Fudge Brownies & Murder - Culinary Competition Mystery #4

Chapter 18

(Carla)

Carla slammed the refrigerator door shut with her hip. The cinnamon roll cheesecake brownies were one of Amy's best creations yet. Irresistible. She needed to remember to tell her that she should try entering the recipe in a contest. Carla picked up the plate that her mother made, stacked with two of the brownies that her best friend made, and began lumbering back to the couch.

The deadbolt on the front door clicked open before she and her food bounty made it back to the cushions that were beginning to form permanent depressions in the shape of her body. Her mother rushed in accompanied by a swirl of snow. Amy followed on her heels. She slammed the door shut, but it was too late. Carla had a case of all-over goosebumps. The baby showed its disapproval of the involuntary reaction by kicking her in the ribs. "Where have you two been?" she asked as she used her free hand to rub the tender area on the edge of her belly. "I thought you were just going downtown."

Amy shrugged. "We decided to expand our shopping area and went to Ann Arbor, too." She was staring at the painting of a rocky beach that hung on the wall beside the fireplace. Something was going on. Lack of eye contact meant Amy was doing her usual poor job of trying to hide the truth. She didn't wear her heart on her sleeve. Amy broadcast her emotions through her facial expressions.

The two of them had been gone for the entire afternoon. More than enough time to come up with all kinds of devious plans. "And what else did you do?"

"Nothing much...we had lunch at an Indian vegetarian restaurant." Amy scuffed her boots on the welcome mat. They were splotched with dark water stains and blobs of mud. "Other than that, just making sure you are all set for the baby since you don't want a shower."

Checkmate. Amy had tipped her hand by mentioning the topic she was trying to avoid. The baby shower. It was a pretty normal thing to have. Like her mother had said, a tradition. Almost a ritual for pregnant women. So how could she explain in a way that her mom and Amy would even remotely understand why she didn't want a shower? It was because having the shower would stir up the emotions that she had been pushing aside. She had made it through the past year by putting her efficient, analytical side in charge. Rushing from one major life change to the next, checking off tasks on lists so she wouldn't think about what was happening too much. Not that she could take back the pregnancy. It was just that a year ago she had her life and goals all figured out, or at least she'd convinced herself that she was on the right-for-her route. Getting married and having a baby was so far off course, yet she couldn't and wouldn't change anything. However, if she thought about it all too much, she wanted to curl into a ball a cry for a week. Soooo not her style. Pregnancy hormones were seriously weird.

Her mother slipped off her wood-soled clogs. "I'm going to go get some storage bins. We can use those to bring the stuff in."

"Storage bins? How much did you buy?" The baby connected with a roundhouse kick on her bladder. No matter how badly she wanted to find out more about what they were up to, Carla needed to pay another room in the house a visit.

"Not nearly enough," her mother answered as she walked by, landing a gentle pat on the baby bump. "I'm sorry, my dear. But I'm not sure you have any idea, at this point, how much stuff a newborn baby needs."

"I have printed out checklists from websites. I'm sure I have enough supplies for right now."

When Carla returned from the bathroom, four huge storage bins were stacked along the wall next to the front door. Of course, they happened to be made of opaque plastic, so she had no idea what was inside. The front door opened. Amy and her mother entered, both of them struggling to carry bins which appeared to be heavy. Pacifiers and onesies didn't weigh much. What had they bought? Carla ran her fingers through her short, recently trimmed hair. That reminded her that not only was Amy doing cooking duties for her and Bruce several times a week, she was also performing hairdressing for the bedridden services. She owed her friend so much, especially since she was now taking on taxi driver for her mother and the insane shopping trips.