Coastal Cottage Calamity - Abby L. Vandiver Page 0,3

mother of course didn’t see it that way. She couldn’t understand why I thought I needed to best her.

And that’s how I’d landed in Yasamee – trying to make a name for myself, and I’d gotten in over my head. In running from the FBI (yeah that much over-my-head kind of trouble), I ran right smack dab into Yasamee, Miss Vivee and a murder.

I took the letter from Brie and glanced into the now quiet dining room. Although the fighting blondes had summarily departed – none partaking of Miss Vivee’s calming tea – there still was an air of discontent that lingered.

Yep, hiding out. On the run. A fugitive. That had been me.

Well maybe it wasn’t as dramatic as that. I just thank goodness it had turned out okay. I got a permit to dig on Stallings Island. And that FBI guy that that conducted a “Terry stop” on me in Itza, a little town just outside of where I committed my crime of trespassing on federally protected property, ended up being my guy.

A nice twist.

My criminal proclivities wasn’t because I hadn’t been raised right. My parents, back in Cleveland were fine, upstanding citizens. Well, at least my father was. My mother, a pretty famous biblical archaeologist had a somewhat shaky vitae. Still it wasn’t like me. Especially since I’d work so hard to get double Ph.Ds. and spend every waking moment I could find in hot dusty deserts or tropical humid jungles to make my mark in the world of archaeology.

And not only did I end up with the FBI guy, he ended up being the son of the owner of the exact bed and breakfast I sought refuge in.

Coincidence?

Maybe. But he thought it was fate.

Bay Colquett, son of Renmar and Louis Colquett. Bay’s father, a creole from New Orleans, had been the one who taught his maternal grandmother, Miss Vivee all about Voodoo herbalism. A field she now professed to being a master in.

I don’t know about master, but she was, I had to admit, pretty smart about it.

Vivienne Pennywell was unquestionably the matriarch of the small town, and according to her, she was one hundred years old. No one believed that though. Her daughters, Renmar and Brie, thought she was about ninety.

Who doesn’t know how old their mother is?

But that was their story. Who was I to argue? I was only a guest in their humble establishment while I did excavations on the Island.

Plus, Brie had told me that it wasn’t polite to ask a woman’s age (took me a while to get used to all the southern mannerism that went on in Yasamee). Yet, Miss Vivee freely told everyone about her meeting the century mark (Brie also said that women lie about their age). I had come to learn that when it came to lying, Miss Vivee was the Empress Prevaricator. She had a talent for it that out surpassed every politician ever known to man.

And, however old she was, she still had her wits about her. It was Miss Vivee who had solved the whole matter of Gemma Burke’s death with me as her trusty, most time reluctant, sidekick. In a week, no less. Dry drowning had killed her and thankfully not Renmar’s bouillabaisse.

But it just seemed to me, at ninety she’d have other things to do besides trying to solve murders. Plenty of things came to my mind. Bingo, for instance.

I read the card from my mother, then shook the envelope to make sure she hadn’t included any money.

Yeah, I know I’m twenty-nine but is anyone really ever too old to get help from their mom?

I sighed and looked around the room. Taking in a breath I could smell some kind of sweet goodness coming from the kitchen.

Probably Renmar and Koryn, I thought. They both had settled down from the earlier ruckus. Renmar, chef extraordinaire, had been teaching Koryn a few tricks of the trade since she’d moved in. I think the reason she’d taken Koryn in as an apprentice was because Koryn had been working at the Jellybean Café, and its cook, Gus, was a rival of Renmar’s. I’m sure she gave lessons to Koryn to show she couldn’t be bested.

I agreed with Renmar. Her food was the best.

Still everyone had become fond of Koryn. We were more concerned about her reaction to everything than to the blondies.

I decided not go back to the Island the rest of the day. I figured I’d spend a little time texting my new man. And then