by Ali Franklin
Ryan watched as the fifty-something blond fussed with her files. Veronica was what Ryan’s mother would have called, “perfectly put together.” Her clothes were straight from the runway and her hair and makeup were flawless. She reminded Ryan of a mannequin, an empty set of clothes looking vaguely into the middle distance.
Jamie came out from the kitchen and grinned as she saw Ryan. She stepped behind the bar and came out with a large glass of iced tea, which she set in front of her friend.
“I have brisket today,” said Jamie. “Want some?”
“You know it.”
The diminutive redhead disappeared back into the kitchen, reappearing moments later with brisket piled high on a bun. A mountain of homemade potato chips filled the rest of the plate. She looked at her other guest.
“Veronica, are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Veronica lowered her eyes to Ryan’s plate. “I’m sure, dear. Do sit down so we can get started.”
Jamie shrugged and scooched in next to Ryan. For the next half hour, the women discussed every detail of the chili cookoff, including how many entrants they could manage, who was donating the bowls and spoons, and the plans for cleanup. Once those details had been covered, Ryan mentioned the judges for the cookoff.
“Oscar’s been a judge every year,” she said. “He asked me to offer his seat to someone else at the campus. I was thinking of asking Peter Nwamadi, the student body president.”
Veronica pulled back, her hand on her chest. “A student?”
Veronica’s mouth opened and closed while she crafted her response. Jamie punched Ryan’s thigh under the table. Finally, the chairwoman spoke.
“I won’t allow it.”
“It’s not up to you,” said Ryan. “As cookoff chair and campus representative, I’m doing things the way we do them at the college. We will have a student on the panel.”
Veronica’s head bobbled atop her neck. “I’ve already planned to ask the mayor, a county representative, and—”
“—No,” interrupted Ryan. “I’m handling the judges.”
Jamie, who had been watching the exchange with a growing sense of dread, stood.
“Ryan, you look like you need a refill. Veronica, can I bring you some coffee?”
Veronica glared at Jamie. After a beat, she relaxed her shoulders and nodded. “Thank you.”
Jamie disappeared. The chairwoman picked up her phone to check for messages, then returned it to the table. She took a deep breath and continued as if there’d been no disagreement.
“Father Paul seems to have the pancake breakfast under control,” said Veronica, “though I’m concerned that he might let some of those… unfortunate people he works with take part in the event.”
Ryan assumed Veronica was talking about the homeless men who were a part of the parish ministry. She wondered if Veronica was familiar with the concept of irony.
The chairwoman droned on for a while and Ryan picked at her sandwich. The dean caught snippets of, “…just the most darling little tennis trophies,” and “…highest quality auction items we’ve ever had,” as though Veronica were vying for some kind of award.
Veronica’s words faded away and Ryan looked up. She could feel a little piece of brisket clinging to her bottom lip. She held Veronica’s gaze while she tried to capture it with her tongue.
“I can see you’ve got other things on your mind,” said Veronica as she put her papers into a slim leather attache. She stood and looked down at Ryan. “I’ll see you Monday night at the estate for the committee meeting.” She snapped the little case shut with a click. “Don’t forget to bring your dish.”
“Can’t wait,” Ryan murmured through a mouthful of brisket.
Ryan returned to her office for the afternoon. Classes had started only a week ago, but the semester was already running smoothly. She hoped it would stay that way. They had a big semester planned.
Ryan had two assignments at Haverwood College. In addition to serving as the dean of students, Ryan was a faculty member in the music department, teaching music composition in the Fall and conducting in the Spring. But this semester was going to be special.
The musical theater department produced a full-scale musical every other spring. In the intervening years, it was an opera. As the resident conductor, Ryan was always involved, and she would be hard-pressed to say which productions she enjoyed more. But this year was different from any other.
Ryan’s best friend, Professor Theodora “Teddy” Sayers, was chair of the musical theater department. Teddy had been working on her version of The Great American Musical since before she and Ryan met five years ago. She’d spent years trying to perfect her masterpiece, and an inspirational trip to New York City over the summer had done the trick. Teddy returned to Haverwood with a musical that was ready to be staged.
Teddy laid the groundwork for the production during the fall semester by introducing the group numbers to her musical theater classes and holding auditions for the major and minor roles. Now the roles were cast and rehearsals had begun in earnest. In addition to accompanying the vocal rehearsals, Ryan led a twice-weekly pit orchestra rehearsal, often combining it with her conducting class. It was a busy semester.
At about four o’clock that afternoon, Teddy texted:
Hey! Dinner tonight at our place?
Dinner with Teddy and her partner, Summer, was a semi-regular occurrence for Ryan and a few other friends, an opportunity to get together and let go of the the week’s worries. Not that this week had provided much to worry about—other than Veronica Arrington’s pushiness about the FLH. But Ryan had handled nastier women than Veronica before. She picked up her phone and responded to Teddy’s message:
What should I bring?
Ryan watched as three little dots pulsed at the bottom of the screen. She imagined Teddy texting Summer for instructions. After about a minute without a response, Ryan returned to her work.
Helen said good night a few minutes later and Ryan looked around, wondering if there was anything she should finish before leaving for the weekend. Nothing came to mind. She checked her phone to see if Teddy had responded. She hadn’t, so Ryan packed up to go home.
Two hours later, Ryan pulled into Teddy and Summer’s driveway. As she got out of her car, a red Jeep pulled in beside her. The driver was Nicki Statton, the chief of campus police.
Ryan walked around to the driver’s side as the door opened. “Need a hand?”
“I’ve got it.” The chief stepped out, then reached back in to grab a canvas shopping bag filled with vegetables. Ryan found herself watching the way Nicki’s muscles moved as she lifted the bag and kicked the door closed.
Nicki turned to look at her. “Everything okay?”
Ryan shook her head to clear it. “Of course. Come on.” She led the way to the door.
Summer answered Ryan’s knock with a drink in her hand. “TGIF! Go ahead and put your food on the counter,” she said, pointing toward the kitchen, “and tell me what you want to drink. Teddy’s waiting for you out back.” The women followed the instructions and headed out the back door.
Teddy was standing in the center of the yard with her arms spread wide. She twirled and took a few steps in one direction, then twirled back and stopped. She shook her head, her black curls bouncing and glinting in the sunlight. She opened her arms again and was preparing to twirl in the other direction when she noticed the newcomers.
“Thank goodness you’re here. I thought we’d figured out the transition at the end of the prom scene when Jade says goodbye to her boyfriend.”
Ryan nodded as Teddy waved her arms, using little dance steps to emphasize her point. Nicki just stared. Ryan moved to stand next to Teddy and they bent their heads together in conversation.
The two women were a study in contrasts. At 5’4”, Ryan was a good six inches shorter than her friend. Her sandy hair, freckled skin, and blue eyes hinted at her Irish-Scottish lineage. Teddy’s African-American ancestry had bestowed her wi
th dark skin and deep brown eyes. People on campus often commented on how different the two friends looked, but they were of one mind when it came to their shared love of music.
Summer came out and handed Nicki a beer. The hostess raised her glass. “To the weekend.” Nicki repeated the sentiment and they clinked. The two women moved to the wooden picnic table and watched as Teddy and Ryan tried a few different combinations that might help get the musical’s main character out of the prom scene without peril.
“I’m always amazed when I see some of the little things that go on behind the scenes of her shows,” said Summer.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” said Nicki. “Doesn’t that make it lose some of its magic?”
“Never. Knowing something about it makes me like it even more.”
“Well, I’m going to ignore them so it’s all new to me when I see it on stage. The only musicals I’ve ever seen were on TV or in the movies. I want this one to be amazing.”
Teddy’s ears perked up at that statement. “Of course it’ll be amazing, Nicki. It’s full of laughter and tears and heartbreak and joy and…”
“Enough,” said Nicki, raising her hands. “I don’t want to know any more about it until I see it on stage.”
The women laughed and Summer went into the house to get the food for the grill. Tonight’s menu was veggie burgers and turkey burgers with grilled squash, onions, and peppers. Summer got busy with the food as Teddy and Ryan joined Nicki at the picnic table.
Nicki looked at Ryan. “How’s the Dragon Lady?”
“Veronica? I had lunch with her today. She told me I couldn’t pick the judges for the cookoff, but I stood up to her.”
“Way to go,” said Nicki. “I hear she’s quite the bulldozer.”
Teddy chuckled. “One year she told me she’d only donate to the musical theater program if I promised to let her pick the musical every year.”
“Geez.” Ryan’s jaw dropped. “How’d you get around that?”
“Veronica may be a prolific donor, but she’s hardly the only person who gives to the program. Our alumni like what I’ve done with the department, and some of them have pockets even bigger than hers. I told her we didn’t need her money that bad.”
Nicki’s green eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s gutsy.”
“Not really,” said Teddy. “I knew if I told a few people about her threat, they’d fill in whatever gap we had in our fundraising. There are plenty of people in this town willing to go up against her.”
Summer joined them at the table while the food cooked. “I love FLH weekend. How are the other events coming along?”
“We finally signed the contract with Oliver Oaks for the tennis tournament. Chase asked me be his partner.”
“Are you going to do it?” asked Summer.
“No way. Chase is too hard-core. And hef bets on everything. The last time I saw him he tried to bet on what drink the guy at the next table would order.”
“Whoa,” said Nicki.
“Besides,” said Ryan, “Chase doesn’t realize I haven’t played tennis since P.E. class in middle school. I think he just asked me because he assumed I was…sporty.”
Teddy laughed. “Ah, the All Lesbians are Superb Athletes Theory.”
“That’s the one,” said Ryan. “I think I disappointed him when I told him I didn’t play.”
“It’s great exercise, and a lot of fun,” said Nicki.
Teddy asked. “Didn’t you play in college?”
“I did.” Nicki looked around the table. “I could teach y’all to play. We could have a foursome.”
Summer jumped up. “I’d better check on the food.” Teddy rushed to help.
Nicki looked around the table. “Tennis! C’mon, guys.”
Ryan punched her lightly on the arm. “I’ll think about it.”
“Summer told me Teddy bought a new dress for the dinner-dance. She said it was really fun last year.”
Ryan nodded. “Emma’s been working hard on it. The menu she planned is going to be incredible—it has a few dishes from her restaurant and a few she developed just for the event.”
“So Chase is managing the tennis tournament,” said Nicki, “Emma’s got the dinner-dance, Father Paul is flipping pancakes, and…there’s one more, right?”
“The silent auction that ends at the dance. Danielle Nunez is taking care of that. She’s got a knack for getting people to donate.”
Summer brought over a platter of burgers and vegetables. Teddy went inside to refill the drinks. When they were settled, the women dug into the meal.
“Have you ever met Danielle’s daughter, Joanna?” asked Teddy. “Danielle brought her to a kids’ theater workshop I did last summer. Joanna’s absolutely adorable, and very talented.”
“I don’t know Danielle that well,” said Ryan. “All of the committee members have been managing their own events on their own, but we’re having a committee meeting at Veronica and Chase’s house on Monday night. Get this…” She leaned forward. “Ever since they put that addition on their house, Veronica calls it ‘the estate.’”
Teddy rolled her eyes.
“Our meeting should be interesting,” said Ryan. “We decided we’d each take a batch of our chili so we can check out some of the competition before the cookoff.”
“Does that mean you’ve settled on a recipe for yours?” asked Nicki.
Ryan sighed. “Poor Jamie’s been trying to teach me, but I’m hopeless. I’ll probably end up using something from a can.”
Teddy winked at Ryan. “I hope you don’t get caught.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” said Nicki. “If you let me teach you how to play tennis, I’ll teach you how to make my grandfather’s no-fail chili. There is no way you can mess it up, and it’s delicious.”
“Done.”
Chapter 3
Saturday morning, Emma Sullivan stopped into her restaurant, the Garden Grove, to make a shopping list. A couple had booked the entire restaurant for an anniversary party that night and Emma planned to supplement the fresh fare from her garden with some additional ingredients to create the menu they’d requested.
Emma loved parties. Specifically, she loved providing the food for parties. She’d started her career in a large restaurant in New York City, eventually working her way up to the position of sous chef. She met and married Roger while in New York.
Emma stopped working when they had children, but opened a small catering business soon as David and Bailey were old enough to go to school. Being her own boss meant she could pick and choose which events she would manage and how much time she would spend working. It also meant Emma got to choose which customers she wanted to work with.
She and Roger moved the family to Dallas five years ago for Roger’s career, and Emma opened a small restaurant there. She quickly gained a reputation for serving fresh, wholesome food prepared with elegance, and the restaurant flourished. When Roger passed away two years later, Emma’s son was at Haverwood College and her daughter was preparing for her own freshman year there. Emma decided to move her business to Haverwood so she could be close to the kids—and they’d always have a place to get a home-cooked meal.
The Garden Grove was aptly named. Emma grew most of the restaurant’s vegetables in the one-acre garden behind the restaurant and sourced only organic meat from local farms. The Grove, as it came to be called, was a favorite with diners who wanted fresh, clean food.
When her husband died, Emma focused on making the business profitable enough to pay her bills, but now her dream was to leave her children a thriving business. The Grove was her dream come true.
As a former caterer, Emma loved managing big parties. When the call went out for a chairman for this year’s FLH dinner-dance, she jumped at the chance. It would be the biggest party she’d managed in years, and she wanted to make it the best. In fact, Emma had offered to pay for half of the food for the dinner. It was her way of giving back to the community that had made her business such a success.<
br />
She quickly made her list, then glanced at her cappuccino maker. It would take a long time to warm up, and she wanted to do her shopping. She decided to stop at Java Joe’s on her way to the market.
Emma was pleasantly surprised to find there was a short line at the coffee shop. She approached the counter and greeted the barista by name.
“Good morning, Lonnie. Not too busy this morning?” Lonnie was a part-time student at Haverwood and often pitched in as a server for Emma’s catering events.
He smiled. “You should’ve been here half an hour ago.”
“I’m glad I missed it.”
“Cappuccino?” he asked.
“Please. I hope you get a break before tonight’s party.”
“I’m off at noon. I’ll take a quick nap and be ready to roll by four o’clock. It should be a nice party tonight. The Lawrences are great people.”
“They are. And it’s a great menu.” She accepted the to-go cup he handed her and pushed her credit card into the card reader. It beeped and she looked back up to see Lonnie smiling.
“Do you think Mr. Collins will be there tonight?” he asked.
“Nate Collins? I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“Come on, Emma. You know he wants to ask you out.”
She shook her head. “I’m too busy to date anyone.”
“A beautiful woman like you should have someone in her life.”
“You’re sweet, Lonnie, but I’ve got enough going on right now.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but something over her shoulder caught his eye. His smile turned to a frown. As Emma glanced over her shoulder, her face did the same thing.
“Well hello, Ms. Sullivan.” It was Veronica. “Imagine finding you here. I would’ve thought you’d be tending to your little garden.”
