by Lotta Smith
Trying my best not to yelp, I looked at Jackie. As she waved, I shifted my gaze, then inhaled sharply.
There was an elderly gentleman sporting silver hair and a gentle smile. He was floating by Jackie’s side, waving at us.
“Hi there, Karen! How have you been?” He flew over toward her and frowned. “Darling, why are you crying?” he said, gently stroking Karen’s head.
“Michael, this is Mandy, my friend who has this special skill to communicate with people like us and bridge us with the living,” Jackie introduced me to the gentleman. “Mandy, this is Michael Rosenberg, Karen’s husband.”
“Hello, Mandy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Wrapping an arm around his wife, Mr. Rosenberg waved at me with the other hand, smiling warmly.
“Hello, the pleasure is all mine,” I mumbled, waving back.
“Mandy?” Karen looked at me expectantly.
“Mandy, do you see him?” Rick looked into my eyes.
“I think so.” I nodded like a bobblehead. “Karen, do you feel him? He’s holding you in one arm and—”
“Is that true?” Karen closed her eyes for a moment, and then she nodded. “Yes, I feel warm on this side. Oh my… it’s so incredible.”
“Karen, sweetie, I’m so sorry about everything,” Michael said, clasping his wife’s hand. “You must have been so embarrassed when the priest, Mr. Macomber, and Ken Tillard told you about my past. I’m not proud of what I did. I should never have cheated on you. I’m so sorry. Mandy, could you please pass on my words to her?”
“Yes.”
At first, she was weeping in what appeared to be the joy of reconnecting with her husband, but as I relayed his words to her, she stopped crying. “Michael, how dare you—”
When she started sharply, I expected a storming rant on her side, accusing her late husband of not just cheating on her with men but recording all his affairs and making it worse, and then sharing the information about the video with the apparently crooked priest who had definitely developed a partial amnesia about the concept called confidentiality.
The ghost of Michael Rosenberg shook his whole body and stroked her back. “I’m so sorry for embarrassing you. I never meant to disgrace you. I was such an idiot,” he mumbled in apology.
“Mr. Rosenberg is profusely apologizing to you,” I said hesitantly.
She furrowed her perfectly shaped eyebrows for a few moments, but after a pause, she said, “Michael, here’s the thing. I’ve never been embarrassed about you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Wow, thank you for your kind words!” Mr. Rosenberg beamed. “Look, I was hurt when you said I don’t exist anymore and I’d never responded to your words.”
When I shared what he’d said, Karen smiled. “Oh, that was just a figure of speech. I always felt you by my side, but I wasn’t sure if it was just my wishful hallucination or if you indeed visited me. Since the very beginning of tonight’s stunt, I felt that Father Harten was up to no good, so playing an atheist seemed like a good idea. Michael, you once left a sign for me at the entrance, right? Using four rose stems, you created the shape of an M?”
“Oh yes! I’m so glad you noticed that!” Mr. Rosenberg’s smile grew wider.
As Karen and Michael chatted and giggled with the assistance of my interpretation, Rick cleared his throat. “So, Mr. Rosenberg, can you tell us how you ended up—”
When he started to question him, Mr. Rosenberg squirmed uncomfortably, and Karen interrupted. “Look, Rick, could I ask you to—”
Mr. Rosenberg shook his head, and I signaled Karen to pause. “It’s okay, Karen. I was chatting with Matt about baseball, and at some point, we got into an argument about what to have for dinner. Matt said we should have sushi, and I said I wanted steak. The next thing I knew, we ended up in a shoving match. Look, in my opinion, it was an unfortunate accident. I was out of my body by the time he left that condo, and whether he called an ambulance or not had little to do with my death.”
“Oh.” Karen listened to my interpretation with a pained expression. “So you died over steak…,” she muttered.
“And sushi.” Mr. Rosenberg shrugged. “Sometimes people end up dead for the stupidest reasons, and I’m sure to win in that race. C’est la vie.”
My jaw dropped. I wasn’t sure whether to relay his words to her or not, but Karen was looking at me expectantly, and Mr. Rosenberg was attempting to poke me in the elbow and going through my body without actually touching. “Why don’t you tell her what I said?”
I glanced at Jackie, who was shaking her head, muttering, “I’ve never heard about a death that was so tragic and so hilarious at the same time.” Then she noticed me staring at her. “Mandy, what are you doing? Karen wants to know what happened.”
When I passed on the late Mr. Rosenberg’s words, I didn’t forget to add, “Please don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”
Rick groaned and massaged his temples as if he’d suddenly developed a severe headache, but when I glanced at Karen, fearing she may faint or something, I was taken by surprise.
No, surprise was an understatement. Shocked was more appropriate.
She was giggling as if she’d just heard the most hilarious joke of all time. “Oh my God! So, he died just because of the menu selection for dinner?” she exclaimed. “Hello, Michael? Have you ever heard about food delivery? You could have had both sushi and steak delivered, but instead you got into a fight?”
“I know, it was so stupid of me.” Mr. Rosenberg grimaced. “Look, Matt feels really awful about what he did, but please don’t chastise him. When I died, I met one of the counselors in the world of the dead, and according to the book he was carrying, I was scheduled to die on that particular date—be it an accident or a heart attack. So, Karen, will you please stop grieving over me and smile?”
As I relayed his words, Karen was biting her lower lip as if she seriously wanted to cry, but then she smiled. “Okay, I’ll try to smile as often as possible.” Then she turned to us. “Rick, Mandy, I’m hoping to add this service on a regular basis to my current package. How much will that be?”
“For now, we’re not offering her services regularly,” Rick responded, prompting Karen to frown.
“But—” I started to offer to help her chat with her late husband anytime, but Rick held my hand tightly, as if to stop me from talking.
“But she won’t charge you anything when she talks to you as a friend,” he said. Then he glanced at me. “What do you think, Mandy?”
“Of course I won’t charge you anything,” I said. “Though I’d really appreciate it if you’d teach me how to survive the parties and charity balls.”
“Oh, that’s easy as pie.” Karen smiled. “All you have to do is act as if you know about everything and, at the same time, you don’t give a shit about others.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened to the point I’d feared they might drop out of their sockets. I just caught Karen Rosenberg, of all people, uttering a profanity!
“Atta girl, Mandy!” Jackie hooted. “We can chat regularly with Karen and Michael, and we’ll have a ton of fun!”
* * *
A week later, the media was all over the leaked video capturing the alleged murder of Michael Rosenberg. Father Harten had apparently decided to leak it after all. But unlike Karen and Mr. Macomber had feared, the leaked footage failed to snowball into the biggest scandal of the century—mostly because one of the NFL’s biggest stars announced a royal wedding to his teammate.
Still, the video had left its share of damage, having captured a smorgasbord of evidence to prove corruption. As a result, Mr. Macomber ended up resigning his position as a city councilor, and Ken Tillard dropped out of the spotlight and stepped down from the major roles he had booked.
Lacking evidence to prove his murderous intents or if he had actually pushed Mr. Rosenberg off the stairs, a murder charge wasn’t filed against Mr. Grasso, but the DA decided to prosecute him for involuntary manslaughter. Mr. Grasso was all lawyered up and s
eemed ready to fight, but on the day he was scheduled for a court appointment, he was found dead in his bed. The cause of death was a heart attack.
As for Father Harten, he was seen being interviewed as the hero behind the leak. He proudly announced that he was going to Afghanistan to heal the nation and the people out there, but the day before he was scheduled to leave, he was arrested, a new video of him engaged in sex with underage boys having emerged. As a result, he was kicked out of his church.
Karen Rosenberg was living a good life as a merry widow. A month following her encounter with her late husband’s spirit, she recalled that Michael’s frozen sperm was still stored at the fertility clinic they used previously. Almost on autopilot, she visited the clinic and decided to give IVF a chance, and she conceived a child on her first attempt at the age of thirty-five. Since then, the ghost of Michael Rosenberg stopped visiting her. I tried hard to find him but couldn’t.
“I have a feeling that Michael decided to reincarnate as our baby,” she said bashfully when Rick, Jackie, and I visited her.
“Wow! What would you say if I wanted to be reincarnated into your baby?” Jackie asked playfully.
As I relayed her words to Rick, he crossed his arms and groaned in what sounded like indecisiveness. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I like you very much as a best friend of ours, but….”
“Ditto,” I said. “Look, I love you so much as a BFF, but it’s very difficult and somewhat awkward to say if I want to give birth to a baby holding someone I know’s spirit. No offense?”
“None taken.” Jackie laughed lightheartedly. “Actually, I was kidding. I’m not planning to come back to this world as your son or daughter, because I’m gonna be the best auntie for your kids.”
“Oh,” I sighed, half relieved and half disappointed. When I shared her comment with Rick, he reacted in a similar way.
Then Jackie winked. “Still, I’m tempted to be reincarnated as one of your grandchildren. What do you say?”
* * *
Keep on reading for a sneak peek of Wicked as a Christmas Fruitcake…
Sneak peek: Wicked as a Christmas Fruitcake
PROLOGUE
3:15 pm, December 3rd
At Charmed and Sprinkled, the air was warm, literally filled with hustle and bustle. The topped with joy and the excitement and anticipation for the holidays to come. Early December—sandwiched between Thanksgiving and Christmas—it was the season when smiling, being kind and generous is almost obligatory for everyone.
Holiday spirit wasn’t dead even among the gathering members of West Manhattan Arts and Heritage Society, a local organization working to cherish and preserve the arts and history of the locale. With Keith Schuyler as the Chief Director and a dozen members of the board of directors practically aiming point-blanc for his chair, the organization—aka WMAHS—wasn’t best known for its friendly, amicable relationship between the members, but on this special afternoon tea gathering, no one was frowning, much less arguing.
Observing the group of people happily munching on a smorgasbord of baked goods ranging from tea sandwiches, pastries, cakes and more cakes over eclectic selection of tea, Harriett Palmetto, the manager at the venue, let out a sigh of relief. Assuming from the smiles on their faces as they sample each baked goods, they were loving the creations on the table. Especially, the newly offered fruitcake Nutty Nutcracker’s Christmas Delight, specially created for the holiday season, disappeared from the plates as soon as it was served.
WMAHS members are known for having a huge network of friends and family in the tightknit community, and Harriett was certain that everyone there was going to recommend everyone to buy Nutty Cracker’s Christmas Delight. The Christmas-themed fruitcake rich in nuts and fruits was so going to be her first ever bestselling original recipe.
Just like other small mom and pops bakeries in the neighborhood located between the Upper West Side and Hell’s Kitchen, Charmed and Sprinkled was owned and operated by generations of family. As the newly appointed general manager and owner of the bakery, Harriett was especially conscious about making good sales. According to her great grandma, Charmed and Sprinkled was already in business in New York City when the Civil War had erupted. The store had been owned and run by generations and generations of the Palmetto family so far, and Harriett wasn’t going to become that person who ends the bakery’s long history and legacy.
Charmed and Sprinkled was where she grew up. Having eaten her first cannoli at the age of six months old and listening to all those entertaining stories about the history of the shop and the baked goods, Harriett was well aware of the purpose in her life; inherit Charmed and Sprinkle, make it blossom even more.
She was going to go to baking school when she was a little girl but her parents persuaded her into pursuing business degree at college, saying that higher education in business is what a baker in the twenty-first century need to have under her belt. So she went to college majoring business administration with minors of restaurant administration and culinary arts… And there she was, finally succeeding the bakery from her parents who decided to visit Maui to spend their first-ever pre-Christmas season not in charge of the store.
Not that her parents had completely retired but for Harriett, the upcoming few weeks were supposed to be to see how well she could manage the store without relying on her parents, and so far, she was doing nicely.
Standing in the corner of the bakery while cherishing her achievement so far, she was zoned out—until a voice grabbed her back to the reality.
“Hi there, Harriett.” Anna Linton, one of the directors of WMAHS and the owner of an antique shop, waved at her, prompting Harriett to approach her table. “This party is such a hoot, isn’t it? And this new fruitcake is absolutely divine!”
“Thank you so much!” Harriett beamed, looking around the bakery sparkling with glittering gold and silver ornaments on top of Christmassy green, red, and white. “I have a hunch that your assistance here with the decoration helped making this gathering a really friendly occasion.”
“Of course.” Anna winked. “Everyone loves Christmas, and older folks love Great Gatsby themed everything. So basically, it was a simple recipe—mix Christmas and Great Gatsby together in a bowl, whisk until nice.”
“Thanks again for your genius in decoration.” Harriett’s smile grew wider. Indicating the bakery turned into an ultra-posh ballroom that looked as if it popped up from 1920s, she went on. “You have to start offering interior decorations to your customers at your shop. Your talent in interior decoration is super impressive and it’s a sacrilege to keep it just to yourself. I knew you have a knack for growing plants but dahlias in December? Wow… I can’t find any other words to describe how I’m impressed.”
“Come on, Harriett. You’ve given me enough praises to last for the next three years or so.” Anna chuckled lightly. If Harriett recalled it right, she was a fifty-something but if you didn’t know her age she was often mistaken as a thirty-something lady. Born as the only child, Anna had been always like an older sister for Harriett.
“Anna, you should seriously consider opening a little flower shop at the corner of your store,” Harriett said enthusiastically. “Everyone will love it even more. And of course, I’ll love it.”
“Oh, come on. Stop cajoling me so much.” Anna fanned herself with a hand. “Gardening is fun to do as a hobby, but as soon as you try to make it into business it will become a drag.”
“Oh… okay. Gardening isn’t an easy task to incorporate in your business.” Harriette smiled, cocking her head. “Then, how about periodically offering party planning services?”
“Oh, no. in that case, I’d need three of mes.” Anna threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh. as she did that, her long shiny blonde hair swirled like waves.
“Look, Anna. You’re a real genius.” Harriett took Anna’s hand in hers. “When you brought me this offer to do this annual afternoon tea gathering for the arts and heritage society here instead of some fa
ncy hotel, I was way more scared than excited. But look at this! I’m not making a total mess of everything and the people seem to be enjoying this occasion. You have no idea how much it means to me. As the new manager of this bakery, I was dying to survive the holiday seasons without my parents’ help but at the same time, I was almost scared to death. I know it’s just the beginning, but I guess I’m beginning to develop some kind of confidence. Of course, it’s premature of me to be confident while the show is still going on, but… Oh my God, I’m babbling.”
“It’s okay.” Anna affectionately patted Harriett’s blushing cheek. “You’ve been doing great, and I’m sure your mom and dad will be so proud of you when they’re back from vacation. They’ll definitely see people literally lining up in the storefront wanting to purchase this new Christmas fruitcake.”
“You think?” Harriett asked sheepishly.
“I’m sure.” Anna nodded. “Speaking of the tasty delight, can I have another piece of sausage pastry? Sweet delights are so divine but at the same time, when I eat salty food between sweet pastries and cakes, I feel absolutely refreshed like I can go on eating forever.”
“Of course. Nothing is yummier to eat salty food and sweet food in order and going on with that mannerism. Let me bring the sausage bread.” Harriett turned on her heels to go to the backyard, chuckling as Anna was saying, “That’s so true. Oh my goodness, I might be sent to Hell for gluttony.”
When Harriett went back to the kitchen area to fetch more sausage bread, Woody Napoleon came back from men’s room to his table, munching on the super-nutty Christmas fruitcake and savoring every bite of it. Before he went to the john, that young cute waitress—Meg was her name—served him a large piece. “It’s called Nutty Nutrcracker’s Christmas Delight,” she explained to him, smiling and blushing a little. Woody suspected that she might have hot spots for him. He was a ladies man and he’d never suspected his charm wearing off as he aged. Before moving to the big apple, he used to be a super successful real estate developer in Florida, and he was determined to take the Big Apple as well. Any woman with a pulse could fall in love with him.
