The Leprechaun's Loot Read online

  The Leprechaun's Loot

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2019 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Thanks for Reading

  Catalog of Books

  Chapter One

  It was a challenge getting the door of The Lucky Dill open that morning. I had a rather large and extremely heavy tote bag full of cookbooks on one shoulder and in my other arm was a bunch of new pots and pans for the restaurant. It took a few tries before I could get the keys in the lock and turn them far enough that the door actually unlocked. I needed to get a new lock for the door. This one had frozen more than once over the winter and as a result I now needed to twist the lock all the way around for it to actually work. Usually it didn’t matter, but on days like this when I had full hands and no one to help me it’d be useful. Another thing for my to-do list I guess. I couldn’t focus on that now though. Once I got through the door it was out of my mind already.

  The town council was getting ready for it’s second biggest event of the year and they had asked me to cater! Well, they asked me after the caterer they actually hired dropped out unexpectedly the day before. Still, I was excited to be in charge of the food for the Saint Patrick’s Day Dance. Aside from the Christmas village it was the most exciting event of the year. Our town had a long-standing tradition of going all out for holidays, but for some reason we had chosen Saint Patrick’s Day to really show that off.

  The only problem was that they had asked me with only a few days to spare. They called me the previous day to let me know, which meant I had today to plan, and the next two days to cook. I had spent almost the entire night looking through recipe books and what little sleep I got was fraught. That’s why I was at the deli earlier than the sun was up. I wanted to get in some practice before opening.

  I flipped on the soundtrack to Hamilton to sing along with while cooking. When the deli was open, I tried to play music that would cater to most tastes. Soft guitars and plucky female vocalists, typically coffee shop music. On my own, I loved old and new show tunes and to sing. I don’t think I’d even shared that with Verny or Cookie. My tone-deaf voice was not for other ears.

  Time went quickly when I was cooking. That was my favorite part of the restaurant, and why I opened it in the first place. It was easy to forget when I got bogged down in the paperwork and the numbers of owning a business. When I got to really spend time in the kitchen that was the best. That was why I tried to make a themed sandwich every few weeks, to keep my skills sharp and life interesting.

  I tried a corned beef and cabbage recipe first. I always followed the recipe exactly before changing it and putting my own spin on it. With the huge number of people that I was meant to be serving in a mere couple of days, I thought I’d go traditional. At least as traditional as I’d let myself be. This was a big job and I needed to make sure that I actually made a large enough quantity in time and preferably in budget.

  Cookie and the jingle of the chime on the door made me jump. She grinned at me as she kicked the door open.

  “Good morning, Josie,” she said brightly. I looked at the clock, surprised by how quickly time had gone. My thoughts had been so full of logistics and recipes, not to mention the show tunes that hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

  “Opening time already?” I asked, still lost in the corned beef and the time that seemed to have disappeared because of it. Cookie placed a large tray of cookies on the counter. They were decorated with royal icing to look like leprechauns and pots of gold, a few rainbows here and there as well. It was always exciting to see what she would bring in next.

  “Just about,” she nodded, her mouth quirked into a smile. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of show tunes.”

  “I’m not!” I exclaimed, I had forgotten it was even playing. The music player was in the office though so I couldn’t turn it off quickly now. “I mean, I am,” I admitted, the old teases and ribbings about my music taste making me flinch preemptively. “Switch it to ‘coffee shop’” I said referring to the play list I had saved with the mass appeal music.

  “Will do,” Cookie gave me a salute.

  “Where’s Buttercup?” I asked after noticing her sweet pup was absent. Cookie without Buttercup felt unnatural, the two hadn’t spent much time apart since she'd adopted the dog. The deli felt empty without her presence as well, even though I had sequestered her to the office when she came. It wasn’t exactly great restaurant etiquette to have a very furry dog bouncing around, begging for scraps.

  “She’s at the vet,” Cookie said from the office. The music abruptly switched before Gene Kelly could finish Singing in the Rain and soft guitars replaced the classic song.

  “What for?” Cookie’s tone told me it was nothing serious, but that didn’t stop my heart from dropping to my stomach.

  “It’s nothing,” Cookie said emerging. “She needed a few rounding shots and vaccinations. I’ll pick her up before the end of the day.”

  “Oh, okay,” I nodded. I had never had any pets, and the vet always seemed like something terrible. In reality it seemed like anything that had doctor attached to it gave me the willeys. I really do have a problem...I should have it looked into but then you know....doctors. “I was prepping for the dance and lost track of time. This place is a mess.”

  “It’s no worse than my kitchen at home,” Cookie snorted. They’d asked her to cater desserts for the dance, which she had done a few years in a row now.

  “Yes,” I agreed, not needing to see it to know the state it must be in. I've seen Cookie's kitchen after a cooking spree....hmmm, maybe that's why she wanted Buttercup, for clean up duty. “But we have customers here.” I gestured to the door, which was opening as we spoke. Not that customers should be coming in yet. The sign still read closed and the hours were printed clearly on the glass of the door.

  “I know the door says closed, but I figured you’d let me in,” Lightning said sheepishly coming inside.

  “You’re always welcome here,” I said with a smile. He was a staple at the deli, and I’d have it no other way. Secretly, I thought that his constant presence annoyed Cookie and Verny from time to time, but they’d never admit it. Thinking of Verny, “Where is Verny?” I asked.

  “She called me and said something about car troubles,” Cookie shrugged.

  “I hope she’s alright,” Lightning said. He had been their teacher in high school and mine for a spell before he retired. Though, Cookie and Verny caused a lot more trouble than I ever did in their volatile youth. “Can I trouble you for a coffee?” He asked, politer than he usually was. Typically he was gruff until he started to go on about something historical, then it was hard to get him to stop talking.

  “Sure, I’ll get a pot on now,” I said. Cookie and I worked to clean my mess from th
is morning. I’d use what I'd tested in a corned beef and cabbage sandwich on some fresh bread so that none of it would go to waste.

  “These for the dance?” Lightning asked Cookie, picking up one of her pot of gold cookies. She came by her nickname honestly.

  “They are the rejects for the dance,” Cookie said with a laugh.

  “Rejects?” I asked, inspecting the perfectly decorated cookies for a reason why she wouldn’t serve them at the dance.

  “Some are a little too brown around the edges. See,” she said pointing out the lightly golden edges on some of the cookies. “And the rest just look a little funny, not quite how I wanted them to turn out.” Cookie was a perfectionist when it came to her baking.

  “They look perfect to me,” I said shaking my head.

  “Taste perfect too,” Lightning said through a full mouth.

  “I just want them to be perfect,” Cookie said sounding uncertain. “I know this is my third year, but I can’t help but feel like I stole it from the Sweet Shoppe.” The Sweet Shoppe was a candy and baked goods store a few doors down from the deli.

  “You can beat them in a bake off any day of the week,” I said, shocked that she would be nervous about it at all. She was certainly the best baker in town. I’d argue that she could even be the best in the county or the state, but I couldn’t exactly be sure.

  “They are professionals,” Cookie said. She had opportunity to become professional if she wanted to, but she chose not to. I could never be sure that it wasn’t out of fear though.

  “You’re still better,” Lightning said encouragingly. He’d taken a couple more cookies and was enjoying them with his coffee. “I swear I’ve put on pounds since you’ve started bringing baked goods into the deli.”

  “I’d swear you did too,” Cookie said with a smile. Lightning scowled at her, but not in a serious way. This was the kind of student she had been when he taught her, a little sassy – even rude to some – but overall enjoyable to be around.

  “Did you know that before the 20th century, leprechauns were typically seen in red and not green,” Lightning said after taking a large bite from a green-clad leprechaun. “Though the green will look great with my dagger on display at the dance.” I shared a small smile with Cookie. We’d been joking before about how long it might take Lightning to mention his dagger. It was his prized possession which came out of his safe only once a year.

  “That it will,” I agreed, hoping this wouldn’t start him going on and on, though I already knew it would. Every year since I was in my teens I had heard about his dagger.

  “It’s priceless,” Lightning said. I could tell he was only getting started and would regale us with its entire history if something didn’t interrupt him right then and there. As if Verny had heard me, she burst through the door.

  “Cici signed me up to be in charge of decorations for that blasted dance,” she stormed in with a glower. “I wanted to say no, but then I realized that that awful Caroline from the Sweet Shoppe was gunning for the job. Obviously, that meant I couldn’t, which I’m sure Cici knew from the get-go.”

  “We’re all doing something for the dance,” I said with a grin, wanting to keep Verny positive. Not an easy task. “That will be fun!” It was halfhearted at best. Verny gave me a look while she hung her coat on the rack.

  “What have you done to the place?” She asked looking at the pile of pans I was still washing. It was all that was left of my mess...I hadn’t thought it was too bad.

  “Practicing recipes for the dance,” I responded. “Corned Beef sandwich is the special today. I hear you had car trouble?” There had been so much talk of the dance already, I was weary of it. My nerves about catering were on edge and I didn’t want to think about it much more.

  “Kind of,” she said with a grimace. It wasn’t the change of subject I had hoped for. “They needed balloons at the school. One hundred balloons – and that’s just the start. I had to put them in my car and half of them popped on the way there.” She shook her head gravely. “You don’t know real fear until you're driving and a balloon pops right in your head. Thankfully my underwear came out unscathed.”

  Chapter Two

  With the deli restored after my morning exploits, we finally officially opened. Verny in a bad mood meant things were even cleaner than usual. Cleaning was a stress reliever for her, a habit I was a little jealous of. My stress relievers tended to make more mess, which made more stress and the cycle continued.

  “Josie, the food will be great,” Cookie assured me for the third time. “It always is.” I’d forced them all to try the corned beef and cabbage mixture I’d made. Despite the early hour, they all enjoyed it or at least pretended to.

  “I guess,” I said with a sigh. I chopped a mixture of vegetables, red and green peppers, tomatoes and onions for a chili I wanted to make in time for the lunch and dinner rushes. Even though I showed up for work hours early, I ended up with no spare time and late getting ready for the day. This meant that some of my prepped ingredients looked a little sloppy.

  Business was slow for a Friday morning. Considering there was no school today, I couldn’t decide if it was even slower than expected or not. No school meant that students might come in, but it also meant more people sleeping in later. I was standing idly and Cookie and Verny were sitting with Lightning by the time our first real customers came in.

  “You have to be sixteen to be hired anywhere,” one of the boys lamented as he and two others stalked into the deli. I’d guess they were around thirteen or fourteen, too young to be friends with Cici.

  “It sucks,” the one with too long hair replied.

  “It’s labor laws,” replied the third who had a bright red coat on. “To protect from exploiting child workers.” He was clearly the smart one of the trio.

  “It still sucks,” long hair said. “How are we supposed to buy an Xbox if we can’t earn money. Our parents’ have already said no.” They paused their conversation to order at the counter. I’d half expected them to just sit down and loiter. It happened often enough, but they all ordered a sandwich and a soda.

  “Our parents won’t even agree to a birthday present,” red coat said with a sigh, resuming their conversation. It sounded as though this was the most troubling thing in his life, which it very well might be. Oh, to be young. “It’s so unfair. It’s not like we each want one. We’d get one Xbox to share and it will stay at my place since we have the biggest TV.”

  “They’re being unreasonable,” long hair said.

  “We could deliver newspapers,” the first boy shrugged. It sounded like he had some kind of lisp where his ‘s’s’ sounded like a whistle.

  “Or take out people’s trash for them,” red coat suggested. “Maybe mow lawns when it gets nicer out. Walk some dogs.” They were good suggestions, but they couldn’t earn more than a few bucks for each chore he mentioned. With what little I knew about gaming consoles, I knew they were expensive.

  “We’d have to work for six months to earn enough for a single remote!” Long hair said in distress. Their conversation reminded me of another reason why I loved the deli. Sharing looks with Verny and Cookie told me they thought the same thing. We got to see real slices of life unfold every day. All of us kept busy though, so they wouldn’t feel like we were listening in.

  “Maybe, but what else can we do?” The lisping one said. They spoke in between large bites of food. I was briefly reminded of a boy I went to school with who would bring two lunches to school a day, one for snack and one for actual lunch. I didn’t think any group of people ate as much as teenage boys did, at least not without gaining an ounce of weight.

  “We can get a used one. That would be cheaper,” red coat said with a grimace. He didn’t like his own idea and knew the other two wouldn’t either.

  “Yeah, and have no games work on it. That would be great,” long hair scoffed sarcastically.

  “I had a paper route of my own when I was your age,” Lightning butted in. He was clinically
unable to mind his own business. The boys looked uncomfortable and even a little scared from his interjection. “All it takes is hard work and you can earn your keep.”

  “Thanks, sir,” the lisping one said politely.

  “Entrepreneurial spirits like yours will take you far in life,” he said with the wisdom of age, though it fell on deaf ears. The boys smiled awkwardly at him.

  “Thanks,” the long haired one said. “Got any trash you need us to take out, old man?” He asked, sensing a small opportunity and ruining it as soon as he insulted Lightning.

  “No, I don’t,” Lightning said curtly. I half expected him to slam his cane down the way he often did to punctuate his sentences and his points. “And no one gets physical papers anymore either,” he added for good measure.

  “He’s right,” red coat said reluctantly. They hadn’t thought of that. “What are we supposed to do?” He asked rhetorically.

  “We’ll think of something,” the one with the lisp said with certainty.

  “You might want to think of being politer,” Lightning suggested, his mouth a thin line. “Might get more customers that way.”

  “Sorry,” long hair said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Still, you shouldn’t have said it,” Lightning sounded so like a teacher again. I almost felt like I was back in school. The boys suddenly became intensely interested in their phones and their food. I could have used a convenient distraction like that more than once when I was in his classroom. Heck, I was searching for one now.

  “What do you have left for decorations?” I asked Verny, wanting to avoid any more possible issues between the three boys and Lightning. I gave Verny a glance, willing her to stretch her response.

  “There’s a lot,” she sighed, still not happy to be in charge of decorations. I’d bet the dance will look better than it ever has before. Verny didn’t do any job half way, even if it was one that she hated. “I need to make sure that we replace the balloons I popped this morning. Then I have to make sure everyone has their artifacts ready.” One of the reasons the Saint Patrick’s Day Dance had even been started was that an oddly large number of the town's people had Irish artifacts. There was a decent amount of Irish ancestry, but that didn’t account for everyone who had an artifact. I suspected that most of it was junk that people only claimed to be important.