Death of a Christmas Caterer (22 page)

With all the events that unfolded during this holiday season, it was no surprise I finally collapsed in my bed after coming home from Christmas dinner at my brother Randy's house. I quickly fell into a deep sleep and had the craziest dream. It was in the future. Twenty years or so. And I am happy to report I looked pretty darn good. Very few gray hairs. Not too many wrinkles. I guess that's why they call it a dream.

I was married again. That was my first shock. My husband and I were sitting in our living room and waiting for our guests to arrive on Christmas Eve. We were sharing a lovely bottle of Off the Vine wine made from our very own Bar Harbor vineyard, which we had purchased some years back. Yes, how fitting I became a winemaker. The extra yearly income was a nice boost to our lifestyle—and, best of all, we had loads of wine at our disposal to share with family and friends.

The first to arrive at the house was Liddy, one of my oldest friends, and still one of my two BFFs, who had scored a huge multimillion-dollar sale on a mansion on the island that once had been owned by a former reality-TV producer a few years back. The commission had allowed her to retire finally and see the world and collect pieces of art. She had recently brought back her latest acquisition from her travels to show off at the party. Not a painting—rather, a stunningly handsome young man from Costa Rica. “Young” being the operative word. I wasn't sure if he was old enough to drink the wine we were serving.

Next to arrive was my other best friend, Mona, with a few of her grown children who still lived on the island. Mona was carrying a newborn baby in each arm, but I am relieved to say they were her grandchildren. Mercifully, Mona had passed menopause years ago. I was starting to lose count of the grandchildren her offspring were constantly providing for her, but she was thrilled and proud of each and every one of them.

Next was my brother, Randy, who still owned his bar, Drinks Like A Fish, which had become so popular he bought two more properties and now had three highly successful Bar Harbor watering holes for the locals and visiting tourists to frequent. Randy, of course, was still with his husband Sergio, who was as handsome as ever (although Liddy's boy toy gave him a run for his money). Sergio was still the chief of police for Bar Harbor. Poor Officer Donnie! Sergio's second in command was waiting patiently for Sergio to hand over the reins to him, but my brother-in-law loved his job so much that he wasn't ready for retirement just yet.

My son, Dustin, soon arrived. He looked to be in his early thirties and had grown quite tall and very handsome. Hanging onto his arm was a lovely woman, his fiancée, Destiny.

Mona's grandchildren eagerly ran to Dustin, since he was bearing free copies of his latest, successful video game, a futuristic James Bond-type adventure, which, of course, I never understood. To no one's surprise he had become a popular video game designer in California, where he and his future bride resided.

Last, but not least, the door flung open again and in breezed my daughter, Gemma, who had grown into such a beautiful woman! (Mothers are always biased, I know.) I'm proud to admit she had followed in her mother's footsteps, or at least a small footprint of it. Gemma had chosen not to go to vet school, but had moved to New York City and was now a well-known food writer. The restaurant world clamored for her to come try out their delicious creations in hopes they would get a glowing review in the newspaper and her online blog. But, of course, in true Gemma fashion, she was a tough critic, with a fierce reputation, in the close-knit but competitive group of top-ranked food writers. She rarely gave rave reviews. You had to knock her off her feet. If you did, then your restaurant was suddenly on everybody's radar and reservations became near impossible to get. My husband and I, however, dined at most of them, thanks to my powerhouse daughter's connections.

I would like to take at least a sliver of credit for her impeccable palate. But whenever I did, I would get the same withering look she used to give me when she was a teenager. “Oh, Mom!”

Following behind her was her adoring businessman husband, who thought the world of his food critic wife and my equally adorable two twin grandsons, Jack and Daniel. Somewhere in their names I feel there is a loving nod to their grandmother there.

Gemma also had become quite the cook in her own right. She was carrying my husband's favorite, her sweet potato casserole, which she had made for him our very first Christmas after we were married. He looked forward to it every year since. As soon as Thanksgiving was over, he would start sending her little reminders not to forget to make her sweet potato casserole. Now it was a running joke between the two of them. They had become very close over the years.

Suddenly I was jolted awake by shouting downstairs. The kids were arguing over who was going to get the last piece of pie in the fridge. It was only the day after Christmas. They had another whole week at home before the end of the holiday break. But I knew somehow I'd get through it. As I climbed out of bed and put my robe on, I had one nagging thought in the back of my head. It was that dream set in my future Christmas. As I headed downstairs to referee my kids' wrestling match, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Who in the world would have ever thought I would end up marrying
him
?

Merry Christmas to everyone, and as you toast New Year's Eve and Day, don't forget to grab yourself a favorite bottle of wine from one of your local vineyards. Plus, this year at your own Christmas dinner, be sure to try one of our family favorites: a Christmas sweet potato casserole.

 

 

 

5 to 6 good-size sweet potatoes peeled, boiled, drained, and mashed (enough to make 3 cups)

½ cup melted butter

cup milk

¾ cup white sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 eggs, beaten

Pinch of salt

 

5 tablespoons melted butter

cup brown sugar

cup flour

1 cup chopped pecans

 

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Mash your sweet potatoes and add the melted butter, milk, white sugar, vanilla, beaten eggs, and a pinch of salt. Stir until well blended together. Pour into a shallow baking dish.

Now for your topping: In a bowl combine the melted butter, brown sugar, flour, and pecans. Using your fingers, mix together to make a crumbly topping, then sprinkle the mixture over the sweet potatoes. Bake in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes until the top is a golden brown. Cool for 10 minutes. Serve and enjoy.

 

Merry Christmas!

Chapter 1

Sabrina Merryweather was not the kind of woman you kept waiting for long. And Hayley was panic-stricken that she was already almost a half hour late meeting her for an after-work cocktail. This explained how the back left tire of Hayley's Kia ran up over the curb as she tried to quickly parallel park outside her brother Randy's bar, Drinks Like A Fish.

Hayley had been delayed at the office by an irate caller complaining about his name being misspelled in today's
Island Times
“Police Beat” column.

Hayley checked her watch as she jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut. She dashed forward but was slung back suddenly by something snagging against her shoulder blade. She had been in such a hurry that she didn't notice she had shut her bag inside the car. The leather strap attached nearly dislocated her shoulder. Hayley lost her balance and landed butt first on the pavement, her arm still dangling from the now limp strap.

Hayley composed herself and casually glanced around to make sure no one had seen her embarrassing pratfall.

No such luck.

A couple of gum-chewing skateboarders, in shorts hanging low enough to see the label of their Jockey underwear, nudged each other with their elbows and guffawed at Hayley, who was now using the strap to pull herself up on her feet. She hit the unlock button on her remote, slowly opened the car door, and daintily removed her faux Fendi bag, which had been trapped inside.

As the snickers and giggles a few feet away persisted, Hayley brushed herself off, locked her car again, and marched inside the bar, head held high.

She found Sabrina sitting alone at a table next to the wall, sipping a cocktail, a bright smile on her face. Whatever happy pill she was on, Hayley wanted a prescription.
Pronto.

Sabrina had left her post as county coroner months ago after her husband had filed for divorce. She resigned in order to reassess her life and figure out where she wanted to go from here. Since that time Hayley hadn't seen much of her at all. Which, to be truthful, wasn't such a bad thing considering Hayley had never been all that fond of her former high-school nemesis in the first place.

Although Sabrina's memory of her astonishingly bad behavior back then was fuzzy at best, Hayley had a far more clear-eyed picture of Sabrina's past cruelty. But after seeing a self-help segment on the
Today
show about how letting go of grudges helped you live longer, Hayley tried her best to forgive and forget.

Or at least forgive.

When Sabrina called Hayley earlier in the day to suggest they meet for a drink and catch up after she got off work, Hayley just didn't have the energy to come up with an excuse not to go. She just said yes. One drink.

After all, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't at least curious to know what Sabrina had been up to all these months. She had heard rumors. One person said Sabrina took a trip to see the “Seven Wonders of the World,” but got waylaid at the Pyramids in Egypt with a stomach virus before giving up and coming home, having seen only one wonder. Another said she was launching her own medical practice again in Bangor, which was one hour north of the island. There was also the “Debbie Downer” who insisted Sabrina had never fully recovered from her divorce and was holed up in her house, crying over her leftover frozen wedding cake, like some demented, haggard, jilted bride from the Charles Dickens novel.

Hayley knew that last one was an outright lie, because the Sabrina who was beaming from ear to ear as she sat down across from her was a far cry from the emotional car wreck some of her detractors were making her out to be.

“Hayley, you must have a sip of this peanut butter cup martini. It is so decadently delicious, you will just die!” Sabrina cooed as she pushed the glass by its stem over in front of Hayley.

“Let's hope not,” Hayley said, lifting the glass and taking a tiny sip.

There was no arguing her point. The drink was orgasmic.

“Kudos to your brother for another to-die-for cocktail recipe,” Sabrina said, retrieving the glass back from Hayley and downing another gulp as she closed her eyes and savored the taste.

Hayley noticed a half-empty bottle of Sam Adams on the table. “Is someone else joining us?”

Sabrina popped her eyes back open and nodded, excited. “Yes. A friend. He's in the men's room.”

“I see. And he's just a
friend
?”

A spurt of giggles escaped from Sabrina's lips. She turned her face slightly away like an embarrassed schoolgirl. Hayley didn't remember Sabrina being so coquettish and demure. Suddenly she had gone from Dickens to a full-fledged Brontë heroine.

“Well, now you've certainly gotten my attention,” Hayley said, smiling as she signaled to her brother behind the bar to bring over her usual Jack and Coke.

Randy gave her a wave and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf.

“Is he local? Is it someone I know?” Hayley asked Sabrina, who was now dragging her fingertip across the rim of her martini glass, gathering up the chocolate that lined it, and then sliding her finger into her mouth and licking it off.

“No. I met him when I was visiting my sister in San Diego a few months ago. We were having dinner in the Gas Lamp district and he jogged by. Our eyes met, but he kept going. It was a fleeting fantasy on my part. How could this strapping hunk of a man ever be interested in me? But then, without warning, he double-backed and introduced himself. My sister asked him to join us, and he did! We've been inseparable ever since!”

Hayley glanced up to see a young man, not far past the legal drinking age, walking from the restrooms back toward their table.

This couldn't be him. He was striking: dark-skinned, black hair, probably half Latino. Plus he was covered in tattoos from what Hayley could see. His arms, the back of his hands, and what Hayley could see of his smooth bronzed chest through his open silk white shirt were inked.

He wore thick black glasses and had two perfectly round holes in his earlobe. He was a sight to behold. Hayley normally wasn't a big fan of body art and piercings. But this kid, this lean yet muscled Adonis, wore it so well.

When he smiled, it was as if the whole bar was suddenly bathed in a heavenly light.

Hayley's heart fluttered. Not because she was attracted to him. This was male beauty in its finest form and she was just appreciating it.

However, he was almost young enough to be her son.

He stopped at the table and massaged Sabrina's shoulders. She melted at his touch. Her face turned crimson and out came another girlish giggle.

“You must be Hayley. I've been anxious to meet you. Mason Cassidy,” the Adonis said in a deep baritone voice.

Hayley stood up and held out her hand, but Mason brushed it away and enveloped her in a tight hug. She could feel his rock-hard chest as he squeezed her body into his.

After releasing her from his iron grip, Mason gave her a playful wink. “Sorry. I'm a big hugger.”

Hayley suddenly found herself giggling. It was contagious.

He took a seat at the table. His bright smile still blinded both of them.

Randy nearly walked into an adjacent table as he delivered Hayley's cocktail, his eyes glued to the handsome stranger. Somehow he managed to set it down in front of her without spilling too much of it.

“Thank you, Randy,” Hayley said.

Randy never once looked at her. He was staring at the painted god with a laser-like focus. “Can I get you another beer?”

Mason picked up the bottle and examined it. “I'm not even halfway through yet. Are you trying to get me drunk?” He winked at Randy, whose knees nearly buckled.

“Why? What would happen if I got you drunk?”

“Thank you, Randy. I think we're fine for now,” Hayley said, placing a hand on his hip and giving him a subtle yet forceful send-off.

“Just yell if you need anything, and I do mean
anything
!” he called out as he walked back behind the bar.

“For heaven's sake, Randy, you have a husband!” Hayley called after him.

“I know! I'm happily married, but that doesn't mean I'm dead! There's no harm in window-shopping, even if I'm not going to buy anything!”

“So you two met in San Diego?” Hayley asked.

“Yes, she swept me off my feet,” Mason said, cupping the back of Sabrina's neck and pulling her close so he could plant a sweet kiss on her cheek.

“Mason works as a high diver at SeaWorld. He swims with porpoises. How sexy is that?” Sabrina said, squealing so high that Hayley was surprised their glasses didn't shatter.

“Wow, that's very impressive,” Hayley said.

Truly impressed.

“Yes, he trained as an acrobat and even worked in a couple of those Cirque du Soleil shows in Las Vegas. So you can just imagine how limber he is when it comes to you know what!” Sabrina said, now lowering her voice to the point where it was almost Kathleen Turner husky in order to make her point.

“Yes, I can. So there's no need to explain—”

“Neither of my fuddy-duddy former husbands had the tactile grace that Mason brings to the bedroom. Hell, Jerry sprained his back just coming from the toilet to the dresser, where he kept his condoms. We hadn't even started yet!”

Mason nuzzled Sabrina's neck with the tip of his nose. “You are so cute.”

“You know, Hayley, I never would have met Mason if I hadn't quit my job as county coroner. That was the best decision I have ever made.”

“I'm so happy for you, Sabrina. Really, I am.”

In fact, there was a slight pang of jealousy deep inside Hayley.

Not that she wasn't blissfully happy dating the handsome town vet, Dr. Aaron Palmer.
Not at all.
Aaron was certainly a keeper. Her relationship with him was an unexpected gift that she treasured.

But like her brother said, she wasn't dead.

Mason Cassidy, with his caramel complexion, suave manner, and lovely features, was certainly fun to look at and admire.

Good for Sabrina. She deserved a little happiness after two ugly divorces.

Sabrina clasped Mason's hand and turned to Hayley. “You know, I seriously considered skipping out on our high-school reunion this year, even though I've been on the planning committee. I just couldn't bear the thought of my former classmates judging me and whispering behind my back about my two failed marriages and collapsed career. But now, with Mason by my side, I think I'm ready to face anyone. Even those mean bitches who were so rotten to us during high school, right, Hayley?”

Hayley was speechless.
Rotten to
us
?

Sabrina was the kind of ultimate mean girl who literally had inspired Rosalind Wiseman's
Queen Bees and Wannabes,
the best-selling guide to adolescent torture!

Hayley nodded, deciding it was best not to poke a hole in Sabrina's happy mood.

“I am ready to introduce the new Sabrina Merryweather to the world in all her glory! I can just feel it! This reunion is going to be history-making!”

Sabrina had no idea just how on the mark she was with her comment. Their twentieth high-school reunion was certainly going to make history.

Only not in the way she imagined.

Showing off her hot, new, young boyfriend was soon going to take a backseat to a dead body turning up even before the class president's welcome speech was over.