The Diva Cooks a Goose

by Krista Davis

  Mom took her to the family room to meet Jen, who was watching a movie with my dad and the kittens. Mochie perched on a chair by the fireplace, near the passage that led to the family room, ready to pounce should a kitten dare show its face.

  I hung all the coats in the bathroom so the dusting of snow could melt onto tile, and when I returned, Shawna sat in the other chair by the fire, her teeth chattering.

  I spooned my favorite gourmet hot chocolate powder into a large pot, added a little water, and stirred it with a whisk to dissolve it. I poured milk on top and set the pot on the stove to warm. While Natasha chattered with Hannah and Mom, I fetched a soft throw from the family room, where Jen and Vegas each clutched an adorable Ragdoll kitten. The kittens nestled against them, amazingly content to be held.

  Daisy followed me back to the kitchen. I draped the throw over Shawna’s shoulders, and fed Daisy a dog cookie for being such a good girl to the kittens.

  I returned to my pot of hot chocolate, and the others finally noticed Shawna’s distress.

  Natasha blurted, “When did Bonnie die? Not on Christmas Day, I hope?”

  I filled Natasha in on the details, trying to be as considerate as possible of Shawna, who had begun to rock back and forth ever so slightly.

  Natasha patted Shawna’s arm. “I didn’t realize you were so close to Bonnie. I’m sorry, honey.”

  I brought Shawna steaming cocoa in a mug with a Santa on it, hoping it would help her warm up.

  She clutched it with both hands. “I don’t understand why Beau won’t take my calls. I walked over to his apartment but he’s not there.”

  “Where are Laci and George?” I asked. Shawna could use comfort from her sister right about now.

  Mom’s mouth twitched. “I talked George into taking Laci shopping again. The poor girl is still so upset about everything. I thought he should try to distract her a bit.”

  As I poured hot chocolate into Christmas mugs for everyone, Natasha sidled over to me. “No cocoa for me, thanks. It makes me bloat.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “Shawna’s taking this awfully hard.”

  I’d seen Natasha play the drama queen when someone she barely knew had died. I shot her an exasperated look and whispered back, “Beau was ugly to her.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s understandable if he just lost his mother.” Natasha smiled gently in Shawna’s direction. “I’m sure Beau didn’t mean anything he said.”

  A jingle played and Shawna hurriedly withdrew a phone from her pocket. The disappointment in her voice was obvious when she reported, “It’s just Tyler.” Still, she stood up and walked outside to speak with him privately.

  The second the door shut, Hannah asked, “Bonnie wasn’t, uh, murdered, was she?”

  Natasha’s eyes widened and she gasped.

  “It’s not a dumb question.” Mom sipped her cocoa. “Bonnie upset a lot of people over the last two days. Almost like she didn’t care whom she hurt.”

  Natasha sat down at the table and leaned toward Mom and Hannah. “Since we’re among friends—I couldn’t stand that woman. She was a cheat and a liar. She would smile in your face, pretty as could be, and stab you in the back at the same time. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she finally crossed the wrong person.”

  I settled into the chair next to the fire that Shawna had vacated. Natasha alienated a lot of people who worked with her. Her loyal viewers thought she was marvelous, but she’d ticked me off plenty of times with her superior I-am-always-right attitude. She had a habit of plowing ahead, oblivious to everyone else’s wishes. “Everyone I know loved Bonnie. She was always very nice to me.”

  Natasha glanced through the door window at Shawna, who didn’t seem to mind the cold. “Bonnie wanted to be me.”

  I bit my upper lip to keep from laughing. Would my mother and sister, who adored Natasha, finally see her true colors?

  “She found out I was doing a series of shows on organizing and wanted me to feature her. When I refused, she had the nerve to contact my videographer about shooting organizing videos to put online. Rumor has it that she lined up someone else with an audience to help her. Woe be to that person! Bonnie would have climbed on her back to get where she wanted to be and then push her under. Trust me.”

  I didn’t feel quite so much like laughing anymore. Surely I hadn’t been so wrong about Bonnie, but too much of Natasha’s rumor rang true. I should have given more thought to Bonnie’s motivation for wanting to make the videos with me, but I hadn’t had any reason to be suspicious of her.

  Shawna burst back inside. Snow covered the throw on her shoulders. She whipped it off, paying no attention to the watery mess that landed on the floor. Her malaise had vanished. She stood in front of the fire and rubbed her hands together. “Man, but it’s cold out! Tyler is coming over to pick me up, and we’re going to find Beau. I’m sure he’s at a complete loss. There will be so much to do—he’ll need me. I’ll show him that I’m good enough for him.”

  Very gently, Mom said, “Go easy on him, Shawna. Remember, he lost his mom.”

  “Oh, sure, Inga!” She flashed a happy smile at Mom. “But he’ll have to pick out a casket, find a burial plot, write an obituary, notify relatives—all things I can do for him.”

  I understood Mom’s concern. Shawna looked all too pleased at the prospect of such dreaded and sad tasks.

  “Tyler will be here any minute. Do you have a bathroom on this floor, Sophie? I must look a mess.”

  I walked Shawna to the foyer and pointed out the powder room, neatly tucked under the stairs.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Natasha had changed the subject to herself, as usual. “Didn’t you adore the pink peacocks I used? George’s neighbor, Ginger Chadwick, headed up the committee. She wanted so badly to build the decor around a Dickens Christmas theme, but that’s been done to death. Pink and turquoise are the new red and green, you know. They’re so much fresher, don’t you think?” She gazed around my kitchen, at the fresh pine wreaths hanging from red ribbons in the picture window, the festive fir garland that ran along the tops of the cabinets, the three nutcrackers nestled in a corner on the kitchen counter, and the needlepoint pillows of birds in snow on the chairs flanking the fireplace.

  “You really ought to choose a theme to bring everything together, Sophie.” Turning to my mother and Hannah, Natasha added, “I did a show on this very topic. Pine, berries, apples, and angels are so passé. Imagine how much fun it would be to bring turquoise Christmas decor into this kitchen.”

  The picture of Mars’s Aunt Fay that hung near the fireplace swung to a slant. There were those, namely Mars’s mother, June, who thought her sister’s spirit resided in my kitchen. We hadn’t let Natasha in on that little detail, but her own mother, an ardent believer in the paranormal, had announced that she felt a ghost in my kitchen.

  Natasha eyed the picture of Fay. “It seems like that happens every time I’m here. You really ought to secure it better.”

  I had some choice words for Natasha given her criticism of my holiday decor, but the door knocker sounded. I hurried to the front door, Daisy loping along, and opened it to a young man whom I had seen at Bonnie’s party the day before.

  “I’m here to pick up Shawna?”

  Close to six feet tall, he wore his plain brown hair in a shaggy style and his ready smile reminded me of someone. Certainly not as polished as Beau, but he had a comfortable casual charm.

  I invited him in and showed him to the kitchen. Daisy sniffed him cautiously from behind.

  Natasha sprang from her chair. “Tyler! I didn’t know Shawna was talking about you.” She planted a kiss on his cheek but Tyler cringed as though embarrassed by it.

  “I gather you know each other?” I asked.

  As though I was too dumb to live, Natasha sighed and explained, “His father is Tom Thorpe.”

  “Of course! George’s handsome neighbor across the street,” said Mom. “You have your father’s smile.”

  Hannah emitted a little sno
rt. “You’re not the one they call Dasher, are you?”

  “That would be my younger brother.”

  “We met his ...” Mom stopped, at a rare loss for words. “... the mother of his child yesterday. Your family must be very excited about the baby.”

  Tyler didn’t look excited. He seemed ill at ease, like a boy ten years younger who’d landed in a knitting class. He brightened up at the sound of Shawna’s voice.

  “Do I look okay? I want Beau to see me as being totally together. My eyes are still puffy, though. Maybe he’ll think I was crying about his mom.” Shawna already wore her coat, which had been drying in the bathroom. She cocked her head at Tyler. “C’mon. Do you know where he is?”

  They let themselves out. Hannah stared out the bay window and watched them walk to Tyler’s car. “There’s something odd about that boy. Did anyone else notice?”

  Mom rinsed out her mug. “He grew up without a mother. Maybe he’s shy around women.”

  “Hardly.” Natasha flicked her hand. “He worked for Bonnie. She liked everyone to think she was the driving force behind that organizing business, but Tyler did all the clever installations. If there was anyone who would benefit from her death, I suspect it would be Tyler.”

  THIRTEEN

  From “Ask Natasha” :

  Dear Natasha,

  My husband is kind enough to take down the outdoor decorations each year. I hate to criticize since I’m grateful that I don’t have to unplug everything in freezing weather, but he jams some of it willy-nilly into the storage shed and other parts in the basement, and sometimes we have to look at Santa’s sleigh in the garage the whole year. When he takes it out, he’s always crabby because he can’t find what he needs and half the lights don’t work.

  —Usually Happy in Donner, Nevada

  Dear Usually Happy,

  Brave the weather long enough to take a tour around the yard with hubby and make a decoration inventory each year after Christmas. Note which lights need to be replaced, and what needs to be fixed. Repair those things now, when you’re not in a hurry, and you can avoid seeing Mr. Crabby in December. Store items together and make a list of where you put the items that don’t fit.

  —Natasha

  “Natasha! That’s so unlike you.” Mom looked at her in disbelief.

  “You have no idea how wicked that woman was. Sweet as molasses on the outside, but underneath, she was conniving and manipulative. Like biting into a luscious truffle and finding it filled with a worm. A thick, nasty, snickering worm.”

  “So much for not speaking ill of the dead,” muttered Hannah.

  Natasha rose. “Goodness! I’ll have to bake something to take over there.”

  “Are you kidding?” I cried. “You just said you hated her.”

  “It’s still the right thing to do. Do you mind if Vegas sticks around for a while? You can send her home whenever you’re ready.” She lowered her voice to the tiniest whisper. “I could use a little time away from her, if you know what I mean.”

  I didn’t know what she meant, but Vegas was more than welcome to stay. Jen was probably equally bored with all the adults and would appreciate someone her age to hang with for a while.

  Mom saw Natasha out, gabbing about whether pound cake or ham biscuits were the better option to bring to Beau.

  Mochie, still guarding the kitchen from the vicious kitten intruders, turned his head and focused on something in the other direction. Seconds later, I heard muffled voices, and Daisy trotted to the kitchen door, wagging her tail.

  George opened the kitchen door and stepped aside for Laci, who scolded, “Don’t you knock first?” She staggered in, her arms loaded with shopping bags, followed by George, who carried just as many.

  “It’s my sister’s house. I don’t knock for family.” George set the bags down and fell backward into a chair by the fire. “I’m beat. Shopping is murder.”

  Laci lifted her eyebrows as though she thought it ridiculous that George was tired. “How’s Mom?” she asked my mother, who had returned from the foyer.

  My mother responded in a matter-of-fact tone, “She got up, drank a cup of coffee, ate a piece of dry toast, took aspirin, and headed straight back to bed.”

  “I’m so sorry about all this. Please don’t think ill of her. She’s not usually like this.”

  Unfortunately, George chose that moment to snort.

  “She ... she’s just had such a hard time dealing with the separation.”

  Mom swooped down on Laci. “Honey, nothing could change how we feel about you. Now, what bargains did you find today?”

  “The burglar may have done us a favor. I’m tempted to move Christmas down a couple of days every year. You wouldn’t believe the great buys we got. Everyone else was standing in line to return things, and we just dashed right in and found unbelievable deals. Fifty percent off on Jen’s camera!”

  “Did you leave anything for the other shoppers?” asked Hannah.

  Laci shed her coat and was pulling a purple top from a bag when Mom laid a hand over hers. “Have you spoken with your dad? Bonnie’s death must have come as a big shock.”

  Apparently, it was the wrong thing to ask. Laci’s head drooped. Behind her, George waved his hands frantically, his eyes huge with alarm, he shook his head—no!

  “I called his cell phone yesterday when we were looking for Mom. He was ... agitated. I think he feels we all sided with Mom and ganged up against him.”

  “He must feel very alone right now,” said Mom.

  She was right, but George slapped his palms against his forehead. Clearly, the issue of Laci’s father was a sore spot.

  A joyous look came over my mother’s face. An expression I had seen enough times in my life to know that I should run in fear. I glanced at George, who’d sat up straight in alarm.

  Mom clasped her hands together under her chin, probably appearing angelic to anyone who didn’t know better. Hannah jumped out of her seat, shoving the table in her eagerness to leave the room.

  But it was too late.

  Mom’s words floated out of her mouth, almost in slow motion, like watching a car wreck. “We’ll invite Phil to dinner tonight so we can reignite the spark between him and Marnie.”

  George leaped to his feet. “Mom, we should stay out of their relationship. Besides, I don’t think Laci is up to pulling off another family dinner on such short notice.”

  “Don’t be silly, George. We wouldn’t put all that pressure on Laci. We’ll do it here. Everyone can pitch in.”

  Now I love my family. I accept their quirks and their enthusiasm for some things that aren’t quite kosher—like snooping. Sometimes, though, they had higher expectations of me than I was willing to embrace.

  I had to be rational. Point out the folly of this plan in a logical way. It was past noon. Not much time for lunch plus a trip to the store. “What were you planning to serve?” I asked it as sweetly as I could.

  “The turkey we bought yesterday.”

  Turkey? I’d forgotten that they’d bought another turkey.

  Mom acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Hannah and your dad love turkey sandwiches so much and it’s just not the same with deli meat.”

  I happened to be a fan of turkey leftovers myself. “Did you get ingredients for stuffing?”

  “Of course!”

  Laci burst into tears. “I feel like this is all my fault. I tried so hard but nothing turned out right,” she blubbered.

  “That’s not true.” Mom flashed her an indulgent smile. “Your Red Velvet Cake was the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  Laci sniffled. “It was good, wasn’t it? But look”—she held up her palms—“my hands are permanently pink from the red food coloring.”

  I took a closer look. “That will wash off eventually, won’t it?”

  “It hasn’t yet.” She looked completely miserable.

  George chuckled—but in a nice way. He hugged his wife from behind. “The things that went wrong were ou
tside of your control, Lace. Christmas dinner was great. You had fun shopping today, didn’t you?”

  “I’m sorry to be such a mess.”

  My mother, the micromanager, started issuing orders. “Laci, call your father and invite him. Then wake Marnie. After lunch take her to a beauty parlor or one of those day spas. She’ll feel much better.”

  Aha! Finally. A chink in Mom’s plans. “If you recall, Marnie came home last night in a Santa coat and elf shoes.”

  Laci covered her eyes with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “The shoes would have been tough,” Mom conceded. “But you and Daisy found them. You don’t mind lending her clothes, do you, sweetie?”

  Actually, I didn’t mind at all, though I was a good bit shorter and rounder than Marnie, so I had my doubts that she’d find much that fit her in my closet.

  “George, you and your father take Jen and Vegas ice-skating this afternoon, and Laci will make a list of clothes for you to pick up at your house on the way back. There!” She dusted her hands off, clearly pleased with herself.

  “Have you completely forgotten that you and Hannah volunteered me to take over Bonnie’s auction in two days? I’m sorry, Laci, but I have no idea how much work is involved. I really need to focus on that instead of a dinner party.”

  Laci’s disappointed expression reminded me of Jen when she was told she couldn’t have something she wanted, like an ice-cream cone. I felt totally heartless.

  Mom intervened quickly. “Sophie, hon, you can roast a turkey in your sleep. I’ll handle the stuffing, Hannah can be in charge of cocktails. It won’t be a problem at all.”

  My mother had made up her mind, and to be perfectly honest, she was right. Roasting a turkey was almost a nobrainer. It was all the side dishes that required so much time.