Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Chapter Two?
By the time Vicki and Leo finished the scrub, anticipation
pulsed through her.
“Time to test it!” she cried, snatching the bowl from the counter.
“Hold on,” said Leo, his face a picture of resignation. “You’ve
already given yourself a sunburn. Let me try it on one of my arms.”
“Are you sure, Grinch? You swore you were done being my guinea
pig,” Vicki teased.
Leo rolled his eyes. “Give me that,” he said, taking the bowl out of
Vicki’s hands. He bounded up the steps, and by the time Vicki caught
back up with him, he’d rubbed the scrub on the underside of his arm.
They stood there and waited.
“How does it feel?” Vicki asked hesitantly. “Is there a tingling
“Yeah, it tingles,” said Leo. Then he started screaming, “It burns! It
Vicki gasped and dove for the sink. But Leo burst into uproarious
laughter, and she whirled back around.
“You should have seen your face!” Leo crowed. “You actually
Vicki’s heartbeat slowed its gallop, but she couldn’t help a grin.
“That was not funny. Seriously, how does it feel?”
“It feels really good. It’s definitely energizing.”
“Good,” said Vicki. “I wrote down the measurements, so I should
be able to recreate it.” She turned on the faucet so Leo could wash his
arm, then she splashed him with cold water and bolted down the
“Now we’re even!” she called.
And now she just needed to figure out how to sell those body
scrubs . . . before she ran out of time.
Speaking of running out of time . . . Was she forgetting something?
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, sniffing. Peppermint still
hung heavy in the air, but beneath it was another smell . . . an acrid
smell that sent anxiety racing through her body.
Fire? Was the house on fire? Was her house going to burn down
just like Mona’s store?
She bolted to the kitchen, heart pounding, looking for the source
of the flames. Nothing was on fire, but the burning smell was defi‐
nitely coming from the oven.
“The cornbread!” she wailed.
She grabbed mitts and threw open the oven, coughing at the
smoke. Then she pulled out the pan of cornbread and set it down on
an open burner. The top was absolutely blackened. She closed the
oven slowly, looking mournfully from the ruined cornbread to the
clock and back again. She’d forgotten the cornbread in the oven, but it
had only been in there an extra couple of minutes.
It might be dry, but it shouldn’t be blackened!
She lurched toward the trash and pulled out the box with trem‐
bling fingers. “Oh no,” she whispered. She’d cooked it at 450 degrees
instead of 400. She smacked the box against her head, sending a soft
poof of yellow-white powder into the air.
Footfalls behind her announced Leo’s arrival. “Everything okay?”
he asked, sounding alarmed.
She spun around. “It’s fine,” she said weakly, “if you weren’t too set
on having cornbread.”
A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. “I’m not too set on corn‐
bread if you’re not too set on salad.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”I couldn’t stop reading!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Fast-paced and fun. I love these mysteires!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Diana Orgain is my new favorite author!”
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