Dream a Little Scream by Mary Kennedy

think she meets a lot of people who want something from her. I’m not sure we should have accepted Etta Mae into the club; there seems to be something a little off about her.”
    I had my doubts about Edward Giles as well but didn’t voice them. There was something so reserved and self-contained about the university professor that I doubted he would be a good match for our group.
    â€œI think Etta Mae will settle in,” Ali said amicably. “She did seem a bit edgy today, but maybe it was just a case of nerves. This has been an incredibly stressful experience for everyone. Poor Sonia. I still can’t believe this happened.”
    She curled up on the sofa and pulled Scout onto her lap.She immediately started purring and walking in circles before she finally settled down and began gently kneading. “Ow,” Ali moaned as her sharp claws connected with her bare leg. She winced and lifted her off her lap and onto the sofa cushion farthest from her. “She never remembers to keep her claws in,” she said ruefully. The vet told us that Scout was probably taken away from her mother too early. The mother cat teaches the kittens to sheathe their claws when they knead, but poor Scout never got the message.
    â€œI wish we’d had more time to hear about it. She certainly got everyone’s interest.” I paused. “I think it’s far-fetched, you know. Not really believable. At least that’s my first reaction.” Ali reached over to pet Scout, who cleverly was trying to weasel her way back onto her lap via the coffee table.
    â€œYou may be right,” Ali said thoughtfully. “On the face of it, it seems pretty improbable that Sonia actually stole Etta Mae’s recipes. Just from a practical perspective, how in the world would she hope to get away with it? Especially if there were loads of family members who’d had access to the book and would be outraged to think a celebrity had stolen them and passed them off as her own. After all, that’s part of their history.”
    I nodded. “I think it’s unlikely. There have got to be thousands of recipes floating around the Internet; why would a famous chef like Sonia have to resort to stealing? She probably has loads of staff to find the best recipes and test them for her. Besides, is it even possible to copyright a recipe?”
    Ali shrugged. “I’m not sure. Etta Mae acted like her recipes were special, something handed down from generation to generation.”
    â€œIf that’s true, they’d have to be adapted for moderntastes,” I insisted. “People are into healthy eating these days. Tastes have changed over the years. Not many people cook with lard anymore, and a hundred years ago, people liked to fry vegetables in leftover bacon grease.”
    â€œBacon grease?” Ali, a strict vegan, gave a delicate shudder. “I hadn’t thought of that angle.”
    A while later, Ali went downstairs to begin working on a candy platter for a Fabulous Fifties party, and I decided to do a quick check of the inventory. Since I’d become co-owner of the shop, I’d persuaded Ali to branch out. Selling retro candy wasn’t enough to keep the business afloat, and after some initial resistance, she’d agreed to go after catering jobs and had approved my plan to start offering light lunches and desserts. Candy platters—perfect for ’50s theme parties—were filled with old favorites like Necco Wafers, Chunky bars, Red Hots, and Boston Baked Beans. I’d been urging Ali to consider doing ’50s hors d’ouevres like pigs in blankets, shrimp cocktail, mini meatballs, and fruit kabobs.
    We were far from being a booming success, but profits were up for the first time in months and it looked like we had finally turned things around. Street traffic had improved thanks to some creative window displays, and a chalkboard posted on the sidewalk touted the daily