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No Farm, No Foul (Farmer's Daughter Mystery, Band 1) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 3: Farmer's Daughter Mystery

Cochran, Peg

 
9780425282021: No Farm, No Foul (Farmer's Daughter Mystery, Band 1)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0425282023 ISBN 13: 9780425282021
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2016

Inhaltsangabe

First in the Farmer’s Daughter mystery series set on a picturesque farm in Michigan, where Shelby McDonald runs a popular lifestyle and cooking blog, from the national bestselling author of the Cranberry Cove Mysteries.
 
On her blog, The Farmer’s Daughter, Shelby McDonald is growing her audience as she posts recipes, gardening tips, and her experiences raising two kids and running Love Blossom Farm in the small western Michigan town of Lovett.
 
Working the farm is demanding but peaceful—until that peace is shattered when the minister’s wife is murdered on Shelby’s property during a fund-raiser for a local church. But the manure really hits the fan when Shelby’s good friend veterinarian Kelly Thacker emerges as the prime suspect. Shelby decides to dig in and find the murderer by herself. As more suspects crop up, she’ll have to move fast—before someone else buys the farm. . . .

INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Peg Cochran is the national bestselling author of the Cranberry Cove Mysteries and the Gourmet De-Lite Mysteries.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1

Shelby McDonald stood in the midst of row upon tidy row of lettuces, a woven willow garden basket over her arm. Dew, shimmering like diamonds on the delicate leaves of the plants, was evaporating rapidly in the rays of the sun. The rich, dark earth was cool against Shelby's bare knees as she knelt between the two rows and began picking. She plucked some merlot lettuce from the ground, shook off the excess dirt, and placed it in her basket. It would go into the salad she was making for the St. Andrews Church potluck later that day.

She moved to the next row and chose some heads of butter lettuce. Its smooth, buttery taste would be the perfect complement to the full-bodied flavor of the merlot. Plus, the pale green of the butter lettuce and deep burgundy of the merlot would look beautiful together in the bowl.

Shelby had taken over Love Blossom Farm ten years ago, when her parents retired to spend their time traveling the country in their secondhand RV. She'd headed to Chicago after college, but city life hadn't suited her, and she'd been glad to return to Lovett, Michigan, and the place she loved more than anywhere else on earth.

Shelby grew lettuces and herbs that she sold to the Lovett General Store and also cultivated a kitchen garden, which provided her and her children with vegetables all year long-fresh in the spring and summer and canned or pickled the rest of the year. The speck of red in the distance was an old barn, where Patches, an aging calico cat, who was still nimble despite her advancing years, kept mice and other small critters at bay. Next to it was a chicken coop. Shelby kept a flock of cantankerous Rhode Island Reds that squawked for their feed every morning but presented her with a stream of large brown eggs. Jack Sparrow, a bantam rooster inherited from an elderly farmer her parents knew, strutted among them, keeping order.

Her basket full of lettuce, Shelby headed back to the farmhouse. It was old, with worn gray shingles and plumbing that was in a constant state of disrepair, but Shelby loved it. She pushed open the back door and went through the mudroom and into the kitchen.

She put the basket on the counter and filled the kitchen sink with cold water. Although she grew everything organically, it was still necessary to make sure the lettuce was free of any dirt or sand. She separated the leaves and put them in the water to soak.

Her computer was on a small table tucked into a corner of the kitchen. Shelby slipped into the chair she'd picked up at a going-out-of-business sale and powered on her laptop. She put her fingers on the keys and began to write.

Dear Reader,

Today is the church potluck fund-raiser. Poor St. Andrews is desperately in need of a new roof. Last Sunday it rained more inside the church than out. The St. Andrews Youth Group, under the direction of the Reverend Daniel Mather, who is beginning to look slightly harried, is erecting a large tent here on the grounds of Love Blossom Farm, and his wife, Prudence, is helping the Women's Auxiliary as they prepare to set up long folding tables for the food.

As I write this, my house is filled with the fragrance of a cottage cheese pie baking in the oven and a huge pot of dill and wax bean soup simmering on the stove. I made the cottage cheese earlier this morning, and used the whey in the soup instead of some of the stock. There are dozens of uses for whey, a by-product of making cheese, and it's packed with protein and vitamins and minerals.

The house is so peaceful. The children are quietly occupied in the living room. Amelia is practicing her piano and Billy is working on his latest model airplane. It is amazing how well they get along even though Amelia is about to turn thirteen and her younger brother is only eight . . .

"Mom!" Amelia screamed suddenly in the tone of utter disdain that only a preteen girl can achieve.

Shelby took her fingers from the keyboard and rushed out of the kitchen to see what was wrong. Because Amelia's tone made it very clear that something was wrong-of course, it could be anything from a wild bear breaking into the house and attacking them to the fact that she was down to one bar on her cell phone.

Shelby stopped dead in the hallway. "Not again!" She cried.

Dear Reader, Shelby composed in her head, I lied. The children are not playing happily together in the living room. No, indeed. Billy has gotten his head stuck in the banister railing again, and Amelia is amusing herself by taking pictures of him and texting them to her friends.

If she was going to write a blog, Shelby decided, she might as well be honest with her readers about the crazy, tumultuous, sometimes frustrating, and often wonderful life she was leading on Love Blossom Farm-give them the good with the bad, because that was life.

"Billy, didn't I tell you not to do that?"

"Aw, Mom, I didn't mean for my head to go all the way through, honest."

"I don't think you're going to be able to get it out this time," Amelia said without taking her eyes from her phone. Her curly blond hair and blue eyes made her look like an angel, which Shelby knew was a highly misleading resemblance.

"We've done it before, we can do it again. The ears are always the biggest problem."

Unfortunately, Billy's ears provided no hindrance to getting his head through the bars, but they sure did when it came to pulling it out. It was a matter of tilting his head at exactly the right angle. After all, if he got it in, surely they could get it out again?

Shelby studied her son. Exasperation combined with a tidal wave of affection washed over her. She loved every inch of him-from his dirty feet that looked too big for his body to the freckles scattered across his nose, the tiny chip in his front tooth from the time he fell off his bicycle, and the cowlick in his blond hair that was as stubborn as he was.

Shelby put her hands on either side of his face and turned his head slightly.

"Ouch," Billy yelled.

"He's faking," Amelia said with her eyes still glued to the phone in her hand.

Shelby grabbed the wooden railings on either side of Billy's head and put as much pressure on them as she could. If they moved even a millimeter, it would help.

"Come on, pull," she said. "Harder."

"Owww," Billy yelled again, but his head finally came free and he staggered backward. He rubbed the back of his head briskly, making his hair stand on end.

"Where are you going?" Shelby grabbed him by the strap of his overalls as he turned and tried to head back to the living room. "Not so fast."

"But cartoons are on."

"It's time to get ready for the potluck." Shelby gave him a gentle push toward the stairs.

"I am ready," Billy protested.

"You're not wearing those dirty old things." Shelby pointed to his stained and torn overalls. "Go wash your face and hands and put on a clean shirt and pair of pants."

Billy grumbled, but he did as he was told. Shelby let out a sigh. That would end soon enough, when he reached Amelia's age. Her daughter refused to listen to anything she said, and they argued more often than not. Shelby knew it was a stage. She just wished it would hurry past.

If the children's father were still alive, perhaps things would be different, Shelby thought. William "Wild Bill" McDonald had lived up to his name-dying in a motorcycle accident on a rain-slicked road one night several years ago. At the time, Shelby thought she would die from the pain of her loss, but over time the pain had lessened until it became a dull ache. Much to her surprise, entire days went by now when she didn't think about it.

Shelby went back to the kitchen, hit save on her computer, and powered it off. She would finish her blog later. She'd started writing The...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2016
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0425282023
ISBN 13 
9780425282021
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
304
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Libri GmbH
gpsr@libri.de

Europaallee 1
Bad Hersfeld
Hessen
Deutschland