by Jenny Kales
Soon, Piper and Callie had no time for conversation or speculation of any kind whatsoever. The shop was mobbed with tourists and locals, clamoring for Callie’s Greek pastries, salads and sandwich wraps. She and Piper ran back and forth, serving and re-stocking for at least an hour. It was exhausting and worse yet, food wasn’t being prepared. No Max meant no food prep while Callie was otherwise occupied, an unacceptable state of affairs.
When just a few customers remained, seated at tables and enjoying their food, Callie made a decision. She went to the back room and called Josh.
***
“Callie, I’m glad you called. Last night was a blast! I’d love to keep working here with you, and with Piper, of course,” Josh said, nodding graciously at the young woman. Piper simply dipped her head at him, and when he looked away, she gave Callie a meaningful glance. Callie shook her head at Piper, who shrugged and went back to laying out cookies in the display case.
“Josh, I’d like to show you how to make some avgolemono soup. This is a customer favorite, even when it’s warm outside. It goes great with our salads and breads. Have you ever heard of it?”
“Sure. It’s that egg-lemon soup. Right? Kind of creamy, with those little pastas in it? Or is it rice?”
“You’re thinking of orzo, the Greek rice-shaped pasta, and you’re correct. Avgolemono has lemon and eggs, and it can include orzo or rice. I prefer to use rice in my soup, though. It’s the less soggy option, in my opinion.” She beamed at her pupil.
Working quickly but carefully, with Piper holding down the fort in the front of the shop, Callie showed Josh how to add the egg-lemon mixture to the hot broth. The trick was in blending some of the hot broth into the egg mixture, before adding the whole thing back into the pot. The heat had to be just right or the eggs would be scrambled, instead of providing the creamy base that was the hallmark of this classic soup.
Josh seemed to be listening intently to her directions, and she even had him accomplish some of the tasks himself. He was definitely enthusiastic in the kitchen, but still a little uncertain. He worked very slowly, which was not a plus when you were making avgolemono and trying to avoid scrambling the eggs.
“Josh,” Callie said, stirring. She motioned to Josh, and he added several tablespoons of fresh lemon juice to the soup. “That thing with Allan Browne was very strange last night. What do you know about him?”
Josh raised his eyebrows. “Besides the fact that he takes himself way, way too seriously? I know a little bit. For example, this thing with the murder mystery theater troupe suspending our shows has got to be bugging him. I know he’s been having financial difficulties.”
“Really? Enough to want to steal from a church?”
Josh’s face reddened. “Oh, I don’t know about that. But I know that he’s been trying to raise money for something. I think he had family money, but he’s spent a lot of it by now. He’s started so many businesses and pursued so many careers. A lot of them have flopped. I’m sure all of that has taken a financial toll on him. I think he thought that the murder mystery night had a lot of commercial appeal and he thought that was going to be a great source of cash for him once it got going. Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now.”
Callie froze, spoon in hand. “I thought he lived in one of those big Gilded Age homes? You need money for that, surely.”
“I heard he inherited that house. It’s probably paid for.”
“Where did you hear all this stuff, anyway?” Callie asked.
Josh’s face reddened again, but then he laughed and shrugged. He turned to look at her. “Callie, you’ve obviously never been involved in an acting company. When we’re not rehearsing, or dating each other, we’re gossiping.”
Callie was thoughtful as she pondered Allan and his dreams. Despite the fact that he was a blowhard, she could sympathize with him. Wasn’t she following her own dreams? It wasn’t easy.
“Josh, you go ahead and finish the soup,” she said before she could indulge in any more sympathy for the pompous Allan Browne. “Add the chicken and rice and make sure it doesn’t thicken too much. We don’t want it to seem like glue. Use more of the hot broth if you need it.”
Josh carefully followed her instructions, and Callie thought he had it figured out well enough. She couldn’t stand over people like a mother hen, now could she? Suddenly, she had a terrible thought. Maybe that was what had made Max want to leave Callie’s Kitchen. Maybe his father’s health was just an excuse!
No. Max wouldn’t lie, especially about something like that. Still, she had to learn to delegate. Having been raised by George and watch him keep watch over The Olympia, his diner, like it was one of his children, Callie realized where she had gotten her controlling gene from.
Still, in her heart, she knew she was being too hard on herself. Max had free reign in the kitchen for the most part. She had trusted him, and she knew in her heart that he knew it.
Callie cast a sidelong glance at Josh, who stood, with an intent but happy look on his face, stirring soup and adding a little more broth.
She decided to take a chance.
“I’m going to run an errand. I’ll be back in half an hour. Don’t stop stirring that soup!” She smiled, waved and left.
***
Callie didn’t intend to stray very far. She only wanted to find the article about the Chicago heiress who had been courted by the author F. Scott Fitzgerald. Since her online search had come up empty, she decided to head straight to the On the Bay office. The article might help her to give her an idea of what Holly might have been working on.
The office was located just a few short blocks from Callie’s Kitchen, so it was a pleasant walk. She figured that they had to have several years of past magazines stored somewhere, since the magazine was still published in print, and not digitally. She took a deep breath and relished the fresh air and bright sunshine. It felt good to be out of the kitchen, if even for just a short time.
In a stroke of luck, the tiny, cramped office of On the Bay was open.
“Hello,” she called as she swung open the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The office was filled with stacks of magazines. It was almost as if somebody had created a paper fortress.
“Hello! Be there in a sec.” Callie’s greeting was returned by a muffled voice from what sounded like a back room. Patiently, she waited. And waited. While she waited, she looked around the latest stack of magazines, flipping idly through and wondering if her Callie’s Kitchen ad should be bigger in the next issue.
“Sorry about that.” A man that looked to be in his late sixties with graying hair and glasses emerged from the back of the office. He wore a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and baggy khaki pants. “I was just organizing some files,” he told her. “Or trying to. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Hi there. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I figured you could help me. I’m Callie Costas, the owner of Callie’s Kitchen. I advertise with your magazine, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m looking for an article, and I’m not sure of the issue where it appeared. It’s about F. Scott Fitzgerald and an heiress from Chicago, who used to visit friends with a home in Crystal Bay.”
“Ah yes,” the man said. “I thought I recognized you. Jerry Anderson.” He put out his hand and Callie shook it. “So, you’re a Fitzgerald fan, are you? Fascinating figure. I’m partial to Midwest authors myself. He even used this part of the world as the setting for some of his stories.”
“I’m interested in him, yes,” she said. “Well, what I know of him.” No need for Jerry to know that she was interested in him because of a recent murder.
Jerry Anderson nodded with enthusiasm. “So you’d like to read the article. That’s not one we have online, I take it.”
“I couldn’t find it. I thought you’d have it here.”
“Normally, I could put my hands on it immediately. But I’m doing inventory, and I think that article was written a while ago. I can’t recall the exact issu
e. When you get to be my age, your memory can be, shall we say, selective.” He smiled kindly at Callie. “In any case, it’s a mess in here today. Do you have time to hunt around for it? I can let you poke through past issues.”
Callie looked despairingly around the small office, which was stacked nearly to the ceiling in spots. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to get back to my shop. Right now I just don’t have the time.”
“Tell you what, then. I’ll look for the issue, and if I find it, I’ll drop it off at Callie’s Kitchen. How does that sound?”
“Oh would you? Thank you! I really do need to be getting back.”
“Anything for a fellow reader. People today spend too much dang time on their phones.” He gave her a wink.
Twenty Two
When Callie got back to her shop, she waved to Piper and immediately went to check on Josh and the delicate soup.
The sight that greeted her could only be a bad omen. Josh was standing over the soup pot shaking his head and mumbling to himself. When he saw Callie, he banged the lid back on top.
“How’s it going?” she asked him, walking over to the pot and lifting the lid. “Josh! It looks like scrambled eggs!” The eggs in the soup had curdled. It was ruined.
“I – uh, I don’t know.” Josh appeared genuinely puzzled. “I kept stirring, just like you said.”
Callie looked down and noticed that the blue flame under the blue soup pot was so large that it looked like it was engulfing the bottom of the pot.
“I think I see the problem,” Callie said, turning off the flame. “The heat was turned up way too high! No wonder the eggs scrambled.”
“I did that,” Josh admitted. “The soup didn’t seem hot enough. I thought it wouldn’t matter, once the eggs were mixed in.”
“Unfortunately, it does matter. We’ll have to start over.” Callie was dismal at the waste of food. It was costly, too, but she didn’t feel like telling Josh that right now.
“I’m sorry!” Josh pleaded. “I didn’t mean to ruin the soup! Let me try again.”
“I don’t think so.” Callie stood firm. She couldn’t afford to waste any more expensive ingredients on another failed pot of soup. Josh looked crestfallen, so Callie cast about looking for something for him to do. “Why don’t you cut up those cucumbers and chop that fresh dill for the tzatziki?” she suggested.
“OK, sure,” Josh replied glumly. He went over the walk-in and started gathering the vegetables and herbs for the sauce.
Callie realized she agreed with Piper. Josh was a nice guy, but he wasn’t Max. She was going to have to take more drastic measures, such as asking George for his kitchen help. Glancing at her St. Basil icon, she said a small prayer.
***
Callie wrestled with her conscience that night at home, but she found she had no choice but to replace Josh with George, for a short time, at least. Sugar instead of salt. Curdled soup. She didn’t want to know what kitchen mishap would happen next.
Still, Josh was excellent with the customers and certainly seemed to be personable. The ladies at the Greek Fest had loved him. They were a tough crowd and difficult to please. Still…
She drank a glass of iced tea. She ate three cookies. Finally she realized she could put off her decision no longer. She had no choice but to scale down his Callie’s Kitchen role. Was this what Allan Browne felt like when he gave an actor a less than stellar part?
After calling Josh to ask him if he would mind being sous chef and given the most basic kitchen tasks for the time being, he had reluctantly agreed, saying he needed the work. Then Callie phoned a delighted George to see if he could fill in with some kitchen help. He was happy to oblige. That task done, Callie finally was able to sleep.
As she rolled into work the next morning, Callie was surprised to see the shop was already open and filled with good cooking smells: honey, cinnamon, brown sugar and dark roast coffee. The scenario was so reminiscent of when Max worked for her that her heart leapt. Maybe Max had made a surprise return!
However, it was not Max, but George who greeted her when she entered her kitchen work room.
“Calliope! I got here early, so we can get an early start. Now, what else do you want me to do?” George looked dapper in a fresh blue and white Callie’s Kitchen apron, his curly brown-grey hair smoothed down and his brown eyes crinkled at the corners from the huge grin on his face.
Arranged on the countertop was an assortment of ingredients, so many, that Callie suspected George had brought some of his own supplies. Smiling, she went over to George and hugged him tightly.
“Dad, I forgot that you still had a key to this place.”
“Of course I do!” George huffed. “What if you have an emergency like today?”
“Hmm. Good point. Well, I’d love it if you’d make some avgolemono. We had a little mishap with it yesterday.”
“You bet. I’ll start right now.” George started gathering eggs, lemons and chicken broth. “What happened?” he wanted to know.
“Josh did a good job of stirring, but he turned up the flame. The eggs scrambled, and the soup ended up curdled.”
“No!” George hated a curdled avgolemono. “Callie, he’s not Greek. It’s not in his blood to make this soup. You can’t be too angry at him.”
“Oh, Dad, come on,” Callie laughed. “Anyone can learn how to make the soup. It just takes practice. Max made it all the time, and it turned out very well.”
“Between you and me, I think Max has some Greek blood he doesn’t know about.” George started slicing lemons and their sweet, citrusy fragrance filled with kitchen.
Callie decided to take advantage of George’s early-bird tendencies and help herself to a cup of his rich coffee. George always made the coffee very strong, just the way she liked it.
Just as she was taking her first sip, she heard the bell ring over the front door of her shop. Piper greeted the customer and Callie went back to her coffee, but then she heard Piper say “Yes, he’s here. Kathy, you can go right back.”
Kathy poked her blonde head into the workroom. “Hello? It’s Kathy. Can I come in?”
George set his wooden spoon down with a clatter and ushered Kathy into the room, offering her coffee and a place to sit. Callie took it upon herself to get the coffee and she sat down next to Kathy.
“I hope you don’t mind my barging in like this,” she began. “I just was on my way to the gym and I heard George was here so I thought I’d say hello.”
“Good, good!” George answered. “I’m busy making soup for Callie, but can I get you something? Some loukoumades to go with your coffee?”
Kathy nodded and laughed. “Maybe just a few. I’ll burn them off during my workout.” Callie took in Kathy’s slim-fitting workout pants and tank top.
“Kathy, you look great. Maybe I’ll join you there someday.” Callie didn’t have the greatest luck sticking to workout routines.
“Oh, please do. I’d love the company.” Kathy took a bite of her Greek doughnuts. “Delicious!” she pronounced. “I’ll only stay a minute,” she said to Callie. She scanned the workspace, which was littered with foodstuffs.
“Stay as long as you like,” Callie said. A lightbulb went off over her head. She turned to Kathy. “I was wondering. Do you know who bought the house where Olivia’s teacher was found?”
George tsked-tsked. “That is such a sad business.”
Kathy stirred her coffee before answering. “I’d heard a couple from out of state. I didn’t handle the transaction, of course. I don’t have the specifics on the couple, only that they are new to the area.”
“Hmm. You don’t know who used to live there, do you?”
“That house hasn’t had too many owners.” George chimed in. “The people who lived there before had it for many years. Before that, I think the house was kept in the same family for at least a couple of generations. That’s what they’re saying at The Olympia, anyway.”
“I believe George is right. If I hear anything more, I’ll
let you know.” Kathy took a sip of coffee. “Things have been really busy in the real estate market ever since sales have picked up. For example, I wish I’d had The Harris House listing.”
“I’ll bet,” Callie answered. “It must be worth a lot.”
“Oh, it is. And the location is ideal. It does need work, though. The new owner got a good deal. But,” Kathy leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard the new owner used up her life savings for the purchase!”
“No wonder she was complaining about the cost of the upkeep,” Callie remarked. She felt for Lisa, since she’d done the same thing with Callie’s Kitchen just a few years before. The scale was much smaller, but still, owning any size business was a daunting financial challenge.
“Callie, that’s enough detective work for now. I have an idea that I know you will love. I’m going to teach Josh how to cook. But first, he needs to learn the basics. Nothing tricky, until he gets the basics.” George nodded his head firmly as Callie started to interrupt. “I have the time, and you don’t. You give us some dishes to make, and he will learn to make them. I promise!”
Kathy and Callie exchanged a look.
“Time for me to go,” Kathy remarked and stood up, resplendent in her Lycra exercise attire. Obviously, she didn’t want to witness any father/daughter fireworks regarding work-related matters.
“Thanks for the coffee and treats!” She gave George a kiss on the cheek and waved to Callie. “See you both soon.”
Kathy looked at George and gave him a wink. “Be good,” she said.
***
“No, Josh. That’s not nearly enough butter,” George’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“What? I thought too much will make it soggy.”
“No, no. The butter will make it crisp and flavorful. It only looks soggy now. Just wait until we bake it.”
Callie looked up in time to see Josh roll his eyes, but George didn’t notice. He was already busy melting more butter for the phyllo dough pites he was making with Josh. Josh froze when Callie saw him make a face and immediately put his head down, clearly trying to appear fascinated with melting butter.
