Not So Peachy Day Read online

  Not So Peachy Day

  Sweet Peach Bakery #7

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2018 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Chapter One

  Momma Peach sighed. Sadness roamed inside her heart. “Oh,” she sighed and fought back tears, “Where, oh where can my baby be?” She hummed an old, melancholy tune as her hands worked to make a homemade pie dough. The kitchen was silent and filled with the sweet smell of cinnamon and coffee. Outside a hard, cold rain fell, drenching the earth with the gray hand of a wet winter. The rain was keeping folks inside, preventing the foot traffic that normally passed by her bakery, which meant Momma Peach had plenty of time to bake instead of dealing with hungry customers. Even though she loved to bake, loved to fill her kitchen with the smell of pies, loved to sing as she worked the sweet dough in her hands, she was too sad to enjoy the rainy morning and meditative time in her kitchen. “Oh, where, oh where is my baby?”

  “Still sad, I see,” a warm voice spoke.

  “Huh?” Momma Peach asked and jerked her head up. She spotted Sam leaning in the kitchen doorway wearing a green rain jacket and his usual brown cowboy hat. “Oh, hello Mr. Sam, I didn't hear you come in.”

  Sam nodded in greeting and slowly removed his jacket. “The rain is really coming down outside,” he said as he tossed his jacket onto a wooden coat rack to dry.

  “I suppose,” Momma Peach sighed. “You have come for your morning coffee, I’m sure. Coffee is on the counter.”

  Sam walked over to a wooden counter that reminded him of pioneer days, picked up a brown coffee mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee. “It's quiet around here,” he told Momma Peach. “Now that Michelle is in China with Able, Mandy and Rosa are in school, Old Joe is visiting his friend in St. Louis—or so he said—and even Millie is in Texas for a bit. It's just you and me, Momma Peach.”

  Momma Peach went back to rolling out the pie dough to hide her misty eyes. “I miss Michelle, Mr. Sam. I don't like my baby being so far away.”

  “Momma Peach, after everything we've been through lately, I'd say that poor girl deserves a vacation away from all of her worries,” Sam told Momma Peach. “Besides, she and Able needed some time alone.” Sam sipped his coffee and watched Momma Peach’s rolling pin smooth out the pie dough. “Momma Peach, they'll be fine, I promise. I'm sure Michelle and Able can handle two weeks in China without the world coming to an end.”

  “Well, it has been seven whole days since Michelle left,” Momma Peach told Sam, “and so far, the only bad news my girl has reported is—”

  “Her luggage is still missing,” Sam politely interrupted Momma Peach. “I know, I spoke to Michelle last night before I went to bed.”

  Momma Peach gently laid the dough on the pie plate waiting on her baking table. “Mr. Sam…” she started and fought back a tear. “I know I’m being mighty silly, but I can't help it.”

  Sam spotted a tear falling from Momma Peach's eye. He put down his coffee, walked over to her, and wiped the tear away. “You're a very tender woman,” she told Momma Peach and wrapped his arms around her.

  Momma Peach placed her head down on Sam's shoulder. “I feel empty without my girl here to talk to and gossip with,” she confessed. “And cold, rainy mornings like this one sure don’t help to cheer me up any, no sir and no, ma’am. The good Lord is testing me, Mr. Sam.” She tried to laugh but it came out as a soft sigh.

  Sam smiled. He loved Momma Peach and appreciated her attempt at humor even though her heart was sad. “Well, I'm here,” he said, “and I'll stick around all day and help you...well, bake...or whatever you want me to do.” Sam snapped to attention and saluted Momma Peach. “I'm at your service, ma’am. What would you like for me to do first? Sweep the basement? Clean the gutters? Chase the spiders out of the attic?”

  Momma Peach felt a smile touch her face. She brushed some flour off the brown apron she wore tied neatly over her blue dress and then patted the soft cloth she always wore over her head. “I may look the same on the outside,” she told Sam, “but on the inside, I feel tired. But you sure always bring a smile to my face.”

  Sam remained at attention. “What are your orders, ma’am?” he asked in a soldier’s voice.

  “Drink your coffee and let me think up a few chores for you.” Momma Peach smiled at Sam and patted his arm. “I'm sure I can think up enough chores to keep you busy for a few hours.”

  Sam laughed and walked back to his coffee. As he did, an idea dropped down from the ceiling and hit him in the head. “Hey,” he exclaimed and snapped his fingers together, “why not?”

  Momma Peach made a funny face. “Why not what?” she asked and went back to working on the pie dough.

  “Why don't we take a road trip, just you and me?” Sam asked in an excited voice. “We'll go where there are no bulls, of course,” he said and winked at Momma Peach.

  “Oh, Mr. Sam, no more trips, please,” Momma Peach begged. “Our last trip to Vermont wore me down to the bone. And I sure don't feel like being chased by some crazy bull again, no sir and no, ma’am. That bull nearly solved my hemorrhoid problem, you better believe it.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Yeah, we nearly met our end,” he agreed. “I'll never forget how you looked running down that snowy road, Momma Peach. Your short little legs sure were moving.”

  Momma Peach heard laughter slip from her mouth. “You weren't taking a stroll in the park yourself, Mr. Sam,” she pointed out. “If I recall correctly, you were leaving a smoke trail in the snow.”

  “Yeah, I was sure moving,” Sam agreed. He took a sip of coffee. “Momma Peach, Vermont wasn't exactly what I would call a vacation. We dealt with some pretty dangerous people there and managed to come out with only a few scrapes and bruises.” Sam put down his coffee. He looked around the kitchen. “Michelle and Able aren't due to return for another seven days. The girls are busy at school. Millie isn't driving back from Texas for a while, and who knows when Old Joe is going to show up again? So,” Sam took a calm breath, “why don't you and I pack a bag and get ourselves down to some warm, tropical island? My treat.”

  Momma Peach raised an eyebrow. “A tropical island?” she asked in a curious tone. “What kind of tropical island do you have in mind?”

  Sam clapped his hands. “Momma Peach, many years ago when I was...oh...sixteen or seventeen, I visited this little island off the coast of Australia...southeast about a hundred or so miles. This island is extremely remote, a real off-the-beaten-path type place that can only be reached by boat.”

  “Mr. Sam, I need indoor plumbing,” Momma Peach said and waved her hands in the air. “I ain't gonna go sit under a palm tree and dig a latrine.”

  Sam chuckled to himself. “Don't worry, Momma Peach, this island has a hotel in the village, roads, and even a small golf course...at least it did when I visited.
Who knows, maybe by now the island has been stained by greedy developers who put in some more amenities?” Sam rubbed his chin. “Let me do some checking and see what I can find out, Momma Peach. I'll be back in...oh...couple of hours, okay?”

  Momma Peach hesitated. “Mr. Sam, I can’t just—”

  Sam held up his hand. “Momma Peach, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you take this trip with me. You need a vacation just as much as I do. A vacation that doesn't involve crime and criminals.” Sam walked over to Momma Peach and put his hand on her shoulder. “I'm talking about warm sunshine, sandy beaches, glittering lagoons, crystal blue seas and beautiful sunsets.”

  Momma Peach stared into Sam's cajoling eyes. How could she say no? “Well, maybe for a day or two, Mr. Sam, but—”

  “Great!” Sam exclaimed and ran to the kitchen door to put on his jacket. “I'm going to run home and jump on the internet for a bit and call my travel agent. I'll be back around lunch and we'll go down to the diner and have a bite to eat.” Momma Peach shot Sam a stern eye. “If we can gag down the food that awful diner serves, that is,” he said and vanished.

  Momma Peach stared at the kitchen door and then went back to work. She shivered in the cold, wet air that gusted through the kitchen in the wake of Mr. Sam’s exit. “I wouldn't mind feeling the warm sunshine on my face and white sand under my feet,” she admitted. “I wouldn't mind watching the sunset over a beautiful ocean, either…oh, maybe I do need a vacation because my mind sure does feel tired of this gray winter sky—” Momma Peach stopped speaking when she heard the phone ringing from the front room. She quickly wiped flour off her hands, hurried into the front room, and answered the phone. “Momma Peach's Bakery.”

  “Claire, is that you?” Aunt Rachel asked in a sleepy voice. “Why didn't you come over and watch ‘Wheel of Fortune’ with me?”

  Momma Peach froze. “Oh no,” she moaned in a whisper, “it's Aunt Rachel.”

  “Claire? Speak up, I can't hear you,” Aunt Rachel snapped with gleeful spite. Momma Peach could hear an old rerun of “Gunsmoke” in the background and Aunt Rachel’s gums were smacking on something, probably her favorite prunes. She liked prunes almost as much as she liked aggravating her favorite niece. “Take the cotton out of your ears.”

  “I'm not Claire,” Momma Peach cried out in agony. “This is Caroline...your niece...the one you called? The one who lives in Georgia.”

  “George? No, I don't know any George,” Aunt Rachel replied as she chomped into the phone, something juicy and sticky and disgusting. Momma Peach shuddered a little to hear it. Aunt Rachel was in high form today indeed. “Claire, are you seeing a man?”

  “No!” Momma Peach cried and then began banging the phone against her head. “Aunt Rachel, this is Caroline.”

  “Claire, did you move to South Carolina?” Aunt Rachel asked.

  “No, you old bag of beans!” Momma Peach sputtered, losing her temper at last.

  “Beans? Claire, you know beans give you gas,” Aunt Rachel scolded Momma Peach. “Now, are you coming over to watch ‘Wheel of Fortune’ with me tonight or what?”

  Momma Peach took a careful breath and sent a prayer up to the heavens. “No, I'm not going to watch ‘Wheel of Fortune’ with you tonight, Aunt Rachel. How can I? I live hundreds of miles away from you!”

  “You live right down the street from me,” Aunt Claire told Momma Peach. “Claire, did you up and move without telling me?”

  “No, I didn't up and move,” Momma Peach exclaimed and slowly began contemplating walking out onto a busy highway and playing in traffic. “Aunt Rachel,” she said, nearly going insane, “this is Caroline...your niece...” she said through gritted teeth. “Not Claire. I don't even know who Claire is.”

  “Claire, you sound constipated,” Aunt Rachel commented above the sounds of a shootout playing on her old television in the background. “This Matt Dillon, I tell you, he sure knows how to make an outlaw eat dirt! Claire, you need to eat prunes like me, you hear?”

  “I'm not constipated!” Momma Peach screamed.

  Aunt Rachel chuckled to herself. Momma Peach was convinced the old woman took a special pleasure in driving her niece mad, though she had yet to prove it. “Claire, are you eating your fiber pills every morning like Dr. Thornberry told you? You know you're supposed to walk down to the corner drug store every week and get those fiber pills and eat three a day. Can't poop without fiber.”

  Momma Peach let her head drop. What was the point of putting herself into an early grave over a crazy old lady? “Sure, I take my fiber pills,” she promised. “Why I walk myself down there to that corner drug store every week and tell the man wearing the white coat to give me my poop pills, oh yes, my dear. You know it's true.”

  Aunt Rachel chuckled to herself again. She enjoyed it when Momma Peach reached her limit and began acting silly. “That's good, Claire,” she said. “Now tell me, where is Wilbur, huh? Is he still minding that old corn patch of his?”

  Momma Peach bit down on her lip and nodded her head. Yep, the old woman was surely going to drive her mad before her time. Before she could tell Aunt Rachel that Wilbur was locked away in a white padded room, the front door opened and Rosa walked in, dripping with more than just the rain. Rosa was crying. “Oh dear,” Momma Peach exclaimed. “Aunt Rachel, I have to go. You can drive me insane some other time.” Momma Peach slammed down the phone and ran to Rosa. “Baby?” she asked.

  Rosa ran into Momma Peach's arms. “Oh, Momma Peach, it's so horrible,” she cried.

  Momma Peach wrapped her arms around Rosa and pulled her close. “What was horrible?” she asked. “You tell Momma Peach! Did someone try and hurt you? Oh, tell me and I’ll go beat some sense into that person, yes sir and yes, ma’am.”

  Rosa shook her head no. “No...it's nothing like that.” Rosa looked up at Momma Peach with tear-filled eyes. Her young, sweet face was hurt and broken. “It’s my grandparents. They have to move back to Mexico.”

  “Mexico?” Momma Peach asked.

  Rosa nodded her head. She slowly let go of Momma Peach and removed a bright pink rain jacket, revealing a dark brown dress that seemed a tad too big for her. “Yes,” she said and hung the rain jacket on the wooden coat rack next to the front door. “Mexico.” She sighed heavily.

  Momma Peach sighed and gently pushed the dripping ponytail off Rosa’s tender shoulders to squeeze the rain out of it. “Oh, my sweet baby,” she said, staring into Rosa's upset face. “Your grandparents want you to move back to Mexico too, is that it?”

  Rosa nodded her head yes. “Momma Peach, if my grandparents move back to Mexico...and if I don't go...I'll be alone.”

  “No, you won't,” Momma Peach pointed out. “You'll always have me to take care of you, and Mandy to love you, and Michelle to guard your back, and Mr. Sam to watch over you.”

  “I know,” Rosa wiped at her tears, “but...I won't have my grandparents.” Rosa walked up to the front counter. “I was supposed to have classes today, but I was too upset to go.”

  Momma Peach followed Rosa up to the front counter. “Baby,” she said in a worried voice, “are you thinking about...moving to Mexico?” she asked.

  Rosa stared at Momma Peach. “If I don't...I won't have any place to live and I can't afford to...” Rosa stopped talking. “Momma Peach, I can't stay because I can't afford to live alone.”

  Momma Peach gently wiped Rosa's tears away. “Did you come to Momma Peach to ask for help?” Rosa shamefully nodded her head. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Momma Peach smiled and pulled Rosa into her loving arms. “I am going to make sure you are wrapped in a warm blanket and taken care of, don't you worry.”

  Rosa rested in Momma Peach's embrace and closed her eyes. She needed a vacation away from all her worries, too.

  Sam beamed across the dinner table like a rooster in a hen house. “Rosa, you can stay at the farmhouse with me. There's plenty of room, and I know Ellie would be so happy with you there, she’ll have a fit,” he said and took a sip of sweet te
a.

  Momma Peach grumbled to herself. She didn't like sitting behind enemy lines eating enemy food. “Look at that old woman sitting behind that there cash register like she's the queen of the world,” she told Sam and Rosa. “That old woman serves the worst food known to man.”

  Rosa glanced down at the cheeseburger she was eating. The cheeseburger was delicious, but she couldn't let Momma Peach know that. Instead, she focused on Sam's offer. “Sam, that's very kind, but I work part-time at Momma Peach's bakery and go to school. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to pay much—”

  “If you try to give me a single penny, I'll evict you,” Sam warned Rosa and tossed her a kind wink. “Rosa, I'm a wealthy man. I don't need money, and I wouldn't ever dare take a penny from you.” Sam took another sip of sweet tea. The tea was perfect, but of course, he had to make a sour face just to please Momma Peach. “Now, there is a bedroom at the farmhouse sitting empty. The room is yours until you grow old and gray. All you have to do is say the word and we'll go get you a bed, a nightstand...everything you need. I'll even paint the room pink if you'd like.”

  Rosa looked at Momma Peach. “Momma Peach wanted me to come and live with her,” she told Sam.

  Sam frowned. He really wanted Rosa to live at the farmhouse. Why? Because he never had a daughter and Momma Peach’s young helpers at the bakery, Rosa and Mandy, felt like daughters to him now, just like Michelle had come to be. “Momma Peach, can I steal Rosa away? I mean...well, I do have that elephant and...a lot of land and room...I think maybe Rosa might—”

  “Hold it,” Momma Peach warned Sam, “don't you dare say my house is too small.” Momma Peach drew in a deep breath. She looked at Rosa and then back at Sam and allowed a smile to touch her eyes. “Because if you did, Mr. Sam, you'd be right. With Old Joe living with me, well, Momma Peach’s house has become a bit smaller.” Momma Peach looked back at Rosa. “Rosa, tell me what you want.”