The second in a fantastic new cozy mystery series with a vintage flair from USA Today bestselling and Agatha Award–winning author Ellen Byron. It’s hurricane season in New Orleans and vintage cookbook fan Ricki James-Diaz is trying to shelve her weather-related fears and focus on her business, Miss Vee’s Vintage Cookbook and Kitchenware Shop, housed in the magnificent Bon Vee Culinary House Museum. Repairs on the property unearth crates of very old, very valuable French wine, buried by the home’s builder, Jean-Louis Charbonnet. Ricki, who’s been struggling to attract more customers to Miss Vee’s, is thrilled when her post about the discovery of this long-buried treasure goes viral. She’s less thrilled when the post brings distant Charbonnet family members out of the woodwork, all clamoring for a cut of the wine’s sale. When a dead body turns up in Bon Vee’s cheery fall decorations, the NOPD zeroes in on Eugenia Charbonnet Felice as the prime suspect, figuring that as head of the Charbonnet family, she has the most to gain. Ricki is determined to uncover the real culprit, but she can’t help noticing that Eugenia is acting strangely. Ricki wonders what kind of secret her mentor has bottled up, and fears what might happen if she uncorks it. In the second Vintage Cookbook Mystery, Ricki has to help solve a murder, untangle family secrets, and grow her business, all while living under the threat of a hurricane that could wipe out everything from her home to Bon Vee. Ellen Byron is the Agatha Award–winning and USA Today bestselling author of the Cajun Country Mysteries. As Maria DiRico, she also writes the Catering Hall Mysteries. One Ricki's heart hammered as she glanced at the ominous black clouds hovering over New Orleans from the front window of her shotgun cottage home. She took a deep breath, then used masking tape to make X's on the windowpanes of the living room's large front window. She grunted as she hefted a mattress onto the top of the room's couch and positioned it over the taped window. "We're safe now," Ricki assured her dogs, a German shepherd mix and a Chihuahua mix, who were watching her with curiosity. "Even if the hurricane sends stuff crashing into the windows, they'll break but they won't shatter into a million pieces. And the mattress will keep everything from flying inside." A violent clap of thunder shook the house. Ricki cried out. Princess and Thor, the shepherd and Chihuahua, barked at it. I choose to feel calm. I choose positive and nurturing thoughts. Ricki repeated the mantra over and over to herself. She'd been saying it a lot lately. Seconds later, rain slammed the cottage roof with an almost deafening force. Ricki's phone sounded an alert and she grabbed it. She read the message: Hurricane Watch canceled. "Seriously?" Ricki said with a frustrated groan. Someone tapped on the front door. She opened it to see her friend Zellah standing on the steps under the old home's overhang, casually swinging an umbrella from a strap hooked to her index finger. "You get the alert? Watch is canceled." "I know. Again." In the two months since Ricki had moved back to the Big Easy, her childhood home, she'd endured three hurricane false alarms. Another boom of thunder made Ricki jump. A lightning bolt lit the sky. "No hurricane, huh? What do you call this?" She gestured to the clouds above, which were currently operating as faucets in the sky. "Weather, California Girl." Zellah grinned, creasing the cloud and lightning bolt she'd painted on her cheeks. A quirky artist, she liked to use herself as a canvas. Zellah's support jobs included working at the family business, Peli Deli, and running the café at Bon Vee Culinary House Museum. Bon Vee was also Ricki's place of business. Ricki had realized a dream and opened Miss Vee's Vintage Cookbook and Kitchenware Shop, which served as a unique gift shop for the museum. The shop name was an homage to the nickname of Bon Vee's late owner, Genevieve "Vee" Charbonnet. "You ready to go?" Zellah asked. "Yes." Ricki bent down and planted a kiss on the head of each dog. "Love you, babies. Try not to play outside, 'kay?" She straightened up. "The doggy door is a lifesaver, but they turn this place into a muddy mosh pit." Ricki peered over Zellah's shoulder. "That's a lot of rain." "It's New Orleans. There's always a lot of rain." "I know, but . . . are you positive the house won't flood?" Zellah gave her a look. "Girl, the Irish Channel neighborhood is the Himalayas of the city. It's practically the only part that's above sea level. Just by a few feet, but still. If Katrina didn't get this neighborhood, nothing will. Stop worrying and let's go." "Yes, ma'am. And you'll be proud of me. I dressed for the weather." Ricki had recently begun working more vintage outfits into her California-casual wardrobe. She struck a pose, showing off an early 2000s long-sleeve yellow crop top matched with a 1970s skort in a cheery daisy pa