Curses, Boiled Again!

by Shari Randall

  “Taking people’s front lawns to widen the street. I was at the town meeting last week when Ernie floated his plan.” Hector shook his head. “Ernie and the mayor really got into it. Mrs. Mayor let loose. Man, she’s got a potty mouth for such a classy-looking dame. Even the Crazy Lady got into it.”

  That was a surprise. “Juliet Wells was there?”

  Hector nodded but kept an eye on the cooking lobsters. “She was there with her, well, what would you say? Nurse? I heard she gets a new nurse every couple of weeks. Maybe they won’t stay. Well, Juliet came in wearing sunglasses and this was at night, right? With a big walking stick. She pounded that stick on the floor and pointed at Ernie. She said, ‘You’ll be the death of this town!’ Then she swooped out. Believe me, people got out of her way fast.”

  Hector piled the cooked lobsters on my worktable, steam and heat rising. He flicked on a fan by the stove.

  “Death!” I said. “And look what happened.”

  Hector met my eyes. “Creepy, right?”

  “Hey.” Bit banged in through the screen door, tying a bandana into a sweatband. “The cavalry is here.”

  “How are you doing, Bit?”

  “Fantastic, Allie. Ready to rumble. It’s crazy out there!”

  I’d been so busy that the hum of conversation and rhythmic clang of the register drawer had been background noise to my own work. I peeked out the pass-through window. A line stretched through the front door into the parking lot, but the air was festive and the customers looked happy.

  The beautiful day certainly contributed to a holiday mood, but first-time customers always smiled when they entered the Lazy Mermaid. Our artist friends had transformed Petey’s dingy walls, the color of decades of cigarette smoke and despair, into a shimmering blue-green mural of fanciful underwater creatures and Gothic fishbowl castles.

  A little boy pointed at the ceiling, painted in a swirl of curved scales, as if a giant sea creature swam overhead. People in line took selfies with Aunt Gully’s walls and mermaidabilia.

  “Change partners!” Hilda said.

  We quickly washed our hands and changed into fresh aprons, then switched places. Aunt Gully had called in reinforcements. One of her friends hustled between the kitchen and the order counter while another bussed tables. Out the front windows, I watched Aggie hand out free samples of her magical coffee cake.

  “Great idea with the coffee cake, Aunt Gully!” I said.

  The picnic tables and pastel-hued Adirondack chairs filled. Some diners snugged two to a chair. People sitting on the dock watched boats go by.

  Customers seemed unconcerned about the events of the food fest and yesterday’s closure. There was no evidence of Robbie Vasquez’s visit from the previous day, so my heart leaped into my throat when Mr. Vasquez came through the door with five others wearing the white polo shirts of the Health and Sanitation Department.

  “It’s Robbie Vasquez,” I whispered. Hector and Hilda hurried to the pass-through window. We shared a worried look.

  After a few minutes, Robbie Vasquez and his group reached the order counter. Aunt Gully greeted him. My heart pounded.

  “Good morning, Gully. We’re going to the parade and thought we’d get lunch first.” Robbie Vasquez had a walrus mustache that added to the droop of his dour expression. But his eyes were bright behind his oversized glasses. “I’ve seen a lot of restaurants, but never one as pristine as yours.”

  “Clean bill of health?” Aunt Gully beamed.

  “Absolutely, positively,” he said. “I wish every restaurant in town had your high standards. We’ll take ten rolls.”

  Hector and I shared a fist bump.

  “Good grief,” Hilda said. “If everyone orders like that, we’ll be here all day.”

  “That’s a good thing!” Hector grinned, showing a gold tooth that gleamed like the little hoop in his ear.

  The rest of the day passed in a festive whirl of activity. I called in a couple more of our part-time helpers to pick lobster and take deliveries from the lobstermen and women who came in to the dock. Even though it was a holiday, they knew it was a busy day for tourist dining. Some restaurants used frozen lobster, but Aunt Gully insisted on fresh preparation, which meant live lobsters.

  From the kitchen I watched Aunt Gully take a selfie with a man wearing a red watch cap with two foam lobster claws. “She’s a rock,” I said. “I mean, sure she feels for all the judges and feels awful about Contessa. But she keeps going.”

  “She’s a truly centered individual.” Bit leaned on a broom. “Her karma’s good.”

  As the day wore on, my shoulders knotted. I started suspecting I was getting carpal tunnel syndrome when another of Aunt Gully’s friends showed up to help. As I watched her nimble fingers pick lobster, I remembered Rio Lopez.

  “Did you see last night’s episode of Foodies on the Fly?” I asked.

  “Yes, Rio’s speed was impressive.” Aunt Gully’s friend wiped a bit of shell from her cheek with the back of her hand. “She used to pick lobster down at Red Bridge Lobster Co-op.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Isn’t she from New Mexico?”

  “No, she was born right here in Mystic Bay. Rita Opalski.”

  “Rita Opalski?” Where had I heard that name before?

  “Ri. O. She made a new name from her old.”

  I wanted to ask more, but Hilda hurried back. “I have an order for a group of twenty tourists on one of those culinary bus tours. Best of New England Eats.”

  Rio Lopez was from Mystic Bay? Why had I never heard this before?

  The Mermaid usually closed at 9 P.M., but we cleaned and closed the door by 8:30 P.M. because we’d run out of everything.

  “Now I know why your sister wants me to have a cooler with chowder for sale. I could buy one if I have another couple of days like this,” Aunt Gully said.

  I raised my aching body into the driver’s seat of the van. Visions of the ballet company masseuse gave me a deep pang of regret. Best not to think of it. A hot bath in Aunt Gully’s claw-foot tub would have to do the trick.

  “Aunt Gully, why didn’t you ever mention anything about Rio Lopez being from Mystic Bay? We’ve watched her show together a dozen times.”

  Aunt Gully busied herself with her tote bag. “It was years ago, twenty years ago? More? You were a little tyke when she lived here.”

  She sighed. “Everyone, especially kids, take a wrong path sometimes.” Aunt Gully was struggling. She liked a good gossip session as much as anyone, but she hated to say anything negative about anyone, either. She turned the thick wedding band she still wore and looked away. “She had a very unhappy childhood. I don’t speculate. Nobody ever said, especially back then. But her mother left her father when Rio was about ten. They moved into a poor little trailer out by Route One. Her mom cleaned motel rooms.”

  The motels by Route One were rundown. The trailer park was even shabbier.

  My stomach clenched with what Aunt Gully wasn’t saying.

  “Rio’s father left, went up to Maine, drank himself to death.” Aunt Gully sighed. “Well, Rio acted out, people say now.”

  I concentrated on driving, not wanting to do anything that would stem Aunt Gully’s flow of memory.

  “Many times, she’d stay after school and wait for the late bus, you know, just hang around me in the cafeteria kitchen. Usually, she’d sit and read, or I’d let her help with little things, you know, like wiping down counters. She was even happy to mop the floor. Even if I’d already done it, I let her do it again. It made her feel good to help. To feel needed. Truth is, she didn’t want to go home.” Aunt Gully fished a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

  “Kids made fun of her. She got in with a bad crowd and then, when she was sixteen, she left town. Disappeared. Never heard a word from her, except she sent me a Christmas card every year.”

  “What!” I said. “You never told me you got Christmas cards from Rio Lopez!”

  Aunt Gully patted my arm. “I didn’t get
cards from Rio Lopez. I get Christmas cards from Rita Opalski. Still do. When I saw that television show the first time, I thought she looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Well, I didn’t recognize her when she visited the Lazy Mermaid, either, though you know how they disguise themselves. I’d love to give that girl a hug—thought I’d get my chance at the food fest—but then everything went crazy. The good thing is I saw her mother when we were at the hospital. I know for a fact she hasn’t seen Rita these past twenty years. So at least there’s that.”

  “Why wouldn’t she get in touch with her mother?”

  “I imagine it’s complicated.” Aunt Gully’s cell rang.

  “Lorel!” Aunt Gully listened as Lorel’s voice squawked. Lorel was miffed about something. Aunt Gully threw me a look, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

  “Sorry your meeting went so late,” Aunt Gully said. “We didn’t have a minute to pick up the phone.” That was true. I’d felt my phone vibrate several times but hadn’t had a spare moment to answer.

  My mind drifted as Aunt Gully talked. Her tone took on some pepper. “No, your sister wasn’t able to get a picture when Robbie Vasquez came in.”

  I rolled my eyes. Lorel was complaining about my failure to take pictures while I was up to my elbows in lobster meat. “Seriously?” I muttered.

  “The culinary bus tour stopped by today!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Aunt Gully threw me a wild look. Lorel’s voice shrilled. I hadn’t gotten photos of the tour group and neither had Aunt Gully.

  Aunt Gully let Lorel go on while I considered. Maybe Paul Pond was right. He already had enough business. If today was any indication, with lines out the door and hundreds of happy customers, maybe the Lazy Mermaid didn’t need any more publicity. Didn’t need YUM Network to give us a gold star.

  “Well, see you soon, dear. Glad you’re coming home tonight. Drive carefully.” Aunt Gully’s voice was warm. She didn’t get mad or stay mad long.

  I could just make out Lorel’s voice squawk, “But we’ve got to talk strategy—”

  Aunt Gully cut her off. “Tonight I’m putting some of my book-club brandy in my tea and then I’m going to bed with a Maeve Binchy. Give me a kiss when you get in, dear. But we’re pooped and are getting a well-deserved rest. Bye-bye.”

  A well-deserved rest was just what I needed. First, a good stretch to untie all the knots in my back and then that bath, or maybe a swim. Aunt Gully hung up and started singing again.

  As I pulled into the driveway, a car roared in behind us.

  “What on earth?” Aunt Gully turned.

  I turned but was blinded by the headlights behind us. “What a maniac!”

  A hulking, broad-shouldered man got out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He left his engine running. I reached for my cell.

  “Why, it’s Ernie Moss!” Aunt Gully said.

  Ernie rapped on my window so hard I thought it would shatter. I made a “just a minute” gesture while Aunt Gully got out of the van. I scrolled to 911. I wanted to be able to summon help in a moment if I needed it. Ernie’s fists were clenched and he turned from side to side. His coiled energy and the crazy way he’d boxed us in amped my adrenaline.

  “Ernie!” Aunt Gully walked around the van, unconcerned by the wild look on Ernie’s face or his disheveled clothing. I turned off the engine and jumped out of the van as they met in the glare of Ernie’s headlights. I scanned Aunt Gully’s garden ornaments, looking for something heavy in case I had to hit Ernie.

  “How are you, Ernie? I’ve been thinking of you.” Aunt Gully’s voice was full of genuine concern.

  “Oh, yeah. Thinking about me when you were open all day.” Ernie laughed, a derisive bark. His Hawaiian shirt was wrinkled, his hair mussed.

  “Yes, Robbie Vasquez gave us the go-ahead,” Aunt Gully said.

  “I’m still closed. Police tape on my door. But I heard you had big crowds down at the Mermaid. My loss was your gain.”

  Aunt Gully reached for Ernie’s arm, but he flung his arm back, triggering the motion-activated spotlight on her front porch. “Now, Ernie—”

  Ernie’s voice rose and I caught a whiff of alcohol. “My staff called all day. How long will we be closed? Will they still have jobs?” He swore and picked up one of Aunt Gully’s garden gnomes. “Hell if I know,” he bellowed as he hurled it across the lawn.

  “Now, Ernie.” Aunt Gully raised her hands.

  “Cool it, Ernie!” I stepped in front of Aunt Gully.

  Shoulders heaving, Ernie turned and slammed his fist on the hood of his tiny sports car.

  “Listen, none of this is Aunt Gully’s fault,” I said. But the thought wormed in, We only had all those customers today because they couldn’t go to Kahuna’s.

  “The police questioned my Megan today.” Ernie turned back to us, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My Megan, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Ernie blinked in the bright light. He took a deep breath. “Well, the police let us go.”

  He spun back toward me. I tensed. “Heard I have you to thank, Allie. So, thank you. I wanted to come by and let you know before I go home.”

  “Ernie, they didn’t”—Aunt Gully stepped around me—“arrest you, did they?”

  “No, just invited me in for some garden-variety questioning. Twice over two days.” Ernie rubbed his face and folded his arms. “Shut up in a little room all freaking day. Talked to some big shots from the state police. Asked me the same freaking questions over and over. What did I have against the YUM Network? Well, nothing. What did I have against Contessa Wells? Well, nothing. Same with Rick and Rio. Who’re the lobster libbers? Hell if I know. What did I have against the mayor? Well, there they got a bit more interested in my answers.” Ernie’s laugh was bitter. “But the upshot is, I’m out. They can’t figure out why I’d kill somebody with my own lobster rolls. I’d have to be crazy to do that, right? But then they saw the footage.”

  Ernie’s head drooped and he seemed to shrink a few inches. His shoulders slumped forward. He looked beaten. Scared.

  “When you pointed out that I ate my own lobster salad, that helped. They still questioned us for hours.” That same humorless bark of laughter. “But they let us go. For now.”

  Ernie’s eyes turned to me. Aunt Gully looked from Ernie to me as silence hung between us.

  “Ernie, would you like a cup of tea?” she said.

  “Nah, thanks, Gully, I gotta get home.”

  Ernie got into his sports car. The motor whined as he threw it into reverse. The car skidded from side to side, then screeched down the street.

  Ernie’s words rang in my mind. My loss was your gain.

  “Poor man,” Aunt Gully said.

  “Let’s just be glad he didn’t hit anything with that sports car. Or garden gnome.” I returned Aunt Gully’s gnome to its place.

  The phone shrilled as we went in. Aunt Gully hurried to answer it.

  “Wait!” I said, too late.

  “News Channel 2!” she exclaimed. “The Providence station. You’ve been calling for hours?”

  Aunt Gully exchanged pleasantries even though she’d been on her feet all day. I pulled the phone from her hand.

  “Sorry, she can’t speak to you now. Good night.” I hung up.

  Aunt Gully chuckled. “I should remind you about your manners, young lady.” The phone shrilled again. Along with the awful grating ring, Aunt Gully’s antiquated phone didn’t have caller ID.

  I lifted the phone and hung up, waited a few moments, then left the phone off the hook. “Just for tonight, Aunt Gully. And put your cell phone on silent so you can get some sleep.”

  “What if it’s your sister or your dad?” Aunt Gully fumbled the phone from her tote bag. I turned off the ringer and put it back.

  “They can call me.”

  Aunt Gully hung up her sweater and tote bag on the hooks by the kitchen door. “I’m going to soak for a while.”

  “Good idea, Aunt Gully.” Nervous
energy from the encounter with Ernie still coursed through me. I followed her upstairs, the sound of the phone beeping to remind us it was off the hook. After thirty mind-numbing seconds, it stopped.

  Soon the sound of water tumbling into her claw-foot bathtub and the scent of her lavender bubbles wafted out onto the landing.

  “I’m going to take a quick trip down to the cove,” I whispered.

  I slipped into a bathing suit, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt, grabbed a towel, and scrawled a note on the kitchen table. I held on to the screen door until the last moment, knowing the bang as it closed by itself would alert Aunt Gully. Aunt Gully wouldn’t want me out alone so late at night, especially swimming alone.

  But Ernie’s visit had unsettled us both. She coped by relaxing in the tub, self-medicating with book-club brandy. I needed to move, needed to burn off my restless energy.

  I scanned the street for Ernie’s black sports car, then got in the van and drove through Fox Point to Orion Cove. It was my happy place, my escape.

  Not many people knew of Orion Cove. Local kids mostly. A sprawling estate fronted on the cove’s half-moon of sandy beach. Masses of rocks hemmed each end. High stone walls shielded the property off a gated private lane. The owner was a wealthy businessman who visited Mystic Bay only three times a year: once in high summer for a Fourth of July bash, one weekend at Halloween, and once in the winter for his Christmas getaway. The rest of the year the pristine beach was deserted, protected by a rich man’s greed.

  All Mystic Bay kids knew the path that skirted the towering stone walls of the estate and had no problem scrambling over the rocks. Of course, they weren’t wearing a walking cast. Still, I managed. Hazy moonlight lit my way and made the wet sand shine. Even though it was cold, wet sand beneath my feet is one of my favorite sensations. I cursed my walking boot and finally ripped it off. I threw off my clothes, jogged into the water, and dove in.

  The burning cold of the water made me gasp. I rolled to my back and let the black water cradle me. For a few moments my mind was blank, emptied of all the craziness of Ernie’s visit. My body drifted with the waves, free of gravity, free of thought. Then I reached back and swam a few strokes. With shock deeper than the cold I realized why Ernie’d come to Aunt Gully’s house. It hadn’t been to thank me.