A Taste of Red

A Taste of Red

Chapters: 20
Updated: 19 Dec 2024
Author: Jessica Taylor
4.5

Synopsis

Betty has a broken heart, and women with broken hearts do unpredictable things. Deciding to start her life over, she leaves her current life behind, taking a chance on an old inn. With her trusty dog at her side, she discovers that business ownership can be murder.

Mystery Thriller Romance Meant To Be Second Chance Crime

A Taste of Red Free Chapters

Chapter 1 | A Taste of Red

Pausing a moment to put her dirty blonde hair up in a messy bun, Betty sighed while looking at the boxes neatly taped and labeled in her new apartment. Beaux Jacques, her faithful boxer, sat in the corner patiently until he sensed her distress and walked up to her, nudging against her neck. “Hey, now, Beaux, until you learn how to read boxes, I don’t need your help.” Betty giggled and then wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck, happily accepting his affection. Sometimes she still doubted if the move was the best decision to make, but when she saw just how her older canine’s spirits were lifted by the amount of time they had together, she knew in her heart it was the right thing to do.

She recalled the things she had lost since she took her corporate job. She lost count of the times she had to tell her family she couldn’t come to birthday celebrations, graduations, or even a select few funerals. She skipped most holiday meals, foregoing carving the turkey for spreadsheets and legal letters, she insisted on drafting herself. She desired excellence in every case she undertook and would work days on end to make sure her clients were well-represented. She valued the law above all things and always prided herself on her research skills and had the uncanny ability to notice details others often missed. She also thought quickly on her feet in the courtroom and could flip an argument to her advantage on a moment’s notice. While she was paid highly for her services, it came at a great expense. Betty’s family pulled away and because distant through the years. She didn’t have many family members remaining, only a distant aunt and a cousin who just simply stopped calling when she didn’t have the time to engage in any conversations or catch up. Her friends also were lacking, save for the occasional dinner with a couple of women from her office; she lived her life mainly in solitude.

Opening a box labeled, ‘kitchen,’ she glanced inside and saw an assortment of pots and pans. She hadn’t had time before to actually cook, and most nights she spent with takeout from Chinese restaurants pouring over case details or researching profit margins. That was a complete change Betsy intended to make. She would cook and take the time to study it at her bed and breakfast as well when time allowed. She always admired some of the chefs she’d watch at work in the finer restaurants she frequented during dinner meetings. They seemed to have a certain passion and patience with their culinary delights. She had precision; it was the patience she didn’t know if she could grasp.

After glancing at Beaux Jacques, happily snoring on her sweatshirt in the corner, she began hanging up the pots and pans on the pot rack in the corner. She placed them in order from the smallest to largest. She insisted on her space being orderly and pristine, not so much for aesthetics, but for efficiency’s sake. She then organized her silverware in their respective slots and placed her cherry red teapot in the center of the stove to make the space feel as if she were really home. She enjoyed a good cup of tea with milk and sugar in the evenings to unwind before bed, usually while sitting on the sofa in her pajamas and comfy socks. She smiled to herself, noting the room had actually begun to come alive with some of her favorite things in place. Moving on, she found a box she had only marked, ‘mementos.’ She frowned and sighed. The box had been in storage for many years, but she had a feeling she knew its exact contents. Hearing the rustling of the cardboard, Beaux Jacques opened one eye and grumbled before he realized that nothing was coming to harm his human. He rolled onto his back and quickly began snoring once more.

Frowning, she pulled out a few assorted photo frames. She had a faded photograph of her parent’s wedding framed. She also had a newspaper article framed and matted, which didn’t celebrate any accomplishment, only served as a grim reminder of how quickly life could be taken away. Shortly after Betty graduated from high school, her parents were killed in an automobile accident while on a spontaneous road trip. They had planned to have a weekend in the mountains at a cozy ski lodge, in an attempt to rekindle the romance in their marriage when they hit a patch of black ice. The car spun off a bridge into icy waters below. The forensics specialist speculated they both had died on impact. She only could hope their passing was quick and merciful.

After they passed, Betty found herself alone to navigate the rest of her adulthood, save for her aunt, who proved to be a wise council but was no substitute for a father’s wisdom or a mother’s emotional coddling. Betty threw herself into her academic work then. She had already obtained a scholarship, but focused on making the Dean’s list every semester and found herself the proud recipient of a fellowship that covered her graduate school expenses as well. She continued her work ethic and entered law school, where she focused her interests on corporate law, yet still had more than passing interest in criminal law. She decided it would be best for her career and employment opportunities to focus on passing the bar to practice corporate law with an additional concentration in business studies and marketing. Betty then pulled out her framed diplomas, which would be placed in a pile to be moved to the bed and breakfast’s office. The next framed photo she pulled out of the box made her gasp. She inhaled a sharp breath and immediately sat down in the living room beside the box. She ran her fingertips over the dusty glass and traced the image of a young man standing beside her in a cap and gown. He was tall with deep-set brown eyes and a chiseled jawline. He looked at the camera intensely, but his arm was wrapped securely around Betsy, who was also clad in graduation attire.

She held the frame in her hands, which were shaking. She hadn’t allowed herself to look at the picture for many years. The entire relationship she had with her ex-boyfriend, Thomas, was a point of pain for the young woman. She was convinced that after they both graduated law school, they would practice at a firm together, moving in together, settling down, and getting married. Her imagined future was never to be. While they both went into their chosen fields and attempted to find time and energy to see one another, after a few months, their relationship just crumbled. Thomas was enjoying a posh lifestyle he had never experienced previously, and he was also enjoying all the attention that the more attractive females were giving him. Thomas did have the perfect package; he was handsome, intelligent, and career-driven. He would make some woman a fine husband if he would settle down. The problem was Betty wanted to settle down, and Thomas had no plans of doing that whatsoever. Betty recalled how she, in a moment of weakness, broke down in front of Thomas and pleaded with him to stay with her, asking him over and over how she could change to make their relationship work. His reply was nothing more than icy silence, as he hugged her, leaving her with only a brief goodbye. The early snowfall that November and the snapshot she had framed were the only significant memories she had of Thomas. She vowed after their short relationship to focus on her career, and the rest of her life would fall into place.

After nearly a decade of climbing the corporate ladder and working non-stop sixty-hour workweeks, she finally decided to just stop. After work one evening, she got in her car. Looking at the odometer, she realized that despite being a newer model, she never really drove it for a long distance. She was not spontaneous, but it was a lovely evening, so she left the office, went home, changed into a pair of sweats, and leashed Beaux Jacques. He happily wagged his tail as he hopped in the backseat of the car, and they drove for miles, stopping at gas stations for hot dogs and slushies as they enjoyed a midnight road trip. Betty realized she needed a change in her life. She couldn’t connect with other people any longer, and she wanted to get her humanity back. A few weeks later, she called her aunt, who gave the indispensable advice and validation she needed. She had acclimated quite a bit of saving by living frugally and not investing in a family, so she began looking on the internet for a suitable location to start her life over.

Betty took the box into the bedroom and, after taking out her diplomas and putting them into a separate box labeled ‘office,’ sat on the edge of her bed. The king-size bed took up the center of the room, and it was barren as she hadn’t had the opportunity to make it yet. She sighed and looked around the sparse space. She would do what she could to make it feel welcoming and cozy, but at the moment, it felt strange. She had never been a person to crave material things, but at the same time, she desired something different for her new location. She would go into town later after walking Beaux Jacques and pick up some new sheets and perhaps a few gallons of paint to brighten up the space. Her new landlord was so impressed by her employment history and rental references he had given her carte blanche with the option of making any changes she so desired in the space. He trusted that she would make suitable choices and restore the apartment back to its natural state should she choose to leave. She knew though a good majority of her time would be taken up by her bed and breakfast, but this time around, her life would be different. She would keep herself a separate space in the apartment, a type of secret hideaway from the daily grind.

Betty got up and walked once more to the living room, carrying assorted boxes labeled with ‘summer clothes’ and ‘winter clothes’ to the bedroom. She was meticulous when packing and sorting them so that when she went to hang them in the closet, she would only have to deal with one season at a time. When all her clothing was moved into the bedroom, the only thing that remained was the box labeled ‘art.’ When she was in law school, Betty developed quite the habit of being an art critic. Her tastes were eclectic in the paintings she chose, but most of them were minimalistic, save for a few fantasy paintings which were rich in detail in color. Those she decided she would display in her new living room. She only chose pieces that struck a chord in her and made her feel the passion. She recalled how, when she needed to get away from her books and assignments, she would slip into the campus art gallery late at night with a cup of tea and just simply stare at the pieces, as if she were expecting them to speak to her. Of course, they never really spoke to her, not in the physical sense, but they seemed to soothe her soul in a way, almost offering her a spiritual hug and proved to be quite a comfort on longer, cooler evenings.

Deciding she would wait for the movers to arrive with her furniture before hanging the paintings, she padded to the bathroom and began to put away her toiletries. She opened her box of soft towels and hung the shower curtain on metal rings. She opted for an apartment with only a shower and not a garden tub. She was unique in the fact that unlike most women, she preferred a quick shower with the water as hot as she could possibly stand it against her skin. She didn’t lie for long periods of time, soaping her skin and daydreaming about romance or reading a book. She simply sought to burn the stress of the day off her skin. It was like she needed to scorch any sins off her body before sleeping. She also knew through the variety of facts she had stored in her brain that a bath was not as effective as a shower for getting rid of dead skin cells and any germs that were harbored on her skin. Making quick work of putting her towels away and setting her toothbrush on the sink, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her messy bun had become haphazard off-center on her head, and her thin layer of the foundation had sweated away through her activity. If she were going into town, she wanted to make sure she left a good impression on anyone she met on her way to bed and breakfast. After all, she had to present herself as a successful entrepreneur. Being a lawyer had taught her that humans weren’t geared for a long-term interaction to form an opinion of like or dislike. She would put herself together before taking Beaux Jacques on his evening jaunt.

Chapter 2 | A Taste of Red

Hearing her movement, Beaux Jacques padded into the bathroom, wagging his tail as he located his owner. “Well, hello. Did you enjoy your little nap? Some of us aren’t as lucky to be able to nap whenever we want to. So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to put myself together, and then we’re going to take a walk into town and grab some lunch. I think I saw a small café by the dog park. How’s that sound, Beaux?”

Of course, the loving creature didn’t answer her, but he did sit obediently and stretched his paw out to her. “Okay. We’ll shake on it, and then it’s a deal.”

Betty smiled broadly as she watched her canine companion whish his tail back and forth as he exited the room and lay down in front of the bathroom door, which she shut behind him. She had gotten quite heated from moving the boxes and sorting through her dusty relics, so she decided the best option would be a quick shower to cleanse not only her body but her soul as well. It had been an emotional day, and unpacking boxes of memories hadn’t done Betty any favors. She knew that she needed to be positive. This new business was a chance for her to start her life over and find some type of happiness in her existence. She did, after all, have a lot to offer the world. She was intelligent, witty, and confident. Looking at the mirror, though, she took off her horn-rimmed glasses and frowned. She had never seen herself as pretty. She was just simply not the type of woman who could be found spending any significant length of time at the cosmetics section or the hair care aisle at the drugstore. She did have a professional appearance, but never really put forth any special effort to really draw attention to her face. She was just average, and that is how she expected others viewed her as well. In fact, during the brief time they dated, she couldn’t recall an occasion where Thomas had actually verbalized she was beautiful or attractive. He merely enjoyed the random facts she could generate about any topic of conversation they had.

Stripping off her sweats, she still continued her own self-evaluation. She did have a few extra pounds she had managed to gain as she spent most of her past sitting at a desk, inactive as she completed her work. Since the move, she had vowed to lose some of the extra bulge she had on her belly. She would begin her quest to lose her ‘muffin top’ as soon as possible. Betty also wasn’t necessarily pleased with the extra padding she had developed around her hips. She would consider herself ‘curvier’ than most of her peers and had a rather voluptuous bosom, that she supposed some men may have considered attractive. She did nothing to accentuate that fact, though. In fact, oftentimes, she cursed that fact when it came time to make a trip to a lingerie store for new undergarments. The variety of styles and colors were limited to choose from due to size restrictions. It seemed as if fashion designers hadn’t gotten the memo yet that women with fuller breasts wanted some color in their life as well. She made a mental note to look online or even in town at some of the shops for new things that would perhaps make her feel a tad sexier, but it would be an idea that she would in actuality push to the back of her brain. ‘Feeling pretty’ was simply not a notion that was high on her list of priorities at the moment.

She turned on the water in the shower and let it heat up for a moment before stepping in. She decided that she would also stop at a drugstore in town and pick up some supplies she had neglected to pack. She simply brought travel size toiletries with her until she got settled. She stepped in, allowing the steam to relax her tired muscles and began to soap up her shoulder-length hair. She attempted once to have longer hair but decided it would be easier upkeep to get a stylish mid-length cut. She took her time lathering it and then proceeded to condition it several times; to make sure each strand got a proper amount of moisture. She liked her hair and, despite her past considerations, opted not to dye it any outrageous colors in an attempt to express herself creatively. Though she oftentimes found herself admiring those bold enough to modify their own bodies with art, she knew she could never let her inhibitions down enough to do it herself.

After taking a moment to lather a healthy layer of lotion on her skin post-shower, she found herself feeling much better. She now smelled of warm vanilla with a hint of orange. She liked warm scents and found comfort in the softness vanilla had. She enjoyed the fact that even after she left a room, she realized that a trace of her would remain there in her scent. Getting dressed, she pulled on a pair of tight grey yoga pants she brought to go walking in and a tight pink tank top with spaghetti straps. She then pulled her hair up once more in a messy bun and applied a thin layer of clear lip gloss for moisture. She then paused to check her reflection once more in the mirror before pulling on her socks and sneakers. Beaux Jacques picked up on her action clues and stood by the front door of the apartment, happily waiting, wagging his tail. “It seems you’re always waiting on a woman, doesn’t it Beaux? Are you ready to go exploring? I think we’ll go for a long walk while we’re waiting on the furniture… maybe a picnic at a café and I’ll get you a hot dog at the park?”

Beaux responded with an excited woof, and Betty attached a leash around his collar. Beaux was a faithful companion and would walk easily with her sans leash, but he was a larger creature, and she knew that many people would be intimidated by his appearance, so for his own safety, she kept him by her side with the strap. She grabbed her keys, and the pair walked outside her apartment. She was fortunate enough to find a ground floor apartment that was laid out almost like a townhouse, only with less square footage. It was fairly close to the middle of town, where her business was located, and she was excited to explore her new city. Granted, she did do some research before purchasing bed and breakfast and deciding to relocate, so it wasn’t necessarily on a whim, but at the same time, she had much to learn about the area and her new community.

Together they walked through the quiet subdivision and admired the scenic view of the skyline as they passed the larger homes in the gated complex. She waved at a group of joggers who smiled at her and waved as they passed, all keeping time with one another. Beaux picked up his pace slightly and lifted his nose, sniffing the fresh air. He was an older dog, but could still be quick when he had the desire to be. To complement Beaux Jacques, Betty picked up her pace also, and as she spotted the route to Main Street, she realized he was reacting to the smell of food coming for the local café. “Haha. Okay, Beaux. You’re right. We’ve worked pretty hard this evening; I think it’s time we stopped for dinner.”

She walked to one of the tables outside of the restaurant and sat down, taking a deep breath. She mused that it was definitely time for her to get in shape, feeling winded after her little walk. She already decided she liked the quaint, quiet sophistication of the restaurant, and picked up a menu, perusing it briefly before a waiter in a vest and bowtie came over to her table, smiling. He greeted her cordially and said, “Welcome to the Cup and Saucer, my name’s Hank. What can I do for you today?”

She smiled back at him in appreciation before Beaux grumbled underneath the table at his approach. He backed up a few steps in shock; he didn’t notice the dog lying there. “Hey, Beaux, relax! That’s not how you treat strangers… we’ve talked about this.” The dog settled down quickly at her command, and the shy waiter approached once more. “I’m sorry my dog gave you a scare. He really is harmless; he’s just bigger than what he thinks he is.”

“What kind is he?”

“He’s a boxer mix. His name is Beaux Jacques, and he’s been my faithful companion for over a decade now. My name’s Betty. Again, I’m so sorry for Beaux’s rude behavior. He’s normally not like that with people, but I suppose he’s just nervous about our new environment.”

“Oh, really? Are you just passing through town?”

She smiled shyly at the younger waiter then continued, “Oh no. We’ll be staying a while, I hope. I just bought the Cornerstone, so I’m the new owner. I’m sure that’s already been speculated upon. From what I understand, it’s been a big part of the town’s social history for many years.”

“You’re definitely correct, Miss. The Cornerstone has been one of the biggest contributors to our little town’s success throughout the years. My grandmother used to tell me stories about the lavish parties they would hold during prohibition. The management didn’t hide the fact that alcohol was being served in spades, they simply made a choice to include the local authorities in a cut of their profits, and so wine country could continue to flourish even with the ban on alcoholic beverages. They realized that the vineyards needed someplace to supply their wine to. Otherwise, the entire industry would fold due to government restrictions, and thousands would be without jobs. In turn, the community remembered the Cornerstone’s contribution to the local economy and participated in fundraisers to restore bed and breakfast back to its previous glory. It really is magnificent.”

“I’m glad the community approves of it. I’m excited to be running it. I really don’t plan on making drastic changes. If anything, I’m a proponent of history and a fan of nostalgia in all forms. My name’s Betty, by the way… you don’t need to call me Miss.”

“Well, I didn’t know if it was Miss or Mrs…”

“Haha. There’s no Mr. if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ah. Very well then, Betty. What can I bring you and your friend?”

“Um… whatever you recommend. I’m famished, so everything looks good.”

With a slight wink, the waiter said, “I’ll be right back with something to ease your appetite, Betty.” Betty watched him walk away and reddened slightly. She didn’t get hit on by handsome men often, but she smiled and mused to herself that she just might enjoy wine country after all.