by Sarah Hualde
Scooby spotted her before Lydia could think up an excuse for her approach. He tightened the string on his lime green hoodie and pulled the zipper closed. He scowled with bitter menace, but his eyes were soft. Lydia knew the look. The mask of anger often tucked away the heart of a broken child. She didn’t scowl back or avert her attention.
Maude followed Scooby’s desperate eyes to Lydia. She straightened. Her nurturing side battled with her professionalism. Lydia found her heart reaching out to Maude and her young employee. Without a word, Scooby ran around the building disappearing from sight.
Lydia hesitated no longer. Maude’s shoulders slumped. “Did I make him leave?”
Maude frowned at Lydia. “No, he was about to leave anyway,” she said.
“We were out here, smoking,” Lydia said and gestured toward Harrison. Her brother turned away from the women. He didn’t want to be in the middle of anybody else’s drama. He had enough of his own.
“You smoke?”
“Well, my brother does. I was keeping him company,” Lydia said.
Maude assessed Lydia. “Scooby’s just having a hard night. Dave keeps ripping into him. And then we’ve had a few difficult guests.”
“Oh. Mr. and Mrs. Sky? I saw.”
Maude’s head jerked. She squinted in thought. “Yes, the Skies. I forgot they were here.” Maude rubbed her arms as if she was freezing. But Maude’s nose was dotted with sweat. “Scooby will be back soon. He’s going for a run. Blowing off some steam.”
Lydia didn’t know what to think or say. “He seems like a good kid.”
“Yeah, he is.” Maude allowed herself a moment to look back into the parking area as if Scooby was already on his way back. “Do you pray, Lydia? You know my aunt, so I can only assume you pray.”
Lydia almost giggled. Mrs. Jacqui had been the pivot point of many of Lydia’s past prayers. But she didn’t think that’s what Maude meant. “Yes. I pray.”
Maude nodded. “Can you fit one more kid to your list? Scooby could really use more prayers than I can offer.”
“I’m on it.” Lydia reached a hand out for Maude’s. The chef took it, briefly, and offered Lydia a look of gratitude.
“Well, see you on the inside.” Maude straightened her jacket and readjusted her apron. She retreated into the restaurant, and Lydia hurried to Harrison.
“Let’s go back in,” he said, as he stamped out his cigarette.
Lydia hooked her arm with Harrison’s and allowed him to hustle her back into the restaurant. The mist was returning, and Lydia longed for her seat next to the crackling fireplace. The kids and teens would be leaving soon, and Lydia didn’t want to miss anyone. She wanted to thank everyone for journeying to Ashton to celebrate with her.
The dining room was emptying out at a steady rate. Lydia wondered what time it was. Had the babies’ and children already left? She quickened her pace to the patio.
“There she is,” Ethan announced.
Kat grabbed Lydia’s coat, and Flora hustled her over to her chair. “It’s present time.”
“What? Presents? No.” Lydia had specifically requested no gifts. She wanted her friends near her but not obliged to spend money on her. But the thought of unwrapping gifts made her face glow. She loved presents.
“Open ours first,” Ivy and Joan chimed. “We’ve got to get these little guys back to the townhouse.”
“Who are you calling little,” Ever fussed. His ego was definitely bruised. Ivy winked at him, and all was set right.
“I’ll come too,” Calvin whispered.
Ever settled back with a grin spreading his lips. He was more than excited to have another man accompanying all the girls back to the townhouse. He hated that he and Sam were the only boys in a house of pink. Calvin coming along evened out the score.
Ivy and Joan placed a small black bag on Lydia’s lap. Their mother pulled out the purple tissue paper, careful not to crush it. Lydia knew Eden would want the paper later. She’d make crafts out of the decorative trash until it was a pulverized mass.
Underneath the lavender was a long, warm silver and black scarf. Lydia pulled it out of the bag slowly. Embossed on the fabric was a large raven and the epic poem of Edgar Allen Poe. Lydia tossed the scarf around her neck before thanking her daughters.
“I told you she’d love it,” Joan whispered to Ivy. Ivy smiled.
Next, Mrs. Jacqui offered her gift. “Rene is sorry she couldn’t make the party, but her knees are acting up again.” Jacqui excused her missing friend. Lydia could only imagine the playful sprinkling of autumn rain freezing up all Ms. Rene's joints. She was glad the sweet lady hadn’t forced herself to come out while she was hurting.
Lydia unwrapped her gift from the older church ladies and cackled with laughter. Decoratively adorned, inside of a shadow box, was the least toasted corner of the infamous wedding quilt. The same “priceless” quilt that Lydia had used to smudge out a fire. In doing so, Lydia had saved more than two lives but destroyed the delicate handmade treasure.
Jacqui delighted in Lydia’s joyful tears of laughter. Lydia saw the present as an inside joke and a vote of confidence from the church patron. She began planning a prominent place to hang it.
Chapter 9
LYDIA HUGGED ALL THE kids goodbye. Ivy, Joan, and Calvin rounded up the Brandes, Miller, and Hooper younglings. They wrapped each one in their respective coats and assigned walking buddies. Flora stood next to the hostess’ podium bundling Enoch under her long coat. Lydia held her purse for her.
“I’ll be back,” Flora said, more to assure herself than to remind Lydia. “Once Enoch is fed and asleep, I’ll truck back over for another slice of cake and one of their darkest coffees.”
“I can’t wait,” Lydia said. “But take your time. We won’t start any deep grown-up talk without you.”
Flora refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’ll have to hurry. We’re out of the patio in an hour and a half.”
“Just be safe,” Lydia said. “We have an entire day tomorrow to lounge and talk.”
Flora winked farewell and held open the front door of Con Fuego. The herd of young ones flooded their way across the street to the townhouse center.
Lydia watched until they safely reached the other side and returned to the rest of her company. She spotted Vikki at the bar lounge, talking to Mrs. Sky. Lydia hoped the women were discussing happier times than the crying jag in the bathroom. It was nice for Vikki to take time out of the party to console a stranger. Maybe Charles had her pegged incorrectly. Maybe it just took time to uncover Vikki’s real nature.
When Lydia swung into the patio, Stefan was busy pouring black coffee and setting out fruit trays. Lydia had no idea Con Fuego’s party set up was so lavish. She loved it. Scooby, much calmer than before, took away empty cake plates and restocked creamer bins. He was flagged down by Pepper. Scooby hastened to see what the hostess needed.
Lydia was happy Scooby had recovered so quickly from his earlier upset. She took her place by Ethan and wrapped her hands around her refilled mug of coffee. “Where’s Harrison?” she asked.
Ethan frowned. “Popped out for another smoke.” He scooted his chair closer to Lydia. “What’s going on with him and Charlie?” Lydia shook her head.
Scooby walked up to the table and placed a frothy mug of coffee topped with whipped cream near Lydia. “This is for the lady in the gray sweater,” he said. Lydia guessed he meant Vikki.
“Whipped cream? I’ll take it,” Kat said, reaching for the mug.
“Sorry,” Scooby said, protecting the drink from Kat’s greedy reach. “This is an Irish Coffee with cream. It’s a special order. But I can have Dave make you something else?”
Kat pouted. “No. It’s okay. I’ve had way too much sugar tonight anyway.”
Scooby smiled before retreating. Lydia scooted the drink to Vikki’s spot. Charles stood and walked over to Lydia. He hugged her briefly before making his excuse to leave.
“Don’t you dare think you’re getting away fro
m here without talking to me. I mean really talking to me,” Lydia said.
Charles blushed. “Yes, Ma’am. How about I come to your townhouse for lunch?”
“Please do.” Lydia squeezed Charles’ hand. “I want to understand what’s going on.”
Charles sighed. “Oh, it’s a mess. But, I’ll do my best to fill you in.”
Ethan lifted the Irish Coffee to Charles. “Why don’t you take this to Vikki?” Charles didn’t repulse the command. He knew better. It was faster to get the chore over with than to listen to the explanation behind it.
“Only for you.” He smirked.
Lydia watched through the patio glass as Charles carefully carried the mug to Vikki Winters. Mrs. Sky interjected something that made Charles wince. If he responded to the barb, Lydia hadn’t heard.
Vikki rose to take the coffee from her soon to be stepson and planted a motherly kiss on his cheek. Charles turned and hurried from the restaurant, scraping Vikki’s lip gloss from his skin.
“Poor Charles,” Kat said, as she observed the same scene. “I had a stepmother. Getting used to her wasn’t fun or easy.”
“But you did get used to her?” Lydia hoped Harrison’s family could get along again.
Kat swigged her black coffee and waved a hand in the air. “Are you kidding? I like her better than my own father now.”
Lydia smiled. She didn’t want that extreme difference to take place, but she understood Kat’s point. Harrison returned from smoking, and after treating his fiancé to a peck on the cheek, he entered the patio.
“Vikki seems to be having a good time,” Ethan said. The woman was swaying beside the leather couches of the bar lounge. Her eyes were closed. The very few people still dining paid her little attention. Their eyes flickered to her every so often and then just as swiftly back to their partners. Mr. Sky retrieved Mrs. Sky. They spoke to Vikki for a moment and left for the evening.
Harrison never stopped watching his bride to be. Even as he spoke to his sister, his attention flitted between Lydia and Vikki. “I hope you have time to get to know Vikki, this weekend,” he said as he sipped his coffee.
“Me, too,” Lydia answered.
Kat looked behind her shoulder at Vikki, whose swaying had turned into full-blown dancing. “Maybe we should bring her back to the patio. With the disco ball down, her good time won’t be as conspicuous.”
Harrison reddened. “She’s normally much more reserved. Even if she’s had her coffee. She has an Irish Coffee every night. She says it allows her to enjoy the last few hours of the day without getting the bedtime blues.”
“You should’ve ordered it for her earlier. It may have made her more comfortable,” Lydia said.
“Didn’t think of it,” Harrison said.
Lydia turned sparkling eyes at her husband. “I’ve never thought of adding alcohol to my nighttime coffee,” Lydia said.
Ethan shook his head. “Just what you need. Fodder for that wild imagination of yours.” Ethan turned to Harrison. “Has your sister told you about her new pastime?”
“Joan did say something about her being a detective. But I didn't really understand what she meant. Have you started solving cold cases in your spare time?” Harrison joked. Kat beamed. Her twinkle met Lydia’s, causing both their husbands to cringe.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Ethan said.
Kat ignored Ethan. “Lydia’s cases are white-hot. She’s solving them in real-time.”
“With a little help from us,” Flora, back from feeding her baby, was shrugging out of her jacket and sliding into her seat next to her husband, Kevin.
Kat and Flora flashed celebratory eyes at each other as Lydia blushed. “I was going to call your bluff, Kat, but Lydia’s eyes say you’re telling the truth.”
“Unfortunately.” “Yep.” Thad, and Kevin spoke in unison.
“Sadly, yes,” Ethan said.
“What do you mean sadly,” Lydia said.
Harrison cleared his throat. He’d gone toe to toe with his sister before. “I think they mean they wished you’d all stay safe.”
Lydia sipped her coffee and allowed the husbands to give their side of the stories. One by one, they detailed the last ten months of life in Honey Pot. Everything from missing teens, unexpected births, murderous celebrities, drug rings, and switched identities were brought to light by the Honey Pot trio and Ivy. Harrison sat in wordless awe, mingled with concentrated confusion.
“You mean, just a few weeks ago, she was up to her ears in homicides and suspects?” Harrison whistled in amusement. “Lydia was always a bit too curious for her own good. That and she’s a fixer,” Harrison said.
“A lethal combo,” Ethan added.
“Only for the bad guys,” Kat cheered Lydia on.
Lydia didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. Her birthday had offered her more than enough attention for one year. “I have lots of help,” she stated, draining the remnant of her coffee cup. Her eyes fell on Vikki at the lounge. “Whoops. Looks like we’ve worn Vikki out. It is late, and we’ve been talking much longer than it feels. I think it’s time we head back to the kids.”
Ethan checked his watch. “We were supposed to clear out an hour ago. Maude and Santi are being sweet to us. We’ve got to remember to tell Jacqui about it.”
Harrison sorted and gathered Vikki’s wrap and clutch. “My damsel is in distress. Time for a swift rescue.” He winked at Lydia and exited the patio.
The rest of the party followed. Most said their goodbyes and offered their good wishes before taking off for home. Only Lydia’s best friends and their husbands lollygagged at the hostess stand.
Harrison nudged Vikki on the shoulder. He knelt down to whisper to her. His strong hand gingerly swept Vikki’s disheveled hair from her forehead. He tilted her head back and stiffened.
“Lydia?” His voice squeaked.
Little sister beside him, Harrison rose and leaned into Lydia's arms. His body weight was almost too heavy for Lydia. She squared her legs to hold up her brother. He panted against her neck. Lydia looked past his broad shoulders to Vikki’s pale face and lifeless eyes. She tightened her hold on Harrison, unable to verbalize the scene before her.
Vikki Winters, who only moments before was dancing around, a paradox of fire and life, lay slumped in the Con Fuego Lounge. Dead.
Chapter 10
LYDIA’S FOCUS FUZZED as she held onto Harrison. She heard Ethan on the phone to Ashton PD, but couldn’t make out the meaning of his words.
Flora paced alongside her husband. She knew Enoch needed to nurse, but she couldn’t leave before understanding what had just happened.
Kat fretted. She kept putting on and taking off her coat in nervous excitement. Thaddeus mumbled to himself, behind her.
Maude and Stefan perused the guest list mentally. Santi left the kitchen before scrubbing it down, and Dave lounged at a back booth awaiting the oncoming storm of medical staff and their questions.
Scooby appeared at random and then disappeared into the bathroom. Without the background music and friendly chatter, the sound of his retching stirred everyone’s stomach. Thaddeus brought Harrison a chair. Harrison sat without noticing.
Lydia stared down at Vikki. She was just as lovely as when she’d walked into the restaurant. Her lips were only slightly bluer beneath her lip gloss, and tiny welts puffed around the corners of her mouth.
Lydia noticed her coffee cup, empty and overturned, on the leather couch cushion. It made Lydia sick and, at the same time, suddenly parched. She wanted a cold glass of water to wash down the bile that crested in her throat.
What had happened? What had turned her happy celebration into a death party?
Medics flooded the restaurant entrance, accompanied by on-duty officers. The lounge was taped off as a crime scene soon afterward.
The police were swift. An officer took Flora’s statement and escorted her to the townhouse. The main detective scoured the restaurant. The coroner waved at Lydia as he wheeled in a gur
ney.
Shouldn’t it be creepy that the coroner knows me by sight, Lydia asked herself. She found it oddly comforting. She stood back and watched the machine of justice do its job.
AT THE TOWNHOUSE, IVY and Joan tiptoed through the kitchen. Calvin sat with Flora out on the tiny back deck under the master suite balcony. Enoch was tucked warmly in his portable crib just inside the house. Ivy checked on him as she passed. Joan carried a fresh pot of chamomile tea outside.
Flora gratefully accepted a cup and handed another to Calvin. Calvin hadn’t stopped shaking since Flora explained the depressing end to Lydia’s birthday party. He stared into the steaming mug and watched the breakaway tea leaves spiral.
Joan took the chair nearest Calvin and wrapped her arms around her cousin. Calvin laid his head on top of Joan’s. “I still don’t understand.” His whisper was barely audible.
Flora didn’t know how much to disclose. Vikki was dead. The police were investigating. The restaurant was closed down until further notice. Flora couldn’t bring herself to say the “M” word to Calvin. He was already so upset. Besides, Flora wasn’t family. It might be easier for Calvin to take if it came from his father or maybe his aunt.
Joan and Ivy exchanged looks. They followed Flora’s hinting. But they, too, chose not to detail it for Calvin. Deep down, Calvin had to know what was going on. He was just avoiding it until his heart caught up. They all let him.
“Has anybody told Charles, yet?” Calvin’s watery eyes looked up into Flora’s face.
Joan answered, “Would you like me to do it?”
Calvin frowned. “He probably already knows.”
Flora didn’t like the sound of that. The young man was definitely hiding something. Joan fidgeted but held Calvin more tightly. Ivy digested Calvin’s words. She felt a round of investigative scrapbooking coming on.
Chapter 11
THE REMAINING MEMBERS of the vacationing families staggered back to the townhouse near two am. Ivy and Joan rested on the couch. Flora had retreated to a bedroom with her children. Calvin snored on the living room floor. The squeaking of the front door alerted the dozing parties, but not one fully awakened.
