The Icing on the Corpse by Liz Mugavero Page B

weeks later. Until then she’d never known Frog Ledge existed, but it immediately felt like home.
    â€œI went to the historical society after I moved in to look around, learn about the town’s history,” Amara continued. “Helga was there and we got to talking. She eventually convinced me to let her look into my mother’s side of the family, since I don’t know much about them.” She pulled into Izzy’s lot and parked.
    Stan remembered Amara telling her that her mother had died when she was only seven. She hadn’t been in contact with her family for many years before she died. Amara’s father had remarried within a year and he hadn’t known her mother’s family anyway, so she had no information on them. “Did she make any progress?” Stan asked, climbing out of the car.
    â€œShe was getting there,” Amara said, beeping her car locked. “She actually had just done a DNA test.”
    â€œA DNA test? Really? How does that work?”
    â€œI gave a sample and she sent it off for testing with another sample, I think. Said she’d found a possible connection to my family. Of course, I agreed.” Amara sighed. “I don’t know if she ever got the results back. So I’m sad that she’s gone because I genuinely liked her, but also for my own selfish reasons. I really wanted to know about my mom’s family.”

Chapter 8
    Stan stepped inside Izzy Sweet’s Sweets behind Amara and inhaled. The scents of cinnamon and chocolate mixed with bold coffee enveloped her like a warm hug. Behind the counter, Izzy Sweet loaded freshly baked pastries into one side of the pastry case that zigzagged through the middle of the café while keeping up an animated conversation with a woman waiting for her coffee. The other two-thirds of the case was loaded with spectacular handmade chocolates Izzy purchased and had shipped in from all over the world. Stan tried to avoid looking at them. She was a sucker for truffles.
    The café was packed. Most mornings it was packed. Despite some locals’ opposition to having a fancy café in town rather than a greasy spoon diner, Izzy’s place attracted visitors from all the surrounding towns—especially college students from the two nearby schools. And she had her share of Frog Ledgers who wouldn’t dream of getting coffee anywhere else, Stan and Amara being two of them. Izzy saw them and held up two fingers in the universal peace sign. Meaning, she’d be right over. Stan snagged the corner table as two wholesome-looking housewife types vacated it.
    â€œWill you try to find a new genealogy person? I’m sure there are tons of them these days.” Stan picked up the thread of the conversation from the drive over as she hung her coat on the back of her chair.
    Amara wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know yet. I liked Helga’s style. And she was a perfectionist. So I felt confident with her. I guess we’ll see.”
    â€œWhat’s cookin’, kids?” Izzy appeared at their table, tossing her long braids over her shoulder. As usual, her caramel-colored skin was flawless without a touch of makeup, save for some eyeliner. With her exotic looks, she could more easily pass for a runway model than a small-town café owner. Even dressed in leggings and fuzzy boots, Izzy had presence. Like Stan and Amara, she was a transplant to Frog Ledge, though she’d been here for a few years now. Which made her the first of the three to own a successful business. Despite a rough start, her café had come a long way. “Here to work or play?”
    â€œWork,” Amara said. “But if play means we can have one each of whatever smells so good, we’re playing, too. Right, Stan?”
    â€œYou don’t even have to ask,” Stan said. She’d given up worrying about her workouts. The cold weather killed her motivation. Now she just wanted to sit at Izzy’s,