A Catered Murder (4 page)

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Authors: Isis Crawford

BOOK: A Catered Murder
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Chapter 4
T
he Seventeenth Annual Clarington Reunion Dinner was half over. The salad and the main courses had been served and eaten. The alums were chatting, basking in that pleasant afterglow brought on by red meat and hard liquor at the same time as the catering crew was scurrying around like ants on speed. Almost everyone in the class was there.
The waitstaff had begun clearing tables, while the lone dishwasher was doing the last of the salad plates. Bernie was at her station plating slices of cake and finishing them off with swirls of raspberry puree while Libby was standing in the kitchen doorway making sure that everything went smoothly.
She was thinking that much as she hated to admit it, Bree had been right about the black roses; they did tie everything together. She watched Stan, Amber, and Googie, her new hire, clear the tables. A moment later, Amber swept by her with a tray full of dirty dishes.
“Wait,” Libby told her.
Amber obligingly slowed down and lowered her tray so Libby could check the plates. Nothing was coming back. Libby sighed in relief as she nodded to Amber to go on into the kitchen.
Despite some initial problems with the oven temperature, the beef had come out perfectly. The black peppercorn coating had turned out to be a wonderful foil for the slightly bland tenderloin. The potatoes had absorbed all the cream and crisped up just the way they were supposed to.
Even the string beans had turned out well. Actually, they were the hardest to get right. They'd come out bright green, with a slight resistance when you bit into them. But not underdone. Why people thought that vegetables needed to be served practically raw was beyond her. She'd finished the beans off with a squirt of lemon and a sprinkling of sea salt. Perfection.
Several people had congratulated her on the dinner and asked for her card. Told her they didn't know that she did big affairs. Needless to say, she hadn't told them this was the first one she'd ever done. Two people had asked her to call them about weddings they were planning. Not bad. This affair was turning out to be worth the considerable hassle.
Even Laird Wrenn had had something nice to say. He'd complimented her on the goat cheese salad with blood oranges on a bed of spring greens. Which had been very good, if she did say so herself. Combining the tart taste of the oranges and the crunch of the toasted almonds was inspired.
People had even liked the tomato aspics. They'd found them charming. Now, if they got through dessert and coffee without any disasters, Libby was thinking she could uncross her fingers and toes and count the evening a success, when Bernie came over to her.
“I think Marvin still likes you,” she confided.
“That was in the tenth grade.”
“He was talking to me about you.”
“He's probably interested in you. Everyone always is.”
“You have to stop thinking like that,” Bernie remonstrated. “He's a nice guy.”
“He's helping his father run his funeral home.”
“So what? Someone has to do it. Unless, that is, you'd rather have another go-around with
him.”
And Bernie gestured to the back of the room.
Libby squinted but she couldn't see anything.
“Who are you pointing to?”
“Orion. Last table on the left. Third seat in.”
Damn, Libby thought. She swallowed.
“I didn't see him come in.”
“He came in late. Look, he's getting up. I think he's coming this way.”
“He's probably going to the bathroom.”
“I don't think so. Libby . . .” Bernie hesitated.
“What?”
“Let it go.”
“That's funny coming from you. Anyway, I just . . .”
“You are such a bad liar.”
“I'm just going to talk to him,” Libby protested. “Where's the harm in that?”
Bernie shook her head.
“I give up. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Libby nodded absentmindedly as she watched Orion approach. Suddenly she was acutely aware of the weight she'd gained. Unlike him. He still had an athlete's body. And that cleft chin. God. What had her mother said when she'd brought him home? “Handsome is as handsome does.”
Although his hair was thinning slightly on the sides and top, and he did have a few more wrinkles in his face since the last time she'd seen him, but, much as she hated to admit it, he looked better than ever. Which, unfortunately, was more than she could say about herself.
“Hi,” she said. “Long time no see.”
Brilliant, she thought.
Orion smiled.
“About ten years.”
“You've gotten your teeth capped,” Libby blurted out. “That little gap is gone.”
She felt like disappearing into the floor.
Orion's grin grew wider.
“I'm flattered you remembered.” He indicated the room with a sweep of his hand. “Very impressive. The food is great, but then it always is. I still remember the cake you made for our wedding.”
“Coconut,” Libby said mechanically. Everyone had told her how good it was. The odd thing was that she couldn't remember making it. “How is Sukie?” she asked.
Orion's smile disappeared.
“We're separating.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Libby lied.
“Me too. So what's going on in your life?”
Libby tried for a nonchalant shrug.
“You know. Same old, same old.”
“No Mr. Right yet?”
“Several . . .” Libby let her voice trail off. She hoped she sounded convincing.
Orion planted his hand on the door frame and leaned over her.
“We should have a drink sometime. Catch up on old times.”
“Definitely,” Libby agreed.
“Good then. I'll give you a call.”
“You're staying in town?”
“With my parents until this thing with Sukie gets settled.” Orion straightened up. “Got to go catch a smoke outside before dessert.”
Libby tsked-tsked.
“You still smoking those awful cigarettes?”
“Just started again. I need something to get me through this. By the way, loved the chocolate coffins. Where'd you get them?”
“From a funeral museum in Austin. They even have a mail order catalog.”
Orion reached over and squeezed Libby's hand. “Trust you to find something like that. I'll give you a ring.”
Libby nodded because she didn't trust herself to say anything else. Orion was almost at the door when Bernie materialized next to her.
“He is good-looking. I will give you that.”
“He and Sukie are separating.”
“I heard.”
“You were eavesdropping.”
“Oh, don't look so outraged,” Bernie told her. “You'd be doing the same thing.”
Libby fiddled with the collar of her white shirt.
“You don't think I should have a drink with him, do you?”
“No, I don't.”
“Why?”
“Because he broke off his engagement with you, for God's sake, and then got married to someone else two months later, and if that wasn't bad enough had the nerve to ask you to make the wedding cake.”
“I offered.”
“Well, he should have refused.” Bernie slipped her shoes off and massaged first one foot and then the other. “At least I make the same mistake with different guys.”
“What's that suppose to mean?” Libby asked.
“Figure it out.”
Libby looked around the room again.
“We have to get the desserts going.”
“Okay,” Bernie said. “But you can't have my pills when you have a nervous breakdown.”
Libby laughed as Googie came sailing by the two women with a tray piled high with dirty dishes.
“Coming through,” he yelled.
“Hey.” Libby took half a step back to avoid a collision. “Slow down. This isn't the Indiana 500.”
“You mean the Indianapolis 500,” he threw over his shoulder.
“Whatever.” Libby folded her hands across her chest and frowned. “That kid gives me an ulcer. Oh-oh,” she murmured.
Bernie followed her gaze. Tiffany was coming towards them.
“She's wobbling,” Bernie said.
“It's the heels,” Libby answered.
“You wish,” Bernie countered as Tiffany reached them.
Libby reflected that while Tiffany had changed her clothes, her eyes were still red and puffy.
“Nice do,” Tiffany said.
Libby smiled. “So far so good.”
Tiffany took a strand of blond hair that had fallen across her eyes and tucked it back in the mass of curls on the top of her head.
“Sweetie, I'm not feeling very well. Do you have anything I can take?”
“I've got some aspirin,” Bernie offered.
“That's not what I had in mind.” Tiffany leaned in close enough for Libby to smell the alcohol on her breath and indicated the glass she was holding with a nod of her chin. “Do you think maybe I can get another vodka?”
“Shouldn't you . . .”
“Screw AA,” Tiffany told her.
Libby opened her mouth, closed it, and finally said, “If you give me a minute . . .”
“No, no. I don't want to bother you.” Tiffany slurred the word
bother.
“Just tell me where the bottle is and I'll fix myself a drink.”
“Stan,” Libby yelled. “Where'd you put the bar stuff?”
“In the green cartons by the door.”
“Thanks.” Tiffany patted Libby's arm and tottered off.
“I don't think I could walk in four-inch heels sober let alone drunk,” Bernie said as she and Libby watched Tiffany go.
“I never could,” Libby said.
“How bad does she get?” Bernie asked.
“Bad enough.”
“Isn't she seeing . . . ?”
Libby shook her head.
“She broke it off.”
“Mike's a nice guy.”
“Yeah. He is. Unlike Lionel.”
Bernie snorted. “I guess when it comes to men, we're all a bunch of idiots.”
“You got that right.” Libby readjusted the towel on her shoulder. “It's not the same with Orion.”
“I never said it was.”
“Lionel keeps stringing her along. It's painful to watch.”
The two women stood there for a minute, then Libby said, “We need to get the third course going.”
“I'm on it, boss man.”
And Bernie hustled off to finish up the cake. As she walked through the kitchen, she thought of the time when her father had given her the beta fish he'd won at the State Fair. She'd been about eight and enchanted with its iridescent blue and red coloring.
The fish had come in a little glass bowl and she'd insisted on getting a five-gallon fish tank and putting it in there, even though her father had warned her that it was a waste of money. The fish would keep swimming around in its little circle no matter where it was, because that was what it had been conditioned to do. And her father had been right.
Were we like that with men? Bernie wondered as she picked up the mustard bottle filled with raspberry puree and began swirling the puree on the next piece of chocolate cake. Were we conditioned to repeat our mistakes over and over again? Forever swimming around in a tight little circle like that beta fish? God, she hoped not.
Maybe what she needed to do was go out with men she wasn't attracted to because that way she'd meet someone nice. And after Joe, she was ready for nice. And speaking of nice, there was Marvin. Who'd liked Libby since high school. Who gave his word and kept it. Unlike other people she could name. People whose first names started with O.
Maybe fish couldn't change, but she was damned if she believed that people couldn't.
 
 
If Bernie was thinking about men, Libby was thinking of everything that still had to be done. She was in the middle of mentally assigning everyone tasks when Googie materialized next to her and pointed to Laird Wrenn.

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