Ade’s mother was flying in from Arizona on Friday, the day before the shower, and would be staying for over a week—in other words, until after the wedding. Although my parents were footing the bill for the shower and the wedding, Kitty had done nothing but complain about how much everything was costing her. Adrianna and Owen had had a hard time convincing Kitty that there was no room for her in their tiny apartment, which barely had room for the two of them—the nursery was a converted closet—and they’d suggested that Kitty skip the shower and just come to the wedding. Eventually, Kitty had decided to stay at a hotel for the week, but not without asking, “Do you have any idea what that’s going to cost me?”
Thank God that Ade had my dad and mom, Jack and Bethany Carter, to act as substitute parents!
“So,” my mother said, “Josh still can’t cater the shower, right?”
“No. He got Gavin to give him the day of the wedding off so he can cater it, but Gavin wouldn’t give him another Saturday, too.” To maintain the illusion of illness, I pretended to blow my nose.
“Well, darn it, Josh works so hard at that restaurant! You’d think that this Gavin would have the sense to keep his executive chef happy. Anyhow, we can handle the food. The shower won’t be that big. Is Adrianna excited?”
“Very. Mom, she is so overwhelmed by everything you and Dad are doing for her. Thanks again.” My parents’ help meant as much to me as it did to Ade and Owen.
“Of course. We’d do anything for them. With the baby coming in a few weeks, the last thing they need to worry about is trying to pay for a wedding. And I can’t stand the idea a tiny civil ceremony with no real celebration to go along with it. We wouldn’t have it any other way. So let’s talk food!”
We finalized the menu for Saturday’s shower. I hung up feeling guilty for feigning a cold, but if I’d told my mother about Francie’s death, we’d’ve had a whole long conversation that I didn’t feel like having right now. And all this wedding talk was so fun! While making all these plans over the past few months, I’d spent my fair share of time fantasizing that I was planning my own wedding to Josh. Not that I was expecting an engagement anytime soon, but it seemed like marriage could be a possibility for the two of us.
As soon as I’d put down the phone, it rang again. I looked at the caller ID window and saw the dreaded words
Private Call
. Answering the phone when caller ID had picked up no information about the incoming call was risky: for all I knew, I’d be stuck talking to someone who’d coerce me into responding to a long survey about tile cleaning products or about my infomercial-watching preferences.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“Hi. Why aren’t you selling rain barrels? Do you want to come over?” Phew. It was Adrianna, whose new number was still unlisted. I’d have to get on her about having her number published, or I’d be missing a lot of calls.
“I’m playing hooky. Yeah, let me just throw on some clothes, and I’ll be over soon.”
When Ade and Owen had moved in together last spring, I’d been glad that their apartment was within walking distance of my place. Today, I actually wished that Adrianna lived a bit farther away than she did, because a good, long walk would’ve helped shake off some of yesterday’s tragedy. I tossed on a pair of gray yoga pants (not that I actually
did
yoga) and a white top, and yanked my hair into a ponytail. Knowing that Adrianna wouldn’t have any caffeinated coffee, I filled a travel mug with my own and left to see my incredibly enlarging friend. On the way, I resolved not to make any more jokes about how many babies she was carrying.
Quads? Are you sure it’s not at least triplets?
Well, I’d try very hard not to. The last time I’d made a joke about multiple births, she’d thrown a stuffed bear at me. Next time it could be something painful, like a bottle warmer or a diaper bin.
Like me, Ade and Owen lived on the top floor of a house. Trudging up the stairs to their place, I once again lamented the steepness of the steps my friends would have to manage with a baby. Now, while she was pregnant, Ade needed to stop for a break when she climbed the stairs, but once she had a baby or toddler in her arms, the staircase would become perilous. At least the apartment looked attractive. It was minuscule but charming, with hardwood floors and original molding around the doors and windows.
I knocked on the door while simultaneously opening it and announcing my arrival. “Ade?”
The heavenly smell in the apartment made me suspect that Adrianna was once again cooking. Now that Ade had stopped work, she was doing the whole nesting thing: she spent most of her time organizing and reorganizing the apartment, baking decadent cakes with elaborate icing, and putting together scrapbooks using strange craft tools I’d never seen before.
“Hi, Chloe. Come in,” my friend called.
I stepped into the hallway and into the bright living room-kitchen area. All I could see of Adrianna was her backside popping out from the open door of the refrigerator. “Yeah, I know. I’m cooking again. But wait until you see what we’re having.”
“No complaints from me,” I said happily, peering into a pot on the stove. “What are you making?”
“I already baked a coffee cake, and now I’m starting the artichoke and spinach eggs Benedict with a spicy hollandaise sauce on croissants. And potatoes with rosemary, onion, and garlic. It’s going to be bang-up.” Ade emerged from the depths of the fridge, her arms loaded with half its contents. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft curls. Even hugely pregnant, she was stunning. Her face was bare of makeup, and she wore black stretch pants and an oversized tank top over a sports bra, but she still looked better than anyone else I knew.
“Look at you!” I practically squealed. “You’ve become so domestic and cute!” The change in Adrianna was incredible. The prepregnant Adrianna never appeared in front of anyone without makeup. As for cooking, she’d been the queen of takeout—high-end takeout, admittedly, but take-out nonetheless. Not that I objected: a warm, comforting meal was just what I needed to soothe my nerves.
“Shut up. I’m not domestic, and I’m certainly not cute. Have you seen my feet?” She kicked a leg out for my viewing pleasure. “I mean, I haven’t seen my feet in weeks, but I imagine they are monstrous, swollen blobs. Grab a mixing bowl for me, will you?”
I complied and then helped her to mix spinach, artichoke hearts, mayonnaise, sour cream, garlic, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese. She poured the concoction into a ceramic baking dish that I popped into the oven. While the oven door was open, I got a glimpse of the aromatic potatoes that were crisping beautifully.
“Now the hollandaise sauce,” she said.
I watched in awe as Adrianna heated a double boiler and began melting butter. This from a woman who adored food as much as I did but who, until now, had had zero cooking skills!
“Here, separate the eggs for me.” She pushed the carton toward me.
“Yes, ma’am!” I dutifully began cracking eggs, separating yolks and whites, and tossing the shells into the sink.
“Oh, so I want to hear about Josh’s filming yesterday, but get this,” Adrianna began as she cut a lemon for the sauce. “Owen called me earlier and said that someone from the Department of Public Health went into Natural High and Evan’s cheese shop first thing this morning to investigate a serious case of food poisoning. How gross is that?”
“Oh, God, really?” When I turned from the sink to look at Ade, I broke the yolk from the egg I was trying to separate. “Well, I can’t say the filming went smoothly.” Gross understatement.
“Why? What happened? Josh didn’t panic and burn everything, did he?”
I handed Ade the bowl of egg yolks and watched as she mixed them with an electric beater. “No,” I yelled over the din, “he didn’t do anything wrong. But the guest’s wife died during dessert.”
“She cried? His food was that bad? Screw her. Who cries over a dessert?”
“Died, Adrianna! Died!” My loud voice filled the room when Ade abruptly turned off the mixer.
“Someone died eating Josh’s food? I guess she did get screwed.” She started adding small portions of the egg to the melted butter and lemon. “Did she have a heart attack or something?”
“No, I wish,” I answered. “Not that I wish she’d had a heart attack! It’s just that . . . that the situation is complicated.”
I told Adrianna all about yesterday’s events as she finished making the hollandaise, which was now spiked with hot sauce, and began to poach four eggs. “Francie died while I was with her. She looked horrible, Ade. She was so sick. And it happened so fast. Right in front of me.” My stomach clenched in knots, and I tossed my head as if trying to shake out the image of Francie dying on the floor of that filthy bathroom. “Ade, I have to know what happened to her! I was right there, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I
didn’t
do anything.”
I was ashamed of not having made some sort of heroic effort to revive Francie. At a crucial time, I had completely frozen; in the worst possible way, I had let Francie down. The ugly thought came to me that since I’d done it once, I might do it again. I was Adrianna’s backup birth coach! What if Owen was unreachable when Ade went into labor? And I was the only person she had to depend on? Owen’s fish truck could break down, his cell could be out, and I would be Adrianna’s sole support. Some help I’d be! To judge from my reaction to Francie’s crisis, if Adrianna relied on me to help her through labor, I’d stare dumbly while she pushed a human being out of her body. I had to get it together! There was no way I was going to fail my best friend.
“Chloe, it doesn’t sound like there was anything to do. She was obviously incredibly sick. Whatever killed her, killed her very quickly. I can’t imagine anyone could have saved her.” Ade ladled the eggs from the simmering water and began assembling our plates. She scooped the melted artichoke and spinach mixture onto the croissants and placed an egg and hollandaise sauce on top of each. “So you think it was food poisoning? That’s why the health department wanted to talk to the stores where the food came from?”
We carried our plates to the coffee table in the living room, which also served as the dining room. “I guess,” I said. “I don’t know what else to think. The police were there, and they didn’t . . . well, they didn’t do much of anything.” Although I couldn’t entirely dismiss Josh’s speculation about Evan and Willie, I avoided telling Adrianna that her fiancé’s brothers might have perpetrated a prank with a very unfunny outcome. “Now that I’m saying it out loud, it does seem weird that the police just assumed it was food poisoning and didn’t want to investigate any other possibilities. Even Josh and I wondered for a minute whether Francie had been poisoned. Whether all of us had been poisoned, really.” In spite of the unappetizing topic of conversation, I was still able to savor Ade’s cooking. The delicious eggs were exactly the comfort food I needed.
“I bet I know,” Ade said as she stuffed her mouth full of the outstanding if unorthodox Benedict. “Look at the neighborhood you were in. Who the heck gets killed in a wealthy upper-class town like Fairfield? Plus, when the cops showed up, most of you were sick to some degree. I watch cop shows, you know, and it’s the job of the first police officer on a scene to determine if it’s a crime or not. At first glance, it definitely looks like food poisoning, so I guess he felt he had no reason to think of it any other way. See, the good thing about being pregnant and slothlike is that I’ve been reading tons of mysteries and watching TV. It’s paid off, don’t you think? So who would want that poor Francie dead?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anything about her. But after watching what she went through as she died, I want to know what killed her. Or who killed her. No one should have to die like that.” I shuddered. “What else did Owen say?”
“He said he talked to Willie, and Willie told him that everyone at the store was furious because, of course, no one wants to be blamed for selling nasty food, right? What business wants that kind of notoriety? I guess they had to yank a bunch of stuff from the shelves, and it’s causing a big stir there. If I walked into an expensive market and saw employees pulling tons of food, I’d turn around and walk out. And Evan is closed for the day, now, and since it’s his store, he’s losing money while they check out everything he’s selling. A reputation for selling deadly food could destroy his business.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s change the subject,” I said with as much cheer as I could muster. “Let’s talk about the wedding.”
“Chloe, you’re traumatized and depressed.” Adrianna said matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry you and Josh had to go through all of this. Let me take care of you.” Ade picked up a piece of croissant and wiped the plate with it before popping the last bite in her mouth. “The best route to feeling good is looking good. So I’m going to do your hair. A run-through for the wedding, okay?” She stood up as gracefully as she could. “I need the practice so I don’t lose my touch before I have to do my own hair. I’ll do your hair the way I’m going to do mine. So try to look like me.”
I almost shoved a couch pillow under my shirt but didn’t want to risk one of Ade’s mood swings. I cleaned up the kitchen and helped myself to some freshly baked coffee cake while Adrianna gathered her styling tools. Although the temperature in the little apartment felt comfortable to me, Ade decided that the thermometer that read a mere seventy-two degrees was horrendously inaccurate, so she cranked up the air conditioner while I huddled under a blanket. “Besides, the AC will dry out the air in here and make for better hair,” she insisted. “Now, go stick your head in the sink and then sit in front of me. And this reminds me. Tell your mother I’m doing her hair, too. I don’t want to take the risk that she might stick something weird in it. Seriously, I love Bethany to pieces, but I really don’t want her wearing one of her craft projects on top of her head.”
This wedding had become a Carter family affair. I was performing the ceremony, my mother was to be Adrianna’s matron of honor, and my father was walking the bride down the aisle. Josh was doing double duty. Besides serving as Owen’s best man, he was catering the reception. Digger was going to help in the kitchen, but I had no idea how Josh was going to coordinate the food preparation while simultaneously being a member of the wedding.