“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Hank always mentions it if he has an errand to run or goes out of town, so I won’t go looking for him. But we always grab our coffees down here every morning. This isn’t like him.”
“Maybe he had to . . . fill a prescription or something.” Lucky shrugged. “You think there’s something else going on?”
Barry shook his head. “I don’t know. I had a feeling the other day that he was upset about something, but when I asked him if everything was all right, he just said he wasn’t feeling too good.”
“Well . . . maybe he was sick. Maybe he went over to the Clinic. I hope he’s not at the hospital in Lincoln Falls. I mean, I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Me too.”
“I’m sure he’ll call and let you know he’s okay.”
Barry nodded. “I’ll keep calling him too, just to make sure.”
Lucky laid a fresh placemat in front of Barry. “What can I get you today?”
Barry looked up at the blackboard. “Why don’t I get a bowl of that carrot ginger soup and a croissant.”
“Coming right up.” Lucky quickly placed the order at the hatch and saw Sage’s hand grab it.
“I heard all about the big book event tonight. I had mentioned it to Hank when I first saw the ads. Thought he’d be interested, especially since he’s always reading mysteries and thrillers. And he used to write for a living too, before he retired.”
“Oh, I think I had heard that. What exactly did he do?”
“He worked at a newspaper in upstate New York . . . Albany, he once said. But he never talked too much about it.” Barry swiveled on his stool. “Maybe I’ll chat with Jack a bit if he’s ready to take a break.”
“Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll bring your order over to you.”
“See you got a new waitress.”
“Yup,” Lucky replied noncommittally.
“Quite a looker. Where’d you find her?”
Lucky’s eyebrows raised. “You think so?”
Barry nodded. “Sure is. She live around here?” Barry checked the buttons on his shirtfront that always threatened to burst and sucked in his ample gut. He smiled and waved at Nanette, who returned the greeting in kind.
What was it about this woman that every man found so charming? Personally, Lucky found her voice grating and her behavior over the top. “I think she’s looking for a place here. But Nanette actually found us. She just walked in one day and grabbed the sign. And we really needed the help, now that Janie’s off at school.”
Barry laughed. “Jack was real lucky Flo Sullivan didn’t march in here demanding her old job back.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Barry had a point. Jack would have taken to his bed and disappeared from the restaurant. Things could have been a lot worse.
Chapter 14
SAGE MOVED THE last table to the side of the room. “What else do we need to do, Lucky?” he asked. The Spoonful had closed a half hour before. Sage had cleared away everything in the kitchen and set up two large urns for coffee and tea, with cups, saucers, spoons and small plates. Lucky had spread pastries of various kinds and cookies on their best trays and covered them with linen napkins in preparation for Hilary Stone’s book event.
Lucky turned when she heard a tap on the front door. Marjorie Winters stood outside. She hurried over to the door and unlocked it.
“Oh, Lucky. I’m so excited.” Marjorie rushed in. “I just can’t wait to meet her. This is the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened in Snowflake. Imagine . . . a famous mystery writer right here in our little town!”
Lucky smiled at Marjorie’s enthusiasm. Marjorie’s cheeks were flushed. She was almost hyperventilating. “Yes, I suppose it is,” Lucky agreed.
“Well, I can’t believe you haven’t read her book yet. I’ll have to get you a copy tonight.”
“Don’t worry, Marjorie. I’ve heard so much about her, I’ll have to pick one up for myself.” Lucky fidgeted, anxious to get on with the task of preparing the restaurant for the event. “Did you want to come in? We’re actually closed right now, trying to get ready.”
“Oh,” Marjorie breathed. “Would you mind? I’d love to be here to meet her when she arrives.”
“Uh, well . . . sure. Just be careful, we’re going to mop the floor and we’re still moving things around.”
“I won’t be a bother, I swear. I’ll stay out of the way.”
“If things get hectic, just grab a seat in the office until we get started.”
“Thanks, Lucky.” Marjorie tucked her purse under her arm and took a seat at the counter, surveying the room.
Before Lucky could lock the door again, a florist’s van pulled up. The sign on the side of the van read GARDEN DELIGHTS. Are they heading here? she wondered.
A man in a delivery uniform climbed out of the van and opened the double doors at the rear of the vehicle. He lifted out a four-foot-tall arrangement of exotic flowers and headed for the front door of the Spoonful. Lucky opened the door.
“This is the By the Spoonful Soup Shop, isn’t it?” he asked as he reached the threshold.
“Yes. Are these for us?” Lucky asked.
“Sure are. Where should I put them?”
“How about on the counter for now.”
“Okay,” he replied and carried the heavy vase close to where Marjorie sat. “You want the rest to go here too?”
“The rest?”
“Yes, ma’am. My van is loaded. I have nine more just like this one.”
Lucky’s eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope.” The man shook his head. “I guess you’re hosting some big celeb tonight. This order came from her assistant.”
“Oh, well, all right. Bring them all in.” She turned to look at Sage, who stood shaking his head in wonderment.
“I guess we’re just not used to life in the fast lane,” he remarked.
Jack came through the swinging door from the corridor as the last bouquet was lined up at the counter. “What the . . .” He stared at the huge vases. “Looks like a damn funeral.”
“Shhh, Jack. I agree but don’t let anybody else hear you.”
“What happened to my table? I was just gonna have some tea.”
“I’m sorry. We need to move everything around tonight. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Have a seat at the counter with Marjorie, why don’t you?”
Jack sighed and slid onto a stool.
Marjorie leaned closer to Jack. “This is so exciting, Jack, don’t you think? Did you ever think you’d be hosting someone as famous as Hilary Stone?”
“Never heard of the woman,” Jack mumbled.
“Oh, you must read her book. It’s fantastic. And she’s working on her second book, right here in Snowflake. I can’t wait to get it. I wonder if she’ll talk about that tonight.”
Lucky hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a mug. She heated some water quickly in the microwave for Jack’s tea and carried it out to the front counter.
“Thanks, my girl,” Jack said when she placed the mug in front of him. “Uh . . . where’s Nanette?” he asked, looking around.
“She’s off tonight. We really didn’t need her. Sage’ll be here. And Sophie will probably come by later.”
He smiled widely, “I’m real glad you hired her.”
“You are?” Lucky reminded herself to keep her response neutral.
“She really livens the place up a lot, don’t you think?”
Lucky nodded noncommittally. “That’s one way to put it.”
“You know, she was tellin’ me about some of her ideas.”
Lucky cringed inwardly. “Oh, really?”
“Yup. She’s got lots of good ideas about making our restaurant better. She thinks our aprons could use a new design too.”
Lucky felt her blood pressure rising. “Is that so?”
“And she wanted to change some of our recipes too. She’s from the South and she thought our menu might be getting a little dull.”
“Dull!” Lucky exclaimed. Sage looked up from the corner where he was rearranging some chairs. He caught her eye.
“Well, I’ll have to have a little chat with her now, won’t I?” Lucky said darkly, but her intent was completely lost on Jack.
“I’m glad you agree.” He finished his tea and placed the mug on the counter. “I’ll be takin’ off now. It’s gettin’ late. It’s almost two bells.” Jack, a Navy vet, had always told time by the bells. Only Lucky was able to translate.
As soon as Jack left by the back door, Lucky stormed into the kitchen and filled a plastic bucket with hot water and cleanser. She lifted it and, grabbing the mop on her way out, headed back to the front room. She dipped the mop in the liquid and began in the far corner of the room, working her way toward the front door. The activity helped calm her.
Sage tapped her on the arm. “Why don’t you let me do that?”
Lucky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. Maybe you better. I just might put this mop through the front window.” She passed the handle of the mop to him.
“Did I hear right? Jack agrees my menu is dull?” he asked quietly.
Lucky turned to face him. “Your menu is not dull. I meant what I said to Nanette. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this restaurant.”
“You told her that?”
“Yes. And I told her a few more things too. I told her she was hired to wait on tables, not to offer her opinion about food or anything else for that matter.”
“Good,” Sage replied. “Lucky, can you pull those tables away from the wall? I’ll mop there and then we can push them back.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Don’t worry about Nanette,” she said as she dragged the first table to the center of the room. Sage quickly mopped the area and continued on to the other side of the room. Marjorie, still sitting at the counter, clutching her purse, lifted her feet as Sage moved past. “You just let me know if she even looks at you cross-eyed.”
“Well, it sure sounded like Jack agrees with her.”
Lucky dragged the table back to its place. “Jack couldn’t care less what design is on the aprons, to tell you the truth. He’s just smitten.”
“I’ll say,” Sage chuckled.
“It’s pathetic really.”
“What is?” Sage asked. He had reached the far side of the room near the door to the corridor.
“The way men go all gooey when she’s around. What is it about her they find attractive? Do you find her attractive?”
Sage shook his head. “Me? No. She’s not my type. Plus I’m in love with my wife. I don’t even see other women.” Sage had already managed to work his way halfway across the room with the mop.
“That’s so sweet, Sage. You’re both so lucky to have each other.”
He smiled. “I agree. And as far as men finding Nanette attractive, I guess it must be—”
“Her tits,” Marjorie finished.
The mop slipped out of Sage’s hand and clattered to the floor.
Chapter 15
THE DOOR FLEW open with a bang and four people, three women and a man, entered the restaurant. Two other men in work clothes stood outside on the sidewalk. Lucky was sure this had to be the author’s entourage. They were all dressed to kill in very expensive black outfits.
“Can I help you?” Lucky asked.
“Is this . . . is this the soup shop?” a tall blonde woman asked.
“Yes,” Lucky responded.
She sniffed audibly. “I don’t think this will do at all!”
“Excuse me?” Lucky asked.
Marjorie sat up straight at the counter and stared at the four strangers.
“I said,” the blonde replied haughtily, “this just won’t do. We were promised a large venue. Not a . . . soup restaurant.”
“I see.” Lucky sighed. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to cancel the event, but we’ve closed early and Ms. Stone’s assistant has signed a rental agreement for the evening.”
Another woman dressed in a black cocktail dress with platinum blonde hair began to laugh. “This is just perfect,” she screamed.
“Hush, Sylvia,” the portly man ordered. “Behave yourself.” He stepped forward and extended a hand to Lucky. “I’m Derek Stone. I’m Hilary’s son. And this is my . . .” He turned to the blonde with the shrill voice. “My wife, Sylvia.”
“Lucky Jamieson.” Lucky returned his handshake.
“At the risk of sounding rude, we were promised a very large space . . . and certainly not a restaurant. I don’t know how appropriate this would be for what we have planned. Phoebe!” he shouted.
A thin woman, with dark hair pulled back tightly from her face, stepped forward. She also wore heels and a black pants suit, like the tall blonde woman. “Yes, Derek?”
“Did you know about this?” He waved his arm around the room then turned to Lucky. “Don’t get me wrong, Miss . . .”
“Jamieson.”
“Miss Jamieson, your restaurant is very quaint, but I would never have approved of holding this book signing in a soup shop. Did you book this, Phoebe?”
The woman’s jaw clenched. “Yes, I did. And we were fortunate to get it. It was literally the only available place we could find.”
“What happened to the meeting hall at the church?”
“Their roof has been leaking and they have construction going on there. It was impossible,” she replied sharply. “This was the only other option.”
Derek shook his head. “Ridiculous.” He sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it. I’ll try to explain to Mother.”
“At least the flowers were delivered on time,” the tall blonde remarked. A large manila envelope was tucked under her arm. She strode to the counter and examined the vases, then turned to Lucky. “Don’t mind Derek. He likes to think he has a say in things.”
Lucky glanced quickly at the short man. His face flushed a deep red. “I’ll have you know . . .” he began.
“Oh, can it, Derek. Just stay out of our way tonight, okay? And can you make yourself useful? This was delivered to the office this morning. It’s for your mother.” She handed the large envelope to him. “Just make sure Hilary gets to see this as soon as possible.” She turned to Lucky. “I’m Audra Klemack. I’m Ms. Stone’s publicist.” She didn’t offer her hand.
“Very nice to meet you.”
Audra spotted Sage, who hadn’t said a word during their exchange. “You. You look like you work here. Help me get these vases placed around the room.” She turned back to Lucky. “And let’s turn off the bright lights and turn on some of these lamps. We want to create a little atmosphere, do you understand?”
Lucky bit her tongue. The sooner these people got what they wanted, the sooner they’d be out of her hair. “Completely.”
“Well, hurry up then. We don’t have much time.” She heaved a big sigh. “Phoebe, get those two men busy hanging the banner outside, will you?”
Phoebe nodded and stepped out the door.
Lucky spoke. “Why don’t you all leave your purses and laptops in the office. It’s just down the hall through that door.” She pointed.
“Good idea. Thanks,” the blonde woman said. “Come on, everyone. Look sharp. The photographer and the crowds will be arriving any minute.” Her eyes rested on Marjorie, who sat speechless on a stool at the counter. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, dear, and start lining up chairs for people to sit in.”
Marjorie’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.
Lucky sighed. Why had she ever agreed to this?
Chapter 16
BY THE TIME th
e room was prepared—the lights dimmed, the photographer waiting and a long table stacked with books had been set up at the far end of the room—Derek Stone had disappeared and reappeared fifteen minutes later, escorting a glamorous, silver-haired woman also dressed all in black to the long table. A heavy necklace of sapphires and diamonds hung around her neck. Hilary Stone had arrived and must have entered through the back door. Lucky had peeked out the window and noticed that Broadway was now lined with cars, some drivers anxious and leaning on their horns. A crowd of perhaps fifty people milled around outside the Spoonful. She spotted more groups down the street also heading their way. She hoped the pastries she had ordered would last the evening.
To Marjorie’s credit, she was more than willing to help out and Lucky was grateful for her presence. Marjorie had managed to find a moment to approach Hilary Stone and introduce herself. She gushed when Hilary autographed her book. So far, the author herself seemed the most down-to-earth person of the lot.
Before she knew it, the room was filled to capacity. It was standing room only and the line to get in stretched down the block. Lucky marveled at the turnout. Their restaurant was popular and busy, but had never hosted a crowd of this size. She and Sage manned the coffee and tea urns and discreetly moved around the room retrieving dirty cups and plates. The photographer snapped pictures while a smiling Hilary Stone chatted with her fans. Lucky had turned on the CD player and a soft jazz instrumental was playing. It was difficult to hear since the noise level had been rising steadily as more and more people squeezed in and milled about.
Derek Stone stood to the side, near his mother, very solicitous of her well-being. He stepped in front of the table and clinked a spoon against a glass to ask for quiet. “Thank you all for coming. Ms. Stone will speak very briefly about her upcoming work, and then we’ll have a fifteen-minute session during which you may ask questions of her. After that, she will autograph her books until nine o’clock.”
A Clue in the Stew Page 6
