A Spoonful of Murder (2 page)

Her parents had hired Sage DuBois while Lucky was at college, and his expertise kept the menu delicious and unique. His special tonight was a soup based on yams, potatoes, carrots and red peppers in a creamy broth with white pepper. Lucky had worked up an appetite walking all the way from the cemetery and looked forward to a large bowl of the new soup as soon as she could take a break.

She hadn’t intended to stay away from the restaurant so long. Her grandfather was sometimes overwhelmed by the rush of customers and became confused. She couldn’t imagine herself taking over the business her parents had left to her, but she also couldn’t imagine the end of By the Spoonful either. Her grandfather Jack had made it clear he was only holding on, running the shop until she was ready to take over—if that was what she wanted to do. He had been very patient and hadn’t pressured her, but Lucky knew he was waiting for a definite answer. She wondered how much longer she could delay.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed the street and pushed through the glass front door. A bell tinkled overhead, barely noticeable in the clatter and conversation of customers. Almost every table was full, and, as usual, Hank Northcross and Barry Sanders, two of the Spoonful’s very regular regulars,
sat at a corner table playing a game of Connect Four, large mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream nearby. Hank’s bellow could be heard above the din of the restaurant as he lost another round of the game. Barry, smiling and victorious, leaned back in his chair clasping his hands over his protruding belly and took a sip of hot chocolate.

Jack looked up from counting bills. “Lucky, my girl. I’ve been worrying about you. It’s just gone three bells.” Jack was a World War II veteran who had served in the Navy. Lucky had listened to sea lingo her entire life and could even tell time Navy style.

Lucky grinned in response. “I’m fine.” She stepped behind the cash register and gave her grandfather a bear hug, even though he stood a good seven inches taller. She kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Jack.” She had never called her grandfather by any other name. He had always insisted that to her, his only grandchild, he was Jack. He wanted no titles. Those were for old men, and he was never going to be one of those.

Jack held her at arm’s length and gave her a careful look. “Sure you’re all right?”

Lucky nodded. “I am. It’s just…every second with a loved one counts.”

A sadness passed over Jack’s lined face. “One of life’s tougher lessons, my girl. But your parents did a great job. You’ll be fine. I’m not really worried about you.”

The truth was, Lucky was starting to become a little worried about Jack. She had noticed a few things since she’d returned home—moments of confusion and gaps in reality. At first, she had taken some of his remarks as jokes or flights of fancy, but later she realized he had spoken seriously. She determined to keep a much closer eye on him from now on. He was the only family she had, and she was the only one who could really watch out for him.

Lucky pushed through the swinging door and headed down the hall, hanging her coat and winter gear in the closet. She kicked off her snow boots and slipped on a pair of loafers. She pulled a fresh apron off the shelf—her mother had
designed these, bright yellow with an outline of a steaming bowl of soup. On her way back to the front, she peeked into the kitchen. Sage was stirring one of the large vats, a mound of chopped vegetables piled on his work table.

“Hey, Sage. How’s it going?”

He looked up and smiled, muscles bulging in his arms as he returned to chopping. “Under control, boss.”

Lucky nodded. “Let me know if you need any help back here. We’ve got two waitresses out front tonight.”

“Keep them out of my kitchen. Please!” he called out in response.

Lucky smiled. Sage was a maestro in his domain. A highly trained and creative chef, her parents were thrilled to find him. They had been able to hire him at a salary he could have doubled at one of the ski resorts. Frankly, she wasn’t sure why he had stayed on as long as he had. His skills would have been welcomed anywhere. She just hoped he wasn’t thinking of looking elsewhere for work now that her parents were gone.

Lucky had once suggested a recipe for a new soup and asked his opinion about adding salad choices in the summertime. She had felt a definite resistance. Nothing overt, just a stiffening of his posture, but there was something unspoken there. Perhaps he thought she was criticizing his abilities, which was far from the truth. Or maybe he didn’t like having to take orders from a woman so close in age. Lucky had asked him a few times to call her by her name, but so far he avoided using it, preferring to address her as “boss.” Then again, maybe he was standoffish because he wasn’t sure if she would run the business as her parents had done. In all fairness to Sage, she hadn’t definitely decided if she would continue on with the restaurant.

If Sage chose greener pastures, Lucky didn’t know how she would ever find another chef as skilled. It wouldn’t be possible to maintain the same standard of food if Sage were to leave. She brushed the worry aside.
Time will tell, time will tell.
She repeated it to herself like a mantra as she headed back to the cash register to relieve Jack.

The next few hours flew by. At eight o’clock, Lucky sent Jack home, and an hour later, the last diners had gone. Janie and Meg, two local girls who waitressed for them, had cleared the tables and were slipping on their coats. Lucky could hear Sage banging around in the back as he cleaned up his work area. She grabbed the key under the cash register to lock up, but before she reached the door, it flew open, ushering in a frosty blast of air. Sophie Colgan stepped inside, slamming the door behind her.

Lucky’s heart sank. Sophie was probably the last person in town she wanted to see.

F
RIENDS SINCE CHILDHOOD
, they had drifted apart in high school. Lucky excelled as a student, while Sophie pursued her love of athletics, particularly skiing. Sophie was now a top ski instructor at the Snowflake Resort. Tonight, she was still dressed in her ski gear.

In retrospect, the final blow to their friendship had come when Lucky made the decision to attend college in Wisconsin. During their last year of high school, Sophie became distant and cold, indulging in cutting remarks at Lucky’s expense, pretending they had never been close. Lucky made several attempts to bridge the gap and rekindle the friendship, only to be rebuffed. Sophie carried a huge chip on her shoulder about being a “townie” and deeply resented Lucky’s ambition to escape from their small Vermont hometown. Lucky suspected Sophie now took out her aggression on the slopes. She was momentarily confused, wondering why Sophie would come to the Spoonful at this hour. Surely she knew the restaurant would be closing.

“Well!” Sophie flashed a smile. “I heard you were back
but I could hardly believe it. What a surprise—Madison not to your liking anymore?” Lucky detected the thinly veiled sarcasm in her tone.

“It’s not that…I…”

Sophie cut her off. “Sorry about your parents.”

“Thanks.”

“That must be tough.”

Lucky didn’t respond, too afraid any sympathy would bring on tears. She did her best to smile. “You look great, Sophie.”

“Thanks. I stay in shape. So do you.” Sophie’s glance raked over Lucky’s slacks and sweater. “You look well cared for.” Lucky translated that to mean Sophie considered her pampered and spoiled—someone who thought herself too good for the little town of Snowflake.

She couldn’t imagine Sophie had stopped in just to say hello. “Look, we’re closing right…”

“Oh, I didn’t stop in for the menu.” Sophie had cultivated the habit of speaking aggressively, cutting off Lucky before she could complete her thought. Sophie looked beyond her and flashed a dazzling smile. Lucky turned to follow her gaze. Sage, dressed for the cold in his peacoat, came through the swinging door. He returned Sophie’s smile and joined her.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you two…” Lucky trailed off.

“’Night, boss,” Sage said, holding the door open for Sophie.

Sophie turned and, with an impish smile directed at Lucky, waved her hand in the air. “See you around sometime.” Sage shut the door behind them. Lucky moved closer to the window and watched as they walked away, Sage’s arm thrown over Sophie’s shoulder.

“Good night,” Lucky said to an empty room. She stood for a long moment at the window, doubting whether she had made the right decision to return. Had it been the shock of her parents’ death that had caused her to change course so quickly? After their funeral, she had returned to Madison and packed up her life. Now,
had she burned all her bridges? There was no turning back. Was it really the right thing to do?
Time will tell,
she told herself once again. She locked the door and moved slowly around the room, turning off the lamps, all too aware of her own loneliness.

“W
HAT DO YOU
call that color? It’s so yummy, it looks like something I’d want to eat.” Elizabeth leaned closer to the paint can. She had stopped by for an early morning visit to make sure Lucky was settling into her new apartment.

Lucky laughed. “Pumpkin.”

“I knew it.” She smiled. “That’s why I liked it.”

Lucky replaced the lid on the gallon can carefully, pressing it down until it was tightly sealed. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and, carrying a cup of coffee, joined Elizabeth at the kitchen table.

“Thanks for the furniture too.”

“It’s nothing. I keep odds and ends in storage in case one of my tenants needs something. It’s become quite a collection over the years.”

Elizabeth Dove, Lucky’s landlady, was an old friend of her parents and had recently been elected Mayor of Snowflake, Vermont, population 953. That figure was more accurate in summer months. But in winter months, with nearby ski slopes and winter cabins, their tiny hamlet tripled its population. Elizabeth’s hair, now that she was in her late
fifties, had turned a glistening silvery white. She wore it in a short, youthful style and refused to color it.

Lucky hesitated. “You’d be honest with me, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t want to paint the kitchen anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

“I’m very serious. I love it, and I’m just happy you’re willing to do all this work. Saves me having to hire someone. And this room could definitely use some freshening up. I feel a little guilty having you do all this on top of everything else you have to deal with at the Spoonful.”

“It’s good therapy for me. With my schedule, it’ll probably take me a few days to finish, but I’ll get it done.” Lucky was heartened by the thought of making this space her own. There was something about surrounding herself with her own warm choice of color that would make it feel that much more like a real home.

“I’ll start on it tonight. When I get back.”

“That reminds me.” Elizabeth smiled. “I’ve brought you a little present.”

“Oh no! You’ve done so much already,” Lucky cried. It was true. Elizabeth was there to greet her at the train station the day she returned permanently from Madison. Elizabeth believed it was important for Lucky to see a familiar face waiting for her. She knew very well how keenly Lucky would miss her mother. Although she couldn’t possibly fill that role, Elizabeth was determined to be the next best thing. It didn’t matter that Lucky was all grown up now and six years out of college. Elizabeth had known her since the day she was born, and had loved her parents dearly. She had never had children of her own, so Lucky was the closest thing she would ever have to a daughter.

Elizabeth rummaged in her large shopping bag and pulled out a long rectangular box. “Open it.”

Lucky smiled in response and opened the top lid. Inside she saw a fold of black flannel. “What is it?” She looked at Elizabeth questioningly.

“You’ll see.”

Lucky carefully pulled and wriggled the contents out of the box. The face was carved wood—a folk art piece—with a black hat and cloak and a long skirt of dried grass. She carried a broom of straw.

“She’s a genuine New England kitchen witch.”

Lucky laughed. “She’s fabulous.”

“And she’ll bring you good luck.”