A Whisker In The Dark

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I’m fairly certain that having a guest die before breakfast is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Even so, I was feeling a bit nervous as the guests at my newly acquired Oyster Cove Guesthouse dug in. Never mind that the memory of how a previous breakfast had been spoiled in a most alarming manner was still fresh in my mind, the reason I was nervous about this breakfast was that I was trying out a new pumpkin-bread recipe on my guests and, seeing as my culinary skills were meager at best, I was worried they might not like it.

My worries were not unfounded. Though the guests had filled their plates, the brown loaf sat on the antique mahogany serving table, alone and uncut, shoved to the side like an overweight schoolboy on the playground. It was probably because of the dark edges. Admittedly, I’d left it in the oven a bit too long. Who knew that baking had to be that precise? But it was important I get this right. Millie Sullivan, my mother’s best friend and the guesthouse’s previous owner, had stressed the fact that having a winning loaf cake to serve at the town’s 250-year celebration would be vital to the future of the guesthouse. And, since all my retirement savings were tied up in the purchase of the place, I very much wanted it to have a good future.

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