Armed with a Crock-Pot and a pile of recipes, a grandmother, her granddaughter, and a mysterious young man work to bring a community together in this uplifting novel for readers of The Chicken Sisters.Esther Larson has been cooking for funerals in the Northwoods of Wisconsin for seventy years. Known locally as the “funeral ladies,” she and her cohort have worked hard to keep the mourners of Ellerie County fed—it is her firm belief that there is very little a warm casserole and a piece of cherry pie can’t fix. But, after falling for an internet scam that puts her home at risk, the proud Larson family matriarch is the one in need of help these days. Iris, Esther’s whip-smart Gen Z granddaughter, would do anything for her family and her community.As she watches her friends and family move out of their lakeside town onto bigger and better things, Iris wonders why she feels so left behind in the place she is desperate to make her home. But when Cooper Welsh shows up, she finally starts to feel like she’s found the missing piece of her puzzle. Cooper is dealing with becoming a legal guardian to his younger half-sister after his beloved stepmother dies. While their celebrity-chef father is focused on his booming career and top-ranked television show, Cooper is still hurting from a public tragedy he witnessed last year as a paramedic and finding it hard to cope. With Iris in the gorgeous Ellerie County, though, he hopes he might finally find the home he’s been looking for.It doesn’t seem like a community cookbook could possibly solve their problems, especially one where casseroles have their own section and cream of chicken soup mix is the most frequently used ingredient. But when you mix the can-do spirit of Midwestern grandmothers with the stubborn hope of a boy raised by food plus a dash of long-awaited forgiveness—things might just turn out okay.
My Review:
The Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County comes out next week on March 12, 2024, and you can purchase HERE!
But they all knew her. They'd known her for years as sweet Esther, Esther with the good piecrust, Esther who could sew any button back on their blouses and drive the homework they forgot to school. Not Esther with a brain. Esther with desires. Esther who had thoughts about welfare and gun control and school shootings. Hazel listened, and she didn't pat Esther's hand and ask if she needed anything from the fridge. There was something so nice about talking to someone who wasn't going to see you run out of breath on a walk around Turtle Pond. Hazel told stories, too-funny ones, about her nights out with her friends. Until she got into trouble. Well, Esther should have warned Hazel. Or her mother should have. But nobody did. Esther owed it to her, really.
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