Chapter 8
I stood over the double boiler and jiggled the handle, but the white goop still sloshed. “It isn’t getting any thicker,” I said to Lizzy. “I don’t want to stop stirring, but I’m getting antsy. I think it should be creamier.”
While I continued to stir with my one hand, I looked at the other page, which was a note from Nonna written in her tight, neat hand.
Olive, if you are reading this, please know that it fills me with joy to pass this tradition to you. I would have loved to show you in person and often dreamed of laughing together as I watched you mix Peroni cream on your own. But we must honor the old traditions. Only one Peroni woman may possess the actual recipe, until it is passed on, otherwise it will lose its magic.
Aside from the recipes in my gold box, there are special secret ingredients you will come to learn. For now let my notes guide you through the basic night cream.
Cold cream is an emulsion of beeswax and pretty fragrances. I know this won’t make any sense at first but the cream is the opposite of oil in water—it is water in oil. That makes it disappear when rubbed into your skin. It has always been called cold cream because it feels cool on the skin and not that it is actually cold. Can you believe cold cream has been used for over two thousand years?
People now a days use mineral oil instead of beeswax because it lasts longer. But the secret is to stick to beeswax—from local bees if possible. The name of my special contact is in the black book in my desk. Always remember the old ways are best. There should be six large jars of beeswax on the lowest shelf behind the pots and pans. You will find glycerin, lanolin, and jojoba oil to the tippy top shelf. (It was beastly hard to catch those jojobas!)
Nonna had drawn a smiley face in brackets next to her little joke. She had such a precious sense of humor.
Melt the amount shown below in a double boiler until it thickens to the texture of whipped cream, and then pour it into another vessel, adding the proper amount of cold water. Continue stirring, as the mixture turns white. There is a selection of fragrant oils in my bathroom. Add a drop at this point. A little goes a long way. I suggest either the violet or lavender for your first batch. Just a drop!
Please know I am standing over your shoulder as proud as any grandmother can be to watch you step into my place. Legend has it if you get sand in your shoes, you will remain in Florida. Here is wishing you sandy shoes!
With all the love in heaven,
Nonna
I continued to stir, feeling my grandmother’s hand guiding mine. “I am trying to be patient,” I said to Lizzy. She sat at the kitchen table looking at the photographs in one of Nonna’s albums.
“Tell me about your Listing with Lizzy office,” I said. “How long have you been in business? How many agents do you have?” Listening to her history was my way of killing time while the cream thickened.
Lizzy licked her bottom lip, her tongue performing the smoker’s dance before she spoke. “I started the company about seven years ago, after working a series of odd jobs until I got my real estate license. I stepped into the workplace right after my marriage to Sterling the Spleen ended. You might not have heard of him up north, but he’s notorious in this part of Florida. He’s an attorney that no lawyer in his right mind comes up against.”
“Which means it had to be a nasty divorce for you.”
She ignored my remark and continued. “Sterling Kelly is a legend. If a husband has money and a trophy wife, Sterling will end up with both. He keeps a chunk of the change and discards the woman once he tires of her. I doubt there is a good-looking woman around here with a huge divorce settlement that he hasn’t been with in court and in bed.”
“How’d you end up with a guy like that?”
“I was naïve and flattered that a big shot like him would want me. I convinced myself his enemies had made up most of the stories about him.”
She looked up from the album. “If you could hear him troweling on the faux sympathy for his poor clients. The man should win an Oscar. He’s twice as rotten as any husband he sues. Not only that but he hates all other lawyers and confides in almost no one, except Newton his longtime assistant.”
My ex came to mind. “Your judgment about men is even worse than mine.”
Lizzy snorted. “An angry ex once took a shot at Sterling and clipped him in the shoulder sending him to the hospital for a couple of days. The guy got five years and lost every penny he ever had.”
Rough stuff. Myron could be right at home in Starfish Cove. Yikes! I wanted to slap myself for having such a thought. Instead I went back to grilling her like a burger on dying embers. “How many agents do you have?”
She thumped her lips with her forefinger then said, “Listing with Lizzy is small. Not like one of your New York real estate offices. As far as agents, there’s Jaimie…and Jaimie…”
“You have two agents named Jaimie?”
“Just one with a split personality. I never know whether she’ll be mean Jaimie or nice Jaimie. You’ll meet her. Just remember I warned you. I’d fire her if I dare but she’d probably cry or worse yet, slash my tires.” She chuckled.
I joined her in laughing, though I wasn’t sure why. The image of a crazed real estate lady made my decision—I wouldn’t sell yet. I had become intrigued with Starfish Cove.
The cream finally began to solidify. The swirling mass was white tinted with pale violet and smelled faintly of lavender.
“Would you stir this while I get some jars?”
Lizzy slapped the photo album closed and took the ceramic spoon from my hand.
There was a supply of thirty pristine empty jars in the cabinet to the right of the refrigerator. I took one down, filled it with the luscious cream, and placed it on the counter. I repeated the process until the pot was empty and eight lid-less jars were cooling against the backsplash.
“So…” Lizzy flipped her hair over her shoulders as she watched me fill the last jar. “We agree on delaying the listing of this condo? It will take at least a month to sort out your grandmother’s will and transfer the ownership. Rather than going back to New York, hang out here. You might get to like it.”
“I have one patient who has no patience. He’ll have to be handled.” I could hear Myron’s angry response to my change in plans. He’d just have to deal with it.
I caught Lizzy studying my face. “No offense, but you look tired,” she said. “I forgot you just arrived this morning. I’d better hit the road.”
Screwing a lid on one jar, she tucked the cold cream into her purse, which was the size of a Barney’s shopping bag. “Thank you so much for the cream. I will treasure it and only use it for special occasions,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I tried not to think about our little ceremony for Nonna. “Let me walk you down to your car. If I don’t get some exercise, I’ll fall asleep on my feet.”
We blathered on about the fun we had making the cold cream until we reached her car.
“I’ll be back before sunup to help you scatter your grandmother.” She opened the car door, flung her purse into the front seat, and started her engine. She pulled out of the lot with her tires squealing and the wind blowing in her hair.
I waved her off and went upstairs, feeling good about making a new friend. It had been a pleasant day despite the circumstances. I touched the cold cream and it felt cool, so I screwed on the lids, pushed the jars back on the counter, and took one test jar it to the guest bedroom.
Chapter 9
I thought about taking a nap but I had an important errand to run. Cat food and litter for Puff. I made a quick trip to the grocery store where I picked up less significant supplies for me.
My sleepiness gone, I opted for a stroll on the beach. I inhaled the clean air and watched the pastel sky drop into the sea. The soft sand squished between my toes and I looked back to see the trail I had made—a lone set of footprints. I was alone but not the least bit lonely except for the ache in my heart about Nonna.
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nbsp; Whining Willie drifted into my mind. Darn him. He couldn’t even let me have this brief respite. The voice of Dr. Hauser whispered in my ear. Your ex-husband will never get well as long as you are there to take care of him. Cut him loose. It was easy for his therapist to advise me. Unlike me, Hauser didn’t feel responsible for the entire world.
As I rinsed my feet under the faucet next to the stairs and watched the sandy water trickle away, I considered becoming licensed as a psychologist in Florida. I was sure it wouldn’t be too difficult. The possibility wasn’t the conundrum it had been earlier in the day. I didn’t really want to go on shouldering the burdens of unhappy people. It was time to add some joy to my life.
I slipped on my flip-flops and trekked up the stairs singing a tune that lay hidden in the back of my mind, “Que será será —whatever will be will be.”
Back in the apartment Puff waited at the door. I lifted her up and kissed her nose. Then settled on the sofa and watched the sky turn dark. “Tomorrow, Nonna. You will be free,” I whispered to the urn that sat on the shelf.
The first few bars of cartoon music woke me from my dream. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand as I reached for my cell phone. It was just after midnight. “Darn you, Myron!” I growled, my voice thick with sleep. I glanced at the caller ID before clicking on. If it was Whining Willie, he could jolly well wait until morning.
The ID read Lizzy Kelly. I took the call. She babbled into the phone.
“Calm down,” I said. “Are you crying?”
“I’m allowed one phone call!” she sobbed. “I’m in jail! Can you come and get me?” There was more sniveling and then a flow of words—some coherent but most unintelligible. “I didn’t wa-want to ca-call anyone else ‘cause word m-might get around town.” She caught a jagged breath. “I trust you not to tell anyone.”
A lump settled in my throat, but I managed to choke out the words. “What were you arrested for?” If it was murder, I might not be too eager to rush to my new friend’s rescue.
“They think I stole my own car! It’s all a mistake!”
I hesitated for a minute, while I grappled with logic versus my nurturing nature. Why did she not call a friend or relative? The thought occurred to me that Lizzy might be a career criminal passing for a really nice gal.
Psychologists are trained to calm anxieties, even their own. Arrested for stealing her own car? That could happen to anyone, couldn’t it? Some sort of mix up with car registrations or license tags or…
The nagging voice inside my head said, “Put yourself in Lizzy’s shoes. This is a small town. Would you want everyone to know you had been arrested?” Truth was, I was a bit flattered that she had trusted me to rescue her.
“Do I need to make arrangements for bail money?” I had done it once for Whining Willie and remembered it was a complicated thing involving a grubby man in a small office with oiled paper over the windows.
“No. They took my car. I need a ride and someone to sign me out. This is horribly humiliating!” she wailed.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Most people would think twice, but for me second thoughts are the ones that do the most damage. I pulled on a pair of slacks, sports bra, and a loose top. With a quick splash I removed the sleepers from my eyes and dabbed on some miracle cream.
As I grabbed my purse and car keys, it occurred to me that Lizzy could be in any jail. I ran a search for the Starfish Cove Police, got the number, and confirmed they were holding my new friend. Bail wasn’t required, just come and get her. My mind raced through a dozen possibilities, but I had to admit I didn’t know Lizzy well enough to guess what her relationship was with the local gendarmes.
It took me less than ten minutes to find the police station. I was tempted to park in the emergency space, but I thought better of it. The inside of the building looked more like a daycare at night. Murals of fish and turtles decorated the cement block walls, and brightly colored chairs were arranged in classroom style. The Starfish Cove jail appeared to carry through the theme of a friendly community open to all. Mentally I scratched my head trying to make sense out of the setting.
I cleared my throat hoping not to startle the lone police officer who stood leaning over what must be a check-in desk. His back was to me; I tried not to admire his buns. At the sound of my croaky noise he turned to face me.
The officer wore black slacks, a black T-shirt with sleeves that ended in the middle of the nicest biceps I have seen outside of an action movie. A badge dangled from a lanyard around his neck. He was tanned, clean-shaven with a teeny bit of salt in his jet-black hair, and chocolate brown eyes.
I expected to find Lizzy behind bars in an orange jumpsuit, clanking a tin cup against the rails, but instead, she was sitting behind a glass partition on one of those horribly uncomfortable fiberglass chairs, her hands crossed over her chest. She wore a white sheer beach dress with what was clearly a blue bikini underneath. Her face was puffy from crying, but she wasn’t weeping at the moment.
“Officer?” I walked towards the man in black thinking I could win him over by introducing myself before he asked. I knew enough about cop egos to humble myself before his authority.
“Kal,” the officer answered. He responded to my outstretched hand.
“Officer Kal,” I said, feeling his firm handshake. I was suddenly aware I had come away with no makeup and bedhead hair.
“Just Kal,” he said.
I swallowed a chuckle as his terseness reminded me of Bond, James Bond.
“May I see some identification?” he asked.
Reaching in my purse, I took out my driver’s license. I handed it to him. He studied the piece of plastic and then gave me a long hard look. He returned my card to me. Satisfied that I was who I said I was, he lowered his voice. “Sterling Kelly reported the car Mrs. Kelly is driving was stolen. I understand the circumstances; divorces often result in power plays. The Jaguar coupe is still registered in her husband’s name, even though it’s clear she’s been in possession of it for a number of years.”
He turned his back on Lizzy so she couldn’t read his lips. “This is a small town. Liz Kelly and I went to high school together. I know she’s a decent sort. This was a rotten trick her husband played on her, but we had to bring her in. You’d best take her directly home. Mr. Kelly sent his assistant, Newton Nott, to pick up the car. Nott has it now.” Kal lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “This could escalate into one of those nasty domestic scenes. Kelly’s been yanking her chain for years.”
Before I could thank him, he continued. “Her husband told me to tell her to stop at his house tomorrow. He said he would work something out with her. A bit of advice, don’t let her go. He’s a tricky character. You didn’t hear it from me but tell her to get a rental car for now.”
I nodded. Cops feared domestic battles because both sides became hotheads. Glancing at Lizzy, I saw fury in her reddened eyes. I replayed our conversations, certain she told me she was divorced. Now I discovered she’s still married, and to the meanest dude in town. My admiration for the fancy sport coupe must have made her feel bad since she admitted she wanted to impress me—the gal from the Big Apple.
Kal walked her to me. With my arm around the weary beach bunny, I guided her into my Prius. As we drove away from the police station she burst into angry tears. “That was so humiliating! They were going to put me in a cell, but Kal was nice enough to let me sit on that slice of plastic. I was afraid they were gonna search me—if you know what I mean.”
I felt her eyes on me as I turned out of the lot. “It was awfully kind of you to get me. I had no one else to call. Dave has to stay through closing at Crabby Nancy’s. Besides, he can be a hothead and would love an excuse to come at Sterling.”
She drummed the door panel with her fingers. “Asking Jaimie would be like taking out a full-page ad in the St. Petersburg Times. My sister’s working. Grams can’t drive. And my father, Nelson Dingler, hates Sterling enough already. Long story there.” She fe
ll back in the passenger seat with a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Sometimes we must keep paying for our lapses in judgment long after the bill has been satisfied.
“Head for your condo and then aim south on the beach road,” she said, recovering her cheerful tone of earlier in the day. “You can just drop me off at my place.”
The clock on my dash read close to 1:30, a few more hours and we would be scattering Nonna on the beach. “Before we get there I have some questions.”
Chapter 10
“Ask away,” Lizzy said. It was hard to tell the state of her mind by the tone of her voice. She had either recovered from the indignities or was hiding her feelings.
“You gave me the impression you were no longer married. Call me foolish, but I wrongly assumed your car was your car.”
She tapped the side window with her nails. “Yup, I could see where you would be confused. I would kill for a cigarette right now.”
“And I would kill you if you dared smoke in my car.”
Lizzy sighed. “Sterling and I were married in a small ceremony at his house, Barracuda Manor, in the old town section of the Cove. Two months later I realized my mistake and moved out. I demanded a divorce. Imagine divorcing a divorce attorney! We separated, but he refused to set me free. I’ve spent nine long years on his leash.”
I slowed to a stop at a red light and turned to see the expression on her face. “Why not let you go?”
“I’m his cover story. As long as he is married, he’s off the market. He can carry on with his clients as much as he likes, but at the end of the day he is a married man and no woman can claim him, except lucky me.” She rattled around in her giant purse and came up with a pack of cigarettes. Just the smell of the unlit tobacco made my stomach roil.
Glossy Lips Page 4
