Barbara Silkstone [Silkstone - Soap on a Rope

To receive an email when a new book by Barbara Silkstone is published, or for special sales and giveaways please sign up for my newsletter. Your information will not be shared with anyone and you may unsubscribe at any time. I promise not to pester you!

With love & laughter!

http://secondactcafe.com/barbara-silkstone/

Olive Peroni put out her family therapy shingle six years ago never thinking her top client would be the retired head of a New York crime family. When Olives Nonna dies, leaves her a condo in Florida and a secret recipe for miracle cold cream, she grabs the chance at a new life in Starfish Cove, Florida, making designer creams for ladies who spend far too much time at the beach. Business is brisk and life is good! Olive even makes a wild new best friend and business partner in Lizzy, the real estate agent who handles the transfer of Nonnas condo.

But when the quiet little community on the Gulf of Mexico soon begins to compete with a certain notorious coastal village in Maine, Olive finds herself solving odd-ball murders as often as she soothes wrinkles. Clean and wholesome!

Each book contains a recipe for homemade cosmetics and beautifiers!

S ophia Napoli stood in perfect dancers posture at her marble-top kitchen counter. With her tall frame erect and her shoulders back, she wiggled her voluptuous bottommoving to the samba music playing softly throughout her palatial tower residence on Biscayne Bay.

The Italian film stars technique for chopping green peppers into fine little cubes would have put the greatest chef to shame. Using the blade of her knife, she scooped the peppers aside into a little pile, and then attacked a peeled onion. When her eyes began to moisten, she ran the onion under tap water, and continued to slice.

Lizzy and I sat at the opposite end of the sleek counter our mouths hanging opennot from hunger but from awe. How easily life can turn a corner and offer up the wildest surprises.

After I met Lizzy Kelly my world topsy-turvyed into one astonishment after another. The combination of our energies nudged me to take my foot off the brakes and swerve into the bumper car lane of life. I morphed from on-call mobster therapist to cold cream entrepreneur and crime solver in the course of a few wild days and, incredibly, the pace over the next months accelerated from there.

Sophia paused in her little dance. This brings me such joymaking my special omelets for the sleuth ladies of Starfish Cove! Using a graceful pick and crack rhythm Sophia broke half a dozen eggs into a large clear bowl, never dropping a shell or dribbling goop. She beat them with a whisk while chatting with us.

Almost forgot funghi! She plucked a handful of porcini from a colander and began to slice.

Chopping gives the most pleasure in cooking. There is such passion in axingno? She smiled broadly. There were so many layers to this woman. So much more than beauty and international stardomshe was down-to-earth and funny.

I grinned back at her. I know what you mean. Now and then it feels good to slam something really hard.

From behind Sophias shoulder, a beam of sunlight bounced off the green-blue waters of Biscayne Bay, shot through the tinted glass that ran floor to ceiling, reflected off the pedestaled gold statueher Oscarand pierced my eyes. I angled my barstool out of the assaulting sunlight and returned to watching our hostess.

She scooped all the sliced goodies, including minced basil into a bowl and then wiggle-walked to the stove. She had Lizzy beat in the hubba-hubba saunter competition.

The wonder on my partners face tickled me. The first day we met she confessed her adoration for the Italian movie star after admiring my grandmothers collection of photographs and portraits of her beloved Sophia Napoli. Next to pizza, the woman was Italys most famous ambassador.

I can hear your nonna laughing in heaven, Sophia said. Her thoughtful little present to me bring us together. With an elegant motion she poured green-gold olive oil into a white enamel skillet.

She opened her hand in my direction. Though we never met, I was sad to see Isabellas obituary. At least ten years ago she sent me a lifetime subscription to the Silverfish Gazette. Out of the blue! Like that! She snapped her fingers. It comes in the mail with a note she is from my village in Italy and hopes the small-town gossip reminds me of home. I send her a thank-you card, but never kept in touch. Colpa mia.

So that was how Sophia Napoli came to subscribe to the Silverfish Gazette. I sat mesmerized by all that happened since we left the airport, chauffeured by Sophias hunky assistant and bodyguard, Fabio Santoro.

She adjusted the flame under the skillet. Isabella was right. The news, she comforts me, even though I was just a girl when my mother brought me to America. I always have the Silverfish when I travel. I read the stories from Starfish Cove over and over and they soothe me. When my life is too crazy, the Silverfish reminds me there are places where people are happy to live small lives.

She tumbled the chopped vegetables into the oil and gave them a gentle stir.

Then I read of the murders! What happened to my innocent town? And then your name, Olive Peroni! A relative of Isabellawe must meet the next time Im in Florida! You and sweet Lizzy are heroesheroines. See the story of your bravery is on the counter.

I reached for the old issue of the Silverfish Gazette, the grainy photo of Lizzy and me above the fold but below the papers slogan Catch the News Before It Crawls Away!

The way Lizzys grandmotherknown to everyone as Grams recounted our most recent case one would think Lizzy and I wore bodysuits adorned with a gigantic S on the chest and flaring capes of red satin.

It was the first time Id taken a good look at the small print on the irregular little paper. Circulation 100,000. Grams was the Silverfishs ace reporter in charge of exaggeration. The beachside community of Starfish Cove had a population that might stretch to fifteen hundred if you included the cats and dogs.

A small block ad on the lower left corner of the front page caught my eye. I hadnt paid attention to the flip side except to check the spelling on our Open House invitation ad.

Lizzy, did you notice this? I pointed to the black and red box with a magicians hat. Offbeat even for Starfish Cove.

Stretching across the counter Lizzy snaked the Gazette her way. Oh no. Hes back.

S ophia ceased humming and stopped her wiggle-dance. Che cosa?