The Diva Cooks up a Storm

by Krista Davis

  The voices of two women drifted to us from the next room. “I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. Can you say tacky?” I knew the woman who was speaking. She wasn’t exactly a fashionista herself.

  “I know what every man in the room is thinking,” the other woman prattled. As she spoke, I recognized the voice as belonging to Trula. “Why would she wear a dress that practically dips down to her navel? And that big hair! Hellooo? The eighties are calling.”

  Kelsey and I both knew whom they were talking about. I was willing to bet it wasn’t the first time she had heard that sort of thing. It was the grown-up equivalent of mean girls in high school.

  Kelsey swallowed hard. She turned and saw me in the doorway, where I had stopped. The only way to the bathroom was through the room where Trula and the other woman were talking.

  With her back to me again, Kelsey sucked in a deep breath and positioned her head high, as though bracing herself for hostility. She had to walk by them.

  She flashed a desperate glance my way and my heart went out to her. It was like fourth grade all over again. I winked at her and said in a loud voice, “Oh my gosh! Is that a rat?”

  The place cleared out immediately. Kelsey bestowed a smile on me. Her eyes glistened, though I wasn’t sure if they were tears of sadness or joy.

  For the second time, she held out her hand. “Kelsey Haberman.”

  I shook her extended hand. “Sophie Winston.”

  “I owe you one, Sophie. That was really nice of you.”

  “They deserved it.”

  Worry lines in her forehead, she asked, “Do you think this dress is too risky?”

  Oh no! I searched for something to say that wouldn’t offend her. “It’s a nice dress.”

  “Then what’s their problem?”

  Oh great. I pondered for a moment and decided I could save her a lot trouble if I told her the truth. “Old Town has always been somewhat conservative.”

  “You mean politically?”

  “No, I mean in the way people dress.”

  She examined my dress. “Like what you’re wearing. A flower print.” Kelsey said it dully. As though she was disappointed.

  “It doesn’t have to be floral.”

  She nodded. “I’m not sophisticated like the women around here. I’m just a country girl, and they treat me like roadkill. I wish I could be more like Natasha. I watch her show every day.”

  I laughed aloud. “Most of them weren’t born here. Natasha and I are from a little town in Virginia. And I happen to know that one of the women who was being catty grew up on a farm in a forgotten corner of Alabama. Just cover up a little more.”

  She blinked hard like she was having trouble comprehending what I meant. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Who were you running from earlier?”

  “Just a guy I wanted to avoid. Thanks for the advice, Sophie.”

  When I left the guesthouse, Jay Charles approached me. “Are you enjoying the dinner?”

  “I am. Wasn’t the lamb fabulous?”

  “Perfectly cooked. So juicy and tender.” Jay gazed down at the ground for a second as though he was uncomfortable. “Mars tells me you have a ghost in your house?”

  “Mars’s mother thinks so.”

  “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

  Memories of a Halloween that challenged my beliefs raced through my head. I chose my words carefully. “Unlike Mars’s mother, I have never spoken to a ghost. But I have experienced some unusual things.”

  He perked up. “Do you hear whispering?”

  “No, I can’t say that I do. But the portrait of Mars’s aunt Faye tilts a little bit almost every time Natasha enters my kitchen and criticizes it. I have always tried to attribute that to a draft from the ancient fireplace. And frankly, I think most of the things that move are helped by my cat Mochie. But there are a lot of ghost stories in Old Town.”

  Jay motioned for me to follow him to a distant spot in the garden. He leaned toward me and spoke in a low voice. “I am a man of science. I do not fall for every new trend or half-baked theory. The trouble is that I hear voices. They’re not in my head. When I cover my ears I can’t hear them. But I can’t account for them, either. I don’t recall hearing them before. Now I fear I’m losing my grasp on reality.”

  “I don’t think you’re alone. A lot of Old Town residences have a ghost.”

  “But you have never heard your ghost?” he asked.

  “No, but I don’t think you need to worry about your sanity. Inexplicable things do happen. There was a house in Old Town with a corpse hidden in the cellar. The house shared a wall with the next house, and those residents had long complained about an eerily cold area in their house. Once the corpse was removed and buried, it went away. That makes no logical sense, but that’s what they experienced.”

  He lifted his forefinger. “That’s exactly the problem. There is no scientific basis for this. That’s why I am troubled. I’ve been researching my house to learn more about the previous inhabitants, but I haven’t turned up anything unusual so far.” He grasped my hand between his two hands. “Thank you for listening to my silly problem. I’m quite embarrassed by it.”

  “Nonsense. You’re certainly not the first person to have this problem. Looks like dessert is being served. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

  “You bet!”

  We walked back together on the pavers, and I couldn’t help noticing how many women seemed intrigued by our little meeting. Poor Jay.

  As I slid into my seat Alex asked, “What was that about?”

  Everyone at my table looked at me expectantly except for Mars, who made a production of examining his Chocolate Mousse.

  I sidestepped the truth a little to save Jay from embarrassment since he had clearly drawn me aside to discuss ghosts in Old Town privately. “He’s doing some research on his house.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” gushed Francie. “His wife understood how to retain the beauty of a historic house while making it comfortable for the current residents.” She glanced over at Natasha. “Too many people are eager to throw out the amazing handwork of the ages, losing it forever.”

  We savored the rich chocolate mousse with coffee and after-dinner cordials of Grand Marnier. During the dessert, the crowd broke into applause for the chef and Madison.

  I excused myself, intending to thank Madison. But when I walked into the house, I inadvertently barged in on the pretty waitress speaking with Parker.

  “Is that your wife?” she asked him.

  “Leave Trula out of this.”

  “In that case, sir, I believe we can call it even.”

  She smiled as she walked by me on her way out.

  “I’m sorry, Parker. I was looking for Madison to thank her.”

  “Indeed. It was a most enjoyable meal. I’ll come along with you.”

  We located Madison in the kitchen, where Hollis sat on the hardwood floor wheezing.

  My first thought was that his food had been poisoned. “Hollis!” I fell to my knees and looked into his face.

  “I want to call 911, but Hollis won’t let me,” said Madison.

  Parker bent to his law partner. “Holl? Did you ever go to the doctor about this?”

  “It’s happened before?” I asked.

  Hollis held up his palms as though he wanted us all to go away. “I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Just a little short of breath. Don’t go making a fuss.”

  Parker stood up straight. “Stubborn mule. Hollis, you can’t keep ignoring this. It’ll be the death of you.”

  “Asthma,” Madison opined.

  Hollis struggled to suck in air. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  A line of people was forming, all eager to thank Madison.

  “Get me out of here, Parker,” Hollis growled.

  Parker leaned over and helped Hollis to his feet.

  Despite his condition, Hollis paused. “It was a splendid evening, Madison. Well done! I hope you’ll arrange more of these dinner
s.”

  “I hope you’ll do this again too, Madison,” I said.

  Parker bestowed a kiss on her cheek. “It was wonderful to see you. You must have dinner with Trula and me sometime soon.”

  Parker steered Hollis toward the door, and I followed.

  As I was leaving the house, Natasha pulled me aside. “Sophie, you’re my very dearest friend in the world. I hope you won’t mind if I ask you a question that’s quite personal.”

  I braced myself.

  She waved at Jay as he walked out. “First, what do you know about Dr. Charles?”

  “Jay? Not much. He seems to be a very nice man. He lives on our street, you know, just one block down.”

  “No! I had no idea. Which house is his?”

  “It’s next door to the Habermans. The one with the gray door.”

  “Oh, that one.” Her tone conveyed her disappointment. “Pity. It’s so old. Please tell me he’s not married.”

  “He’s widowed. He lost his wife a few years ago.”

  “Reaaally? Hmm. He’s so delightfully perfect. I’ve never met a man with better manners. He was even lovely to Humphrey’s mother, whom I now recall very well as a snobby witch.”

  “That’s a shame. Humphrey is so sweet.”

  “She’s a dreadful woman. Wicked to the core.”

  I would have to ask my mother about that. I didn’t remember anyone saying things like that about Mrs. Brown.

  “So here’s the other thing,” said Natasha. “Mars tells me that when you separated, you paid him for his share of your house. I can’t imagine you were that stupid.”

  “I have never thought of it as stupidity. Yes, I paid him for his share.” Thankfully, the question wasn’t quite as personal as it could have been.

  “You didn’t!”

  “The house belonged to his aunt until she died and left it to us. I would have understood completely if he had wanted to keep it in his family. It was only fair to buy him out. Why these questions?”

  “Mars says since we’re separated—”

  I interrupted her. “You were never married.”

  “Really, Sophie. Must you rub that in? You know my dearest dream has been to marry. In any event, Mars thinks we should sell the house or I should buy him out. I think he should give it to me.”

  I laughed so hard I could barely breathe.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

  “In that case, why don’t you give Mars your half of the house?”

  “Do you know what it’s worth and how much money I’ve put into that place?”

  She didn’t make the connection via my sarcasm. “Well, good luck with that.”

  She glared at me. “So what did you do? Make monthly payments to him?”

  “I took a mortgage so I could pay Mars, and now I send a check to the mortgage company every month.”

  “So that’s why you work at that sad little job you have.”

  I ran my own event planning business. There was nothing sad about my job! In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed it. But it wasn’t worth snapping back at her. Besides, Francie, Nina, Mars, and Alex were waiting to walk home. “Sorry I can’t be of more help, Natasha. Excuse me, Alex is waiting.”

  I walked away and joined my friends, glad that I didn’t have to negotiate with Natasha. Mars was reasonable, but no fool. He would hold firm.

  While we strolled the beautiful streets of Old Town, admiring houses, Alex took my hand and whispered, “Jay thought you might know something about his house?”

  “Why Alex!” I took on a Scarlett O’Hara accent. “Are you suggesting it was somethin’ else? I do believe you’re jealous!”

  “You’re lucky you’re cute. You make a terrible Southern belle. Still leaving tomorrow?”

  “That’s the plan.” I looked up at the night sky.

  * * *

  The walk home from the underground dinner was delightful. The air had finally cooled and the humidity had abated. It seemed like all of Old Town felt the same way. People walked along King Street licking ice-cream cones. Everyone smiled, no doubt happy to have a few hours of relief from the heat.

  We stopped in front of my house and shared a kiss.

  “I’ll miss you, Sophie.”

  “Hah! I’ll be back before you realize that I’m gone.”

  Mochie, my Ocicat whose fur had swirls instead of dots, met me at the front door with Daisy, who whined greetings to me. Mochie wound around my ankles, and Daisy’s tail wagged nonstop.

  “Ready for a walk, Daisy?” I asked.

  Her front paws bounced in little jumps and she twirled with joy.

  Daisy stayed by my side while I fed Mochie. But as soon as he started to eat, she ran to the drawer where I kept her halter and leash.

  I fastened them on her and we stepped out into the night. I took care to lock the front door behind us. It was closing on midnight as we strolled down to the Potomac River.

  Bar hoppers and couples on dates kept that end of town lively. We walked along the waterfront, admiring lights on boats. In spite of the late hour, a few families strolled much as we did.

  * * *

  The next morning, my alarm clock went off at four o’clock. From the annoyed looks on their faces, I was pretty sure Mochie and Daisy thought it was a mistake. I wished it was. Every bone in my body wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But I dragged myself out of bed to walk Daisy before leaving her and Mochie in Mars’s care.

  Mars would be staying at my house with them. I didn’t know his schedule, though, and after ten in the morning it was too hot to walk for long, so I thought I’d better get in a walk for Daisy before Nina and I hit the road.

  I pulled on a skort and a sleeveless cotton top. Daisy got the idea and raced downstairs ahead of me. She waited by the front door. I slid her harness over her head, slipped my cell phone into my pocket, and stepped into the blissfully cool morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet. A few cars drove through Old Town, and a jogger darted across the street, but for the most part, the town still slept.

  We strolled over to King Street and down to the river. I couldn’t help thinking of Madison’s husband, Gage. I didn’t know where he had fallen into the river, but it would have been easy enough for someone who was stumbling or not thinking straight. What a shame that a night of drinking ended tragically when he had so much to live for.

  Daisy and I turned back and headed home. As we neared Jay Charles’s house, I made out someone staggering toward the sidewalk.

  Daisy growled and backed up cautiously. To be on the safe side, Daisy and I crossed the empty street and walked on the other sidewalk.

  When we drew closer, it appeared the person had come from Hollis’s house. Not someone else stung by bees!

  Arms outstretched, Hollis lurched into the street and collapsed.

  Chapter 6

  Dear Natasha,

  Is it true that nighttime is the best time to knock down a wasp nest?

  Allergic in Bee, Nebraska

  Dear Allergic,

  Bees and wasps are less likely to sting at night because they are less active. However, some bees are always guarding the nest and will sting if they feel threatened. Even worse, they release a pheromone that summons other bees to come and help!

  Natasha

  Daisy and I ran toward Hollis. He was a visible lump under the streetlights, but I was afraid a car might come along and hit him.

  He lay faceup on the pavement, taking rasping breaths as though he couldn’t breathe.

  No cars were coming. I bent over. “Can I help you stand up?” I asked.

  Hollis gazed up at me, beads of sweat on his forehead. He grabbed my hand, coughed, and seemed to have some kind of spasm.

  Oh no! I hoped he hadn’t been poisoned. With the handle of Daisy’s leash looped over my other hand, I reached into my pocket and called 911.

  I told them where we were. “It’s Hollis Haberman. Please hurry. He’s in the middle of the street.”

  They told me to stay
on the line, but I hung up and called Mars. He was renting a room from Bernie, just a few houses away. Maybe they could move Hollis, or at least bring out flashlights so we could be seen in the road.

  Mars was groggy when he answered the phone. He listened to me, then murmured, “What do you mean you’re in the street?”

  “Get Bernie and some flashlights. Hurry! We’re just outside of the Haberman house.”

  I hung up and dropped the phone into my pocket. “Hollis? Hollis? Can you hear me?”

  The lights of an approaching car grew brighter as it neared. I stood up straight and waved my hands, directing it around Hollis.

  “Sophie? Where are you?” Mars yelled.

  I hated to wake everyone on the block, but I shouted back, “Over here!”

  Actually, I hoped I might wake Jay. We could use a doctor right now. I glanced at his house. His front drapes were closed. As close as our houses were to the sidewalk and the street, that wasn’t terribly surprising.

  Mars and Bernie sprinted toward Hollis and me.

  “What happened?” asked Mars.

  “I have no idea. He staggered out here and collapsed.”

  Bernie was on his knees. “Hollis! Hollis? We’re going to try to move you. Can you hold on to us?”

  “Let’s see if he can sit up first,” Mars suggested.

  Mars knelt on Hollis’s other side. Each of them took an arm and tried to hoist him. It seemed to me that Hollis didn’t have the strength to sit.

  His head lolled back, which made breathing even more difficult for him.

  “Guys, I think we’d better leave him on the road,” I said. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

  They lowered him to the asphalt. “Hollis!” shouted Mars. “Can you speak? What happened?”

  “Are you asthmatic?” asked Bernie. “Do you need an inhaler?”

  “He had an attack like this last night,” I said.

  Mars shone a flashlight near Hollis’s face so we could get a better look at him. None of us said a word. He was deathly pale with beads of perspiration clinging to his face. He hadn’t looked that bad the evening before.

  He blinked at us. “I feel nauseous,” he wheezed.

  My stomach lurched. Poison!