My insides warmed at her words. At least Marc’s good attributes of the past had remained intact. I moved the Earl Gray behind the Lemon Zinger. “No wonder she spoke so highly of Mr. Thorne.”
“Candy had a special rider on her health insurance so that her disabled mother was covered too.” Helen picked up a Mexican Wedding Cake. “But Ramón cut her hours back so much she wasn’t eligible for medical insurance anymore.”
I gazed toward Candy’s office on the other side of the wall. What Helen just described was downright nasty, but there are always two versions to any story, and I’d only heard one.
Helen gave me a thoughtful look. “I need to ask. Your name . . . it can’t be for that old Pat Boone song.”
I rolled my eyes in dramatic fashion. “What can I say? I have a sentimental mom. She couldn’t resist.”
A sparkle lit Helen’s eyes. “I was a kid when it was popular. I thought it was such a dreamy song.”
I had to change the subject.
“Getting back to Ramón.” Helen held a blue ceramic mug festooned with a bright yellow Grandma’s Brew under the coffee urn’s spigot. “Kim’s the third administrative assistant Ramón’s had in the past year. I guess Marc and Bob will be after the director job.” She added creamer to her coffee.
At least we were off what a terrible person Ramón was. “Wouldn’t someone be assigned by the Board of Directors to the position?” I asked.
“I suppose so, but that doesn’t mean people can’t put in for the job. Ramón changed from when he first came here—and not for the best.”
“Don’t forget his heart for the niños.” Rosa pressed a palm to her ample chest. “He love them.”
“That’s true. He did love Rescaté’s children.” Helen bit into her cookie.
“Too bad he couldn’t love the women in his life the same.” The baritone voice came from behind me, and I turned.
A short guy about my age leaned against the doorframe wearing faded jeans, a white T-shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots. He sauntered into the room, his heels clip-clopping on the tile floor. I expected him to whip out a rope and start twirling.
Grateful for the interruption, I stepped back to allow him full view of the snack choices.
He approached the cart and pushed his tan baseball cap back on his head, revealing short-cropped blonde hair. “No oatmeal cookies?”
Rosa rested a fist on her hip. “Karl, you no say hello to April.”
Karl angled his head back and laughed. “Rosa, you’re a hoot.” He turned my direction. “Karl Murray, Rescaté’s resident handy guy. Pleased to meet ya.”
“Same here.”
“So where are you off to this weekend, Karl?” Helen sipped her coffee.
“Heading for Missouri tonight. Got a competition just south of St. Louis.”
She shot him a disparaging look. “I bet your mama’s on her knees every weekend.”
“Mom gave up on me years ago. After I finally convinced her I belonged in the Little Britches rodeo.”
I stared at him. “Rodeo?”
“Bull riding.” He puffed his chest. “I’ll miss tonight’s performance, but I’ve got two tomorrow,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. “I wonder if Isabel will even show up at Ramón’s funeral.”
“Of course she will,” Rosa said. “She’s his hermana.”
“A sister who doesn’t have much use for him.” Karl added at least six packets of sugar to his coffee.
Curiosity got the best of me. “Why didn’t they get along?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. No one knows.” Karl pushed a cookie into his mouth and washed it down with his coffee. He scooped up another cookie and settled his blue eyes on me. “Mind if I take one more? I’m in the ballroom boxing up brochures. May as well keep at it till we get word to go home.” He waggled his blond brows. “Maybe I’ll get to leave for Missouri early.”
My nod didn’t matter because the dude already wrapped the treat in a napkin. Either he wasn’t affected by Ramón’s death, or making jokes was his way to handle shock. Perhaps he was too excited about the weekend’s rodeo.
After Karl left Helen caught my eye. “Don’t pay him any mind. Ramón did have some conflicts with his sister and Candy, but that’s all.”
“Don’t forget his novia prometida,” Rosa said.
“Not his fiancée anymore.” Helen drained her cup and picked up a stack of brochures. “Those two always quarreled. Come on, Rosa, let’s get to work. Like Karl said, may as well make ourselves useful.”
Chapter 6
“This all that’s left?”
Hearing Marc’s shout over the Casting Crowns tune blasting from the speakers, I set down the coffee server I was scrubbing sink back into the soapy water and lowered the volume.
“I thought you only played classical at work.”
“Classical helps me relax. This music helps me to remember who’s in control. And I need that right now.” My eyes went to the half chocolate chip cookie in his hand. “I’m sorry, Marc. You were in a meeting so I left you alone.” He didn’t need to know I’d avoided his office like Aunt Sadie’s meatloaf. I headed for the fridge. “Should I heat up the paella and tortilla soup?”
Mark popped the cookie remains into his mouth. “Sounds great.” He yanked his tie loose and tossed it on the island before plopping onto a stool. His legal pad hit the counter with a slap. “Can we talk while you work?”
“Of course.” Business talk was safe talk. If only my racing heart could get the message.
I nuked the food then filled the bowls and plates. The spicy aroma set my stomach to growling. I set his plate and a bottle of peach-flavored green tea in front of him. Last I knew him the new flavored teas weren’t available, but he always liked iced tea. So far he hadn’t said a word. “Change your mind about talking?”
He opened his drink and took a draw. “Sorry. This is the first quiet moment I’ve had. I keep replaying it all in my mind. It sounds strange now, but at first glance I thought Ramón was taking a nap on the floor.”
I sat next to him. “I think it takes our brains a while to register when we see something so shocking. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either.”
He glanced at his notes. “Can you have sandwich trays set out for a board lunch on Tuesday? Then on Wednesday, we’ll need a buffet meal after the memorial service.” He studied the paper. “The memorial will be in the ballroom. It’s a large enough space that you can set up the food behind a screen while the service is going on. We could have up to a hundred people.”
Was I supposed to salute or something? “No problem. Did you have a menu in mind?”
“Only that it be an American-style meal. Not everyone enjoys Spanish cuisine.” He sniffed the steaming plate in front of him. “From what I’m smelling, it’ll be their loss.”
My thoughts amped up into a full-blown vision of me serving the Canoga Lake mayor or maybe even a state senator. Didn’t such dignitaries come to funerals for people the likes of Ramón Galvez? Why didn’t I bring my chef’s hat with me? My chest swelled with pride. Would Lovin’ Spoonfuls from April Love be far behind? Perhaps I could whip up some business cards to set out on the buffet table . . .
Like a clay pigeon receiving a direct hit, the fantasy exploded into a pile of rubbish better known as guilt. What was I thinking? A man lay dead at Armbruster’s while I may as well have been dancing on his grave over the chance to prepare his funeral meal.
“You okay?” Marc rustled the pages on his legal pad.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a lot of food to prepare.”
I gulped down the dough-like wad in my throat. Two minutes ago I’d have said Super April was up for the task. “I could use an assistant.”
“I’ll get one of the volunteers to help. Is Tuesday morning soon enough?”
“Thank you. That works for me.”
He put the pad to the side “Be sure when you order food supplies to include
items for a morning break cart. Everyone’s saying how much they appreciated the cookies today. I plan to send most people home soon, but we’ll be at full staff on Monday. The break cart was Ramón’s idea. Seems right to keep it up.”
“Sounds like you’re the go-to man for now. Did you talk to the president?”
His jaw pulsated. “Not yet, but someone needs take care of things.” He reached for my hand. “Let’s pray.”
As much as I wanted to focus on his prayer, with my hand snuggled inside his grasp as though it belonged there, all I could think about was how much I’d missed his touch. I wanted to tell him to let go, but how could I? As soon as he said “amen” I tugged my hand out of his grip and picked up my spoon. I was there to cook, not fraternize with the boss. We were different people than those long ago days in college, and I still didn’t know what blocked him from getting that all-important PhD. Too bad his mom no longer lived in Canoga Lake or I’d ask her. Probably well enough she didn’t. Seeing the woman who had almost become my mother-in-law again would only resurrect good memories.
One bowl of tortilla soup and a generous serving of paella packed with shrimps, sausage, clams, and mussels later, Marc set his fork down. “That was the best meal I ever tasted.”
A warm feeling came over me. He’d always said that after he ate something I prepared. “Guess that means I passed the audition.”
“Told you I knew your cooking.” He draped an arm over my shoulders. “This may seem like an inappropriate time to ask. But we might not have another moment alone for a while. How about we get together tomorrow night and catch up? The Lakeshore Inn has dynamite food and a great view.”
Something fuzzy filled my stomach and it wasn’t the paella. Talk about a woman getting side-walloped when her guard is down. He could make the suggestion for a night out sound like a couple of old frat brothers trading stories from the past eight years all he wanted, but we both knew what he really meant. For my own safety, I needed to stay as far away from this man as possible.
Still, he’d had a terrible shock, and maybe a night away from this place would loosen his tongue about his time on the coast. I could keep my guard up for a few hours. As I turned to accept the invite, my memory kicked into gear. “I can’t. Kitty and I plan to visit Great Aunt Sadie in Chicago tomorrow.”
“What about Sunday? I attend Canoga Community Church, same as your aunt. We could meet there and spend the day together. To bring each other up to date . . . as friends.”
“It’ll be like old times going to church together.”
“That okay?”
I gathered our plates. “I wasn’t thinking of the bad old times, Marc. Going to church together is a good recollection.” I needed to focus on the bad memories, so why wasn’t I?
We agreed to meet on Sunday, and he left to make phone calls. As I carried the plates to the sink, like popcorn kernels in hot oil. questions exploded in my mind. Why hadn’t he finished his doctorate? Was he really at odds with Bob Cousins for Ramón’s position? I thought God’s plan was for me to have this chef job. Was Marc a part of the equation, or was I delusional and none of this was where I was supposed to be?
I needed answers before rekindling our relationship. And wasn’t I jumping to conclusions to presume that was what Marc was after? All he said he wanted was to catch up.” I’d worked hard at healing from his hurt and had to keep the man at arm’s length.
“I’m glad you are still here.”
I turned. Rosa stood in the door, staring at her feet.
“Rosa, come in. Want some coffee?”
She shook her head and stepped into the kitchen, closing the door behind her. “I need to get back to the work in a minute. I want to tell you I’m afraid that someone kill Mr. Galvez.”
Chapter 7
Kill? Killing happened in Bruce Willis movies, not in my life. Telling myself to remain calm, I slid onto a stool and indicated its matching seat. “Sit and tell me why you think that?”
Rosa stepped over and pushed her bottom up onto the stool, then stared me through liquid black eyes. “All that talk this morning. First about Candy hating him, and then his fighting with his sister and Ana. What if one of them . . .” A sob erupted.
I fetched a tissue from a nearby pop-up box and handed it to her. “Dr. Fuller said he died of a heart attack, and he should know.”
“But he so old. Is he . . . how you say? As good as when he was young?”
I had to give her that argument. The man looked as though he’d been on Social Security for a couple of decades. But surely as a doctor, he had to be able to tell how someone died, didn’t he? “With his medical training, I’m sure he has it figured out. Haven’t you been upset with someone at one time?”
She nodded.
“But you didn’t kill them.”
She shook her head and blew into the tissue. “I know you right. I need to stop watching those police shows.”
“Good idea.” I stood and gathered her into a hug. “I’m glad you came and talked to me.”
She tilted her head back and smiled through her moist eyes. “Me too. I almost didn’t since we just know each other. But you seem like a friend long time, and I didn’t want to say wrong thing to Helen. She would tell me my . . . how do you say. Imag—”
“Imagination?”
She bobbed her head. “That’s it. My imagination is loco.”
I gave her another squeeze and released my embrace. “It’s common to have our thoughts go places they don’t normally go when we’ve had a shock.”
I headed for Kitty’s on the shore path, thinking a brisk walk next to the water might ease the stress. My thoughts went to Rosa and her over-active imagination. A perfect example of how impressionable our minds can be if we watch too much television. For years I’d limited myself to one news program a day. After that it was The Food Channel or nothing. Well, maybe one of those reality competitions like American Idol or The Voice once in a while. I circled the mansion and walked down the sloped lawn to the lake.
At the green and white boathouse I halted. The bench where Marc had asked me to marry him remained in place. Remembering a chance remark I’d made about the romantic rooftop porch, he had made arrangements with the Montclaires to let him use the place for his proposal. He joked later if he’d known the worst blizzard in a dozen years would hit the area that day, he’d have waited for summer. To me, his kneeling in a foot of snow with snowflakes glistening from his nearly black hair like stars against a midnight sky was far more romantic than an 80-degree day without a cloud in the sky.
The boathouse blurred and I blinked. Were we so in love then that we subconsciously overlooked major conflicts in our relationship? Namely, his rigidity concerning his grad school plans and my contract with my dad to work for him for two years after graduation.
I swallowed a lump the size of my fist and continued walking. Best to recall a time five months later when Marc walked out on me, my diamond ring jammed onto the tip of his pinkie finger. So much for clearing my head.
I entered Kitty’s rambling two-story house through the backdoor and went directly to the sunroom that faced the lake. Her favorite spot.
Except for Tulip and Daisy, curled into their favorite chair, their kitty paws intertwined like pretzels, the room appeared as desolate as the rest of the house. I dropped onto the cushy sofa. Just as well, my aunt wasn’t home yet. I needed to figure out how to tell her about Ramón, and also make it clear I didn’t appreciate her meddling in my love life.
I released my curls from the claw clip, then rested my head against the couch’s back cushion. I’d kept quiet when she’d tried to match me with the new youth pastor at her church several years ago, and the elementary school principal after that. But today was different.
“This is one conversation I’m dreading,” I said out loud.
“What are you dreading?”
I turned. Kitty stood in the door wearing a rhinestone studded denim jacket and jeans. “Telling you the news.”
>
She dropped the flowered soft-sided bag she held to the floor and settled into the cushioned rattan chair that sat perpendicular to the sofa. “You didn’t get the job?”
“Yes and no.” I leaned forward and reached for her freckled hand. There was no other way to say the words than to blurt them out. “Kitty, Ramón was found dead this morning in his apartment.”
Her jaw dropped. “How?”
“The doctor says it was a heart attack.” I squeezed her trembling hand.
“You could knock me over with a leaf.”
“Feather.”
“Feather?”
“The phrase is ‘you could knock me over with a feather.’”
She tossed me a wave with her free hand, her silver bracelets jangling. “I can never get those sayings right. Who found him?”
I drew in a long breath and let go of her hand. “The person you neglected to tell me worked there.”
“I assume you mean Marc.” She rubbed her arms and stared out the window for several long moments, then faced me. “Would you have applied for the job if you knew?”
“That’s beside the point. You know how much he hurt me.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I’m sorry, April. But it seemed like divine intervention when you lost your job at the same time Ramón announced the position. You’ve wanted to be a chef for years. With Marc there, the situation seemed tailor-made.”
I clenched and unclenched my hands. “He said he’s been there almost a year. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to, but I was afraid you’d never visit me again. He always asks about you, but I’ve only said you were a CPA in Atlanta.” She pierced me with her blue-eyed stare, hitting the soft spot in my heart reserved for her. “People change. Maybe if he’s willing, you should give him another chance. You know that old song.” She hummed a tune.”
“Sorry that song must be from your generation.”
“Love is lovelier the second time around.” She sung the lyrics in her perfect second soprano voice.
Thyme for Love (Cooking Up Trouble Book 1) Page 4
