Bubble, Bubble, Here Comes Trouble by Tegan Maher EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Tegan Maher
- Language: English
- Genre: 90-Minute Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Short Reads
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I DUSTED MY HANDS OFF on my apron and blew an errant curl out
of my face before setting the oven timer for thirteen minutes, the exact time
it would take for the last batch of pumpkin-shaped cookies to bake to
golden perfection. Apropos since it was Halloween, I know, but there are
some things even magic can’t change, and how long it takes to bake a
cookie is one of them.
A quick glance at the clock on the stove confirmed what I already knew:
I was running out of time much faster than I was running out of things to
do.
The Flynn Farm Halloween party had been a family tradition for over
forty years, and this year, I was holding the reins. Or at least I was supposed
to be; at this point, I felt like I was failing spectacularly. The house was
only half-decorated, and I was still in my sweats. I shoved my hair off my
forehead and pulled out dried flecks of cupcake batter left over from an
unfortunate mishap with the mixer earlier.
I touched one of the kazillion gleaming red candy apples arranged in
rows on wax paper and left a fingerprint. That meant they weren’t cool
enough to wrap yet, so I poured two glasses of iced tea and stepped onto the
front porch. I sighed and closed my eyes; the cool fall breeze felt like
heaven after the heat of the kitchen.
“It’s about time you came out to help,” my little sister Shelby said as she
plucked one of the glasses from my hand. We plopped down on the front
step and she leaned over and bumped shoulders with me. “It sure seemed
easier when all we had to do was carve pumpkins and eat candy, didn’t it?”
Until this year, our Aunt Adelaide had been the one to pull all this
together, and I’m not going to lie: I felt like the shoes I was trying to fill
were way too big. This shindig was just one of many traditions that had
fallen in my lap when Addy passed away several months ago.
“It sure did,” I said. “I have no idea how she managed to do it. We’re
scaling it way down, and we’ll still be lucky to have everything done before
people start showing up. My feet are killing me already.” I took a long pull
from my glass, savoring the cool, sweet liquid that was a staple in our
fridge. But I only had about a second and a half to enjoy the break before a
ball of self-righteous energy in transparent muck boots burst through the
wall, hands on hips.
Remember when I said Addy passed away? Well, she did—but she
chose not to cross over. Imagine my surprise when she showed up a couple
of weeks after her death to comfort me during one of my crying sessions.
Who knew you had a choice when it came to staying or going? But
apparently, some of us do; the proof was currently hovering several feet off
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