Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 02 - Christmas Bizarre (14 page)

“Madison, we should do that next year!”

“Let them loose?”

The boy
rolled his eyes. “No! See if we can set up the adopt-a-thon right next to Santa!”

“Leo, that’s so cool! We should definitely check that out.

He turned to me. “Thanks for rescuing Sammy.”

I patted Sammy’s feathered head bye-bye.
“Sure.”

“Leo, those families are meeting me soon
. I gotta get back with Hamlet.”

“Gotcha. Let’s go.”

Barry exhaled a sigh of relief, then spun me around and pawed at my back.
“Now hold still – don’t move.”

“Is it gone?”

“Yick. Mostly.”

“What’ll I do if Jane comes back?”

“Tell her it’s baby puke.”

“Does it look like that?”

“No.”

A few thousand years later, after posing the kiddies and their canines and several hundred other children sans pets, Barry and Santa and I closed out our shift.

Barry rubbed his head.
“Oh, my nerves! My head is throbbing.”

I rubbed my knees.
“Ditto. But at least you’re not crippled.”

“What are you two grousing about?
Anybody tinkle on you today?” Santa put in.

“I got pooped on.”

“Not bad enough little kids are going on me, now I get puppy pee-pee?”

“I think I’m still wearing it.”

Santa snorted. “Yeah, you’ve got some bird poop. Big whoop. I got a bath! It’s soaked right through to my skin.”

“Yuck!”

“You’re telling me.”

Barry popped some aspirin with the remains of his soda.
“I’m going home and having a hot bath.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said.

Santa grunted. “I’m going home and having a cold brewski.”

“That sounds like a good idea, too.”

“What are you going to do?” Barry asked.

“I’m thinking of sautéing a few pounds of onions.”

Barry and Santa exchanged looks.

“There you are!”
K. bounced up to me, beaming.

I looked at him.
“Why are you happy? You’re empty-handed.”

He waved a finger at me.
“No, no, no! All purchased and packed. We’ll be lucky if there’s room for us in your van!”

“Where’s Trixie?”

“She’s helping Miriam pick up the grill.”

“With Vito?”

He shook his head. “No. The heat’s on. He’s trying to buy Miriam’s present, now that she’s distracted. Really, I’ve never seen anything like it – she’s like glue!”

I quickly introduced K. to Barry and Carmine, aka Santa, before we all departed.

I took off my vest, folded it and put it inside a shopping bag. I’d have to deal with the mess myself later. K. held my coat open for me.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” K. sniffed and made a face. “Oh, we need to get you home. You’re ripe.”

We traipsed across the mall and headed toward the loading area.
Trixie and Miriam were standing just inside the entrance, waiting for us.

“Where’s Vito?” Miriam asked.
“I thought he was with you?”

“He’ll be along shortly
. He had a little personal errand,” K. explained.

“Oh
, for heaven’s sakes, why didn’t you just say he went to the Men’s Room?” Miriam pulled her gloves off and thrust them in her pockets. We stared at her blankly.

A few moments later, Vito made his way toward us – sans shopping bag.

“Weren’t you successful?” K. whispered.

Vito patted the inside of his coat.
“Very.”

K. and I exchanged glances.
You never know with Vito.

We climbed into the van, and K. immediately began a rousing chorus of “Deck the Halls.” “I’m not wait
ing around to see if the Doo Doo can be assuaged by Top 40 Christmas carols. I’m freezing!”

“Ditto that!” Trixie agreed.

We trekked back across town with our bargains packed solidly around Vito’s grill.

Halfway home,
Miriam waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, pew! What is that?”

“I don’t know.
But it don’t smell good.” Vito rolled down the window.

Trixie held her nose.
“Amish fertilizer?”

K. swirled around.
“No, it’s not Amish fertilizer. It’s Mina. And opening windows isn’t going to help. Besides, it’s freezing!”

Vito reluctantly rolled the window back up.
“This smells too bad to be just one person. Sorry, Toots.”

I hung my head
, suffused in the scent of eau de malodorant.

Eventually we slid up my driveway and
bailed out quickly. We were all gasping after holding our collective breath for several miles. “Hey, Mina, I thought you told me you got the van cleaned, after that last time with all the dog poop?”

I sniffed inside the van and made a face.
“I did. But it sure seems like it came back.”

K. and Vito unloaded the grill and set it down.
Vito looked around the van. “Well, at least this time there’s no flies.”

Am I lucky, or what?

“I’m a little disappointed with my buddy’s work, if this is the case. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow, if you want. Okay Toots?”

“Sure.
I’ll leave her parked here for you.” I waved my hand vigorously in front of my face and shut the door quickly.

K. helped Vito ferry the grill to his front porch.

“Thank you so very much!” Miriam squealed with delight.

Trixie and I hauled the rest inside my house.

Vinnie sat purposefully inside the front hallway, waiting for his dinner.
That is, he sat quite still until he saw my elf shoe covers that I forgot to remove. He dove at my right foot and gnawed away.

“Hey, cut it out! I mean it!” I shook my leg but he hung on with renewed fervor.

“Geez, good thing you’re not wearing sandals,” Trixie said.

“Ha, ha.
Gimme a hand here, will you?”

“Not on your life.
I don’t put my fingers near fangs.”

Vinnie growled.

I flapped my arms. “Just go into the kitchen, and open up a can of cat food. That should get his attention.”

No sooner did Trixie crack
open the can than Vinnie bolted down the hallway for all he was worth. I examined my bootie: it unfortunately complimented my vest. It was covered in slobber and tooth marks. I quickly removed the shoe covers and tossed them on a shelf in the coat closet, far, far away from feline fangs.

“Hey! Get down! Leave me alone!”

I went in the kitchen to find Vinnie standing on his hind legs, swatting his paws at the can of food that Trixie held over her head.

“I mean it! Shoo!”

I took the can away from Trixie, and plopped the contents into Vinnie’s bowl.

“He’s a big cat! He could bite your finger off!”

I shrugged. “I doubt it. Not unless you’re keeping his Finicky Fare from him.”

“Hey, maybe you
could hire him out as a spokesperson?”

K. popped in the front door and stomped his feet.
“So, what should we order for dinner? How’s the laundry? Are we on the last cycle?”

“That’s a good question.
I better go check or I’ll be paying Mina rent.” Trixie hurried down to the basement.

“Where are Vito and Miriam?”

“At Vito’s, arguing over what to make for dinner. It’s their date night.”

“Oh
, jeez.”

“However, it looks like the Grill Gods have spared us.”

“Why?”

“They were completely intent on grilling a ‘special appetizer’ for us.
Until they discovered that gas grills do not come equipped with fuel. They have to purchase the tank separately.”

I shook my head.
“That won’t stop them. They’ve got an unguarded kitchen.”

K. looked aghast.
“In that case, we’d better order quickly!”

Bento boxes devoured,
we plotzed and half-listened to a made-for-TV Christmas movie.

K. helped Trixie fold her laundry.
“Oh, this is nice! Where’d you get this?”

Trixie lowered a pillow case and sniffed.

“Whoops! We almost used the M-word again! Now, now!” he tossed the Liz Claiborne shirt aside.

Trixie’s cell phone rang.
“Hello. Oh. Yes, sort of…” she trailed away into the front hall.

“Do you think that’s Mike?” I whispered.

K. peered around the corner, and nodded his head.

“I wonder if they’ll get back together?”

K. waved one of Trixie’s socks at me. “Of course they will! It’s Christmas!”

K.’s phone went off and he answered.
He took the call and wandered into the dining room.

I stared at Trixie’s mountain of laundry, and looked for the remote.
Then, my phone rang. I went into the kitchen to answer it, and found myself looking at Trixie and K. talking on their phones. We looked like a telethon.

“Who?” I asked again, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, which had a very bad connection.

“Jack!”

“Chef?”

“Yes!”

“Where are you calling from?”

“Sorry – hold on…there, is this better?”

“Lots.”

“Sorry, I just walked out of the freezer. Hey, we might be in a jam tomorrow. Are you available?”

“Sure!
”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

“What time?”

“Huh?”

“What time do you need me?”

There was a moment of silence on his end.
“Dunno. I think Hilda picked up some new orders, and I have to go over them with her. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Great.
Thanks for the extra work.”

“I’m sorry it’s last minute.
But I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

I looked at the phone.
Did I just hear that? “Oh, well…”

Clattering and yelling erupted in the background.
“Catch ya later. Gotta roll.” And he hung up.

Well.

Trixie and K. had just hung up, too. We stood staring at each other in the middle of the kitchen.

K. pointed to Trixie.
“You first!”

“Mike said he was sorry.
He really cares about me, and he didn’t mean to be so harsh and unsympathetic.”

“And?”

“And I told him he was a big dumb jerk.”

K. rolled his eyes.

I knew better. “So when are you exchanging Christmas presents?”

“Christmas Eve. Then we’re driving to his folks for dinner.”

K. pantomimed clapping motions and did his happy dance.

“Now you,” he nodded to me.

“I got another shift
. I’m working tomorrow.”

“What else is new?” they chorused.

K. shook his head. “You are the most working, non-working person I know.”

“It’s true,” Trixie agreed.

I shrugged. “So what’s your news?”

“I’m going to Lincoln Center! To see the Nutcracker!”

“Wow! Who’s taking you?”

“A client, but it should be fun.
Someone in her party fell ill, so she has an extra ticket.”

“
Sweet!”

“Thank you.”

My phone rang again. “So when do you want me?” I asked, figuring it was Chef calling back.

“Really, Kitchen, you are a bit odd at times.
I shall now spend the rest of my evening contemplating that very question.”

It was not Chef.
I blushed down to my toes.

“Who is it?” K. mouthed.

“James!”             

K. hopped lightly up and down on his toes, and grabbed Trixie, who had just pulled up a stool to watch.
“C’mon missy, a-folding we will go…”

“Rats.
Just when her love life’s getting a love life.”

I shushed her away, and tried to put the conversation with James back on an even keel.

“Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”

“My.
Now I’m hurt.”

“A client.”

“In that case, I’m jealous. I thought I was your only client?”

“Catering client.
The other clients I work for.”

“I see.
Actually I don’t, but it doesn’t matter. What are you doing Tuesday evening?”

“This
Tuesday? Wow, that’s pretty short notice for a party menu…”

“No, no
, don’t fret. It’s to discuss future massage parties.”

“A business meeting?”

“If you like. Can you meet me at the Barn Door, say five o’clock?”

We made our arrangements, and hung up.

“Is it a date? Where’s he taking you?” K. asked.

Trixie shook her head.
“It’s more work, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.
“Sounded like it. But then it didn’t sound like it.”

K. rolled his eyes.
“Are you going out?”

“Yes.
I’m meeting him Tuesday night. The Barn Door.”

“Ew! Yech! The Darn Boor!
Oh, that’s too bad.”

I looked at him.
“I guess you’ve been there?”

“Once! And that was enough!”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Take it from me,” Trixie said, “when you order a beverage, make sure it comes in its own bottle.
Don’t order anything that comes in a glass.”

K. nodded.
“It wouldn’t hurt to bring your own utensils, either.”

Swell.

A little while later, we loaded up K. and Trixie’s cars. I waved, holding a covered plate of non-pecan pie thrust upon me by Miriam, after she saw us on the front porch. “We didn’t have any pecans. So we used crushed candy canes instead. Clever, right?”

I went inside and took a peak at the pie.
It sparkled back at me, winking with a gleam only a dentist could love. I tossed it in the garbage and covered the evidence with some newspaper, in case Vito stopped by to Swiffer again.

I poured some wine, flipped the remote, and settled for the last of the news.

“Keep those tracking numbers, folks,” the news anchor warned.
“The United States Postal Service is investigating a flurry of missing packages.”

“At this time of year, that’s a real worry.”
His co-anchor smiled broadly.

He nodded.
“It could be a Grinchy Christmas for many of you out there. So if you’re mailing presents, keep track of those tracking numbers.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to let the recipient know to expect a package, either.”

“Good point. You don’t have to give away its contents; but you sure would want to know if it doesn’t arrive.”

I clicked off the remote, dimly thankful my presents went direct via Mom-mobile to my sister.
I wondered when I would catch up with them. Then I thought about the Barn Door non-date. It made me a little uneasy. So I decided to whip up a lasagna, to take the edge off.

Later
, I padded upstairs to hop in my jammies, and put on the night light for Marie, as Vinnie cat-chirped behind me about early to bed, early to rise, and please don’t forget to make his breakfast a top priority in the morning.

Outside
the wind swooshed; hail battered against the window pane. I heard it all as I woke up to the phone ringing, trying not to roll on top of Vinnie to answer it.

“Good morning.”

“Hello?”

“Mwa-gwuph!”
said Vinnie.

“Huh?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Jack.
Did I wake you?”

“Uh-huh.”
I looked at the time. Of course he woke me. It wasn’t even dawn.

“We need you here at seven.
Can you make it?”

I yawned.
“Sure.”

“Great.
Hey, I’m glad I woke you.” He sounded exceedingly pleased with himself.

“Huh?”

There was an odd little silence. Maybe his cell phone quit?

“Otherwise you’d be late, right?”

I rubbed my eyes and ended our chat quickly. I needed coffee. Vinnie sat on the threshold, switching his tail, anxious for his first cup o’cookies, too. Marie peeped in agreement as I shuffled past her door.

I revved up our morning routine, then peered outside.
It was dark and wet and dreary. But at least I didn’t have to worry about shoveling myself up or down the driveway. This was evidenced by the dark green Crown Victoria sliding out of my driveway with ease. It had been parked just behind my van. Now it peeled into the road and screeched out of sight. Odd. Lost newspaper delivery person? Don’t they use GPS now?

I tossed on my service wear and winter gear,
and headed out the door. Vito stood on his front porch, waiting for me.

“Kinda early, huh
, Toots?”

“You’re telling me.”

“You headed to the mall? This early?”

“Squirrel Run.
Last minute.” I yawned.

“Geez, I hope they don’t want you to use your van for deliveries.”

“Does it still smell bad?”

“I guess.
I was going to take a look at it for you, remember?”

“Sorry.
I’ve got to go.”

He shrugged.
“You gotta do what you gotta do. But I’d leave the windows open, if you know what I mean.”

I opened the door and immediately understood.

I rolled down the front windows and sang loudly to a chorus of “Jingle Bells”, hoping I could make up in volume what I was losing in warmth. At the first traffic light I pulled my scarf over my head, tying it under my chin. I caught my image in the rearview mirror. I looked ready to peddle apples.

I parked in the lot and launched myself into the kitchen in record time, more than glad for the warmth of the bubbling kettles and ovens.
My glasses fogged up. Several stockpots went clattering to the floor as I bumped into them.

“Hey, what gives?”

“Sorry!” I took the glasses off and gave them a wiping.

“Keep your coat on. You’ve gotta go,” Hilda hollered, fussing over a large tray.

“Where are the orders?”

“There,” she tilted her chin toward the board.

“They aren’t taped to the trays?”

Hilda shook her head. “Not taking any chances. We need you back this morning.”

I removed the orders and read them.
“There’s just two deliveries?”

She nodded.
“Chef will fill you in.”

“I need your help in the kitchen, after the deliveries, okay?” he asked.

My
help in the kitchen? Oh boy!

“Sure! That’d be great!”

“Thanks. Arnie’s out sick. I’m short a dishwasher.”

Okay, maybe not so great.
My pride suffered some instant deflation. But in comparison to the other part time job, it was a definite boost.

I pulled out of the parking lot, and sat waiting at a traffic light, waiting to make the left turn onto Stoney Battery Road.
The car waiting on the opposite side of the traffic light put on his right blinker, and made a right on red. The light turned green. I turned and noticed a dark green sedan idling on the side of the road. Odd.

My first delivery was downtown, to what appeared to be some kind of social club.
I thought this because the sign read, “Gusto’s Club.” Because of the hour I got curbside parking. I hopped out with their fruit and muffin trays.

I quickly found out that actually it was Gusto’s Boxing Club – they forgot a small detail in their sign.
I placed the tray on a reception desk and looked around. There were lots of folks working out, male and female, young and old, mostly beating a bag. “Hello?” I called out.

A buff black guy walked toward the counter.
“Hi. Are you interested in a membership?”

“Nope.
Just interested in delivering your breakfast.”

He looked me up and down.
“That’s too bad. You look too young to be so out of shape.”

“Oh, well.
Ha, ha.” Thank you? At least I got credit for looking young, right?

“Here’s our flyer.
You should read it. New members get the first month free.”

“Wow. That’s great.
But everyone here just boxes, right?”