Punch, Pastries, and Poison by Harper Lin (ebook reader for pc and android .txt) 📕

“Dwelling on it isn’t going to help, Fran,” she said quietly. “Even if it is something about the café, there’s nothing we can do about it until we know what it is. The hospital will do an aut—” She stopped and looked at Sammy’s wide eyes. “The hospital will do tests to find out why Ephy collapsed. For all we know, she choked.”

“She didn’t choke,” I interjected. “I’ve seen people choke.” I didn’t add that if she had choked, I didn’t have high hopes for her after the amount of time she’d been down and how much CPR she’d had.

Rhonda gave me a look I could imagine her using on her kids and continued. “For all we know,” she repeated emphatically, “she choked. Until the hospital takes a look at her, we don’t know anything. Now eat your lettuce wraps before you get loopy from low blood sugar.”

I looked helplessly down at the plate in front of me. The suggestion that Ephy choked to death didn’t make me any more inclined to put something in my mouth.

“It will make you feel better.”

“It will make me feel nauseous,” I said. “More nauseous. I already feel nauseous.”

“We all do. But we’re going to eat our food because someone cooked it for us and if we’re going to figure out why people are getting sick at the café, we need our bodies to be strong.” She looked at Sammy. “What was it her mom used to say?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Food feeds the heart and nourishes the soul. Your heart and soul need nourishment. You need to eat. Your mother would want you to.”

It was a low blow. We were coming up on the one-year anniversary of my mom’s sudden death, and Rhonda knew I still got emotional about it. Even now, I felt the tears burning in my eyes.

“She’s right, Fran,” Sammy said softly. “The first thing your mom would do whenever somebody came in upset about something was to have sit them down and make them eat.”

I knew they were right, but I wasn’t ready to admit it.

“Do you remember last fall when Amanda came in crying because she failed her chorus final?” Sammy asked Rhonda.

Rhonda smiled at the memory. “She prepared the wrong song, didn’t she?”

Sammy nodded. “Your mom let her clock in and then had her go sit down at a table. Amanda thought she was in trouble or something, but then your mom came out with a basil-tomato-mozzarella sandwich and a bowl of minestrone and sat across from her until Amanda ate every last bite. And then she told Amanda about the time she made a tarte instead of a torte for an exam in culinary school.”

A reluctant smile spread across my face. I’d heard that story before too. And I’d been force-fed soup on more than one occasion growing up when I was anxious about a test or sad about a boy. It really did help. I just wished my mother was here to force-feed me soup now.

“Your mom’s not here to make you eat now, but I am,” Rhonda said, as if she could read my mind.

I nodded. Nodding was all I could manage with the tears that threatened to fall.

“Did you hear the one about the guy who walked into a bar?”

I looked at Rhonda in confusion.

“You look like you need a joke.” She looked over at Sammy. “I think we all need a joke. So did you hear the one about the guy who walked into a bar?” She waited a moment and then delivered the punchline. “It hurt.”

I laughed despite myself at the sheer stupidity of the joke.

“What do you call a fish with no eyes?” Sammy asked. “A fsh.”

I laughed again. A couple of tears squeezed out of my eyes, but the dumb jokes had worked. I wiped the tears away with my napkin.

“Why was six afraid of seven?” Rhonda said. “Because seven eight nine. Get it? Seven ate nine?”

I rolled my eyes but giggled.

“Now eat, Fran!”

“Okay, okay.” I held my hands up in surrender. I still didn’t think I could stomach anything, but I knew when I was defeated. Rhonda wasn’t going to let me leave the table until I ate, and if I was honest with myself, my mother wouldn’t have let me either.

I looked down at the lettuce wraps that under other circumstances would look appealing and took a deep breath. I had just convinced myself that maybe I could get a few bites down when the door from the restaurant to the deck swung open, and Mike strode through.

He looked tired and worn. It had only been a little over an hour since I’d seen him last, but he seemed to have aged five years. His hair was rumpled, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

He scanned the room and landed on me. “We need to talk.” He nodded to a table at the opposite corner of the patio.

I had to admit I was grateful to have an excuse to leave my plate. I may have been used to swallowing down food every time I was feeling down, but that didn’t mean I was excited to do it. With a quick look at Sammy and Rhonda, I followed Mike to the far corner. He took the chair against the wall where he could see the door, and I sat across from him.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. I could tell that he had bad news.

After a moment, he rubbed his face with his hands then ran them through his hair. “Tell me again about the box of chocolates.”

I wanted to ask about Ephy, but I wasn’t ready to have my suspicions about her death confirmed. I shrugged. “I already told you everything I know.”

He gave me a look that seemed like he wanted to be annoyed but was too tired. “Tell me again.”

I sighed and started in. “We were really