The Missing Ingredient Read online

  The Missing

  Ingredient

  Mystery

  and the Minister’s Wife

  Through the Fire

  A State of Grace

  Beauty Shop Tales

  A Test of Faith

  The Best Is Yet to Be

  Angels Undercover

  Into the Wilderness

  Where There’s a Will

  Dog Days

  The Missing Ingredient

  Open Arms

  A Token of Truth

  Who’s That Girl?

  For the Least of These

  A Matter of Trust

  Funny Money

  To Have and to Hold

  How the Heart Runs

  A Thousand Generations

  Home to Briar Mountain

  Flight of the Sparrows

  A Firm Foundation

  Off the Record

  A Distant Memory

  Tea and Sympathy

  The Master’s Hand

  Strangers in Their Midst

  Mystery and the Minister’s Wife is a trademark of Guideposts.

  Copyright © 2008 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, New York 10038.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

  Scripture quotations on pages 69, 100 and 140 are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation. Copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

  The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Colorado 80920.

  Guideposts.org

  (800) 932-2145

  Guideposts Books & Inspirational Media

  Cover design by Dugan Design Group

  Cover illustration by Rose Lowry, www.illustrations.com

  Interior design by Cris Kossow

  Typeset by Nancy Tardi

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Barbara Doyle

  “I breathed a song into the air,

  It fell to earth, I knew not where;

  For who has sight so keen and strong

  That it can follow the flight of song?

  Long, long afterward . . .

  The song, from beginning to end,

  I found again in the heart of a friend.”

  (A paraphrase of “The Arrow and the Song”

  by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

  You helped me find my song, dear Barbara.

  Chapter One

  Dusk was closing in fast, and a mist had wrapped itself around the trees, eerily hugging the ground. Kate maneuvered her black Honda into the parking lot and came to a halt in front of the Hamilton Springs Hotel. She looked up at the two-story brick building and told herself that her trepidation about being near the property was pure nonsense.

  But what if the author of Famous Haunts of the South was right?

  The Hamilton Springs, a haunted hotel? She chuckled. She knew better, of course. Even so, she couldn’t help glancing at the windows in the wing where the ghost was said to roam. She also couldn’t help the shiver that slid down her spine.

  She turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car just as Livvy and Danny Jenner pulled up beside her, followed by Renee Lambert and her mother, Caroline Beauregard Johnston, in a pink Oldsmobile.

  A few seconds later, Eli Weston swung his truck into the parking lot and glided to a stop on the far side of Kate’s Honda. Car after car pulled in, and soon enough, a lively, chattering group of a half-dozen others from around town—LuAnne Matthews, Millie Lovelace, Sam Gorman, Willy Bergen, and Joe Tucker—gathered in the lot. Lucy Mae Briddle stood by, notebook and pen in hand. She had recently been hired to run the front office of the Copper Mill Chronicle and had been trying her hand at reporting recently.

  Joe Tucker? Kate grinned and waved. A lean and wizened backwoodsman, Joe was one of the last citizens of Copper Mill she expected to see come out to greet the celebrity chefs of the Taste Network.

  She tried not to show her surprise as the group trotted over to join her. But Joe had a knack for reading people before they said a word.

  He leaned on his hand-carved walking stick, crossed one foot over the other, and chuckled. “You didn’t know about my cookin’, did you? I don’t put much stock in television, but I’ve taken to watchin’ the Taste channel recently. Learned how to make the best oyster-turkey stuffing you’d ever want to lap a lip over. Learned it from one of the Taste gals—Birdie Birge—last Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  The others chimed in, all talking at once. Kate picked up snatches of “new recipes for the diner” from LuAnne and Loretta; “been into gourmet food lately” from Eli; “thought I might find something for the Civil War reenactments” from Willy; “love chocolate and thought why not?” from Millie; and “just thought it’d be fun” from Sam, with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

  “Tonight’s the big night, all right.” Renee headed around the back of Kate’s Honda to join the group. Kisses, on a jeweled leash, trailed behind. “Can you believe they’re actually coming to Copper Mill?”

  Caroline brought up the rear. “Who, the ghosts?” she snorted.

  “Now, Mother, you know good and well what I mean. The Taste Network. The celebrity chefs, film crew, producers, directors—the whole enchilada!”

  But Caroline didn’t appear to be listening. She was peering suspiciously at the same wing of the hotel Kate had taken in earlier. Kate thought she saw a shudder travel up Caroline’s spine, and she understood the older woman’s apprehension. Darkness was rapidly turning the landscape a shadowy gray, and moisture from the heavy mist now dripped from the trees. Street lights cast an eerie glow around the parking lot before being swallowed up by the foggy night.

  A hush seemed to crawl over the parking lot. They had all obviously heard the new rumors about a ghost in the Hamilton Springs Hotel.

  Even Kisses sensed something otherworldly. Facing the hotel, the little Chihuahua put his ears back and growled. No matter how Renee tried to distract him, he kept it up. Kate noticed he was trembling all over. But then, he did that even under the most ordinary circumstances.

  LuAnne glanced around with a nervous expression. “I thought the trucks would be here by now. I hope we don’t have to stand out here too long. It’s cold.”

  “They’re not all trucks. Some are called star coaches,” Renee corrected with a sniff. “All the stars have them. There will be three—one for each of the big-name chefs: Birdie Birge, Nicolette Pascal, and Susannah Applebaum.”

  “So they stay in their coaches instead of the hotel?” Livvy asked.

  “The star coaches are just for travel.” Renee’s tone implied this was information everyone should know. “Sometimes they have beds for naps and furniture for relaxing while they travel.”

  A brisk breeze stung Kate’s face, and she rubbed her hands together to warm them. “I say we all go inside and wait. As soon as the network people get here, we’ll head back out to greet the celebrities, just like we planned.”

  Renee narrowed her eyes at the hotel. “Never thought I’d see t
he day I’d be reluctant to step inside the Hamilton Springs. I consider all this ghost business as folderol, but there’s something eerie about this night...”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the women. The men didn’t seem too worried, though Joe Tucker, looking solemn and wise, didn’t utter a word one way or the other.

  Danny Jenner chuckled. “Folderol is right. I don’t for a minute believe in any of this nonsense. The hotel’s perfectly safe.”

  “I wonder why there have been so few guests lately,” Loretta Sweet said, scanning the hotel windows with their noticeably few lights. “I bet it’s because of that new Famous Haunts of the South book.” She shook her head slowly. “I can almost see the ghost of Precious McFie walking by those windows in her wedding gown. No wonder people are staying away.” She paused, then went on in a whisper. “It’s said she haunts the hotel, the parking lot, and the path along the creek. I sorta wish I hadn’t read that book. Keeps me awake at night.”

  Livvy stepped up to stand beside Kate. “You can talk all about it with the author,” she said to the others, “on Saturday night. He’ll be at the library for a book signing and Q and A.”

  “I read about that in the Chronicle,” Renee said with a scowl. “Not so sure that’s a good idea—getting him to come here, I mean.”

  “Of course, it’s a good idea,” Caroline snorted. “It’s about time we got a big-time author to come to town. Besides, I like his name—Joel St. Nicklaus. Though I plan to tell him that he should’ve written a book about the ghosts of Christmas past, not the ones that haunt the South.”

  The others chuckled, but no one pointed out that the author’s name wasn’t spelled the same as the Saint Nicholas of Santa Claus fame.

  “Why don’t you think it’s a good idea?” Eli asked Renee.

  She shrugged. “People are grumbling about it already, and having the author here will just make it worse. Some believe in ghosts; others don’t. I was having pie and coffee at the diner the other day and heard a shouting match in a booth across the room. It all had to do with ghosts.”

  LuAnne nodded. “I waited on that group. Started out good-natured, then some of them got to talkin’ about personal experiences.” She shivered. “Got pretty spooky too.”

  “Real ghosts, you mean?” Millie asked, her eyes wide.

  “Yep, real as flesh and bone,” she said. “At least, that’s how they were talkin’.”

  Danny chuckled. “Flesh and bone might not be the operative words here.”

  Millie let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t even want to think about that.” She fell silent for a moment, then added, “Some of our Faith Briar folks are up in arms. People have been calling Pastor Paul to get his opinion about ghosts and hauntings and all that.” Millie was the church secretary at Faith Briar.

  Kate sighed. The phone had been ringing off the hook at the parsonage too. Nearly everyone was asking the same question: “Are there really ghosts?”

  “Who all called?” Renee was suddenly more interested than before. “And what did the pastor tell them?”

  Millie had the grace to simply raise an eyebrow. She might be difficult at times, but she could also be trusted to keep conversations and church business confidential.

  A cold wind blew across the parking lot, and for a brief instant, the fingers of fog seemed to engage in some sort of eerie dance. Even Danny Jenner looked startled.

  “The ghost. I’m just sure that’s why nobody else showed up,” LuAnne said in a hushed voice. “Word’s gettin’ out that the whole place is haunted.”

  “I say,” Kate broke in, “we all go into the foyer and warm up by the fire—”

  “Wait!” Willy cupped his ear with his hand. “Do you hear that?”

  “What?” Millie and LuAnne said in unison.

  “I thought I heard a chain rattle,” Caroline whispered.

  Millie gasped and splayed her hand over her chest.

  Willy frowned. “No, no! Nothin’ like that. I hear diesel engines coming down the grade. They’re still a distance away, but there—there it is again.” He raised an eyebrow. “Y’all hear it?”

  Visible relief washed over LuAnne, Millie, Caroline, and even Renee. Livvy and Kate exchanged glances, and Kate resisted rolling her eyes.

  “I hear them,” Sam said. “Those are diesel trucks, all right.”

  The other men agreed.

  The faint sounds of downshifting gears carried toward them, and Kate grinned.

  “That’s got to be the people from Taste,” she said.

  The citizens of Copper Mill seemed thrilled the network had chosen the Bristol, the restaurant attached to the Hamilton Springs Hotel, for taping its special segment Great Chefs of the South, but their excitement was nothing compared to Kate’s.

  Susannah Applebaum, one of the chefs, had been one of Kate’s best friends growing up. They hadn’t seen each other for years, but as soon as Kate heard that Susannah was going to be part of the cooking show—and after sleuthing her way through agents and publicists—Kate had made contact.

  Susannah had been delighted to hear from Kate, and they had arranged to meet the morning after her arrival. Kate hadn’t planned to come out that evening to welcome the network people, but Livvy had talked her into it. And as the grinding of gears grew louder, she felt glad to be there.

  “They’re getting closer.” Livvy smiled knowingly.

  Within a few minutes, the first of the big eighteen-wheelers pulled into the parking lot and slowed to a noisy stop. It was followed by two more, each with the Taste Network logo on the side: a top-down view of a deep-dish pie with a fancy TN stamped in the crust as if done with a pastry cutter. Then the star coaches rolled in, one for each of the three celebrity chefs, the names of their popular television shows colorfully splashed on the sides.

  Behind the buses, a bright yellow Hummer rumbled into the parking lot. There was no doubt that the man who emerged from the driver’s side was someone important. Or at least thought he was important.

  Renee pulled out her cell phone and started punching in numbers. She had made only a half-dozen calls when the townspeople started pouring into the hotel parking lot.

  The Taste Network crew quickly attached floodlights to a noisy generator, lighting the mist-enshrouded parking lot like some sort of ghostly stage. The workers paid little attention to anything other than the tasks at hand—unloading equipment, unwinding electrical lines, and shouting instructions to one another.

  Sybil Hudson, the general manager of the hotel, came out to greet the man who was doing most of the shouting, the same man who had arrived in the Hummer. Kate surmised that he was the one in charge. He pulled Sybil to one side, leaned in close, and wagged his finger at her, shoulders hunched as if in a permanently grumpy stance.

  Even in the dim light, Kate could see the glower on Sybil’s face. Whatever the man was saying appeared to upset her. After a moment, Sybil turned on her heel and stomped back into the hotel.

  The man shrugged and went back to shouting at the crew.

  “I’m dying to see that Birdie Birge,” LuAnne said. “She’s got a new book coming out; I heard about it on her show. It’s called Grits 101.” She grinned at Loretta. “The diner’ll be serving up gourmet grits till the cows come home.”

  “It’s that pretty little French cook I’m on the lookout for.” Joe Tucker did a Groucho Marx impression, waving an imaginary cigar. “Don’t care a thing about French cooking, but I love the way that Nicolette Pascal sashays around the kitchen.”

  He waggled his eyebrows as if they were as thick and bushy as Groucho’s. Everyone laughed.

  “Hmmph,” Caroline said. “Isn’t that just like a man? Can’t see the soufflé for the sashay. Besides, she may be French, but her cooking is French fusion—French with a good old American Southern flair.”

  “Don’t tell me I’m hearing a hint of hoopla over a celebrity chef.” Renee shot her mother a “gotcha” look.

  Kate sighed. She loved them both, but she w
ished just once they could put aside their sniping.

  “My favorite is the chocolate show,” Loretta said. “I’ve been a fan of Susannah Applebaum for years. I have all her cookbooks and can’t wait for the next one—Chocolates to Die For.” She smiled. “I’m hoping she’ll autograph the books I already have.”

  Kate was half listening to the others as she kept an eye on the luxury coach with the name of Susannah’s show written across the side in an elegant font that looked like rich, dark, melted chocolate. Appropriate, because Sumptuous Chocolates was the name of her show.

  “There she is!” Joe called out as Nicolette Pascal emerged gracefully from her luxury coach.

  “And there’s the grits lady,” shouted LuAnne with equal enthusiasm when Birdie Birge stepped out of her coach. “I’d know her anywhere. I’ve seen her dressed to kill when she does her entertaining segment.”

  Birdie hammed it up for the crowd, blowing kisses with both hands, calling out hellos, and shaking hands as she trotted toward the hotel entrance. She had almost reached the door when the same blustery, belligerent man Kate had earlier noticed stepped in front of Birdie, blocking her way. Birdie’s demeanor changed dramatically. Obviously upset, she spouted something that seemed to irritate him further. Though Kate couldn’t hear the words, it was obvious the two didn’t care for each other.

  “Who is that man?” Kate said to no one in particular. He appeared to be knocking down people’s spirits like they were bowling pins.

  “Him?” Renee stepped closer. “He’s the producer-director. His name is Newt Keller. I read all about him in People magazine at the beauty parlor. They call him Mr. Taste Network. Came up with the concept, got the financial backing, and set out to give some of the other food networks a run for their money.” Her eyebrow shot up. “Word has it that he’s made a lot of enemies trying to move to number one in the ratings. From what they say, he’s been wildly successful, though.”