Love in the Morning (20 page)

“And almond,” the waitress went on. “And two percent milk and skim, of course.”

“Almond, then.” Teresa waved a weary hand, dismissing her. “Jesus,” she muttered as the waitress hurried away, “this town's such a dump. It's the back of beyond out here.”

Lizzy gritted her teeth, resolving that nothing her cousin said was going to faze her. No matter how much she'd like to strangle her on general principles.

Teresa whipped off the sunglasses, dropping them into her purse. Without them, she looked older, the lines around her eyes a lot more obvious. She turned toward Lizzy, her lips flattening. “Now, what the hell are you doing here, Annalisa?”

Lizzy blinked at her. “You're the one who set this up. I hadn't planned on saying anything to you.”

“I don't mean
here
here, I mean here. In this hellhole. Following the
Lovely Ladies
around. Christ, haven't you done enough damage as it is?” She drew her lips down in a snarl, which seemed at odds with her cotton-candy-colored lipstick.

Lizzy's hands balled into fists in her lap. “I live here now, Teresa. I work here. I'm not following you around. If anything, you followed me.”

“I didn't follow you. I didn't even know you were here. You left LA and you didn't tell anyone where you were going. Why would I want to follow you, for Christ's sake?” Teresa gave an exasperated sigh. “You ruined my life, after all.”

Lizzy gathered her hands into fists. “I'm sorry you've had difficulties, Teresa. So did I. In fact, I left LA because of those difficulties. And I ended up here.”

“Well, if you'd told anybody where you were, I could have avoided coming here, couldn't I? Or you could have left.” Teresa shrugged, shredding a paper napkin with her predatory fingernails. “What's done is done. The show came here. You need to leave. Go on to Denver or something.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Lizzy said flatly. “I have a job here.”

“Then stay the fuck away from me,” Teresa hissed. “Stay away from all of us. Jesus, it was just lucky that Amber was the one who saw you. If it had been that bitch Constance, she'd have started talking about it on camera. Then I'd be right back where I was after the party. Do you know how long it took me to get them to stop talking about it? To stop saying it was my fault you gave them poisoned food? Weeks and weeks. And then when we had the reunion party, they started up all over again.” She shook her head, raising her hands in supplication to the gods. “It was a nightmare, all of it.”

Lizzy studied her. She should probably have felt pissed. Instead she felt sort of…bored. Teresa in full hissy fit was so predictable. “Teresa, I plan on staying the hell away from you. But I live here. I have a job here. And I can't spend my life trying to avoid the
Lovely Ladies
. If Amber sees me walking down the street, then that's just the way it is. I can't stay in a cellar until you all leave. And I won't.” She picked up her cold coffee and took a small sip.

Across from her, Teresa's expression turned murderous. But before she could make the probably dire threat she was considering, the waitress arrived with her coffee. “Almond double-double?” She glanced at Teresa, raising her eyebrows.

Teresa glared back. “It's mine. Of course, it's mine. Just give it to me, you numbskull.”

The waitress set the cup down so hard it slopped over slightly, then headed toward the front of the shop without looking back.

“Bitch,” Teresa muttered as she took a sip and grimaced.

Lizzy found herself hoping the waitress had added a shot of cough syrup.

“So where are you working?” Teresa turned her narrowed eyes toward Lizzy again.

Lizzy shook her head. “You don't need to know that.”

Teresa's mouth twisted into a snarl. “How the hell am I supposed to avoid you if I don't know where you are? I'm not staying out of all the stores in town—shopping is the only thing you can do in this godforsaken place.”

Lizzy shrugged. “You stay at the resort. I'll stay in town. That should take care of it.”

Teresa blew out an annoyed breath. “A lot of the stores are in town.”

“Most of the high-end stuff is out at the resort. And I don't shop high-end anyway. As long as you and your friends stay out of Menninger's, we should all be fine.”

For a moment, Teresa went on staring. Then she shrugged, pushing herself to her feet. “All right. You stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you. And we'll pretend we never met.” She picked up her buggy sunglasses, sliding them back into place to cover her eyes. “It would definitely have been better for me if we actually hadn't met, but you can't choose your relatives, as my mama always used to say. My parents and the others all took you in after your folks died, and look what happened. You turned around and screwed me.”

Lizzy took a deep breath. “It wasn't exactly a treat on my end either, Teresa. And we both know I didn't screw you intentionally.”

Teresa paused, then leaned her hands upon the table, her face inches away. “Stay away from me, Annalisa, I'm warning you. If I see you again, I'll scream the place down—and I'll make sure everybody knows who you are. If you don't want everyone in this town to find out what you did, stay out of my sight.”

She turned on her shaky heels and stomped off toward the door, wavering only slightly when one heel caught in a crack. Unfortunately, she managed to regain her balance without hitting the floor.

Lizzy stayed where she was, staring down at the coffee cup in front of her. Let Teresa have time to get out of there. She sure as hell didn't want to follow her.

Someone slipped into the booth across from her, and she braced herself in case Teresa had come back. “Are you okay?” Clark murmured.

Lizzy considered being angry that he'd followed her, but she was so glad to see him she couldn't even pretend she wasn't. “Yeah, I'm pretty much okay. It could have been worse. Knowing Teresa, much worse.” She pushed her coffee away from her, glancing at the door to make sure her cousin really had gone. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” He started to slide out of the booth, then paused.

Lizzy took a deep breath, willing herself not to tear up. Unfortunately, she'd never been very good at following orders, even her own.
Aw, shit.

Clark slid onto the seat beside her, pulling her into his arms. “You know she's a fucking bitch, right?” he whispered.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Right.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Don't mind me. It's just stress release.”

He didn't let go. “You know you'll still be here when she's long gone.”

She took a deep breath. She'd really like to believe that. Maybe she would for the moment. She nodded again.

“Okay, then, let's go back to Praeger House. I'm thinking the Blarney Stone would be a good place for dinner.” He leaned back to look at her again.

She gave him a slightly watery smile, pressing herself against his side before they both slid out of the booth.

Neither of them mentioned the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room—the Best of the Box Gala, where she and Teresa were pretty much guaranteed to meet again. Lizzy figured they were both due for a couple of beers before they brought that up again.

Chapter Twenty

Maybe it went along with the rest of the day, but Lizzy wasn't really surprised when Clark got hit with a plumbing emergency just as they were getting ready to head for the Blarney Stone. Blame it on the vintage plumbing in one of the wings of Praeger House, or blame it on karma. Whichever she chose, the fact remained that Lizzy was on her own for dinner unless she wanted to wait while Clark summoned one of the plumbers he had on retainer and found out just how much money he'd have to shell out this time.

Instead, she headed off to the Blarney Stone by herself, with Clark's blessing.

She wasn't sure what her plans were exactly. Maybe to get a beer and sit by herself in a corner until she regained her equilibrium. She really didn't feel up to talking to anyone tonight, particularly since she couldn't talk about Teresa and her threats. That, she decided, would be entirely too pathetic for words.

She could have stayed in her own kitchen and made herself a grilled cheese, of course. But the prospect seemed depressing. No, she'd find a nice quiet table and have one of Ted's burgers. And chill.

Of course, her plans for solitude went out the window as soon as she entered the Blarney Stone. “Lizzy,” Ted Saltzman called, beckoning from the bar. “Come on over. We need a good palate here.”

Someone snorted loudly and Lizzy saw Dick hunched at the corner of the bar with Nona at his side. “You don't need any more palates, Saltzman. You just need a cook. Come to think of it, maybe you could consider hiring the chef here away from Denham. Maybe she's tired of cooking eggs.”

Ted ignored him, waving Lizzy to a barstool on Nona's other side. “I got a new recipe from the Web. Caramelized onion dip. What do you think?” He pushed a bowl of dip and a plate of carrot strips her way.

Lizzy dipped and nibbled, then wrinkled her nose. “It's a little too bland for me. What did you fry the onions in?”

Ted shrugged. “Lorraine made it. I think she used vegetable oil.”

“You might try a mixture of butter and maybe olive oil—it'll give the onions more flavor. What about the carrier?”

One dark eyebrow arched up. “Carrier?”

“You know, the stuff that makes up the dip.”

Ted frowned slightly. “I'm not sure. Sour cream, I think. Maybe some mayonnaise too.”

“Try adding some cream cheese. It'll give the mixture a little more body, plus it tastes good.” She dipped another carrot strip. “Of course, you notice I haven't slowed down on eating it.”

Ted grinned. “Have you had anything else to eat lately?”

She paused, thinking. “I don't remember.”

“I'll take that as a no. Lorraine can fix you a cheeseburger.” He stepped back through the kitchen door.

Lizzy glanced at the dip-laden carrot strip. On the whole, she'd rather have a beer but she still stuck it in her mouth.
Stress eating. Always
such
a good idea.

“Ronnie,” Dick called. “Bring the lady a beer. Given the quality of her day, I'd say one of those high alcohol varieties would be best.” He gave her another of his mocking grins.

But mocking or not, he had a point. High alcohol sounded pretty good right then. She gave him a level glance. “What have you heard about the quality of my day?”

“Deloris Redfern waits tables at that coffee place on Monson,” Nona explained. “She says you had a run-in with one of those dames from that television show.”

Apparently, the small-town grapevine worked just as well in a billion-dollar resort. Lizzy sighed. “My cousin. She found out I was here.”

Nona nodded sympathetically. “Figured she would after you ran into that bunch of them at Menninger's. No big deal, though, right? You're not going to be around those women much.”

“I don't plan on it.” Of course, her plans hadn't been working out all that well lately.

Ronnie placed an oversize beer bottle in front of her, along with a chilled mug. “You might want to take it easy with this. It's got a lot of alcohol. But it's good. Or at least I think so.” She turned back to Dick. “That's seven—happy hour prices.”

He scowled. “I assume you deliberately chose the most expensive one.”

“Of course.” Ronnie gave him a little dazzle. “You can afford it, and this one has more alcohol than any of the others, which is what you asked for.” She leaned back on the bar again. “From what I hear from the makeup people at Fairstein, they've got around half of the shooting done on the show. There's a big get-together tomorrow at the resort. They're going to have all the ladies sit around and talk. I guess the director's hoping they'll get into a fight. They probably will. Anna Lee, the one who does their hair, says they're already fighting off camera.”

“Given that that's what they always do on that show, I'd say that's pretty certain.” Nona grimaced. “Will they go home after that?”

Ronnie shook her head. “Not right away. They've still got that big Gala thing where everybody who's a finalist in the Best of the Box contest shows off their stuff. We're going to be doing margaritas. I think. Or Bloody Mary's. I can't remember which of those we placed with.”

“Margaritas,” Ted supplied, stepping beside her. He gave Lizzy a questioning look. “You guys are doing breakfast stuff, right?”

She nodded numbly. “Yeah. Mini muffins.”
Assuming Teresa doesn't kill me right off the bat.
An assumption that didn't seem all that certain right then.

“So anyway, the show will be shooting the season finale there.” Ronnie frowned suddenly. “Oh geez, that's going to be a problem, isn't it? I mean you'll be there too.”

Lizzy took a large swallow of her beer. It was really too good to be gulped like this, but she was in a hurry to feel the effects of all that alcohol. “I'll be there too. I'll be cooking. But I don't know if I'll be out where people can see me. Clark thought maybe I could stay at the back of the booth.”

If I see you again, I'll scream the place down—and I'll make sure everybody knows who you are. If you don't want this town to know what you did, stay out of my sight.

“Going to let her scare you away?”

She glanced up at Dick. He wasn't exactly smiling anymore, but it wasn't something she felt like smiling about either. “I don't have to be front and center. Desi can handle it.” Which was, of course, the exact opposite of what she'd told Clark.

“Do you want to be there?” Dick looked a little like her high school principal all of a sudden.

Nona sighed. “The old fart's got a point, you know. Do you want to be there?”

Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment. Too many things were happening all at once. “I don't know.”

“You don't know what?” Lizzy's eyes popped open. Clark was smiling at her. “Plumbing crisis solved. So what's up?”

Lizzy took another swallow of her beer. “We're talking about how the Best of the Box Gala is going to be visited by none other than the
Lovely Ladies of LA
. And how I may need to make myself scarce.”

Clark's smile promptly curdled. “Yeah. I guess we'll need to rethink our strategy after you talked to your cousin.”

Lizzy grimaced. “I'm not sure how we can rethink it, to tell you the truth. I mean what can we do? I can't be there, not if Teresa's going to be around.”

Ronnie frowned. “Why not? I mean, it's not her business, is it? It's a show for the resort and the town. Seems like she's just passing through. We live here.”

Nona grinned. “Damn straight we do. Ronnie and all of us.” She winked at Ted Saltzman, who was giving Ronnie a slightly bemused look. Maybe she hadn't ever declared her allegiance to Salt Box before.

Lizzy sighed. “It's not that simple, unfortunately. Teresa made some threats when I saw her this afternoon. She wants me to keep out of sight. If I don't, she says she'll remind everybody about the food poisoning on camera so that people here in Salt Box will know what happened.”

Ronnie frowned harder. “But everyone here already knows, or anyway a lot of us do. And we don't care. Nobody believes it was your fault.”

There was a moment of silence before Nona shook her head. “We don't believe it because we know Lizzy and because we've eaten her food. We know she wouldn't fix anything that would make people sick. But I'm not sure how many of the guests at Praeger House would believe that.”

Lizzy nodded. “And that's the problem. If the guests at Praeger House find out I'm supposed to have poisoned somebody, it won't matter how good my breakfasts are. They'll figure better safe than sorry.”
Which is why I'll quit before that happens.

Dick set his beer stein back on the counter with a thud. “Seems to me you're all missing the point here.”

Clark leaned back against the bar, watching him. “And that point would be?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, unless those women are a lot better actresses than I think they are, someone served them poisoned food.”

Lizzy's shoulders tightened again. “Someone?”

“Someone.” He gave her a slightly sour smile. “Not you—I'm willing to accept that, given that the preponderance of the evidence is on your side. But someone did, unless you think that food got some kind of contamination from sitting around your cousin's house.”

Lizzy shook her head. “No. I agree—somebody probably did something to the food that made it poisonous.”

“So the point is, who did it?” Dick picked up his beer again.

Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping she wasn't on the verge of a headache but fairly certain that she was. “There's no way of finding that out now. The Board of Health went over everything at the time, and they didn't find any evidence of tampering. If somebody did this deliberately, they must have gotten lucky—nobody saw them and nobody found any evidence.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Forget evidence for the moment. Try speculating. Who might want to do this deliberately?”

Lizzy's jaw tightened. “You're asking me to do the same thing that they did to me—accuse someone without any proof.”

Dick's grin was back to sardonic. “Indulge me.”

Nona shrugged. “I'd say any of those women could have done it. They're all so nasty to each other on that show.”

“Is being nasty enough to make them pull a stunt like that? Some of those people seemed really sick.” Ted gave Lizzy an apologetic smile. “I watched it after I found out you were in it. In case I heard anybody say anything.”

Lizzy sighed. “Some of the people
were
really sick. I don't think anyone ended up in the hospital, but they called in Emergency Services. They were all checked over by the paramedics. Some of them had serious dehydration.”

“You think those women would have considered the possible consequences of their actions?” Clark shook his head. “They might have been surprised afterward about how sick people got, but I doubt they would have thought about it before.”

Nona nodded. “Absolutely. Based on the way they act on the show, none of them think about consequences. And if one of them was trying to get back at Lizzy's cousin, they might poison first and think about aftereffects later.”

“So who has it in for your cousin?” Dick raised an eyebrow in Lizzy's direction.

Me.
But that hadn't been true until after that particular episode. “I don't know. I didn't really keep track of who was quarreling with who on the show, and I haven't watched it in a year. I don't know what's happening now.”

“Nona?” Dick turned his gimlet gaze toward her.

Nona sighed. “Yeah, I watch it. They sort of switch sides every once in a while so people who used to be friends can turn out not to be friends anymore. But that Constance has always had a real thing against your cousin. She was there that night, wasn't she?”

“I think so.” Lizzy shrugged. “I didn't look at the people much—I was too busy making sure the food was on the table at the right time.”

“Okay, let's say she was.” Nona counted off on her fingers. “So Constance doesn't like Teresa. And Constance's best friend is Larissa, so she probably has it in for your cousin too.”

“And there's Amber,” Ronnie cut in.

Lizzy shook her head. “Amber's Teresa's friend. Teresa's the one who got her on the show to begin with.”

Ronnie shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is Amber doesn't sound like she thinks much of your cousin sometimes.”

“So you've got three women who all might have screwed around with the food.” Dick took another swallow of beer, frowning. “Of course, you're all missing one major possibility.”

Nona narrowed her eyes. “And what would that possibility be, oh great detective?”

“You need to ask the basic question—who benefits from all of this?”

Lizzy stared at him. “Benefits? Nobody benefits. Except possibly some sadistic type who liked seeing Teresa lose her temper on basic cable.”

Dick shook his head impatiently. “You're thinking too small here. What happened after this disastrous party, as far as the show was concerned?”

“The show?” Lizzy grimaced. “I have no idea. I had other things on my mind. Nothing that happened afterward was good as far as I could see.”

“Not for you, no,” Clark said, massaging her shoulders absently. “But the show did okay, didn't it?”

Dick nodded. “I've got no figures, but I'd be willing to bet their ratings were high. Plus they probably got a lot of publicity out of it—articles in the tabloids, maybe even some mainstream entertainment press. If you're interested, I can try and run down some information about that. As far as reality shows are concerned, there's no such thing as bad publicity. If somebody had died or been seriously injured in this little adventure, it might have hurt them. But people tuning in to see a lot of folks barfing on camera probably goosed the ratings quite a bit. Plus you'd have all those ghouls who'd want to keep watching to see what happened next.”