Val was glad he put Dorothy first. Sleuthing energized him, but he also needed someone to relax with. Most of his old friends had retired to Florida, moved to live near their children, or died.
She drove into the driveway. “Who do you suppose made the mess in the Smiths’ house? Jake, Jewel, or a burglar?”
“Jewel tossed the place. She was searching for something. There’s a pull-down staircase in the hallway where the bedrooms are. It wasn’t completely closed. She must have gone up to the attic to search and then, after she came down, she couldn’t get the wood panel that hides the staircase to go up the whole way.”
“She broke two nails since last night, maybe from struggling with the pull-down stairs.”
“Or with stuff in the attic.”
Once they were in the house, Val headed straight for the kitchen. “After last night’s tea party with a bunch of strangers dressed weirdly and tensions at the table, I’m looking forward to cooking and serving dinner to a normal family.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. The woman who hired you to cater tonight’s dinner wasn’t acting normal yesterday, unless tailing someone is normal.”
Val took Granddad’s interpretation of Elaine Naiman’s actions with a grain of salt. He fed his imagination with Hitchcock movies, most of which involved at least one character spying on or stalking another.
“It doesn’t matter what she did yesterday, Granddad. This is a happy occasion. I’m going to make a beautiful cake for Mr. Naiman’s birthday. He’ll be surrounded by family, old friends, and good vibes.” Val hoped those vibes would help her forget the murder and put her into the Christmas spirit.
“You’re setting the bar too high, Val.”
Chapter 7
On Sunday evening Val climbed the porch steps at the two-story, neo-Colonial house where she would cater Oliver Naiman’s birthday dinner. Before she reached the front door, Elaine Naiman opened it. She looked less harried than when she’d collided with Granddad and knocked off his hat yesterday.
She touched her mouth with her index finger and whispered, “My father is napping.” She pointed to the wood staircase that led up from the center hall to the second floor. “Can I help you bring in the food?”
Val handed her two large, insulated tote bags and went back to the car for the cake. When she returned with it, Elaine led her through the hall to the kitchen door at the back of the house.
On her way there, Val glanced into the L-shaped, living-dining room. No one was in it. As she unpacked the food, she said, “Your sister and brother-in-law aren’t here?”
“They are . . . sort of. Cyndi’s upstairs perfecting her hair and makeup. Her husband, Kevin, borrowed our neighbor’s boat and went fishing.”
Val looked through the French doors to the backyard. She could just make out the river in the twilight. The houses on Belleview Avenue were prized not just for their wonderful views, but also for their easy access to the bay. Almost all the houses had docks. It was a short, scenic boat ride from here past the Bayport Marina and out to the broad expanse of the Chesapeake.
“Your sister’s husband must really enjoy fishing to do it in December.” Val hoped he wouldn’t catch anything. Whenever Granddad caught fish, he always insisted on cooking it that day. She had no desire to add a last-minute fish course to dinner.
“Fishing’s his excuse for being on a boat. I’m not even sure he baits the hook.” Elaine pointed to the two coffeemakers on the counter. “After dinner, make a carafe of regular coffee and use a pod to make a single cup of decaffeinated for my father. Caffeine’s bad for him. If anyone else wants decaf, you’ll have to use another pod. We have only regular ground coffee.”
The floor above creaked. Val glanced up and then heard quick footsteps on the stairway. A man pushing eighty wouldn’t bound down the stairs like that. She expected to see Elaine’s sister, the redhead who’d shopped for facial products at Chatty’s booth yesterday.
Instead, a petite young woman with long, dark hair poked her head into the kitchen from the hallway. “You want any help with dinner?”
Val opened her mouth to decline the offer, but Elaine spoke first.
“Thank you for offering to help. Our caterer, Val, will take care of everything tonight. Val, this is Iska, my father’s health aide.”
Iska matched Granddad’s description of the woman Elaine had tailed yesterday. “Nice to meet you, Iska. I’m Val Deniston.”
Elaine said, “Take the rest of the evening off, Iska. We’ll manage without you.”
The young woman’s face fell. “I have a birthday gift for Mr. Naiman.”
“You can give it to him later tonight if he’s still awake when you come back, or it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll get ready and go.”
As Elaine shepherded the health aide out to the hall, Val went through the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. The only thing on the cherrywood table was a centerpiece of red and yellow chrysanthemums. The tablecloth, dishes, and glasses might be in the buffet, but Val didn’t want to root around in it without asking Elaine.
A framed family picture hung above the buffet. A handsome man, a woman with a plain but pleasant face, and two girls close in age. Val guessed the bigger one, about eight years old, was Cyndi, a curly-haired redhead with porcelain skin and a smile that showed her dimples. The smaller girl with dark, straight hair must be Elaine. She stared solemnly ahead.
The girls in the photo reminded Val of fraternal twins she’d known in college. One had been blond, delicate, and vivacious. Her brunette sister, with heavy brows and coarser skin, had been the serious one. Val had expected the quieter one to resent her popular, outgoing twin, but instead she’d idolized her.
Elaine’s comment about Cyndi perfecting her makeup suggested the Naiman sisters had a different dynamic than the twins from her college class.
As Elaine joined her in the dining room, Val said, “You have only six chairs at the table. I thought there would be eight for dinner.”
“One couple couldn’t make it. Their daughter had her baby earlier than expected, so they’ve left to see their new grandchild. It’ll just be the four of us and our neighbors, the Frosts. You must have met Franetta. She knows everyone in this town.”
“I’ve met her, but I didn’t know where she lived.” Franetta’s husband had been on the town council for years, so Val wasn’t surprised that they had a house on the premier street in Bayport. “I can set the table if you put out the china and cutlery you want to use.”
“Cyndi will set the table. She always enjoys making it look like a work of art instead of just a surface for eating.”
“Then I’ll get started on the food.” Val went back to the kitchen, thinking that Elaine was nibbling on sour grapes tonight.
Most of the dishes were at least partially made, but some needed time in the oven. She preheated it.
Cyndi swept into the room and introduced herself. Val had seen her from yards away at the Dickens festival yesterday. Now a close look at her face revealed that her ivory complexion had more flaws and wrinkles than her sister’s less delicate skin. The few extra pounds Elaine carried plumped up her face and gave her a more youthful appearance than the thinner Cyndi. The plainer sister had blossomed in middle age while the pretty one had wilted.
“I’m so glad you’re cooking,” Cyndi said in her low-pitched breathy voice. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen, and Elaine isn’t a lot better. My father has to eat whatever his aide, Iska, cooks. It all involves mounds of rice. Oops. I hope you’re not serving rice with dinner.”
“I’m not, but Elaine said your father isn’t used to his dentures yet and would have trouble eating anything that’s hard to chew.”
“I didn’t know about his dentures. He’s the birthday boy, so I guess we’ll all have to eat what he eats. What’s on the menu?”
“Appetizers to go along with drinks in the living room, and then squash-and-parsnip soup, beef bourguignon that will almost melt
in your mouth, a spinach soufflé, and a mashed potato casserole. Dessert is a lemon chiffon layer cake. I’ll put French bread on the table in case someone craves crunchiness.”
“That sounds wonderful!”
Elaine appeared in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. “Weren’t you going to set the table, Cyndi?”
The two went into the dining room. Though they couldn’t see Val standing near the sink, their voices drifted toward her as she peeled potatoes. Elaine brought up the subject of their father’s living arrangements.
Cyndi’s voice carried into the kitchen. “Kevin and I talked about your suggestion. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Dad to move to the retirement village. Moving upsets older people, and Dad doesn’t need to move. He has Iska to help him.”
“It’s hard for him to manage the stairs. Iska’s a small woman. She wouldn’t be able to keep him upright if he lost his balance. He could easily fall.”
Val was glad that Granddad’s house had a main floor bedroom and bath. If stairs ever became a hazard for him, he wouldn’t have to move.
“Kevin says we can get a stairlift,” Cyndi said. “He’ll install it for Dad.”
“Dad won’t use it. He’s stubborn and thinks he can still do everything he did when he was younger. Living where there are no stairs is what he needs at this stage.”
“Retirement places are ridiculously expensive, and Iska costs next to nothing.”
“With his investments and the money from the sale of this house, Dad can afford years at the retirement village. The village provides free transportation to medical appointments. Iska doesn’t have a license and can’t drive him. If the nerve damage to his foot gets any worse, it won’t be safe for him to get behind a wheel. His doctor says that’s likely to happen soon.”
“Soon is not now.” Cyndi’s voice was even huskier than usual. “To me, he doesn’t look as if he’s declined so much that he needs a place like that.”
Listening to the sisters argue made Val uncomfortable. She dreaded the day when she might have a similar conversation with her mother or her brother.
“You don’t come here often enough to judge Dad’s health, Cyndi. His memory is certainly getting worse,” Elaine said. “We shouldn’t wait until he’s forced to leave this house. Then he’d have the double whammy of a health problem and a move at the same time. I’d like him to visit the senior village, find out what kind of activities and services they offer, and talk to people who live there.”
“Elaine, you’re like a dog with a bone. You just keep gnawing on it. What if Dad doesn’t like the place after visiting it?”
A legitimate concern in Val’s opinion. She volunteered at the retirement village, holding trivia sessions and giving talks about food history. The village residents she encountered varied widely in their opinions about the place. Some hated it, some loved it, most just tolerated it.
Elaine said, “We need to convince him it’s the best option for him. You should be there too when he visits the place so he knows we’re both on board with his move. Can you make time for it in the next week or so?”
“Next week? What’s the rush?”
“I’m moving in two months. I won’t be living close enough to check on Dad once or twice a week, make his doctors’ appointments, and see that his prescriptions are filled. You’ll have to take over those tasks. It will be easier on you if Dad is settled in the senior village by then.”
Val heard slow, heavy footsteps on the stairs. Oliver Naiman’s daughters would probably prefer their father not overhear their conversation.
“This is sudden,” Cyndi said. “Where are you moving?”
“North Carolina. It isn’t sudden. I’ve—”
Val poked her head into the dining room. “I think your father’s on his way downstairs.”
Elaine lowered her voice. “We’ll talk about this later, Cyndi.”
The sisters came into the kitchen from the dining room at the same time as Oliver Naiman came in the doorway from the hall. He was tall but slightly stooped, with a thicker crop of white hair than most men his age. Elaine introduced Val to him.
He smiled warmly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Val. And grateful you’re cooking so everyone can enjoy dinner.” He peered into the dining room. “Where’s Iska?”
“I gave her the evening off,” Elaine said.
“Why did you do that?” Oliver bellowed.
Startled, Val took a step back, as if she’d just heard a clap of thunder on a sunny day. She and Granddad didn’t always agree, but he never raised his voice.
Cyndi stared at her father, aghast.
But Elaine, the more frequent visitor here, didn’t look surprised. “Iska works hard. I thought she could use some time for herself.”
Her soothing words didn’t soften her father’s glower. “I gave her time off every day this week. I wanted her here for my birthday party.”
Val relaxed. He now sounded more aggrieved than angry.
“You’ll have your whole family and two old friends celebrating with you.” Cyndi slipped her arm through his. “Let’s go sit in the living room and wait for Kevin. Did you know the Frosts let him use their boat so he could go fishing? That was so sweet of them.”
“The Frosts will do anything for me,” he said as he left the kitchen.
Val wasn’t sure how to interpret Oliver’s comment. Was he grateful for good neighbors, disdainful of his son-in-law, or arrogant about his own influence?
Elaine followed her sister and father out of the room.
Val was glad to have the kitchen to herself. It didn’t open directly to the living room, so she couldn’t hear voices from there. She wouldn’t be as distracted as she’d been by the conversation in the dining room. She heard the front door open and footsteps on the squeaky stairs. Soon after, she picked up the faint sound of a shower overhead. Cyndi’s husband must have arrived.
Half an hour before Val was scheduled to serve dinner, she was putting the potato casserole in the oven when he came into the kitchen.
“Hello there. I’m Kevin Kenwig, tonight’s wine steward and bartender.” He gave her a wry half smile. “You must be the famous Chef Val.”
She centered the casserole on the rack and closed the oven door. “I’m Val Deniston and not a chef. Happy to have someone handle the drinks.” In his cardigan sweater with suede elbow patches, he looked more like a professor than a wine steward. He had a slight paunch and receding sandy hair.
He surveyed the trays where she was arranging the appetizers. “What have we here? Roasted sweet potato rounds with what on top? Looks like chèvre and a dollop of cranberry sauce.”
She mentally tipped her hat to him. Most people would say, What’s that white and red stuff on top of the orange circle? She smiled. “You guessed right. I usually put dried cranberries on top of the potato rounds, but with your father-in-law’s teeth problems, the sauce would work better.”
“What’s inside the little pastry puffs?”
“Cream cheese, sun-dried tomato spread, and basil pesto.”
“I’m looking forward to a dinner of the finest soft food.” His ironic half smile appeared again. “Is catering your main occupation?”
“It’s a sideline. I manage a café. Your appetizer analysis makes me think you work or have worked in food service.”
“No. Strictly an amateur cook. High school science teacher by profession, but there’s some crossover. I assign cooking experiments to illustrate chemical principles.”
She figured he was probably a good teacher, thinking up creative assignments. “Where do you teach?”
“Outside Baltimore, not far from where we live.” The doorbell rang. “That must be the neighbors. I’d better get to work here.”
He uncorked a bottle of white wine and one of red, and filled drink orders efficiently.
Once everyone had their drinks, Val took the appetizers to the living room, where the family sat with their guests, Franetta and her husband, Thatcher,
a trim man in his sixties. She’d dressed in a red sweater and black pants. He wore a crisp blue shirt and an air of authority. He paused briefly in the middle of his monologue to acknowledge Val’s existence and then continued talking.
Val knew the Frosts from the athletic club, where they played in a tennis league. Val had seen them while on a court next to them. Franetta was the better player, but that didn’t stop Thatcher from giving her pointers to improve her game. Now, as Val circulated with the appetizers, he regaled the group with all he’d accomplished on the town council.
When he stopped puffing up himself long enough to pop a puff pastry into his mouth, Oliver said, “How’s your son these days?”
Thatcher’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear the news. He’s in line for a job at the White House.”
“Franetta told us that last weekend, Dad,” Elaine said. “You must have forgotten.”
He shrugged. “I remember events from long ago better than recent ones.”
Elaine looked pointedly at her sister, as if to say I told you he was forgetful.
In his booming voice, Thatcher once again gave himself a verbal pat on the back. “I have to admit I called in some favors and pulled some strings in Washington to make sure he was first in line for that job. He’ll start as soon as his preliminary security clearance goes through.”
Oliver raised his wineglass as if toasting. “That boy has made something of himself. I’m glad I helped him out of a fix.”
“These look so yummy.” Franetta took a puff pastry with one hand and a sweet potato appetizer with the other. “Did all of you get to the Dickens festival yesterday?”
Cyndi sipped her wine. “Dad didn’t feel up to walking around in the cold, but we got him there briefly toward the end. When I was in the supermarket today, I overhead a clerk and customer say that someone died at the festival.”
“An older man collapsed after the festival ended.” Franetta held up the sweet potato round she’d nibbled. “Val, these taste even more delicious than they look.”
Gingerdead Man Page 6
