Miz Scarlet and the Acrimonious Attorney

by Sara M. Barton

  “Thanks, Miz Scarlet. That could have been a disaster.”

  “But it wasn’t. You know, Jen, there’s no shame in making a mistake. People do it all the time. The trick is to fix it.”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Maybe? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” When she hedged my question, I gave her a nudge.

  “Is this really about soup?” I asked her. She didn’t answer right away. “Jen?”

  “Can I tell you something?” She seemed anxious to confide in me.

  “Sure.”

  “I made a mistake the other day at Bay View Manor, when I was changing a bandage on an elderly man. I forgot to flush his wound with saline before I put on the new gauze. My supervisor went ballistic on me.”

  Jenny was in her second year as a nursing student at the University of Connecticut and had been assigned to do a few hours each week at a local nursing home, in order to get some practical experience.

  “Were you expected to do the procedure alone?”

  “No, I’m not licensed yet. The supervisor has to watch me do everything.”

  “And the supervisor is responsible for catching your mistakes?” I inquired.

  “Yes. She’s a real barracuda!”

  “And yet, if you make a mistake and she doesn’t catch it, she’s the one who pays the price? She could lose her license or the nursing home could be fined.”

  There was a moment of silence as the truth sunk in. I took that as a good sign that she was on the road to being a decent human being.

  “I didn’t think of that.” Jenny gave me a slight smile. “I just thought she was being overly dramatic when she hauled me into the office and yelled at me.”

  “Are you going to forget this error and make it again?”

  “Probably not. She really scared the crap out of me when she started to list all the complications the patient could have.”

  “And if she’d been sweet and understanding about your error, would you have taken it seriously, or would you have concluded that it’s no big deal to make mistakes, Jen?”

  “But you said it was okay to make a mistake with the soup, Miz Scarlet. You even helped me fix it. You didn’t yell at me.”

  “Your goof with the soup was no big deal, Jen. No one suffers because there’s a smidgen too much nutmeg. But when someone’s life is at stake, you can’t think about your own feelings. Your self-esteem is unimportant when compared to the needs of a seriously ill patient. You have to train your brain to get the process right every time because every uncorrected mistake can have serious consequences. As soon as you realize you’ve made a mistake, you have to fix it. Your patient is counting on you.”

  “Great. Now I’m scared that I’ll accidentally hurt someone.”

  “You may. No one’s perfect. But it’s your responsibility to do the best you can, Jen. You have to always keep learning how to do things better. You have to be vigilant and proactive, and on those rare occasions when you miss something, let your conscience be your guide and do what’s best for your patient.”

  “I will.”

  “Feel better?” I asked, watching her carefully. It was obvious that this issue had been weighing heavily on her mind.

  “I do.” She threw her arms around me and gave me a heartfelt hug. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. And now it is time to get the party started.” I grabbed the ice bucket and opened the door to the ice machine. Once it was filled, I took it to the living room. While I set up the glassware, I let my thoughts wander.

  I couldn’t imagine our life without this tenderhearted young woman with the easy grin and the impish sense of humor. She gave us new purpose when she became an adopted member of the Wilson-Googins clan. Jenny had metamorphosed into a compassionate human being with well-developed conscience, thanks to a process started by her late mother, Vivian, and continued under our watchful eyes. You can’t ask for more than that. She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. She’ll make a difference in this crazy, sometimes cruel world.

  “Excuse me,” said a voice behind me. I turned to find one of our guests standing in the doorway. Kara Larson was dressed in a dark pantsuit and crisp white blouse. “Is this where we’re supposed to meet for cocktails?”

  “It is,” I smiled. “Come on in. We’re just setting up now.”

  She slumped down on the sofa, a grim expression set upon her face. “Boy, do I need a drink!”

  “Tough day?”

  “Let’s just say it’s not likely that I’ll be hired as Manchester’s new head of economic development.”

  “It sounds like the interview didn’t go well.”

  “I blew it when I lost my temper.”

  “And you lost your temper because....”

  “Rolland Barber suggested that I wasn’t qualified for the Manchester job because I don’t have a background in entrepreneurial and small business development strategies. Mind you, I’ve got specific training in development marketing and strategic planning, but he thinks I don’t understand the business aspects of the job, trying to draw new economic entities to town. I have extensive experience in real estate development, economic development credit analysis, and even business retention and expansion, but he doesn’t think that’s good enough.”

  “Rolland Barber?” I made a face.

  “What?” She leaned forward, eager to hear more.

  “Well, I went to school with the guy. He was class treasurer and, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, a real horse’s pitootie. He’s convinced he knows everything there is to know about business, all because he took over his parents’ hardware store and expanded it. If he’s telling you that your credentials aren’t up to snuff, maybe the real problem is that he doesn’t understand what you actually do.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Rolland is the kind of guy who just sees what he wants to see, and once his mind is set, he doesn’t allow himself to deviate from that narrow path.”

  “Are you suggesting that he doesn’t understand how my credentials make me a good pick for the job?”

  “I am. If I know Rolland, he’s sure that unless you have extensive business development experience, you can’t possibly help him save that hardware store. You could talk about improving the town with all kinds of good initiatives until the cows come home and he’d convince himself that you’re just too inexperienced and undereducated. You’ve got to show him, step by step, how his hardware store will benefit under your direction.”

  “Wow,” Kara sighed. “Boy, did I read that guy wrong. I thought he just hated women.”

  “Well, there’s that too. His wife took off with a golf pro she met at the country club, so he’s still pretty bitter. But when it comes to Rolland, it’s all about the money he’s able to put in his pocket.”

  “I think I’ll go make a phone call or two, to see if I can have a do-over. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck!” I called out as she exited the room.

  Ten minutes later, she was back. I could tell from the wide grin on her face that something had changed.

  “I called Ted Manzi and apologized for my outburst, explaining that I thought Rolland Barber had rejected me simply because I was a woman. I asked if I could have another chance to show the committee that, male or female, I really am the best candidate for the position.”

  “So, did he agree to let you return?”

  “He told me they would give me ten minutes tomorrow, but I had better bring my A game and be prepared to grovel.”

  “That’s Ted for you. He’s a tough sell.”

  “Who’s a tough sell?” My brother appeared in the doorway.

  “Impeccable timing, Bur,” I grinned. “Kara, meet the perfect guy to prep you for your interview tomorrow. He’ll give you a primer on dealing with Rolland, Ted and the others.”

  “I will?” Bur cocked an eyebrow.

  “Rolland Barber doesn’t think she’s qualified for the position of head
of economic development for Manchester.”

  “And what makes you think I’m not going to share that opinion?” demanded a very reluctant volunteer. I took my best shot and hit him with flattery. Bur’s always been a sucker for that.

  “As a businessman who’s been all over the country and dealt with a variety of companies nationally and internationally, would you not consider yourself to be savvy about expanding economic opportunities?”

  “Sure. I’ve seen companies come and go. Why, in Connecticut, the tax situation is enough to scare off any sensible CEO.”

  “Doesn’t that make you qualified to do your own interview with Kara, to get an idea of what she thinks will be viable for Manchester, especially with all the constrictions and restrictions the state puts on businesses?”

  “Well, I suppose it does. What if I find out that Kara really isn’t up to snuff?” Even though he addressed his question to me, Bur watched Kara closely.

  “That’s your prerogative,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “but I hardly think you’ll be disappointed by what I have to say.”

  “No?”

  It didn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to see he was intrigued by her. Does that have anything to do with the fact that Kara is an attractive, forty-something, dark-eyed brunette?

  “Definitely not.” She suddenly broke into a grin, giving him a good glimpse of those dimpled cheeks. And that’s when it hit me.

  “Oh, good heavens! I know why Rolland Barber dismissed you!” I blurted out unexpectedly.

  Chapter Six

  “What?” Kara turned to me, surprised.

  “Huh?” Even Bur was baffled by my comment.

  “Remember what happened when he hired that female CPA to handle the books for the hardware store, Bur? What was her name...Patty Ann Reinhart?”

  “Sure. What about her?”

  “Rolland hit on her relentlessly, acting like a complete fool. There was that incident at the Pimpernel Tavern, when he publicly declared his love for her. And don’t forget the debacle at Barnaby’s, when he caught her having a conversation with another man in the shoe department and blew his stack. He’s probably worried that he’ll do the same thing to Kara!”

  “What are you saying?” Kara wanted to know. “He’s afraid he’ll fall for me?”

  “Yes.” I contemplated the planner’s dilemma. “He’s not the sharpest blade in the knife drawer, and to complicate matters, the guy has a big problem dealing with women, especially attractive, intelligent women.”

  “Oh. That’s why I never really got a chance to tell the committee what I thought I could do for Manchester. I was mad that he kept cutting me off every time I tried to explain what I thought the town should change in its approach. That jerk got me so rattled, I reacted badly.”

  “Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me,” my brother announced. “Why don’t I fix us a couple of cocktails and we can talk about this?”

  “On that note, I shall excuse myself. Should you two require my opinion, you will find me in the kitchen.” I made my exit without further ado, knowing Bur would play his version of Sir Galahad to the hilt. When he wants to impress the ladies, he can be very charming.

  Jenny was busy slicing bread for the napkin-lined baskets when I returned to my culinary duties. We worked side by side in companionable silence. Just after six thirty, we began to serve the food. I proceeded to the dining room, tray in hand, and placed a salad in front of each guest. Jenny set down a bread basket in front of Roz Boxer and another in front of Laurel.

  “Would anyone like a glass of Chardonnay with dinner?” my brother inquired. He uncorked a bottle of Kendall-Jackson 2013 Vintner’s Reserve and turned to Kara Larson on his left, ready to pour some into her goblet.

  “Please,” she replied to the offer, rewarding him with a pleasant smile. “I’d love one.”

  “This is a particular palate pleaser for the Four Acorns Inn. It’s got a nice acidity to it. I especially like its spicy oak flavor.”

  “You sound like you appreciate fine wine,” she remarked, glancing at him. Her fingers stroked the stem of her glass absentmindedly. Was she deciding whether Bur might be a potential candidate as a mate or was this just a fling thing, a harmless romantic dalliance while on a business trip?

  “Actually, I like good wines that are affordable.”

  “Do you keep a wine cellar?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Bur told her, as made the rounds of the table. He made sure everyone’s glass was filled. “When it’s time to restock our shelves, I usually just consult my computerized shopping list. A wine cellar would be a great addition to the inn, though. We’ll have to add that to our next renovation.”

  “At least you have a list. I usually just wing it at the liquor store, hoping I’ll luck out. You’ll have to share your top picks with me,” Bob Boxer said. “I could use some advice.”

  “I’d be happy to do that,” he nodded as he took his seat once more. “What do you think of it, Kara?”

  “I like it. Sometimes Chardonnay can be a little overwhelming.”

  “I know what you mean,” he agreed. “There’s nothing worse than a wine that comes on too strong. You want a complexity of flavors that harmonize with the more subtle notes.”

  Oh, brother! Listen to the laird of the manor prattle on. All that my brother was missing was a velvet smoking jacket with big lapels and a silk ascot draped around his neck. If only Kara could see him in his ratty sweat pants and shabby tee shirt, sitting on the sofa while he ate his Cheerios and watched old Bugs Bunny cartoons. I wondered if she’d still find him as fascinating.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed that Bur’s attention focused on the only single female staying at the inn. As our eyes met, Lacey gave me an impish wink. I grinned.

  “Enjoy your salads,” I told the guests as I made my exit.

  Back in the kitchen, it was time to plate the seafood lasagna. As I dished out each portion, I added a sprig of fresh parsley for a garnish. Jenny hurried these out to the dining room, returning with the salad plates. She got busy loading the dishwasher, while I pulled out my triple chocolate bombe from the freezer and carefully unmolded it onto a cutting board. Covered in chocolate sorbet, the heart of the triple bombe was a soft chocolate truffle filling that was glazed in chocolate ganache. It was a dream come true for any real chocoholic. I dipped my knife into a glass of water and quickly began to slice the dessert. As soon as each serving was on its plate, it went back into the freezer to await final touches of whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

  When the last diner had set down her fork to signal the end of the main course, Jenny and I cleared the dishes, returning a few moments later with desserts, coffee, and after-dinner liqueurs. The conversation was in full swing as I made my way around the room. That’s when things really got interesting.

  It started when Lacey mentioned that I had had a run-in at the supermarket with a mysterious stranger. “Poor Scarlet—one minute she was in the baking aisle....”

  I could tell she was about to spill the beans about the lawsuit as she regaled the dinner crowd with one of her normally amusing tales, so I deliberately winged her with my elbow as I leaned over to offer her more coffee.

  “Ouch!” She rubbed the back of her head. Perhaps I had been a little too forceful in my attempt to silence her, but I was desperate to prevent any information from falling into the wrong hands. We still didn’t know if the Kitanens had help in setting us up, and I didn’t want to risk giving away any information.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Lacey. I lost my footing. Would you like more coffee?”

  “Uh...um...please.” She held out her cup, unsure of my intention. I took great care as I poured some into the vessel. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I stayed right where I was, just in case she decided to resume her story, and sure enough, she did.

  “As I was saying....” she began. This time I put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in.

  “Ix-nay on the ossip-gay.”
I growled my warning into her right ear, using the fingers of my left hand to emphasize the point with a quick pinch. She flinched.

  “I beg your pardon, Scarlet!” Bristling, Lacey was ready to chastise me when my words finally filtered through her brain, bolstered by a discreet shake of my head. Suddenly quiet, she paused to consider her next move.

  “You were saying something about a mysterious stranger.” Roz Boxer picked up the thread of the conversation, her alert eyes studying us closely, perhaps too closely. “Tell us more.”

  “Ah....” Lacey was at an uncharacteristic loss for words. I could see she was in the process of rewriting the tale in her head, desperately editing as she sought to find something she could say that would be acceptable and yet amusing.

  “Don’t leave us in suspense. You said there was a mysterious stranger at the grocery store.” Our inquisitive guest seemed a little too interested in the subject. Why did it matter to Roz? “Do continue.”

  Do continue? That’s when it hit me. Earlier in the afternoon, Roz pumped the Googins girls for information. She wanted to know where we were going and how long we would be gone. Did she tip off the process server?

  Leave it to Laurel to come to the rescue. She deftly changed the subject as her cousin sat there, at a loss for words.

  “Lacey was about to say is that poor Scarlet accidentally bumped into a man as she was picking out flour in the baking aisle of the grocery store. I’ve warned my darling daughter more than once that body slamming some poor passerby is no way to meet eligible bachelors!”

  “Mom!” I feigned dismay, happy to let her portray me as a spinster in search of a mate if it enabled us to keep the litigation under wraps. “You know that I’m not looking for a man! I have a perfectly good one....”

  “In that case, when are you and Kenny going to tie the knot?” she shot back.

  “Yes, Miz Scarlet. When are you and Captain Peacock going to walk down the aisle?” Jenny flashed me an impish grin as she removed the creamer and sugar bowl from her serving tray and placed them on the table. “At the rate you’re going, you’ll be an old lady before you hit the altar.”