“Don’t count me in for dinner. I couldn’t possibly eat now. Oh, and Dustin’s at Cameron’s house so he won’t be eating, either.”
Hayley immediately shut off the burner and dumped the pot of water into the sink. She turned to see Gemma halfway back up the stairs to her room.
“So how old is he?”
“I don’t know. A little older than me.”
“How much older?”
“He’s a senior.”
“Seventeen?”
“Eighteen, okay? Come on, Mom, enough with the third degree.”
“I’m not convinced it’s wise for you to be dating an older boy.”
“Stop being so overprotective. I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Gemma said, continuing up the stairs to her room.
“So what time do we have to be there?” Hayley asked.
Gemma stopped cold. “Be where?”
“The coffeehouse. We’re not staying late because I have a column to write.”
“Mom, you’re not invited.”
“It’s a public event. And I’m sure Reid will appreciate an extra body there to help fill the house.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I don’t like the idea of you dating someone I’ve never met, and since I know you and that you will never bring him around to meet me, this is a nice alternative to me actually crashing one of your real dates.”
“Fine!” Gemma sighed. “But we have to be there by seven-thirty.”
Hayley didn’t like the fact that she would be out late. She just wanted to pour herself a glass of red wine and write her Wade Springer column. But her kids came first. She had to do this.
The coffeehouse was half full when they arrived on time at seven-thirty. Lots of teenagers sipped lattes and flavored teas and were slouched over wooden tables, talking. Hayley guessed she was the oldest one in the room.
Gemma had dressed to the nines and stood out from the others, who were in jeans and t-shirts. Hayley refused to sit alone at a table in the back, much to Gemma’s chagrin, and joined her at a table up front directly in front of the microphone that had been set up.
The coffeehouse owner, a frizzy-haired redheaded woman in her late twenties wearing a bulky wool sweater and jeans skirt, stepped in front of the mic and gave a quick rundown of upcoming events before turning it over to Reid.
Hayley almost gasped out loud when Reid entered from the back, a guitar slung around his shoulder. No wonder Gemma was so googly-eyed and excited over the attention he had given her. The kid was incredibly handsome with the face and body of a male model. His brown hair was scraggly and mussed and he wore thick glasses that did little to hide his beautiful puppy-dog brown eyes. He seemed perfect.
Hayley glanced over at Gemma, who was the only one wildly clapping at his introduction. It took a moment for everyone else to catch up. After most people stopped applauding, Hayley had to physically restrain her daughter from clapping anymore so Reid could start his song.
Reid launched into his number, and Hayley was surprised by what a soothing, melodic voice he possessed. He also played the guitar well, and Hayley noticed he quickly had the crowd in the palm of his hand.
When it was over, Gemma jumped to her feet, forcing everyone else to haul their butts up out of their chairs and give Reid a standing ovation.
Reid looked over at Gemma and gave her a wink.
Yeah, the kid was cute. Probably a heartbreaker, too. But Gemma was right. Hayley had to let her make her own decisions and her own mistakes.
Hayley and Gemma hung around long enough for the crowd to thin out and Reid to finish accepting accolades from his friends for his performance.
Finally, when the coffeehouse was nearly empty, Reid ambled over and gave Gemma a warm hug.
“Thanks for coming,” Reid said with a smile that lit up the room.
Hayley had to gently grab Gemma by the elbow to stop her from swooning.
“This must be your sister,” Reid said with a straight face, nodding to Hayley.
The easiest play in the book to impress a girl’s mother. But damned if it wasn’t effective one hundred percent of the time.
“Oh God, no! That’s my mother!” Gemma screamed.
“I had her very young,” Hayley said, but then caught herself. “But I’m not condoning motherhood at an early age whatsoever.”
Reid laughed.
“You were very good,” Hayley said, and meant it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Powell,” Reid said. “That means a lot to me.”
The kid had obvious talent and a laid-back charm. He was hard to resist.
“Can I buy you two some coffee or tea?” Reid asked, slipping an arm around Gemma. Her body jerked slightly from the thrill of his touch.
“No, we need to get home. I have some work to do before tomorrow,” Hayley said.
“Yes, Mom’s a columnist for the
Island Times
and has left things to the last minute as usual. I, however, have already finished all my homework and would love to join you for some tea.”
Checkmate.
Hayley decided not to drag Gemma home with her. The coffeehouse owner was stationed behind the counter and could serve as a makeshift chaperone. And Reid seemed like a nice enough kid. So she told Gemma to be home by ten, and turned to leave. As she was heading out the door, she heard Gemma say breathlessly, “Your singing gave me goose pimples. Look, I still have them.”
Hayley walked the four blocks home and wondered why girls always fall so hard for a guy with a handsome face and a nice singing voice. She had thought Gemma would go more for someone with brains, a whip-smart college prep kid with plans to be a doctor or lawyer. But no, she was obsessed with the soft-spoken artist who had a way with a guitar.
Where did she get that from?
Oh, well. No time to ponder that question. Hayley had to get home and write all about her idol, Wade Springer.
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
In the immortalized words of every teenage girl in America, I would just like to say “OMG!” I can not tell you how beside myself I am with excitement about a truly amazing and fantastic upcoming event that is about to happen in our tiny little town! And best of all, it’s showcasing an idol of mine who’s so popular I can’t believe he is also about to grace the stage of our very own historic landmark the Criterion Theatre.
I’m just so over the top deliriously happy that I almost can’t even type his name without wanting to start screaming like I’m twelve and at the mall waiting for a Justin Bieber appearance! I actually believe—no, I
know
—I am going to have to grab my friend Liddy and go to the big city—No, Liddy,
not
New York! I’m talking about our big city of Bangor—to get myself some new blue jeans, a sassy shirt, and, dare I say, cowgirl boots with heels!
So if you haven’t heard by now, hold on to your seats because the impossibly gorgeous and wildly successful Wade Springer (insert
screaming!
) is coming to Bar Harbor to do not one but
two
charity country music concerts for the College of the Atlantic’s ocean research department.
I can say with certainty that this is probably one of the most exciting things that has happened here since the bar my brother Randy owns, Drinks Like A Fish, had a two for one special on their to-die-for Lemon Drop Martinis, and because they were so popular, the Hannaford grocery store
and
the Bayside liquor store both ran out of vodka over the weekend. We almost had a New England version of the Watts riots on our hands from all of the angry Lemon Drop lovers in town!
Anyway, what a great coup for the college to get Wade to perform. I, for one, will be first in line for tickets since I have been Wade’s number one fan ever since he first arrived on the Nashville scene. I adore country music, much to the chagrin of my kids, who find it quite embarrassing when their friends come over and I’m in the kitchen singing into a hairbrush microphone at the top of my lungs “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” along with Shania Twain. Honestly, though, sometimes it’s worth the eye rolling and screaming, “Oh, Mom, for the love of God, stop!”
I pride myself on knowing almost everything there is to know about Wade, and I probably shouldn’t admit this since I might start sounding like a groupie, but he is by far the best country music star around. I’m sorry, Brad Paisley! Sorry, Toby Keith! And sorry, close second, you hunk of beef, Tim McGraw! But Wade wins!
I can’t help it if I just happen to know that his favorite color is blue just like mine and that when he was ten years old, his best friend was his black-and-white border collie, Rip. And that when he was thirteen, he had his first kiss. At sixteen, he started his own band with four friends and two of those friends are still in the band with him now. At eighteen, he turned down a baseball scholarship to a prestigious college to continue writing and playing his first love, country music!
I could go on and on, but I’ll stop now because I don’t want to start sounding like Kathy Bates in that movie
Misery
or anything. But for me, anyone whose favorite food of all time is country fried chicken is definitely number one in my book!
So for this week’s column, in honor of my beloved Wade Springer’s upcoming local concerts, I’m going to dish up (and I don’t mean to brag) my first-place, award-winning country fried chicken that won at last summer’s Memorial Day BBQ cook off at the town ball field.
Let’s get started! The best way to start a delicious country fried chicken dinner is with a cold frothy beverage, so everyone grab your favorite chilled beer or two or . . . okay, six-pack, and enjoy them with my blue ribbon country fried chicken recipe.
Hayley’s Blue Ribbon Country Fried Chicken
3 eggs
½ cup water
1 cup of your favorite hot sauce (I’m keeping mine a secret)
2 cups of self-rising flour
1 teaspoon pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
Garlic powder
One 1½ to 2½ pound chicken, cut up
Peanut oil for frying
In a medium-size bowl, beat eggs and water, then add the hot sauce and stir. In another bowl, mix the flour and pepper. Season chicken pieces with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Dip seasoned chicken in egg, then coat with flour and set aside.
In a Dutch oven or deep frying pan, pour enough peanut oil to fill halfway to the top and heat to 350 degrees.
Fry your chicken until golden brown and crispy, white meat around 8 to 10 minutes and dark meat 12 to 14 minutes, flipping the meat halfway along. Remove from oil and place on paper towel–lined plate and let sit for five minutes. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
“Hayley, I can’t stop thinking about you and your country fried chicken,” the man said.
Hayley spun around and spied a man leaning against the side brick wall of the store.
He was tall, north of six feet, with broad shoulders and a relaxed gait as he stepped toward her. Hayley could see that he was wearing a cowboy hat but his face was still hidden in the shadows.
She had just stopped at the Big Apple convenience store on her way home, to pick up a Snickers bar, because she was having a sugar craving, and he was waiting for her when she came outside. It was already dark and the light from the street lamp was blinding her enough so she couldn’t make out who it was.
But that voice.
Low and with a distinct southern drawl.
It had to be him.
It was Wade Springer.
She could only guess that he had read her column when it hit the stands earlier today and searched the town high and low to find her. This was possibly the most romantic moment of her entire life. It was like in that movie,
Field of Dreams
. If she baked it, he would come. Okay, so not exactly like that movie. But close enough. And here he was. Not twenty feet from her. She resisted the urge to run into his arms and profess her undying love to him forever and ever.
Hayley squinted to get a clearer look at her favorite country music legend.
Wait a minute.
It wasn’t a cowboy hat he was wearing. It was more like a Boston Red Sox baseball cap. And he really wasn’t that much over six feet. Maybe five ten, ten and a half at most. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Did she just
want
this to be Wade?
The man stepped into the light from the street lamp. She was right. It wasn’t Wade Springer at all. It was Lex Bansfield.
He walked over and gave Hayley a sweet kiss on the lips.
“My mouth’s been watering ever since I picked up the paper today and read your column. When are you going to make me some of that fried chicken?”
Hayley smiled and kissed him back, not wanting Lex to see the clear disappointment on her face.
“Maybe you can come over sometime this week and I’ll make a batch for you and the kids,” she said, unwrapping her candy bar and taking a generous bite. She offered some of it to Lex, but he shook his head.
That’s when the strong smell of fish wafted up into her nose and she scrunched up her face. “Lex, where have you been?”
“Cleaning out my fishing boat. I’m lending it to Ned Weston while I’m out of town.”
“Out of town? Where are you going?”
“Didn’t you get my e-mail?”
“No, I’ve been a little busy today.”
Waiting for Wade Springer to call.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Lex said.
“Where?”
“Boss is flying me to the family estate outside of Phillie. He wants some trees on the property cut down and he only trusts me to do it right. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”
“I hope he’s flying you first class. He can certainly afford it.”
Lex’s boss, Edgar Hollingsworth, was heir to a frozen seafood dinner empire and, despite his demanding nature, very generous to his summer estate caretaker.
“Nope,” Lex said, winking. “Boss doesn’t fly commercial. We’re taking his private jet.”
“You poor thing,” Hayley said, stroking his cheek.
“What will you do while I’m gone?”
“Oh, I’ll try to carry on,” Hayley said, laughing. There was no way she was ever going to admit to Lex that she would probably spend the entire time tracking down another man, even though it would just be so she could get her picture taken with him.
“Well, behave yourself and try to stay out of trouble,” he said.
“I always do.”
Lex gave her a skeptical look.
Even Hayley didn’t believe it. Trouble just seemed to find her. And, at the time, she had no idea just how much trouble was brewing.
Lex pulled Hayley into him and squeezed her tight. Lex made Hayley feel safe. But she wasn’t quite sure of her feelings for him. She was happy he wanted to take things slow. The fact was they hadn’t known each other that long. And as perfect as he seemed on paper, there were still lingering doubts. He wasn’t the most emotionally available man. Whenever she wanted to talk seriously about their relationship, he’d make a joke or a glib comment, like he was uncomfortable discussing his feelings.
In other words, he was your typical man.
But he was kind and sweet and drop-dead gorgeous and worth getting to know more, and perhaps one day they would wind up together. But for now, though, Hayley was content with the way things were.
Dating. But no strings attached.
Okay, maybe a string or two.
But they were a long way from being exclusive.
Only time would tell.
Lex kissed Hayley one more time.
The fishy smell was overwhelming.
“Do me a favor and go take a bath,” Hayley said, plugging her nose with her fingers.
Lex tipped his baseball cap and then got in his Jeep and drove away, leaving Hayley standing in the parking lot of the Big Apple, clutching her half-eaten Snickers bar.
Hayley didn’t get much sleep that night. She spent hours tossing and turning in bed, fantasizing about Wade Springer showing up at her house—no, wait, her office was better because that way there would be lots of people there to witness him barging in and picking her up in his strong arms. Just like at the end of one of her favorite movies,
An Officer and a Gentleman,
when Richard Gere showed up in his spiffy white navy officer’s uniform and swept Debra Winger off her feet in front of all her factory coworkers as they enthusiastically applauded while he carried her off into the sunset.
She really needed to stop eating sweets before bed.
Hayley finally gave up trying to sleep and went downstairs at 4
A.M.
to put a pot of coffee on and watch reruns of
The Dog Whisperer
with Leroy, who was also wide awake from the sound of a raccoon foraging through a neighbor’s nearby garbage bin.
At one point, they were interrupted by the police scanner Hayley kept plugged in and sitting atop her refrigerator. (Sal wanted all the employees to keep scanners in their homes in case a major news story broke.) The dispatcher ordered a squad car to a local residence. The owner had been out of town on vacation and returned home to find the place ransacked.
This was disturbing. Bar Harbor was such a safe town, but lately it had been plagued by a series of break-ins. The police were going crazy trying to find the culprit and just when things would calm down, the thief would strike again.
A house.
A car.
Even a candy store.
He was nondiscriminating in his targets. Hayley hoped they would catch him soon. What would Wade Springer think about performing in a town with such a high crime rate?
Hayley tried not to think about Wade Springer anymore. The column had only come out yesterday. What were the odds someone from the tour would even read the paper, let alone her small inconsequential article buried in the back. She was being ridiculous.
Maybe there was some other way to get to Wade Springer. It’s not like she thought they were going to be lifelong friends. She just wanted to meet him and tell him how much his music meant to her.
Maybe she really
was
turning into Kathy Bates in
Misery
. Would she eventually lure him to her house and keep him hidden away in the guest room and stop him from escaping by hobbling his ankles with a sledgehammer?
Was she that crazy?
Okay, now she
really
needed to stop thinking about Wade Springer. She was scaring herself.
Mercifully, the sun finally crested over Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, the first point the sun hits in the United States every morning, and Hayley went into the kitchen to make breakfast for the kids.
She was at the office early, and she checked her e-mail. Sure enough, there was Lex’s e-mail alerting her to his plans to travel to Philadelphia. She scrolled down further. Nothing from Wade Springer or his people.
Fine. No big deal.
It was a pie in the sky thought anyway.
Bruce Linney was the next to arrive. He and Hayley had a somewhat love–hate relationship.
He loved her. She hated him.
No, that was unfair. Bruce just liked to push Hayley’s buttons and it drove her crazy, but she understood that he had a crush on her, and was especially jealous of her budding relationship with Lex.
Bruce was the paper’s crime reporter, which meant he was a part-time employee, because there really wasn’t that much crime in Bar Harbor.
Until recently, of course.
Bruce wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he could be considered by most to be rather handsome. It was just that his irritating personality oftentimes overshadowed his positive physical attributes.
Bruce was on a tear. “Did you hear he struck again?”
“Yes,” Hayley said. “I’m sure the cops will catch him soon.”
“I’m not waiting for those clowns to get off their asses and solve this,” Bruce yelled before catching himself. “No offense to Sergio.”
“None taken,” Hayley said absentmindedly as she continued scrolling through her e-mail. Sergio was the chief of police and the boyfriend of Hayley’s younger brother, Randy.
“I’m going to collar this guy myself. I recently invested in some spy equipment I ordered online and I’ve narrowed down the area where he’s most likely to hit next. . . .”
Hayley was no longer listening to Bruce. She had just received a text from Liddy. Her mouth dropped open in shock.
Liddy wrote, Caravan of tour buses just rolled into town. Word has it Wade Springer is at a booth in Jordan’s ordering breakfast as I’m writing this. Meet you there.
This was it. Code red. Her chance to meet Wade.
Bruce was still talking. “It’s scientific, really, how I was able to pinpoint the area he might strike next. I used this computer program. . . .”
Hayley sprung to her feet. “We need petty cash!”
“So go to the bank at lunch,” Bruce said, a bit put out that she was interrupting his analysis of the recent crime spree and how he was going to expertly crack the case.
“Sal might want a poppyseed bagel when he gets in and I won’t have any money to go get him one! I’ll be right back!”
Hayley moved so fast she blew some papers off her desk. She was out the door before they even had a chance to float to the floor.
By the time Hayley reached Jordan’s restaurant on Cottage Street, the line to get a table was out the door.
Liddy was the last one in line and did not look happy about it.
“Can you believe this?” she spat out. “Word spreads fast in this town. There’s no way we’re ever going to get inside, let alone get a glimpse of Wade.”
“It’s all right. I should’ve known this was hopeless.”
“Well, I’m still on the board of directors at the Criterion, so we have that to use to get a meeting. But by then, I’m sure his people will have already hired a personal chef for Wade.”
“Look, I took a shot and wrote the column. There’s only so much we can do. Even if they read it, there’s no guarantee they’ll ever allow me to cook for Wade.”
Liddy’s mind raced and then something hit her.
“There could be another way.”
“What?”
Liddy pulled Hayley closer. “The only other way into the restaurant is from the back.”
“You mean through the kitchen?”
“Exactly!”
“And then what?”
“You’re in the kitchen! You make Wade Springer’s breakfast.”
“What about Kelton, the cook? He’s not going to let me take over for him.”
“Oh, please. He owes you. You let him cheat off your physics pop quiz sophomore year. He’ll let you make one omelette.”
Liddy had a point. Kelton had always had a soft spot for Hayley.
Maybe this wasn’t such a wild idea after all.
Hayley dashed around the side of the restaurant.
“You go, girl!” Liddy screamed, pumping her fist. She stopped when she noticed everyone in line staring at her.
Hayley entered the kitchen. Smoke from the bacon frying nearly gagged her and she waved it away as she approached Kelton, who was pouring blueberry pancake batter on the grill.