Paper Cuts, page 1
Also by Ellery Adams:
The Secret, Book, and Scone Society Mysteries:
The Secret, Book & Scone Society
The Whispered Word
The Book of Candlelight
Ink and Shadows
The Vanishing Type
Papers Cuts
Book Retreat Mysteries:
Murder in the Mystery Suite
Murder in the Paperback Parlor
Murder in the Secret Garden
Murder in the Locked Library
Murder in the Reading Room
Murder in the Storybook Cottage
Murder in the Cookbook Nook
Murder on the Poet’s Walk
Murder in the Book Lover’s Loft
PAPER CUTS
ELLERY ADAMS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Paper Cuts: A Secret, Book, and Scone Society Mystery Reader’s Guide
Bibliotherapy & Book Lists from Paper Cuts
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2023 by Ellery Adams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20229508221
The K and Teapot logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2647-6
First Kensington Hardcover Edition: May 2023
ISBN: 978-1-4967-2649-0 (ebook)
This book is for every parent of a neurodiverse child. You are your child’s tireless advocate, fiercest gladiator, selfless hero, and loyal friend. Parenting is hard, and no one does it perfectly, even though social media makes it seem like some do. When things get tough, remember that your perfectly amazing child is crafting their own perfectly amazing story.
Always, Ellery
When people hurt you over and over, think of them like sandpaper. They may scratch and hurt you a bit, but in the end, you end up polished and they end up useless.
—Chris Colfer
Paper is more patient than man.
—Anne Frank
The Secret, Book, and Scone Society Members
Nora Pennington, owner of Miracle Books
Hester Winthrop, owner of the Gingerbread House Bakery
Estella Sadler, owner of Magnolia Salon and Spa
June Dixon, Guest Experience Manager, Miracle Springs Lodge
Relevant Miracle Springs Residents
Sheriff Grant McCabe
Deputy Jasper Andrews
K9 Handler Paula Hollowell
Sheldon Vega
Kirk and Val Walsh
Kelly and Tucker Walsh
Gus Sadler
Relevant Visitors to Miracle Springs
Justine James
Lawrence Townsend
Colton Fieri
Dana Kopinski
Chapter 1
What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.
—Geoffrey Chaucer
“I loved this book.” Hester Winthrop stroked the paperback on her lap as if it were a cat. “I underlined a bunch of passages, but my favorite line was when A-ma said, ‘Always remember that food is medicine, and medicine is food.’”
The perfect arch of Estella’s left brow rose a centimeter. “Your food is more like therapy than actual medicine.”
Hester laughed. “Come on. Does broccoli make you feel better when you’re down? No, it doesn’t. Certain times call for donuts and chocolate cake and pecan pie with ice cream. If comfort food isn’t medicine, then I don’t know what is.”
“Maybe I should shelve a few baking books in the Health section,” said Nora Pennington, proprietor of Miracle Books.
June Dixon, Guest Experience Manager at Miracle Springs Lodge, a high-class resort frequented by guests from all over the world, peered at her friends from over the rims of her reading glasses. “All I can say is that I’m glad to be living in this era of body positivity. When I was in school, back in the Stone Age, girls were always trash-talking other girls. I don’t know why, but we all did it. From the top of our heads right on down to our toes, we were too big, too small, too pointy, too wide. No one wore the right clothes. And don’t even get me started on hair. You don’t know nasty until you hear what some folks say about Black hair.”
“That kind of thing doesn’t stop when girls become women either,” said Estella. “Every time I put two ladies of any age, race, or class under the blow-dryers together, they start picking apart the celebrities in People. I don’t know why all women can’t just be happy when other women succeed. Why can’t we tell another woman they look good without worrying about how we look?”
Hester smiled at Estella. “You always look good. And June? You’re channeling Etta James with that new do.”
June passed a hand over her head. She usually kept it close-cropped, but Estella had convinced her to rock a teeny-weeny, icy-blond Afro. “Which tea would Etta order?” she asked as she studied the paper menu on the table before her. “Beau-Tea-Ful or Feeling Flir-Tea?”
Nora removed her copy of Lisa See’s The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane from her bag and placed it on the table. She was ready to order and get their book discussion going.
“I’m going to try the Flir-Tea,” she said. “I’ve never had tea with hibiscus and apple before.”
“I’ve never even heard of flowering tea. I might be in the food business, but I—”
Hester was unable to finish her sentence because Estella suddenly grabbed her by the hand and said, “You’re not wearing your ring. Did you forget to put it on?”
Color rushed to Hester’s cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. “It didn’t feel right to wear it. Things are weird between Jasper and me right now, so I gave it back. The ring belonged to his-mother, which is why he should hold on to it.”
“But you’re still together, right?”
“Yeah. We’re just . . . taking a step back. Being engaged put too much pressure on our relationship. It’s easier to tell people that we decided to put off the wedding than to explain that we’re in couples therapy because I have trust issues. Luckily, no one’s asked me why we postponed the wedding. Without that ginormous event hanging over our heads, we can focus on us without feeling like there’s a clock ticking down the minutes to a wedding.”
Nora searched her friend’s face. “Are you okay?”
Hester seesawed her hand. “I’m getting there. This is going to sound awful, but I feel lighter without that ring on my finger. Our couples counselor asked us to pretend like we’ve just met, so that’s what we’re doing. We’re going out on dates and getting to know each other all over again. It’s strange and super awkward at times, but it’s also kind of sweet. Last night, Jasper walked me to my front door and kissed me good night. He seemed almost shy.”
“Maybe you can bring him here for a lunch date. Everything on the menu sounds good, but Tastes Like Royal-Tea was made for me, don’t you think?” Estella tossed her auburn hair and cupped her chin in her palms.
“Yes, Fergie, it does. I’m getting a Cuppa With My Best-Tea.” June put her menu down. “Looks like we order at the counter. Is everybody ready?”
The four women maneuvered around tables and potted trees on their way to the counter. It was their first visit to Tea Flowers and there was so much to take in. The newest business in Miracle Springs was an eclectic blend of café and garden shop. The large space was divided into sections, with the tea shop on the left and the garden shop on the right. A checkout counter sat in the middle.
The limited menu offered flowering teas, sandwiches, and a selection of macarons. After ordering at the counter, customers could sit at one of the tables in the dining area. The tables were laid with chintz cloths featuring pink roses on a field of pale blue. The floral centerpieces, which were in teapot-shaped vases, were all for sale, and the salt and pepper shakers looked like real blossoms.
The tea-shop side of the business was confined to the counter and dining area, but most of the building was dedicated to gardening. The front section was full of waist-high tables featuring potted herbs, houseplants, flowering plants, and hanging baskets. The shelf sp ace in the back half of the store was stuffed with whimsical pots, gardening tools, bird houses and feeders, and a selection of small statuary. Spinning racks stood like sentinels at the end of every aisle, their pockets stuffed with seed packets, work gloves, and plant labels.
All the potted trees and plants in the café side were for sale, and as Nora and her friends got in line, they heard the customers ahead of them debating over whether to buy the plant on their table—a maidenhair fern in a Ruth Bader Ginsburg face pot—or the snake plant in a llama pot from a neighboring table.
“Can we really pick a llama over RBG?” one man said to the other.
“We can’t. Let’s get both. RBG for us and the llama for your boss. Remember the Christmas party? She was spitting mad when I stole that white elephant gift.”
The first man put his credit card on the counter and gave his partner an affectionate nudge. “She still talks about that! I’m going to give her the llama so I can think about you every time I’m in her office.”
“We should come here more often. Tea makes you extra sweet.”
According to her name tag, the middle-aged brunette behind the counter was Val. She was short and apple-cheeked with blue-gray eyes and a quiet manner. After telling Nora and her friends that she’d be with them in a moment, Val began packing the men’s plants in a small box.
Nora handed June some money. “Will you order for me? I want to check out that Language of Flowers display.”
Scooting behind the two men, Nora examined the baskets of blooming flowers on a tiered display stand. Each basket came with a detailed label and a satin bow. The Sympathy basket was made of marigold for grief, mint for consolation, and chrysanthemum for condolences. The Friends Forever basket had crocus for cheerfulness, ivy for loyalty, and zinnia for friendship. Other baskets were called Love Me Tender, Happy Home, and Let’s Celebrate. But Nora was most intrigued by the I Will Survive basket.
Leaning closer, she read the label to herself, “‘Carnation for heartache, yarrow to cure a broken heart, rue for regret, and lily of the valley for happiness in the future.’”
“Interesting?” June asked when Nora rejoined the group.
“Very. I never think about what flowers mean when I buy them at the grocery store—I just grab the colors I like and plop a bouquet in my cart. Who knows? All this time I might’ve been buying flowers for the shop that mean, ‘I hope you drop dead,’ instead of ‘please spend lots of money here today.’”
June laughed. “I want a bouquet that says, ‘Stop leaving your dirty dishes in the break room sink when the dishwasher is a foot away.’”
Having finished ringing in their tea and sandwich orders, Val gave Estella a number flag to put on their table.
While they waited for their food, Nora told her other friends about the basket of flowers. Like June, Hester was interested, but Estella was lost in her own thoughts. She stared at the number in the center of their table and didn’t say a word.
“What’s wrong?” Nora asked.
By way of reply, Estella opened her copy of The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane to a passage marked with a pink sticky tab. “Want to hear my favorite quote? It feels like it was written for us.”
“Go on,” Hester prompted.
“‘One mistake can change the course of your life. You can never return to your original path or go back to the person you were.’”
The women exchanged meaningful looks. They’d all made mistakes. Big ones. The kind of mistakes that turned family into strangers and made homes uninhabitable. Each woman had done something they deeply regretted. Their mistakes had left deep scars, and though the pain had lessened with time, it would never fully disappear. They couldn’t think about the past without being pricked by cactus spines of regret.
Nora would forever feel shame over what she’d done. She’d gotten behind the wheel after drinking way too much and had crashed into another car. The victims of her reckless behavior had been a mother and child. Their car caught fire and Nora had been burned pulling the woman and her toddler to safety. They sustained minor injuries, but Nora sustained burns from her right hand to her hairline. She lost half a pinkie finger and gained lots of shiny, shell-smooth scars.
A few years ago, a plastic surgeon had worked wonders on her face. Unless one looked closely, her scars were nearly invisible. The surgeon had offered to repair all the evidence of Nora’s burns, but she’d refused. The damaged skin on her neck, arm, and hand served as a constant reminder that she nearly killed two innocent people.
Before June began working at the hotel, she cared for seniors at an assisted living facility in New York. During her fifteen-year tenure, she’d treated each and every resident with compassion and respect. But when the facility was acquired by a national chain, things changed. The grade school kids who came once a week to play board games with the residents were no longer allowed to visit. There was no more animal therapy. The beautiful gardens were neglected, and outings became more and more infrequent. Seeing how depressed the residents had become, June sought to cheer them up by bringing them to a carnival. Unfortunately, a gentleman in her care suffered a fatal heart attack that day. When his family sued June for damages, she lost her life savings and the money she and her husband had saved for their son’s college tuition. In the aftermath, her husband filed for divorce and she and her son became estranged.
Hester, the youngest of the four women, had faced an unexpected pregnancy as a high schooler. After degrading her and imprisoning her in her room, Hester’s parents sent her to a home for unwed mothers. The moment the baby was born, Hester’s daughter was whisked away into the waiting arms of her new parents. Hester never had the chance to hold her. Traumatized by the experience, she never told the baby’s father about the pregnancy or searched for her daughter. Twenty years later, her daughter tracked her down. What could have been a joyful occasion was marred by violence and grief, and now, weekly letters were Hester’s only communication with her child.
Estella was the only Miracle Springs native of the Secret, Book, and Scone Society. Hers had been a hardscrabble childhood. Raised by a negligent mother, Estella had not only been physically and emotionally abused by her mother’s boyfriends, but she’d also experienced the hunger and humiliation of poverty. And when her biological father, a man who’d been absent for most of Estella’s childhood, returned home to find the new man in the house assaulting his daughter, he drew a gun and killed the man on the spot. Estella had always dreamed of escaping Miracle Springs, but with her father imprisoned nearby, she couldn’t leave. She felt responsible for his incarceration, and that guilt had manifested in a series of flings with strangers. The dalliances, which left Estella feeling hollow and tarnished her reputation, ended when she fell in love with a local man named Jack Nakamura.
Right now, Estella didn’t look like a woman in love. Nora saw tension in the fine lines around her mouth and brows.
“I liked that quote too,” Nora said. “It reminded me of why we became the Secret, Book, and Scone Society. We’ve always trusted each other with our secrets. We tell each other things we’d never tell anyone else. So what’s going on? Whatever it is, we’ve got you.”
Estella touched the number card. “Fifteen. That’s how many years my daddy’s been in prison. He’s being released next week.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Hester asked.
“Yes. Of course, it is.” Estella unfolded her napkin and spread it over her lap. She smoothed the white cloth over and over. “He and I have talked about this a hundred times. You know, which foods he’d want and how he couldn’t wait to go to a barbershop, take a walk around town, or have the bathroom all to himself. But we’ve never talked about the nuts and bolts. What’s he going to do for money? How is he going to adjust? This is a very different world from the one he used to live in.”
