Town therapist Maisie Daniels is having a bad day. A failed alarm clock makes her late for work, she's locked herself out of her house and worse, she's half way across town when she realizes she's wearing her bunny slippers. A double scoop of tutti-frutti ice cream is just the ticket to boost her mood.
When Sergeant Jake Hennessey spots a woman in bunny slippers muttering to herself in the park, he wonders if she's one of the local eccentrics. When she steps from the ice cream parlor with her double dip in hand, Jake decides not to cite her for eating ice cream on the street, a recent ban, but invites her to dinner instead.
When Jake arrives at the restaurant and sees Maisie in her bunny slippers, he knows instantly that he could love her.
TUTTI-FRUTTI BLUES
Carmel Charmers Series
{book one}
Kemberlee Shortland
Published by Tirgearr Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-4658-7364-4
Author Copyright 2012 Kemberlee Shortland
Covert Art: Anne Lugo
Editor: Charlene Raddon
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Tutti-Frutti Blues was originally published as a short story in January 2006 as part of a themed anthology, along with the sequel, Dude Looks Like a Lady. This version of Tutti-Frutti Blues has been rewritten and extended into a novelette and includes scenes and situations not included in the original story.
♥ ♥ ♥
Always for Peter
♥ ♥ ♥
Tutti-Frutti Blues
In Carmel-by-the-Sea, California, ice cream is forbidden from being sold or eaten on public streets.
(Repealed in 1986 when Clint Eastwood was mayor)
Carmel-by-the-Sea, California 1985
From the moment she woke, Dr. Maisie Daniels’ day became a series of comedic blunders bent on destroying her sanity. It started the instant her alarm went off.
Scratch that.
The alarm failed to go off because its batteries died during the night.
But at this time of year, the peak of summer, what could one call night when the sun rose so early?
Maisie had learned to sleep through the early sunrise, letting the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window creep up the bed, the heat of it leaching through the thin blankets. Not that she slept with many blankets. More often than not, the morning light crept over her bare legs and gave her dreams of sunbathing on Carmel Beach. In her semi-conscious state, she could almost hear the waves crashing on the white sandy beach at the edge of town.
It wasn’t until sunlight flashed in her eyes that she realized she wasn’t on the beach. It was Friday and she’d overslept.
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed, along with a few expletives, as she pulled herself out of bed. She repeated her curses when she saw the time.
It didn’t help matters any when her friend and secretary, Pamela Howard, laughed when she rang to cancel her remaining morning appointments.
“Already handled it,” Pam said, not trying to hide her mirth.
“Where would I be without you?”
“Probably living in a box on the beach.”
Maisie laughed. “See you after lunch.”
She loved the little town of Carmel-by-the-Sea and decided a stroll would be just the thing to clear her head. Always trying to see the bright side of things, she brushed off the day’s late start, and after rushing through her morning routine, she headed for the front door.
It was when she found herself on the doorstep of her cozy little Comstock, one of Carmel’s gingerbread cottages, with the shut door behind her that she realized the brighter side of things didn’t always turn out how one wished.
It wasn’t as if the weather was bad. Other times of year, the heavy misty fog that crept into Carmel Bay overnight would have burned off once the sun came over the Santa Lucia Mountains. But in the height of summer, that phenomenon rarely occurred and the beauty of the day was instantly evident as Maisie stepped through the front door and a wall of warm air hit her. Sunlight glinted through the boughs of California Live Oaks and Monterey Pines surrounding her cottage and winked off the chimes dangling amongst the branches. She knew the shade provided by the trees would be cool, but the trees were so thick around her little cottage that it socked in stagnant heat, creating a sweltering pool of hot air she’d have to walk through to reach Torres Street.
No, it wasn’t the weather causing her grief, or the throngs of celebrity-seeking tourists she knew she’d have to wade through to get to her office—they all came to see Clint, especially now that he was running for Mayor. It was the fact she had decided to leave the house without her sweater. It was so warm she wore little more than a white t-shirt tucked into cut-off denim shorts—perfect attire for a beautiful summer day in Carmel.
What irked Maisie was that her sweater sat on the sofa beside her purse.
She distinctly remembered the location of her purse because it contained her house keys. The same keys she’d just left the house without. The very same keys she’d need to get back in again!
Groaning aloud, Maisie hoped the old adage ‘start as you mean to go on’ didn’