Queen of the Cookbooks Read online

  Praise for Ashton Lee and his Cherry Cola Book Club series!

  The Cherry Cola Book Club

  “If Fannie Flagg and Jan Karon’s Mitford were to come together, the end result might very well be Cherico, Mississippi. Ashton Lee has created a magical town with characters who will inspire readers and bring them back to a simpler time and place. With both humor and moving passages, Lee has captured the quirkiness and warmhearted people of the small-town South to a T. Fix yourself a Cherry Coke and savor this fun and moving book.”

  —Michael Morris, author of Man in the Blue Moon and A Place Called Wiregrass

  “Down-home and delicious, The Cherry Cola Book Club combines everything we love about Southern cuisine, small-town grit, and the transformative power of books.”

  —Beth Harbison, New York Times best-selling author

  The Reading Circle

  “Charm, wit, and a cast of characters so real they could be your next-door neighbors make The Reading Circle a surefire winner. Ashton Lee’s authentic Southern voice shines in the latest addition to The Cherry Cola Book Club.”

  —Peggy Webb, USA Today best-selling author

  “Lee has crafted another pleasurable and diverting tale.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  The Wedding Circle

  “The Wedding Circle is the perfect completion of librarian Maura Beth’s adventures. I have loved immersing myself in the charm of Cherico’s small-town doings and feel as if all the characters are people I know well. What a happy read!”

  —Gloria Loring, singer, actress, and author

  A Cherry Cola Christmas

  “A Cherry Cola Christmas is filled with the quirky, funny, and charming characters we’ve grown to love and whose poignant tales become the true blessings of Christmas. This book belongs under every tree this season.”

  —Christa Allan

  Books by Ashton Lee

  THE CHERRY COLA BOOK CLUB

  THE READING CIRCLE

  THE WEDDING CIRCLE

  A CHERRY COLA CHRISTMAS

  QUEEN OF THE COOKBOOKS

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Queen of the Cookbooks

  ASHTON LEE

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Ashton Lee and his Cherry Cola Book Club series!

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  1 - Out of the Rain

  2 - Out of the Woodwork

  3 - Free-for-All

  4 - Couches and Cushions and Chairs, Oh My!

  5 - Great Day in the Morning

  6 - Food Fight

  7 - Coronation of a Queen

  8 - Dressed for Fireworks

  9 - Jailbait

  10 - The Rabble-Rouser

  11 - Three

  12 - Signs of the Times

  13 - Pigeon Peas, Please!

  14 - Buns in the Oven

  Recipes: And the Winners Are . . .

  QUEEN OF THE COOKBOOKS

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2016 by Ashton Lee

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0579-2

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-0579-3

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: December 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0578-5

  For Aunt Gail Jenkins Healy Beach

  Acknowledgments

  This fifth installment of the Cherry Cola Book Club series was so much fun to write. My editor at Kensington, John Scognamiglio, wanted a novel full of good food talk and the chefs who provide it, and I want to thank him for the initial inspiration for Queen of the Cookbooks. Of course, my hardworking agents, Christina Hogrebe and Meg Ruley, did their part in negotiating the new contract, and I would be “lost in New York” without them.

  But I owe special thanks this time around to Alexe van Beuren and Dixie Grimes of the B.T.C. Old-Fashioned Grocery and Dixie Belle Café in Water Valley, Mississippi (btcgrocery.com), for giving me permission to use their wonderful business in the plot. After a visit there, I just knew I had to write a scene that took place in this nationally recognized enterprise to help bring Queen of the Cookbooks to life.

  I am also indebted to one of my biggest fans and food enthusiast, Ana Raquel Ruiz, for attending all of my signings in the Atlanta, Georgia, area and providing me with the inspiration to create a new character, Ana Estrella, who graces the pages of this novel. Ana was also willing to share one of her treasured family recipes at the back of the novel—one that is also an integral part of the plot. She, Alexe, and Dixie illustrate perfectly the T-shirt I sometimes wear at book talks and signings—CAREFUL OR YOU’LL END UP IN MY NOVEL! Who knows which of you out there will be next?

  1

  Out of the Rain

  Would it ever stop raining in Cherico, Mississippi? First, the winter storms had come with a vengeance, never letting up, even bringing occasional fits of ice and snow. After all, this was the extreme northeast corner of the Magnolia State—might as well have been Tennessee as the crow flies. Then, March and April had rolled in with the promise of a letup, but no such thing had happened. There had been the usual clashes between the warm air of the Gulf and the Alberta clippers that had roared down like freight trains with tornadic results. Fortunately, Cherico had avoided the physical damage but not the thorough soakings. Lake Cherico, where Maura Beth McShay’s new state-of-the-art library was struggling toward completion, was as high and muddy as anyone could remember in recent memory. Fishing had become somewhat of a lost cause, at least until the water table was lowered and the fish could see the lures.

  So here it was May, and the rain was continuing, as if sticking its tongue out at Maura Beth’s plans for her long-anticipated Grand Opening on the Fourth of July. There was so much riding on the celebration: an elaborate, hour-long fireworks display, followed by a concert, thanks to the generosity of sexy, young country music star Waddell Mack. It was he who had secured the location of the Spurs ’R’ Us cowboy boot plant in the town’s new industrial park, thereby reversing Cherico’s recent economic spiral; even if the rainy weather was also slowing down construction of the manufacturing facility itself. Worse yet, having the library ready to open to the public was beginning to seem doubtful at this point, and Cherico’s favorite young redheaded librarian was letting her nerves get the better of her.

  “I have to get away from all this. I mean—we have to get away,” she told her husband, Jeremy, one rainy May evening at the dinner table inside their Painter Street cottage. “No cell phones, no texting, no way for anybody to get in touch with us—we just leave the Cherico universe behind for a while. Something tells me it’s vital that I do this right now.”

  He looked up from cutting the fried green tomato on his plate, grinning as if he’d just heard some inside joke. It was part of the playful ribbing they had developed since they had become a married couple. “Tell me the truth. You aren’t hearing voices in your head, are you
?”

  “Very funny.”

  Like the good husband that he was, however, Jeremy knew when to stop kidding around and take his wife seriously. “How long have you been thinking about this, Maurie, and where exactly do you want to go? Do you have one of those Triple A itineraries mapped out?” He dipped the manageable bite of tomato into his reservoir of remoulade sauce and happily munched away at the down-home appetizer his wife had managed to perfect in recent months.

  She had even given her sudden interest in cooking a name—My Post-Honeymoon Recipe Period. She had christened it with a perky smile one afternoon in her bright yellow kitchen with the potted palms that she had inherited from the previous owner—Miss Voncille Nettles—now Mrs. Locke Linwood. Where the impetus had come from, she could not say. But suddenly, all she wanted to do was try out new dishes on her husband of nine blissful months. He would be her culinary guinea pig, and so far nothing she had prepared for him had backfired on the two of them: grilled fish, pork and beef, stir-fries, casseroles, overstuffed sandwiches, sorbets, cookies, cakes and pies. Of course, the reality was—everything always tasted good where true love was involved. To a point.

  “No, I don’t have any definite place in mind. I just mean I absolutely need a day off,” she continued, tapping her index finger on the table for emphasis. “Every time I go out to the construction site all full of energy and hope with a vision of the library being completed on schedule, all I get is more bad news—or rather no news that amounts to anything from The Stump.”

  “The who?”

  Maura Beth leaned back, making him wait just a bit for the payoff. “Oh, that’s what I’ve decided to call that sweaty, tobacco-spitting foreman, Kyle Hoskins. Every time I ask him a question about anything, he never has an answer. ‘When will that new flashing for the roof be in?’ I’ll ask. And he’ll say, ‘Not sure, ma’am. Last time I called about it, they just hemmed and hawed.’ And then he’ll spit. Or I’ll ask him, ‘What about the furniture?’ And he’ll mumble, ‘Still can’t say, ma’am. There’s been some mix-up at their warehouse, they told me.’ Then he’ll spit again.” Maura Beth narrowed her eyes, looking like a hungry feline about to ambush her prey. “He’s not just always stumped, I believe he’s as dumb as a stump.”

  “Fence post.”

  “What?”

  Jeremy snickered, screwing up his handsome features in the process. “The official saying is ‘dumb as a fence post.’”

  Maura Beth frowned at first, but her features eventually morphed into a skeptical smile. “You high school English teachers. You have to nitpick the language to death, don’t you? Anyway, getting back to my original thought. What would you think of just taking a day off, jumping into The Warbler, and driving somewhere—not particularly caring where it is.”

  Jeremy beamed at the mention of his souped-up yellow Volvo, which he considered his one and only guy-toy, finished the last of his fried green tomatoes, and sat with her question for a while. “Do you want to spend the night and then get under the sheets and make a little of our rockin’ good lovin’? I’m always up for a session of that big-time, you know.”

  “Depends on how far away from home we end up. What I really want to do is play it by ear. Be totally spontaneous. No cataloging, ordering books, reading reviews, or doing anything related to being a librarian for just one day. Because the truth is, all this waiting around for the new library to open makes me feel like I’m going to give birth, if you catch my drift.”

  He nodded with a brief smile, but then a hint of consternation flashed across his face. “You know, maybe I should go out to the construction site with you next time. I wonder if The Stump would be a little more forthcoming if a man asked him all the questions you’ve been asking. Sounds to me like he doesn’t take you seriously. Do you think he might actually be one of those male chauvinist pigs who doesn’t want a woman within shouting distance of his daily routine? And God forbid there should ever be a female on his sacred crew.”

  Maura Beth shook her head and abruptly held up her right hand like a school crossing guard trying to prevent a restless child from darting into traffic. “The last thing I want is for you to start anything up with that quick temper of yours. I didn’t marry you because of your macho qualities. I mean, I know you have them, and there are times when they’ve come in handy, but it’s the man who kisses me on the eyelids before he makes insane love to me that I’ll proudly claim.”

  “I won’t turn that compliment down.”

  “I’m sure. Besides, I can always go to City Hall and ask our dear Councilman Sparks for the inside story.”

  Jeremy’s features hardened at the mention of the man’s name. The time-honored phrase “fightin’ words” flitted across his mind, and his fingers curved inward slightly as if he were getting ready to make a fist. “I can remember a time when Councilman Sparks made a career out of keeping you in the dark on everything. You were his everyday obsession. You know, it still definitely gets under my skin that he wanted to get rid of the library so you’d have to come and work as his secretary with those good ole boy perks for him on the side. What a sleazebag!”

  “But that didn’t happen, and those days of him trying to intimidate me are over. I think Waddell Mack bringing Spurs ’R’ Us to town has given our fearful leader a new outlook on life with all those jobs and new people on the horizon. I really think he’s finally called a truce.”

  “If you say he’s waved the white flag, then fair enough,” Jeremy said. Then he leaned in, returning to the issue as yet unresolved. “So when did you think you wanna get outta Dodge?”

  “As soon as possible. Let’s say—tomorrow. Renette handles Saturdays just fine—she always does. She’s wise beyond her nineteen years—well, except for . . .” The pregnant pause was not lost on Jeremy, who had observed more than once what an asset the efficient, sweet-natured teenager had become to his Maurie as her chief assistant and most-reliable front desk clerk.

  “Except for what?”

  Maura Beth exhaled quickly and made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “Well, I haven’t made a big deal out of it, but our little Renette Posey has had this mad crush on Waddell Mack since he first came to Cherico last year. You might remember that I got her a seat at that dinner our Periwinkle threw for him and his band down at The Twinkle. Renette’s been gaga over him ever since. Says she’s bought all his CDs and has a poster or two of him hung on her bedroom wall.”

  Maura Beth paused, lowered her voice, and began talking out of the side of her mouth. “If you ask me, she’s become a genuine Waddell Mack, country music, long-distance groupie.”

  “That can happen with nineteen-year-olds. I assume it’s not interfering with her work?”

  Maura Beth brought her napkin up from her lap and dropped it to the side of her plate. “Well, no. I suppose her fascination with him is harmless enough. I guess I worry about her a little too much. She confides in me all the time at work, and it’s mostly unsolicited. The thing is, I’ve discovered she doesn’t have a very good relationship with her parents. They’re very judgmental, hard-line churchgoers. One of those really quirky, generic-sounding denominations that I’ve never heard of before—Church of the Eternal Something-or-Other, if I recall. It’s tucked away out in the bushes somewhere, but I can vouch for the problems she has with her parents. The Poseys came to the library once but haven’t been back since. After they’d browsed around for a while, they approached me and said they’d found certain books on the shelves they didn’t approve of—even thought should be removed.”

  “This should be good. Such as?”

  “Would you believe Harry Potter for starters?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You mean to tell me that a boy wizard fighting for justice set them off?”

  Maura Beth turned slightly toward one of the potted palms Voncille Nettles Linwood had left behind in their bright yellow kitchen, as if searching for inspiration and the strength to continue. The Poseys had worked every nerve in her body. “They claim
ed all the Harry Potter books were promoting witchcraft. Of course, I’d read about that line of reasoning before—if you can call it that. Then, they ranted and raved about our books on Halloween for the same reason. Even innocent little books on making original costumes and planning children’s parties kept them going. They wanted those gone, too, since they were the work of the Devil, they said. I suppose I’ve been lucky in that I’ve yet to have a challenge to anything in our collection before that little encounter with them. You’d think it would be something of a more serious, reasonable nature, though. But I told them that while I respected their right to their views, I could not in good conscience remove those books for the reasons they’d given me. I told them as nicely as I could that the overwhelming majority of our patrons simply didn’t feel the same way they did.”

  “And what did they say to that?”

  “They actually threatened to picket the library. Both the old one and the new one when it opened up.”

  Jeremy gave her an incredulous stare. “Ambitious, aren’t they? Well, how did you handle that?”

  “I was rather proud of myself, actually,” she told him, with an imperious grin. “I invited them to browse the collection and find books that appealed to them and their views and check them out. ‘Our books on religion and spirituality are quite diverse,’ I told them. And then I finished with, ‘If there’s a particular book you don’t like, no one will force you to check it out, I can assure you.’ ”