by Diane Noble
Kate exchanged glances with Paul, then held up a hand to stop the gossip LuAnne was about to spill. She was too late.
“They were talking about the tapings, their heads close together like it was some secret. Well, whenever anyone does that on my shift, it’s my policy to step closer and hover with the coffeepot, if you know what I mean.”
“I think we’re all guilty of being one-note Johnnies,” Susannah said. “When we’re taping, that’s the only thing on our minds...”
LuAnne raised a brow. “They were talking about one chef stealing another chef’s dessert recipes to use on her show.”
Susannah looked startled and sat forward. “Did they mention names?”
“Yes, they did, honey—”
Before she could finish, the table of Taste crew members called to LuAnne to bring the coffeepot for a refill.
She waved a hand to the crew, then grinned at Susannah, Paul, and Kate. “First things first. Y’all want to order?”
After they ordered their cheeseburgers and fries, and LuAnne had bustled off, Susannah told Paul how much she had enjoyed the church service, especially his sermon. But as they moved onto other subjects, she became more and more distracted, glancing toward the other chefs’ table. Kate half expected Susannah to excuse herself and confront them, but it turned out she didn’t need to.
When their cheeseburgers arrived and they had taken their first bites, Nicolette and Birdie stopped by their table on their way to the door.
After they exchanged pleasantries, Susannah got right to the point. “I understand you’re worried about one of the Taste chefs stealing a dessert recipe.” Smiling, she kept her tone pleasant. “I thought it might be appropriate to clear the air. Since there are only three of us, the obvious target of your suppositions is me.”
Birdie held up her hands. “Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with it. Remember I do grits, not chocolates. You two are the chocolate artisans par excellence.”
“Darling, you are simply too sensitive.” Nicolette stepped closer, speaking in her soft French accent, and fluttered her fingers. “I simply pointed out that the tiramisu you plan to make at tomorrow’s taping is identical to mine.”
“We’ve long been in competition with each other,” Susannah said. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble in the past to gain an advantage, and it’s mostly been a friendly rivalry. But this...this accusation goes too far. I developed my recipe after weeks of experimentation. I’ve never seen your recipe or read it in a cookbook, on the Internet, or anywhere else. Besides, you do French fusion—chocolate isn’t really your thing.”
Nicolette leaned closer. “Cheri, you may think you’ve got a corner on the chocolate market, but you don’t. Do you assume the French don’t like chocolate? Or Southerners?” She laughed, a short, brittle sound.
Susannah didn’t answer.
“Ooh la la,” Nicolette said with another flutter of her fingers. “Who knows where we pick up our ideas? Sometimes I think it’s in the air. Go ahead and use my recipe, darling. I certainly would never accuse you publicly of plagiarism.”
“But in private?” Susannah’s voice was almost a whisper. She had gone very pale.
“Of course, I meant that too,” Nicolette said. “I’ll never tell a soul. And now, darlings, I really must be on my way. I’ll see you at the taping tomorrow.” She blew them all a kiss, then turned to walk to the door with Birdie.
Nicolette’s walk was as graceful as a ballerina’s, and nearly every male in the diner watched her leave.
“I should have kept my mouth shut,” Susannah said with a sigh. “But it didn’t seem fair that I couldn’t come to my own defense.” She shrugged. “A lot of good it did. Nicolette still thinks I’ve nabbed one of her recipes.”
Kate studied her friend for a moment, then said, “I read something on the Internet about the same accusations...”
Susannah flushed and let her gaze drift away from Kate’s. “I know there are rumors out there—completely unjustified, unfounded, but I don’t know who started them or why.”
“Hey, those people who love and follow your show will know the truth,” Kate said. “Your passion for your recipes is evident, and that can only come from the heart, not from plagiarizing someone else’s work. People know that.”
Susannah smiled and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you two sure made today a lot more bearable.”
Paul’s smile was filled with a gentle kindness, and he patted Susannah’s hand. “We’re here for you, Susannah. Anytime you need us, just call or stop by.”
She nodded her thanks. “You two are the greatest.” She smiled at Kate. “And you know that song...‘His Eye Is on the Sparrow’?”
Kate nodded.
“It’s been playing over and over in my head since I heard it this morning. But I can’t remember the last few lines.”
Kate gave Susannah’s hand a squeeze, then softly spoke the words. “‘When song gives place to sighing, when hope within me dies, I draw closer to Him, from care He sets me free...’ ”
“‘His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He’s watching me,’” Susannah finished. “If there’s one thing I need to remember for the rest of my life—providing I can get through the next few days—it’s that.” She glanced down at her round frame and laughed. “Who would ever have thought I’d see myself as a sparrow?” When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. “But I do.”
Chapter Twelve
Kate woke with a start. Something was troubling her, nagging at her as being important, but she didn’t know what it was. A ghost of a dream still flickered behind her eyelids. But as she tried to recapture the nebulous images, the dream retreated into those foggy recesses of her brain where such things seem to reside.
She lifted the clock from her bedside table and squinted at its face: 5:15. Enough time for a quick snooze. Or she could spend the extra time in her favorite chair, praying and reading a passage of Scripture before Paul got up. She decided the latter would do her more good.
She grabbed her robe and slipped it on, then found her slippers. As she padded toward the kitchen to put on the coffee, her thoughts went immediately to Newt Keller’s disappearance and everything related to it: the threats made against him, the Hummer and the bloodstains, the pocketknife he never let anyone else use.
If he hadn’t let anyone borrow it, could it have been taken forcibly from him and used as a weapon to get him to cooperate with his abductor? If that was the case, his abductor would have to be strong enough to overpower him...or maybe there was more than one abductor involved in the crime. Kate didn’t think a lone female could pull it off.
She was missing something, something big. She had her theories, but that’s all they were, theories as nebulous as the dream she’d just had.
She reached for the coffee beans, scooped out five tablespoons, and dumped them into the grinder.
The network producer was an enigma. He was wealthy. He was powerful, at least in his little niche of the industry. He was talented. Building Taste Network from nothing to a top contender in the ratings race was evidence of that.
And he was intensely disliked.
The coffee grinder whirred as Kate ground the beans.
Plenty of people were angry with him, perhaps wanted him out of their lives.
She poured the coffee into the filter.
What was she missing?
As she poured water into the coffeemaker, she pondered the dream that had faded too quickly.
She had just pressed the start button on the machine when the dream came back to her. The yellow Hummer...driving along the creek bank, along the same path where Precious McFie’s ghost was said to roam. In her dream, the ghost, dressed in white lace, opened the vehicle’s door and lured Newt Keller out. He left the Hummer willingly, and then they danced along the path, the same path that led back to the Hamilton Springs Hotel. Just as Kate was about to see the bride’s face, the ghostly figure melted into th
e ground like the Wicked Witch of the West.
Kate shook off the dream, filled her coffee mug, and started for the living room. Midstep, she halted.
What if Newt Keller was romantically involved with someone? She was so accustomed to thinking of him as intensely disliked that she found it hard to believe someone might actually enjoy his company, perhaps even love him.
But enough musing for now, she decided. Her brain was beginning to hurt and it wasn’t yet dawn.
She sat down in her rocking chair, reached for her Bible on the lamp table, and flipped it open to the Psalms. Her gaze fell on Psalm 31:24—Be strong and courageous, all you who put your hope in the Lord!
Oh, Lord, she breathed. How I need your strength this day; how I need your wisdom, your grace, your joy...How we all do! I lift my friend Susannah before you and ask that you would strengthen her heart. Wrap her in your peace. Strengthen her heart . . .
DAWN WAS JUST BREAKING when Kate sat down in front of the computer, flipped it on, and waited while it loaded its myriad programs.
After a half-dozen minutes and an equal number of sips of coffee, the search-engine screen was up and running.
She typed in “Newt Keller.” Several minutes later, a list appeared. Taste Network was at the top. She clicked on the link, then scrolled through the menu, reading in greater detail about the three celebrity chefs who had come with him to Copper Mill, as well as the nine other chefs who completed the network lineup. Next, she worked her way through other employees in the network, studying their photos and bios.
She’d read through most of the names when one caught her attention: Jacqueline Keller. Her photograph was next to her name. The name couldn’t be a coincidence. Was Jacqueline Newt’s wife? If so, Taste Network was a family-run business, because Jacqueline was the chief financial officer. And she looked about as friendly as Newt Keller. Or Attila the Hun.
Kate made a mental note to ask Susannah about the relationship.
Next on the list were magazine articles and newspaper accounts of Newt’s activities at the network. At the bottom of the search page were accounts of his presence at social events. Thinking she might find out about the relationship to Jacqueline, Kate clicked on the first of the links.
The initial account was from several years before and told her nothing. Next came a more recent event, and Newt’s name was mentioned in passing. But nothing on Jacqueline.
Then she clicked on an article from an industry-awards dinner. It took several minutes for the Web-site content to load. Kate sat back with her coffee and waited.
The first photograph appeared, then the second...inter-minably slow. Third...Fourth...Finally the fifth photo appeared.
Kate almost spit out her coffee. She sat forward, gaping at the screen. There, dressed to kill, were Newt Keller and Nicolette Pascal.
Newt’s arm was snugly fixed around Nicolette’s waist, and they were gazing at each other with adoration. Romantic adoration. Love.
KATE ARRIVED AT MONDAY morning’s taping just before nine. She was walking across the foyer toward the studio when Sybil Hudson called out to her.
She turned as the hotel manager zigzagged through knots of Copper Mill Tasties and Taste Network crew members.
“I was hoping to catch you before you went in,” Sybil said. “There’s been another sighting.”
“The ghost?”
She nodded. “Sometime after midnight last night. This time it was worse than ever. A guest says this apparition appeared out of nowhere and pushed him down the stairs.”
“Oh no,” Kate said. “That can’t be.”
“He saw the...thing. Described it exactly as others have.”
Renee stepped up from somewhere behind Kate. “Your guest probably had a little too much bubbly, if you know what I mean. You’ll need to get evidence in case he brings charges. Saw the same thing once on CSI.”
Sybil fixed a stare on Renee. Kate knew the look. She’d used it with her kids when they were little. It was a look that said, “I’ve got one nerve left, and you’re stepping on it.”
Renee didn’t pick up on The Look. She opened her mouth to say more but halted when her mother called to her from the other side of the foyer. “Kisses is acting funny again,” Caroline said. “You better get over here.”
“I’ll come back tonight,” Kate told Sybil as Renee started to walk away. “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“I’ll be here. This has gone on long enough.” She paused. “The guest said something that makes me think this haunting is real. He described the same frigid wind I’ve felt when I’ve looked around after someone has reported a sighting.”
“Was the man hurt?”
“Not physically. But Renee’s right. Now he’s saying he might sue us for the emotional trauma he experienced.”
From the corner of her eye, Kate saw Kisses crouching and growling. His little ears flopped as he followed something that was invisible to the human eye, just as he had in the parking lot the night the apparition floated in front of the hotel windows.
Kate shivered.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Kate took her seat in the studio audience. This was to be Susannah’s final episode, and Kate knew how badly she wanted it to go well.
But things started out rocky from the beginning. Daryl briefly lost her sunny disposition when she found out Susannah had switched from tiramisu to a quadruple-chocolate-fudge cake.
“I can’t believe you did this without consulting me,” Kate heard Daryl say. “We’re on a tight schedule, and you can’t just snap your fingers and expect the new ingredients, utensils, and bakeware to magically appear.” Her bouncy, smiling persona was still intact, but something else had crept in beside it. Something that said in no uncertain terms that she was stepping into Newt’s position. She had taken charge.
“No need to worry,” Susannah said evenly. “I came down here early this morning to make whatever shifts were necessary. Everything is taken care of. I’ve wanted to try out this new recipe for some time now. It will work, believe me.”
Daryl let out an audible sigh. “But why did you make the switch? The tiramisu would have been a much better visual. And it’s in your next book, right? I thought you wanted to promote the book, and that was one of the reasons—”
Susannah held up a hand. “We’ll do that another time. This works better for now, let’s just say because of personal reasons and let it go at that.”
Even from the distance between them, Kate could see Susannah’s cheeks redden.
Daryl shook her head slowly, then hurried off, clipboard in hand, consulting with the soundman and camera crew. As soon as the makeup artist was finished with Susannah, she came out to stand in front of the studio audience.
The audience clapped and cheered.
With a grin, she held up a hand. “Hey, dear ones, we’re not through yet but thank you for the vote of confidence.” She hesitated and took a few steps closer. “No matter how this segment turns out, and I’m hoping it will be wonderful—actually, make that I’m expecting it to be wonderful—I want to thank you for being such a great audience.”
Everyone cheered again. Susannah bowed and blew them kisses. “As a special thank-you,” she said, “watch your mailboxes. I’ll be sending everyone a copy of Chocolates to Die For as soon as it releases.”
“Wahoo!” Caroline shouted from behind Kate.
“Mama, you don’t even cook,” Renee said.
“I just love free stuff,” Caroline said.
As usual, Susannah revved up her charming humor once the cameras started rolling. Kate sat back with tears in her eyes. One would never know her friend had a care in the world. She became the Susannah of old, dancing around the kitchen, cracking jokes, and mugging for the camera. The decades rolled away as Kate remembered how she and Susannah had spent so much time in Kate’s family kitchen.
Halfway through the taping, Armand Platt emerged from the Bristol kitchen to join Susannah. His humor meshed with hers as if they�
�d been partners in the kitchen for years.
“Honey, when you’re through with your internship here at the Bristol,” she said to him at the end of the show, “you come see me.”
Susannah looked straight into the camera and winked. “You heard it here first, folks. And don’t we make a great team?”
The audience cheered as Susannah’s upbeat signature music began to play. Susannah and Armand bowed to each other and then to the audience.
“Remember,” Susannah said to the camera with a wide smile, “from all of us at Sumptuous Chocolates, good-bye and God bless.” Then with a wink, she said, “Until we eat again!”
After the show, Kate hurried to Susannah’s side. “A tour de force, even after the difficult switch.”
Susannah shrugged. “I couldn’t do the tiramisu, not after Nicolette’s accusation.”
Daryl was talking to the cameraman nearest them but glanced up when she heard Nicolette mentioned. A moment later, she came over. “What accusation was that?”
“It’s a private matter,” Susannah said.
“I’m director of this show, and anything that affects the quality of the taping is my business. You made a last-minute switch that brought the show down a notch. That makes it my business.”
Just then, Nicolette came through the door leading from the foyer to the temporary studio. Strangely, a cold wind seemed to blow through the door with her. Kate watched Nicolette cross the distance to the stage, then stop and stare at Susannah. Cold wind? That might have been her imagination. Cold-hearted demeanor? Judging by the look on Nicolette’s face, Kate decided that, at least, wasn’t her imagination.
Susannah glanced at Nicolette, then back to Daryl. “Ask your mother, honey. I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you.”
As Susannah and Kate walked to the foyer, Kate told her about the Internet search she had done that morning.
“Who is Jacqueline Keller?” Kate asked. “I pulled up the Web site for Taste Network and was surprised to see someone with the Keller name as CFO.”
“She’s Newt Keller’s ex-wife. They’ve been divorced for five years or so, but he still has to answer to her. She holds the purse strings.”
