Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7877413.Elizabeth_Penney
My Thoughts
Hems and Homicide by Elizabeth Penney is the premiere of An Apron Shop Series.
Iris Buckley and her grandmother, Anne are opening Ribbons and Bows in Blueberry
Cove, Maine. They are going over the
property with Ian Stewart, the carpenter, when Iris stumbles down the basement
stairs, knocks over shelves and a skull is exposed. Anne Buckley, Iris’s grandmother, recognizes
the scarf around the skull as belonging to Star Moonshine who disappeared around
July 4
th in 1972. When their
landlord, Elliot Parker end up dead in the storeroom with Iris’s favorite apron
tied around his neck, Anne becomes the prime suspect. Iris with assistance from her best friend,
Madison uses her knowledge gleamed from mystery novels to do a little
sleuthing. I enjoyed reading Hems and
Homicide. I love the concept of a shop
featuring aprons (vintage and custom creations) along with vintage linens. They will also have a room for sewing classes
and Iris’s cat, Quincy will be in residence during the day. The author took the time to establish the
characters along with the setting. I
like Iris and Anne Buckley along with Iris’s friends. There is a close bond between Iris and her
grandmother that I thought was sweet. They
are grieving the loss of Anne’s husband, Joe who died three months
earlier. Iris wears vintage inspired clothing,
loves to read, and finds petting her cat soothing. She is attracted to Ian Stewart, their
carpenter. Iris and Ian grew up together
and she had a crush on him in high school. It may be the timing is right for Iris
and Ian. We shall have to wait and see. There are great descriptions of the town, the
shops and the Buckley farm. I would like
to move to Blueberry Cove with its historic buildings and friendly (most of
them) residents. There are two mysteries
in Hems and Homicide. There is the cold
case of Star Moonshine and the current death of Elliot Parker. I thought the mysteries were clever and
intriguing. I enjoyed following the
clues and solving the crimes. I thought the one manner of death to be unique. I am eager for the next book in An Apron Shop
Series. If you like vintage clothing,
charming towns, friendly character and crafty whodunits, then you will enjoy
reading Hems and Homicide.
Hems and Homicide has a cold case, antique aprons, a big pig, a poisonous plant, and a gritty
granddaughter.
Excerpt from Chapter One
Bells jingled as I entered the Belgian Bean, a warm
and cozy café filled with chatter and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. The
place was surprisingly busy for a cool spring morning in Blueberry Cove, Maine.
Judging by the upscale outfits and unfamiliar faces, it appeared our coastal
village was finally on the beaten track, even during the offseason.
My gaze skittered over the booths by
the window, the line by the counter, and the tables in back. Where was Madison?
Maybe I’d actually gotten here first, which would be a first—
An arm clad in fuchsia fleece shot up
at the back table near the restrooms and I spotted my best friend, who was
waving with a smile. Well, more like saluting wildly while bouncing up and down
in her seat. But that was Madison Morris, always full of energy and enthusiasm,
no matter how early the hour. Some people were morning people. Madison was one.
I definitely was not.
Trying to suppress a yawn, I eyed the
line of coffee carafes as I passed, tempted to pick one up and take it with me.
Sophie Jacobs, another good friend and owner of the Bean, called from behind
the counter, “Morning, Iris. I’ll be right with you.”
“Make it a double,” I called,
grateful that fresh java would soon be on the way. Still smiling at Sophie, I
edged around a chair blocking the aisle and accidentally kicked a customer’s
leather messenger bag as a result. A thin man with wire-rimmed glasses
glared up at me before tugging the bag out of the way and stowing it under his
chair.
“Sorry,” I said, but his attention
was already on his tablet. He didn’t even glance at the Benedict Belgian he was
shoveling into his mouth, a waffle topped with an egg, ham, and hollandaise
sauce. Yum. Maybe I should order that.
“Can I help you?” he asked, jerking
his head up again. His eyes were an icy gray, which suited his cropped dirty
blond hair and light tan. Not bad looking if a little old for me, but he
definitely had a stick up his—
“No, sorry. I was just…” I waved a
hand and moved on, flushing at being caught checking out his meal, like some
sort of culinary creeper. After skirting a group of lively older women wearing
fisherman knit sweaters and Bean boots, I finally reached the sanctuary of
Madison’s table.
“What was up with Mr. Prickly back
there?” Madison picked up a huge mug, holding it in both hands. The bright
jacket made her golden brown skin glow, as did the matching lipstick and nail
polish she wore.
“I kicked his bag. Which I feel bad
about, since it’s gorgeous.” I sank into the opposite chair, arranging my full
skirt under my hips. I’d sewn the ‘50s-style dress myself, a deep periwinkle
blue trimmed in white at the short sleeves and neckline and topped with a
vintage apron. With my black hair, blue eyes and pale complexion, periwinkle
was a go-to color for me. And mid-century garment styles flattered my curvy
figure, which was more Marilyn than Audrey, as in Monroe and Hepburn.
Madison crooked an index finger.
“Stand up again. Are you actually wearing an apron? I know you’re opening a
shop but—”
“It’s a bit much?” I obeyed and
stood, even holding the frothy confection out with my fingers, the better for
my friend to study it. The women seated nearby turned to look, so I spun to
face them and smiled before plopping back down.
“It’s the one we used for the shop
logo,” I explained. “Grammie suggested we start wearing aprons as often as
possible. Free advertising.”
My paternal grandmother, Anne
Buckley, and I were partners in Ruffles & Bows, a new Main Street business
slated to open on Memorial Day weekend. Over the past five years, I’d built up
a quite a business selling aprons and linens online, both vintage and handmade
originals. But now the local economy was booming, and it was time to take
advantage with a storefront. Plus Grammie needed the distraction after losing
her beloved husband Joe, my Papa, three months ago.
I crossed my fingers under the table,
hoping our optimistic plans would pan out. Failure is not an option. My
new favorite saying.
