by Lee Hollis
“Yes, Sal,” Bruce whispered, sweat pouring down his face.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard Sally Jenkins’s Maine coon cat is about to have a litter of kittens, so I’m meeting a photographer over at her house to take some pictures and do a story for tomorrow’s front page,” Sal said, barreling past Bruce for the door.
“Are you serious?”
“No, I’m not serious, you imbecile! I’m going to Drinks Like A Fish for a bourbon! I’m too pissed to hang around here anymore!”
Sal charged out, making sure to slam the door behind him.
Bruce cleared his throat, pretended he wasn’t dying inside, and slinked into the back bull pen.
Hayley sighed.
Just another day at the office.
Chapter 7
Why hadn’t Hayley listened to the little voice inside her head that was telling her to go straight home after work?
She would have saved herself a world of humiliation.
But no.
She had to drive over to Aaron’s office on a whim just to check in and say hello. They hadn’t spoken all week and she wanted to see for herself if he was upset with her or if his feelings for her had cooled.
Actually, deep down she was hoping she would be greeted by that warm, inviting smile and the ever present twinkle in his eye when he saw her in his waiting room.
Hopefully all of her concerns and fears that something had changed in their relationship would finally be put to rest for good.
No such luck.
He rushed out from the back after being summoned by his new receptionist, an older, dour woman with a severe tone whom he had hired after Gemma left for college. Her name was Edna and she was retired but enjoyed the part-time work. Or at least she said she enjoyed it. You couldn’t tell from her expression because she never cracked a smile.
Aaron was in a blue dress shirt that was wrinkled. The sleeves were rolled up and his red tie was askew. He looked tired and haggard; his hair was mussed and his face drawn. “Hayley, what’s wrong? Why are you here?”
Not the words she wanted to be greeted with, but it was too late to turn around and get the hell out of there. She had stepped in it and there was no turning back.
“I . . . I just was curious to see how you’re doing. We haven’t spoken in a while.”
Oh, God, why did she say that last part?
Now she was coming across as the needy girlfriend.
He gestured to the five pet owners seated quietly in chairs behind her, two with dogs, one with a cat, one with a caged parakeet, and then there was the young boy holding a glass case in his lap with what looked like a giant snake inside curled up and still.
“As you can see, it’s kind of crazy around here today. I’m sorry. Can I call you later?”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to bother you. . . . I’m so sorry.”
He smiled. “I miss you. Let me call you later and we’ll plan something for this weekend, okay?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m glad you stopped by. I just have to get back to a cocker spaniel with an eye infection.”
“Yes, yes, go! We’ll talk later.”
He nodded, taking one last look at her to make sure she wasn’t upset, and then whipped around and raced back to his exam room.
Edna looked up from her computer, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, her face full of judgment. She glared at Hayley as if she was an unwanted intruder.
And in a way, she was.
Suddenly she felt a familiar wet nose snorting her pant leg.
She looked down to see Pork Chop, the potbellied pig, curiously smelling her. He was pulled back by a yank on that astoundingly expensive diamond-collared leash he wore around his neck by Olivia Redmond.
“Stop bothering the poor lady, Pork Chop.”
“Ms. Redmond, you’re here early this year, aren’t you? You usually don’t arrive until the weather gets better in June,” Hayley said, bending down and petting Pork Chop on the head.
“I needed to get away, so I had the staff open the house early this year. I arrived this morning. Pork Chop is due for a couple of shots.”
“Do you have an appointment?” Edna asked, already knowing the answer since her eyes were glued to the calendar on her computer.
“No, I don’t,” Olivia said, brushing past Hayley and staring down at the crotchety old woman who was throwing her attitude. “But I’m sure Dr. Palmer will see me first chance he gets. You’re new here, so you probably don’t realize I don’t need to make an appointment. Olivia Redmond.”
Hayley dreamed of having the confidence of someone who is accustomed to getting whatever she damn well pleases.
Edna picked up the phone and punched in an extension, all the while never taking her eyes off Olivia. She raised a bony hand to cover her mouth as she whispered into the receiver, and after a few moments her angry face melted away and was replaced by a flicker of worry, and then a forced smile as she put the phone down.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Redmond. Dr. Palmer will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said, turning her back on Edna and rolling her eyes at Hayley, who tried not to snicker.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Hayley?”
“No, I was just leaving,” Hayley said, copying Olivia by dramatically turning her back on Edna, but she just didn’t have the gravitas or class to carry it off like Olivia had just done.
“It was so nice seeing you again,” Hayley said to Olivia, who had just plopped down on the last remaining chair and was holding Pork Chop in her lap while gently stroking his head.
“Yes, a pleasure. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”
Hayley sputtered, “Tomorrow, why, yes, I’m sure I’m free.”
“Good. You can join me and my husband at the Blooming Rose. I’ve heard great things about the food and have been dying to try it. It would be a real treat for us to dine with a professional chef and get your honest opinion.”
“Oh, I’m not—” Hayley stopped herself. She had promised not to shy away from anyone calling her a chef anymore.
Why put herself down like that? She had a regular column with kitchen-tested recipes, so why not own it?
She was a chef.
And she wasn’t about to correct a billion-dollar heiress who at this very moment was calling her one. “I would be honored to join you for dinner, Ms. Redmond.”
“Olivia, please. We’re friends now. I’ll make a reservation and e-mail you tomorrow with a time.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Hayley said, glancing back at Edna, whose mouth was so far open Hayley resisted the temptation to warn her against catching flies.
Instead, she held her head high and breezed out the door.
She no longer felt humiliated for barging in on Aaron. She felt vindicated and in high spirits.
If only this elated feeling would last.
Little did she know it was all about to come crashing down in a big way.
Chapter 8
“The seafood tastes funny,” Olivia said, practically gagging as she spit out what was in her mouth into a yellow cloth napkin and rolled it up into a ball.
She had ordered the Salmon-Stuffed Maine Crab Cakes with a spicy wasabi sauce off the menu, and when it arrived Hayley thought it looked absolutely delicious.
Olivia’s handsome, suave husband, Nacho, kept his eyes glued to his plate and picked at his pan-seared halibut, fearing what was about to come.
Hayley simply tried to diffuse the situation by popping a gnocchi slathered in a brown-butter-sage sauce into her own mouth and moaning. “Mine is so good. The sauce is just bursting with flavor. And those fried raviolis with the basil and tomato marinara dipping sauce I had for an appetizer were incredible.”
It wasn’t enough to stop Olivia from cranking her head around in search of the willowy young hostess in the pink sundress. “Excuse me, young lady
, I’d like to speak to the owner.”
The girl nodded, her face a frozen mask of dread, and then she disappeared into the kitchen.
“I expected more of this place,” Olivia said, slamming her fork down and then picking up a glass of ice water and gulping it.
A restaurant with an impeccable reputation, the Blooming Rose was situated on the outskirts of the tiny hamlet of Town Hill in a small New England cottage nestled in a wooded area. It was a fifteen-minute drive from the center of Bar Harbor but always worth it for its culinary treats for the taste buds.
Hayley was thrilled because she had been dying to try it ever since they opened early for the season, a full six weeks ahead of their usual date, which was around Memorial Day.
The meal started out innocently enough with an array of appetizers, including the fried raviolis along with a local artisan cheese plate and a chilled lobster salad with a tarragon vinaigrette.
In fact, Hayley was in absolute heaven.
She made a note to write about this flawless meal in a future column, not only to praise the delicious food but also because she was fond of the owner, Felicity Flynn-Chan, who was always so kind to Hayley when she called the paper to place ads for the restaurant.
But then came the entrées, and although Hayley and Nacho were both pleased with their selections, she quickly noticed an appalled look of distaste suddenly appear on Olivia’s face, and her mood instantly darkened.
She didn’t like her seafood.
And it was going to be a big problem.
Felicity entered the dining room from the kitchen and bravely crossed to their table, a tight smile fixed on her face. “Ivy tells me you wanted to see me.”
“Yes,” Olivia said, turning her head and speaking in the most haughty, snobbish manner she could muster. “My name is Olivia Redmond. . . .”
“Yes, Ms. Redmond, of course I know you—”
“Please allow me to finish,” Olivia barked.
Felicity clammed up.
“I visit the island every summer and dine at all the restaurants in town, and I was so much looking forward to enjoying a meal here since all my friends seem to rave about this place, but I can’t eat these crab cakes. They’re too fishy and too spicy!”
Hayley wanted to shrink in her seat, but Felicity remained calm and collected and reached down to pick up the plate of half-eaten crab cakes in front of Olivia. “Then please, let me bring you something else.”
Olivia slapped her hand away. “I don’t want anything else. This rotten fish has ruined my palette.”
“I assure you, Ms. Redmond, the salmon in the crab cakes is fresh.”
“It damn well may be, but it tastes lousy. You should consider investing in a new chef because whatever he’s done to these crab cakes is a culinary crime.”
“My sweet potato gnocchi is delicious,” Hayley said impulsively, stabbing three pieces of gnocchi on her fork and shoveling it into her mouth. “Can’t get enough of it.”
Felicity offered her a slight but grateful smile.
Olivia chose to ignore her.
Felicity sighed. She was adhering to the rule that the customer was always right, but it was a downright challenge. “My husband, Alan, is our chef. He prepared the crab cakes. I’m sorry it’s not to your liking, but he has been trained all over Europe and Asia, and very rarely do we ever hear complaints about his talents.”
“I’m sure your husband, Alan, has an illustrious career ahead of him in the fast-food industry,” Olivia said, pushing her chair back. “I’ve had enough of your back talk. Clearly you are uninterested in my opinion.”
“On the contrary, I take what you’re saying very seriously. . . .”
“Not seriously enough, I’m afraid. The chef is still in the kitchen working. Let’s go. I’m sure I can find something edible at home.”
Olivia swiveled around to make sure her back was to Felicity as she stormed out. “Pay the bill, Nacho.”
Nacho reached for his wallet but Felicity stopped him.
“Please, the least I can do is comp the meal,” Felicity said, sighing.
Hayley glimpsed Felicity’s good-looking, slight, wiry husband, Alan, poking his head above the carved wood swinging doors leading into the kitchen to see what was happening.
When he saw Hayley staring at him, he panicked and disappeared back inside. She had only met him once, at a wine-tasting party in town, and found him soft-spoken but warm and charming.
Felicity was the one in charge and running the show.
And everyone in town knew it.
But that didn’t seem to bother him. He probably married her because he liked a strong woman telling him what to do.
“I’m sure part of the reason she’s being so difficult is because you refused to allow her to bring her pig in here to dine on scraps underneath the table,” Nacho said, shaking his head.
“It’s the law, I’m sorry,” Felicity said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Again, I loved my meal,” Hayley said as she stood up from the table, having polished off most of it. “I only wish we could stay for dessert.”
“Next time,” Felicity said, smiling.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Nacho said, shaking Felicity’s hand before rushing out to calm his irritable wife.
Hayley turned to Felicity. “I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” Felicity said. “I have to handle impossible customers all the time. It’s really no big deal. In fact, most of them usually come back later in the summer and are very well behaved. Mostly because all their friends have talked up the place and they don’t want to feel like they’re missing out on something.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you take it all in stride.”
“Part of the job,” Felicity said.
Hayley couldn’t resist picking up her fork and trying the crab cake. She chewed it for a few seconds, the taste exploding in her mouth. “Oh my God, this is scrumptious. How could she complain about it?”
“Like her husband suggested, her churlish behavior had very little to do with not liking the food,” Felicity said.
“Would you mind . . . ?”
“Of course. Let me get you a doggy bag,” Felicity said, reading her mind.
“Make sure it’s big enough to fit Nacho’s halibut. I’d hate to see that go to waste too,” Hayley said.
Felicity gave her a wink and breezed into the kitchen.
After stocking up on the leftovers, which she was sure would be consumed before bedtime, Hayley carried the brown paper bag out to the gravel-lined parking lot to her Kia. She spotted Olivia’s Rolls Royce still parked in a spot underneath a leafy tree on the far end of the lot, closest to the woods. She saw Nacho walking Pork Chop on that sparkling diamond-studded leash down a path, probably so he could take care of business before the ride back to the Redmond Estate.
The back door to the rolls opened and Olivia got out and waved at Hayley. “I need to speak to you before you leave,” she yelled, startling her.
Hayley nodded, dreading what was about to come, and then casually hid the doggie bag behind her as she slowly and deliberately walked over to the silver Rolls. “Yes?”
“I meant to discuss this with you at dinner, but that was before it all went so horribly wrong and I didn’t get the chance. I couldn’t stay there a moment longer.”
“What is it, Olivia?” Hayley said, praying she wouldn’t smell the contents in the brown paper bag she clutched in her hand behind her left leg.
“I’ve been speaking to the administrator of our Redmond Meats Web site and we’ve decided we need a cooking blog, someone to post bacon-flavored recipes once or twice a week, and I was wondering if you . . .”
“I’m sure I could come up with a few names.”
“No, Hayley, I want you. Now, I know you have your column with the paper, but I promise you it won’t interfere, and if your editor has a problem with you moonlighting, I would be happy to speak to him about it. The paper will always come first
.”
Hayley was floored.
“I respect your skills, Hayley. Rhonda was kind enough to allow me to try that yummy chicken recipe you shared on her show and I was duly impressed. Plus you’re a local, which adds to your charm. We love the Redmond connection to Maine and want to promote that on the site.”
“I don’t know what to say. . . .”
“Say yes. I’ll pay you well. Two hundred a column.”
Two hundred bucks a couple of times a week?
That was all she needed to hear.
“Of course. Thank you.”
Olivia hugged her, squeezing her tightly for a few seconds, and then abruptly pulled away. That was probably about as much as she could endure in the affection department.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Olivia purred before climbing back into the Rolls and shutting the door.
Nacho hurried up the path with Pork Chop, who scampered at his side, and they hopped in the other side.
The driver pulled away, leaving Hayley alone with her bag of leftover gourmet food.
She knew she had done the right thing jumping at this rare opportunity. How could she not for at least four hundred extra dollars a week?
But having witnessed the mercurial side of Olivia Redmond inside the Blooming Rose restaurant, there was a tiny voice inside her screaming that she was asking for big time trouble.
And you know what they say about those voices.
If the voice is loud enough, you should probably listen.
Chapter 9
When Hayley pulled onto the Redmond Estate in Northeast Harbor she was taken aback by the colorful spring flowers that were being tended by four gardeners. One wore a fedora type hat to block his eyes from the sun and with a smile tipped it toward Hayley as she drove past him, heading to the main house.
