If you’ve been following the saga of my life, you’ll already know that my great niece, Poppy moved back home with me a few months ago and brought along a dust mop of a naughty cat named Figaro. They’ve turned my life all rumboggly. There’re stuffed mice everywhere. You’ve never seen so many pots and tubes of beauty creams and potions. And the dieting. If I ever see another leaf of kale, I might just shave my head and move to a hippie commune. Strike that. Once was enough.

Of course, we all know Poppy’s trying to impress a man – or men – I should say. I don’t know which one she’ll end up with yet but if she’d listen to my advice, I’d have this problem solved yesterday. I’ve had five husbands and I can shake out the good ones from the bad ones before you can say, “separate bedrooms.” I’ve had a natural panache for marrying the bad ones. So, enough dawdling already. I’ve got a lot of money riding on the outcome of Poppy’s decision, and I hope she makes it quick. No one appreciates a love triangle!

Not to mention that we’ve had more than enough man trouble in this house to go around here lately. A certain gentleman caller resurfaced in my life and unleashed a firestorm of drama among the ladies of the Cape May Senior Center. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a bunch of silly women caught up in drama over a man. (Please don’t tell the girls I said that. They’ll never let me live it down.) If I’d known things would turn out with Royce the way they did I’d have hopped on the first shuttle to Atlantic City and never looked back.

Even with that spectacle Moira Finklebaum made during the production with her preposterous “stage career comeback,” a career that nobody missed the first time around by the way, we had a blast doing the Senior Center Musical. The girls and I are still basking in the thrill from the singing, and the dancing, and the lights, and the costumes that we’ve decided to keep it going and perform for dinner theater. We’re currently doing a revival of Cats at The Harborview Inn. You would be in awe of Ethel’s Rum Tum Tugger, and Thelma’s Grizabella is Tony worthy. Of course, the owner of the Harborview keeps trying to kick us out because they don’t have an official stage as such. I don’t care that you’re “not a licensed dinner theater.” You can’t silence art. And that applause demands that the show must go on!

I’ve been so inspired by their performances that I signed up for my own music lessons. I’ve wanted to learn to play the drums since I saw the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. My first lesson this afternoon was a complete bust because the girl showed up without any drums. She seemed to be under the impression that I would already have some. Why would I have a set of drums when I don’t know how to play them? Sometimes these kids today make no sense at all. I was so irritated with her that I had to send myself to the bakery for a bear claw after she left. If Poppy asks, I went out for a Sanka and a Kale Salad.

Then I spent the whole afternoon getting my hair did. I even threw in a little extra for a rose gold rinse to highlight my natural red. I have a special date tonight. We’re going to a fancy dinner with champagne and cake followed by dancing under the stars. It’s sure to be a beautiful soiree on the beach as long as they don’t check the wedding guest list and realize that we weren’t invited. At my age you can usually slip in under the radar to crash a wedding because everyone assumes you’re someone’s great aunt that they haven’t seen in ages. Fingers crossed that the bridesmaids will all be nearsighted. I’ll just go get something from Poppy’s room to wrap up as a wedding gift. I hope they don’t already have a Pink Panther nightlight.

Well, my ride is here, and he’s on an electric scooter so I’ll have to add an extra layer of Aqua Net. Those things get up to eighteen miles an hour, and I spent a fortune with Mr. Charles today. I’m not about to have a freewheeling hot shot ruin my shampoo and set joyriding down Ocean Avenue. I’d better wear my plastic rain bonnet just to be safe. Wish me luck!

[Editor’s Note: I just love this woman]

You can read more about Ginny in Theater Nights Are Murder, the fourth book in the “Poppy McAllister” cozy culinary mystery series, coming December 31, 2019.

The last thing gluten-free baker Poppy McAllister needs in her life is more drama—or more murder . . .

Poppy thought her toughest challenge this winter would be sticking to her Paleo diet and filling all her orders for her gluten-free goodies, but now she has to choose between two suitors. She’s not the only one with boyfriend drama. Aunt Ginny’s long-ago high-school beau, Royce Hanson, a retired Broadway actor, has returned to Cape May, New Jersey, to star in a Senior Center staging of Mamma Mia. Leaving Aunt Ginny to wonder: What’s his motivation?

Slated to open February 13th, the problem-plagued production seems to be cursed—with stolen props, sabotage, and even a death threat. But when a cast member plunges to his death from a catwalk, it soon becomes clear a murderer is waiting in the wings. Now Poppy, Aunt Ginny, and a supporting cast must take center stage to catch the killer—before it’s curtains for someone else . . .

Includes Seven Recipes from Poppy’s Kitchen!

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About the author
Libby Klein graduated Lower Cape May Regional High School sometime in the ’80s. Her classes revolved mostly around the culinary sciences and theater, with the occasional nap in Chemistry. She loves to drink coffee, bake gluten free goodies, and befriend random fluffy cats. She writes from her Northern Virginia office while trying to keep her cat Figaro off her keyboard. Most of her hobbies revolve around eating, and travel, and eating while traveling.

To learn more about Libby, visit her website at libbykleinbooks.com.

All comments are welcomed.