapter One
     
     
    “Here they are,” yelled my Aunt Esther, also known as Aunt Essie, as she, her sister, and my other aunt, Hilda, walked through the door of my coffee house. “The sweets with the sweets!” I would beg to differ on the first use of sweets. I adore my aunts, but sweet is probably the last term that comes to mind when I think of them. Don’t get me wrong; I adore my aunties, but they come in one flavor, crusty.
     
    My name is Lily Parker and I own the Coffee Cabana here in Sweet Home, Florida with my two aunts. I’ve lived here all my life and we just recently bought the coffee shop when the owners decided to move away. I’d had it up the ying-yang with spreadsheets and answering ringing phones, so together with my aunts we invested in the Coffee Cabana. While I do most of the work, which is fine by me since I’m sort of a control freak, my aunts help out by supplying muffins, cupcakes, cookies and the occasional fried pies.
     
    Aunt Hildie, as she is often referred to, placed two boxes of muffins on the counter and looked me square in the eye as I scooped fresh grounds into one of the huge coffeemakers. “Lily, did you even try to rake a comb across your head this morning?”
     
    Now my aunts are quite the fashionistas. In their sixties, they look quite classy in their pantsuits, capris and tops, or flowing dresses. No jeans for these ladies. And every grey hair in place, thank you very much. I swear they must use an entire bottle of hairspray every day to keep those strands where they need to be. Back when Hurricane Andrew stormed through Florida and I was a young squirt, I watched as my mother and her two sisters hurriedly rammed our family van with suitcases. Not one hair moved on their heads…and this was in 40 mph winds. Unfortunately, I wasn’t gifted with immovable hair. My short blond tresses had a mind of their own and it wasn’t pretty. I had fine hair, which is difficult to rule even on a wind-free day. And today was just like the others. Limp, lifeless hair…I could be the before on a shampoo commercial.
     
    “Yes Aunt Hildie I did,” I mumbled, still trying to embrace the day at 5am. “You know my hair doesn’t take orders like yours does.”
     
    Aunt Hildie began placing the goodies into the glass display shelves. When she opened the boxes, the heavenly smell of blueberry muffins and raspberry fried pies wafted up my nose, instantly giving me a sugar high.
     
    “You ought to let me give you a perm,” Hildie remarked as she used waxed paper to remove the baked goods and place them into the display.
     
    “My hair is bad enough without frying it to a crisp,” I sighed.
     
    The door to the coffee shop opened and Aunt Esther entered with her arms full of several more boxes. “Thanks girls for all your help! Oh no, I can get it…don’t bother yourself!” Essie slammed the boxes down on the counter.
     
    I filled my coffee grinder with chocolate coffee beans. “What’s got you in a mood?”
     
    “Oh she’s PO’d about Francine,” Hildie said closing the display case.
     
    “Hold on,” I said as I turned the on switch to grind the coffee beans. My aunts hated the loud noise, but I wanted fresh ground coffee for my customers. Wait until the new cappuccino maker gets here. After the short spurt of noise and my aunts making their usual annoying faces from it, I asked what was going on.
     
    “Fannie is being her usual ugly self,” remarked Essie.
     
    My aunts and my mother grew up with Francine Diddlemier, but that didn’t make them friends. In fact, they were sworn enemies if I believed the tales around town. Seems that Francine had the hots for my now deceased uncle Joe who was married to Essie. Of course, this was when they were all young and carefree. Seems that Joe and Francine were an item and my aunt Essie broke them up. Now Fannie, as my aunts liked to call her, would say that Essie lured Joe away with her feminine wiles, but Essie says Joe had