Miz Scarlet and the Acrimonious Attorney

by Sara M. Barton

  “Very funny! I’m glad you all find my romantic life so titillating.”

  “Hardly titillating,” Lacey broke in. I saw a mischievous twinkle in her eye. It was payback time for interrupting her earlier story. I steeled myself for what was likely to be a rollicking and raucous description of my love life. “You’d have to get past the hand-holding stage for that, dear.”

  “Give me strength, Lord.” Appealing to a higher power in the heavens above, I gazed up at the ceiling as I put my palms together. “They just can’t help themselves. They were born to interfere.”

  “Interfere?” Laurel took exception to that word. “It’s a mother’s prerogative to get involved in her offspring’s love life, especially when it’s stalled in neutral.”

  “Neutral?” Now it was my turn to protest, amused by the antics of the senior citizens. “Why, Kenny and I get together just about every day.”

  “Dearest daughter, do you want to be buddies for rest of your life or do you want some romance?”

  Ouch. That one came a little too close to the truth. But my mother didn’t stop there. She took advantage of the opportunity and went to town on my love life.

  “Don’t settle for comfortable. The heart needs to feel the passion of the dance!”

  “I’m a great dancer!” I shot back, doing an impromptu pirouette. “See? And I’m loaded with passion!”

  “What your mother is trying to say is that you have to seal the deal, kiddo. If you’d like some tips about how to get a man to propose, you have only to ask. I’m more than happy to share my expert advice,” said the other Googins girl.

  “I’ll just bet you are!” I picked up the nearly empty water pitcher, ready to remove it from the table.

  “I wrote the book on that subject.”

  “Of course you did,” I laughed. “Why don’t we talk about something else?”

  “What, and leave this fascinating subject?” Jenny teased, carrying in another carafe of coffee. “You know we’ve all been wondering when the stars will align and love will finally triumph!”

  “Who says it hasn’t already?”

  “The proof’s in the pudding,” my mother replied, her interest in the answer palpable. “Is there or is there not going to be a wedding, Scarlet?”

  “She’s probably too scared to walk down the aisle with those two left feet of hers. There’s nothing worse than falling on your face at the altar,” my brother remarked.

  “Says the man who did that trip twice,” I retorted. “Let me know when you get it right, Bur, because from where I’m standing, you’ve got grass stains on that fanny of yours from your scrimmages in the game of love.”

  “At least I’m a player, Scar!”

  “Yes, you are,” I nodded. “I hear the Chicago Bears are looking for a new quarterback. Maybe you could try out. There’s no way you could do any damage to their ranking this season.”

  His eyes narrowed as he glared at me. He never did like being on the wrong end of the joke. But then he suddenly remembered there was an attractive woman sitting beside him and he desperately tried to recover his eligible bachelor footing with an attempt at humor.

  “You’re just jealous because I’m on the field, instead of warming a seat in the stands,” he sniffed haughtily. “Not to mention the fact that my tailgate parties are legendary. There’s always a line for my chili!”

  “That’s only because they haven’t had mine! I would beat you hands down in any cook-off, Bur-rito!”

  “Burrito? Oh, Miz Scarlet made a funny!” He gave his knee an exaggerated slap, whooping it up as he looked over at Kara. She held her napkin to her lips, trying to hide her amused smile.

  “You two really are something else.” Laurel rolled her eyes with great exasperation. “Will they ever mature?”

  Chapter Seven

  “They haven’t so far,” her cousin responded, chuckling, “so I wouldn’t recommend holding your breath.”

  Kara tossed back her head and laughed. Was it the verbal jousting or Bur’s attention that most pleased her? Perhaps it was a little of both.

  Bob Boxer and his wife, on the other hand, did not seem to be enjoying the antics during dinner. They remained tense and unsmiling as they leaned forward, their elbows on the table.

  “Speaking of stumbling....” He tried to break in to the conversation, but our sommelier chose that moment to uncork another bottle of Chardonnay and make his way around the table, offering each guest more wine.

  “Would you....” Bur started to ask Roz, but she stuck her hand out to cover her glass. I heard a frustrated sigh escape from her lips.

  “No, no. As Bob was saying,” she tersely reminded the wayward group, “he has an interesting story to tell.”

  “Does he?” Lacey exchanged a meaningful glance with my mother. I saw the brief nod my mother gave her before they both turned their full attention back to Bob. Make no mistake—the two women were up to something.

  “Yes!” she said, her patience challenged by all of the interruptions. “Go ahead, honey.”

  Bob took a breath, gazed around the assembled group at the table to make sure everyone was paying attention, and then launched into his speech. “It’s funny that Scarlet lost her footing a few minutes ago. She could have seriously hurt herself. I once did that at a very famous hotel.”

  “You did?” Kara Larson was all ears. “What happened?

  “I was staying at the Waldorf Astoria,” he began. He didn’t get far. Lacey, clearly suspicious of the Boxers, snatched the ball away from him and ran with it.

  “Oh, what a lovely hotel that is. We stayed there in 2006, when we had tickets for A Chorus Line. That was a fun trip, wasn’t it, Laurel?”

  “Indeed.” My mother took a long sip of her coffee, savoring it, before she continued. “There’s nothing like a Broadway play. When that music fills the theater, it’s wonderful.”

  “How can you not feel alive when every note is coursing through your veins and every bone of your body is tingling with excitement?” Lacey agreed. “It’s a magical experience.”

  “Remember that line? ‘Kiss today goodbye; the sweetness and the sorrow....’ Oh, so poignant!” Suddenly the pair of elderly women opened their mouths and belted out their favorite show tune, treating us to their rendition of What I Did for Love. It was a performance that would have sent them to the semi-finals of any talent contest.

  “Bravo!” Bur cheered them on. “You’ve still got it going on, ladies.”

  “We do, don’t we?” Lacey laughed.

  “Shall I get back to my story?” growled our seething guest, tapping impatiently on his water glass. My brother took command of the situation from his temporary seat at the head of the table. He clapped his hands twice to silence the chattering. Once he had everyone’s attention, Bur spoke.

  “Please go on with your story, Bob. You said you were staying at the Waldorf Astoria.”

  “I was. As an innkeeper, I’m sure you will find this story interesting,” he announced, directing his comments to me. I gave him a slight nod, encouraging Bob to continue. That’s when our guest showed his true stripes. He turned out to be a real stinker, a black furry stinker with a big white stripe on his tail.

  “My wife and I were coming down a flight of marble stairs in the lobby when I caught my toe on the edge of a loose carpet and fell. I wrenched my back and was laid up for months. My medical bills totaled more than fifty thousand dollars by the time I finally recovered, but that doesn’t take into account all the lost wages and suffering I endured, all because the hotel was negligent.”

  “What did you do, Bob?” Kara wanted to know. She seemed genuinely concerned.

  “I had no choice. I hired a great injury attorney and....”

  “Pf-f-f-t!” A disgusted snort escaped from my lips, much to my horror. Too late to cover it up, I pretended to choke. “I’m sorry. I got something caught in my throat.”

  It was true. A big lump of the Boxers’ audacity now blocked my airway. I wondered i
f there was a reward for catching their gang in the act of committing insurance fraud.

  “Scarlet?” My worried mother studied me from her seat at the table. “Are you okay, dear?”

  I caught sight of my own reflection in the mirror above the buffet. There was a rather fierce scowl distorting my normally complacent face. I looked like a Notre Dame Cathedral gargoyle, ready to spit up after a heavy rain.

  I made a point of clearing my throat a few times, coughing into my arm. “I will be. Don’t let me interrupt your story, Bob.”

  Maybe the Boxers thought we were too stupid to catch onto their scheme. Either that or they stood to earn some serious money for their efforts on behalf of the Kitanens. I wondered if we could get the name of the lawyer that filed Bob Boxer’s negligence lawsuit. Could it be the firm of Worthington and Howitzer?

  “My lawyer convinced the hotel to do the right thing. He made it clear that if we were forced to take the case to court, their negligence would be on public display for all to see.” Bob laid out the result of the messy legal fight, leaving out none of the details.

  This must be the hard-sell part of our demonstration, I decided. The Kitanens wanted us to know what was in store for us if we didn’t throw cash at them.

  “Our lawyer insisted we ask for compensation in the range of a quarter of a million dollars, not just for my benefit, but also for Roz’s. After all, she was forced to put her life on hold to take care of me through all those long months. That injury also affected my spouse. She was deprived of her marital rights to affection and companionship during my long recovery.”

  Was that a veiled reference to collecting money for not being able to have sex? Did Sam Kitanen plan to attach himself to the lawsuit by claiming he and the missus couldn’t make whoopee because she slipped and tore her rotator cuff at the Four Acorns Inn? I found myself daydreaming about putting out a new brochure to reverse the damage from any bad publicity the Boxers might create. We could sell prospective guests on the inn’s romantic atmosphere. Our deluxe mattresses are a dream come true. Plump down pillows coddle you in comfort! Bath together in unparalleled luxury! Our showers accommodate two people....

  But the moment that concept popped into my head, I discarded it. If ever there was a risk of a slip in the shower, it would be during a soapy water duet.

  “But you know how much I love you, Bob. I’d do anything for you!” Hanky in hand to wipe the tears from her damp cheeks, his fellow conspirator reassured him that her biggest concern during his difficult ordeal was his wellbeing. “When you suffer, I suffer.”

  Talk about a touching performance. I could barely contain my disgust with their deviousness as I listened to them prattle on and on. Do something, Miz Scarlet, before you give yourself away.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and glanced at the black screen, pretending to read a non-existent incoming text. “Would you all excuse me? I have to take this. It’s important.”

  Quickly turning on my heel, I scurried out to the kitchen with all the hasty grace of a crab that spots a can of Old Bay seasoning and assumes there must be a kettle of boiling water nearby. I knew I shouldn’t panic that way, but I was terrified that the Boxers would figure out we were onto them. If they tipped off the Kitanens, it could spoil the element of surprise we might use to our advantage and would probably cost us dearly.

  “What’s wrong?” Jenny came through the door.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Are you mad about the teasing?” Her sweet face was pinched with concern for me.

  “No, Jen. It’s not that.”

  “Well then, what is it?”

  I didn’t have the heart to cause her unnecessary worry, so I grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back door. “Come with me!”

  Once we were safely outdoors, tucked into the shadows of the garden, I gave her a quick briefing on the Boxer-Kitanen debacle.

  “That’s horrible!” she remarked when I was done. “You’re not going to give them money, are you?”

  “Of course I am not. Kenny’s already working on the case. In fact,” I glanced down at my cell phone screen, noting the time, “I’m already late. I’m supposed meet with him. Do you think you can handle the rest of the clean-up?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Just remember, Jen, these people are serious about scamming us. I want you to be on your toes when you deal with them. Don’t let on that we suspect them and be careful what you say when you’re in the house. They may be eavesdropping on us, with or without electronic help.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” she promised. “I’ll be glad when they check out.”

  “So shall I.” It was becoming difficult to hide my emotions when it came to the Boxers. Now that I could see their game plan unfolding, it was hard to go back and pretend I liked them.

  Fifteen minutes later, with dinner for Kenny and me packed up in a small cooler, I dashed upstairs to the third floor suite I shared with my young assistant. I changed into a silk sweater, ran a brush through my shoulder-length hair, and dabbed on some lipstick. At the last minute, I grabbed a bottle of Romance and sprayed it into the air, letting the mist fall on my ever-hopeful shoulders. Maybe after we sorted out the lawsuit issues, Kenny and I could have some quality “us” time.

  “That will have to do,” I said to myself, glancing briefly into the mirror above my dresser. It was time to skedaddle.

  Descending from my attic abode, I opened the door to the second floor landing, intending to take the main staircase down to the foyer, when I stopped suddenly. I could hear furtive whispers rising up from the hallway below.

  “It isn’t working. They should have mentioned the lawsuit to us by now.”

  It took me a moment to realize the speaker was Bob Boxer, lamenting their lack of success at pushing us into a settlement. His wife had a different take on the subject.

  “Maybe they’re waiting to discuss it privately. They probably don’t want the guests to find out. It’s bad for business.”

  “I don’t think they took us seriously,” he replied huffily. “How could they not? I laid it on pretty thick.”

  “Maybe the reason they haven’t reacted is because they’re just not that smart,” she declared. She likened the Four Acorns Inn gang to the modern-day version of wacky characters straight out of a madcap Garson Kanin play. In her view, we were undisciplined, unfocused, and unsuspecting dupes, ripe for the picking. Her husband concurred.

  “That Lacey Googins is a piece of work. Does she ever shut up? My God! The woman is an insufferable bore. She keeps interrupting me.”

  As their uttered secrets bounced against the two-story walls and made their way up to my waiting ears, I was grateful for the unusual acoustics of the grand entryway. I listened closely, hoping for something useful, something valuable that would allow us to prevent the conniving conspirators from dipping their greedy grubs into the piggy bank of the Four Acorns Inn.

  But before you, dear reader, come to believe that I make a habit of spying on inn guests, let me assure you that under normal circumstances, I’d quietly withdraw from the scene, to give our visitors their privacy. That is, after all, what I would want for myself. However, in this case, there were extenuating circumstances. The Four Acorns Inn was under attack by ruthless scam artists. The prudent thing to do was to eavesdrop.

  Unfortunately, Huck chose that moment to appear at my heels. I strained to hear the words exchanged over the panting of a very eager little Yorkie. Scooping him up, I hugged him to my chest as Bob and Roz Boxer began to climb the stairs.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Let’s put some pressure on them. I’ll get to work. I can loosen a few things around here if you can keep them busy. Tomorrow, I will make a point of discovering potential safety issues. That should light a fire under the management of the Four Acorns Inn and encourage them to settle with Mimi and Sam.”

  Did I just hear them right? Did they admit they were conspiri
ng against us? I was stunned by the revelation, so stunned that I nearly gave myself away. Another three or four steps up those stairs and the Boxers would catch me spying on them. I shook myself out of my stupor and got moving, desperate to hide. With my purse slung over my forearm, dog in tow, I ducked behind the long velvet drapes of the large window overlooking the bird garden and pulled the fabric around us like a cloak of secrecy. Standing motionless, my fingers clutching the muzzle of the little terrier, I held my breath, fearful of discovery. This is not the time to woof, Huck. Be a good boy and trust me.

  The seconds ticked on as I waited for the Boxers to continue past, on their way to the Red Oak Room. How in the world would I ever be able to explain hiding behind the curtain? I probably should have come forward and met them as they stepped onto the second floor landing or, at the very least, hurried down the back stairs, but that was out of the question now.

  And then my luck ran out. Huck unexpectedly wriggled in my arms. As I struggled to hold onto him, my elbow struck the window. The sound of soft footsteps traversing down the hallway abruptly ceased.

  “What’s that?” Bob Boxer hissed, stopping just a couple of feet away.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” his wife whispered back.

  “No, I smell something.”

  “You smell something? What?”

  “Perfume.”

  Oh, damn. Wouldn’t you know that the one time I tried to improve my feminine allure for the man who makes my heart race, it backfired on me?

  “Perfume?” Roz was baffled. I heard a lot of loud sniffing as the couple tried to track my fragrant trail.

  “It’s gone now.” Her husband sounded disappointed. “But I know I smelled it.”

  “Maybe Scarlet is doing laundry. You probably picked up the scent of a fabric softener sheet while the clothes were in the dryer.”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t smell like the stuff you use at home.” Those feet started moving away from us once more. Relieved, I waited for my heart to stop thumping wildly.