by Lee Hollis
And it was especially tense this early morning in the bank when the hefty, sweet as pie bank teller Pam Innsbrook, with her bright smile and cherubic face, looked up and practically screamed at the sight of Hayley.
“Hello, Hayley! I loved your column. I can’t wait to read it next week! I have a Chihuahua named Cricket who drives me crazy, too!”
“Thank you so much, Pam,” Hayley said, feeling Karen Applebaum’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.
Hayley just wanted to get out of there, but Pam was taking her sweet time counting out the money for Hayley.
“I’m going to try and make your Crab Stuffed Mushrooms tonight, but it’s already been a long day, so I may add a full cup of dry sherry instead of a quarter cup,” Pam said giddily. “I can’t believe I’ve lived in Maine all my life and never made Maine Stuffed Crab Mushrooms. Isn’t that the craziest?”
This was interminable. Karen was standing directly behind Hayley. It would be awkward to ignore her, so when Pam finally handed the cash over to her, Hayley scooped it up, stuffed it into an envelope, and twirled around, plastering on her biggest, friendliest, warmest smile.
“Good morning, Karen,” Hayley said. “How have you been?”
The whole bank was watching.
Karen looked at Hayley, her stone face giving nothing away. Then, she stepped around Hayley and slapped a check down on the counter.
“I’d like to deposit this, please, Pam,” Karen said flatly. “And I’m in a bit of a hurry, if you don’t mind, so I don’t have a lot of time for chitchat.”
There wasn’t a sound in the bank. Karen had completely snubbed Hayley.
Hayley kept the smile plastered on her face, but her cheeks were red, and it was obvious she was embarrassed. Hayley looked straight ahead and marched out of the bank, refusing to give Karen the benefit of causing a scene. Hayley had certainly made a few enemies in town over the years. Who wouldn’t, living in the same place your whole life? But Karen Applebaum was someone you just didn’t mess with. She had a vicious mean streak. It was not a good idea to get on her bad side.
Gemma’s favorite Disney movie growing up was Sleeping Beauty, and Hayley always thought the evil witch—who pricked Princess Aurora’s finger and sent her reeling into a years’ long coma before turning herself into a fire-breathing dragon to take on the prince at the end of the movie—always bore a faint resemblance to Karen Applebaum. So this was a potentially disastrous situation. Her day was off to an ominous start. But she had no idea at the time it was about to get a whole lot worse.
Especially when she hit that poor man with her car.
Chapter 6
Hayley hurried out of the bank, jumped into her Subaru wagon, and peeled out of her parking space, heading straight back down Main Street to the office. Her mind was on Karen Applebaum, and how rude she had been.
She was also thinking about her next column. What would she write about? And speaking of food, what would she feed the kids for dinner? Her head was so full of random thoughts she just didn’t see the man step into the crosswalk. And the next thing she knew, he was staring at her through the windshield on top of her hood. Then when she instinctively slammed on the brakes, he rolled off and hit the pavement, because he didn’t have a good enough grip on her windshield wiper.
Throwing open the driver’s side door and screaming, Hayley raced over to the man, who was now standing up, his pant leg torn, and his knee bloodied.
“Oh my God, are you all right?” Hayley screamed.
“I’m fine. Just a small cut,” the man said, wiping gravel off his plaid shirt.
“I need to get you to the hospital,” Hayley screamed.
“You need to calm down and stop screaming. I’m okay.”
But Hayley was already steering the man toward the passenger side of her car. Despite his protests, she physically shoved him in the car, slammed the door shut, scurried back around to jump behind the wheel, and tore off toward the hospital.
“Slow down or you’re going to hit somebody else,” the man said, buckling himself in for the roller-coaster ride.
Hayley glanced down at the man’s bloodied knee. “I can’t believe I did that.”
The man put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think I’m going to live.”
She felt a charge from his gentle touch, but she kept her eyes on the road. “We’ll let a doctor decide that.”
Hayley knew who the man was. Lex Bansfield. The caretaker at the Hollingsworth estate. The Hollingsworth family became filthy rich from a line of frozen seafood dinners, and had purchased a sprawling property along the shore with lush gardens, a stone mansion, and several guest houses, including the one where Lex lived that was twice the size of Hayley’s tiny two-story structure with the leaking roof.
Lex was tall, a good foot and a half taller than Hayley, and he had dirty blond hair that was thick and wavy. Most women who met him imagined running their fingers through it. Hayley included. He had an easy comforting smile and at the moment was using it to try and get Hayley to relax a little bit. But she was so frazzled she barely remembered to switch on her blinker as she took a sharp right and roared up Hancock Street toward the hospital’s emergency entrance.
“Please tell me you’re not taking me around back to the emergency entrance,” Lex groaned.
“You may have a concussion from the fall,” Hayley said. “We’re not taking any chances.”
Hayley nearly sideswiped a parked ambulance as she squealed up to the large glass doors, and jumped back out of the car to escort Lex inside. He was halfway out the door by the time she got to him. She took him by the arm, and to her surprise, he didn’t try to shake her off. She couldn’t decide if he needed her help to walk or he just liked her touching him.
Once inside, Hayley pounded on the desk, demanding Lex be seen right away. A burly balding orderly barreled around the corner with a wheelchair and a clipboard full of paperwork.
“I’m not sitting down in that thing,” Lex scoffed.
But he barely got the words out before Hayley shoved him down in the wheelchair and they were rolling him off down a long hallway to get checked out by a doctor.
Lex called back to Hayley. “Could you call my boss, Edgar Hollingsworth, and tell him I’m going to be back a little late?”
“You don’t worry about a thing,” Hayley said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Hayley whipped out her cell phone and immediately called the Hollingsworth estate. She got a maid on the phone, and was told Mr. Hollingsworth and his grandson were out boating but would be back in an hour and she would give them the message.
Then Hayley called Sal at the paper to explain her delay in coming back to the office from the bank.
Once the calls were made, Hayley’s thoughts went to more pressing matters. What if Lex Bansfield sued her for mowing him down with her car? She was barely hanging on by a thread financially at the moment, and the last thing she needed was an expensive civil lawsuit. And what if she was charged with reckless driving? Neither one of her kids had their driver’s license yet. How would she get them to and from all their school activities? No, she was not going to start worrying until there was something to actually start worrying about.
And then she went back to worrying.
Hayley waited about forty-five minutes for an update on Lex’s condition before she noticed her stomach growling, so she told a nurse where she was going and wandered down the hall to the hospital cafeteria for something to eat.
There wasn’t much of a selection. Some stale-looking ham and cheese sandwiches slathered with mayo. Tiny boxes of sugary cereals and a few pint-size milk cartons sitting atop a serving bowl full of ice. She was about to give up when she noticed a large round silver canister with a matching cover on top. There was a strip of masking tape on the cover with “New England Clam Chowder” scrawled over it in magic marker.
Classy joint.
Hayley picked up a ladle, took the top off, and served herself a
small bowl. She had barely eaten her first spoonful when she realized she had made a terrible mistake. The chowder was pasty and bland and the one small piece of clam she got was rubbery and disgusting. Hayley looked around to make sure no one was watching, and dumped the whole thing into the garbage can near the register. She knew a much better recipe for New England clam chowder.
Maybe that would be her next column.
Lex ambled around the corner looking for her. She could see a white bandage wrapped around his knee through the big tear in his pants. He smiled as he approached her.
“Doctor said it’s a good thing you brought me in when you did because I might not have made it.”
“Seriously?” Hayley’s mouth dropped open.
“No, I’m teasing,” he said. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
There was an awkward moment. Hayley hated those moments and usually filled them with endless chatter.
“I am so sorry again for what happened.”
“I know you are.”
“There was no excuse for my bad driving, and I don’t know what to say except ...”
“Listen, there’s something I need to ask ...”
“Please, please don’t sue me!”
“Say what?”
“I’m a single mother with two growing kids, an astronomical heating bill in the winter, and a car that barely gets me to work without overheating. I have insurance but my payments have been spotty mostly because I used up my savings to send my daughter, Gemma, to soccer camp in July, but I promise I will make it up to you. You name it. I’ll do it. I’ll come work part time for you at the Hollingsworth estate raking leaves, or watering plants, or walking their dogs. Anything.”
“How about you go out with me?”
Hayley was stunned. This was not what she was expecting. And it threw her.
She didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to say yes. But she had been through such a stressful morning, and she hadn’t been out on a date in so long, and she was in such a confused state at the moment that she heard herself say, “No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.”
Really? Did she actually just turn him down? What was she thinking?
She opened her mouth to retract her rejection when a voice called out from behind them, “Ouch!”
Both Lex and Hayley spun around to see Edgar Hollingsworth and his grandson Travis walking down the corridor toward them.
Edgar was in his early seventies and had somewhat of a hunchback, white thinning hair, and a long face with a pronounced nose, and there was almost a grayish hue to his complexion. He wasn’t the most handsome older man on the island, but he didn’t have to be. He was worth three hundred million. He was also grouchy and a man of few words.
His grandson Travis, on the other hand, was young, probably mid-twenties, sexy, well built, and ten times more charismatic than his grandfather. He was a little spoiled, but how could anyone blame him? He didn’t have to work a day in his life. He just traveled the world having adventures and spending his family’s money.
“Oh man, that’s sad, Lex,” Travis said, laughing. “The woman hits you with her car and you still can’t close the deal. I would’ve thought you at least had a shot by guilting her into a date.”
Travis was howling now, and Lex just stood there and took it. How could he not? The kid’s granddaddy signed his paychecks.
Hayley felt awful. But the moment was now in the past and it seemed a little too late to try to backtrack and rectify it.
“If you need anything ...” Hayley’s words trailed off.
“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” Lex said softly.
Edgar Hollingsworth never even bothered to ask how Lex was doing after such a near tragedy. He was more concerned with Lex clearing some brush from one of the walking paths on the property and was already barking new marching orders for the afternoon shift.
As the three men headed out, leaving Hayley just standing there and feeling awful, Travis said to Lex, “Maybe she’s just into younger men.”
He turned his head around and gave her a wink. “I’m in town for a few weeks. You know where to find me.”
Hayley forced a smile. She knew she had blown it with Lex big-time.
Chapter 7
Hayley decided not to worry about Lex Bansfield. Unless she got served papers, or worse—was charged with assault with a deadly weapon.
Maybe her first instinct was right. Maybe it was not the right time to be going out on a date. She had way too much on her plate, plus she had to think about her column.
She decided to feature a decent New England clam chowder as a soup course. After nearly barfing up the rancid goop she’d tried at the hospital cafeteria, she knew her mother’s tried and true recipe would be a bona fide winner.
That’s what she would go with.
She sent her mother a message on Facebook. But after a few hours, she decided to call her in Florida since her mother rarely used the computer and got nervous thinking every website she went to had an insidious virus waiting to infect her HP desktop.
Everything to Hayley’s mother was some kind of evil conspiracy.
Hayley punched in her mother’s cell phone number and waited for her to pick up. She thought she was going to get her mother’s voice mail but on the fourth ring, a suspicious voice said in a deep tone, “Hello? Who is this?”
“Relax, Ma, it’s just me,” Hayley said.
“Who?”
“Your daughter?”
“Who?”
“Your only daughter. Hayley, Mom. It’s Hayley.”
“Oh, hello. I’m about to go play a round of golf with Stan so make it quick.”
Hayley’s mother, Sheila, wasn’t one of those needy mothers who expected their kids to call a few times a week or even a few times a month to check in on her. She had a busy life, with a new beau she’d met at her retirement community near Melbourne, and very little time for small talk in between senior cruises and early bird specials.
“So did you go to the paper’s website and read my new column?”
“Yes. They should put a better picture of you in there. Your teeth look crooked.”
Always so supportive.
“Anyway, I’m doing a soup course next and I want your clam chowder recipe.”
There was a long awkward pause.
“You don’t mind giving it to me, do you?” Hayley said.
“No. I just don’t feel comfortable giving it to you over the phone. You know Homeland Security is listening in to everything we are saying right now.”
“Ma, I’m going to print it in the paper. If they really want to know your recipe, they can just read my column.”
“You know we’ve been on their list ever since your brother started dating that boy from the Middle East.”
“Sergio is Brazilian, Ma. He’s not from the Middle East. And he’s not a boy. He just turned forty.”
“Those CIA spooks are everywhere. Stan went to call Time Warner to complain about not having the Military Channel on his lineup and he swore he heard a clicking sound like his phone was being tapped. The cable woman said he was just being transferred. They’ll say anything to cover their tracks.”
Hayley took a deep breath. “So are you going to give me the recipe or not?”
“Fine,” Sheila sighed. “They know everything already anyway. What’s my panty size, Agent Triple X, you want to tell me that? I know you’re listening to us right now!”
“Ma!”
“Fine. You got a pen?”
Hayley rummaged through her bag and found a pen, but she couldn’t find any paper so she scribbled down her mother’s instructions on a used lotto ticket, yet another one she’d bought with her hard-earned cash that came up empty.
After indulging her mother for another few minutes discussing senior profiling at airport security, Hayley hung up and left the office to buy what she needed at the Shop ’n Save to try out the clam chowder recipe.
She pushed her cart down the s
pice aisle and was eyeing her list on the lotto ticket. She only needed one last ingredient and was hoping to beat the after-work rush in the checkout lines when she suddenly slammed into another grocery cart.
One that was being wheeled by Karen Applebaum.
Hayley dropped her lotto ticket and her open bag. All the contents went scattering across the tiled floor.
Karen just stood there, eyes flaring, her white knuckles gripping the handle of the cart, not saying a word.
Great, Hayley thought, first the bank and now here.
“I’m so sorry, Karen,” Hayley said in a conciliatory tone.
“You really should watch where you’re going,” Karen said haughtily.
Hayley shrugged and then knelt down to scoop up the contents of her bag.
Karen sighed. “Do you need some help?”
“No thanks,” Hayley said. “I got it.”
An elderly woman rounded the corner with her cart and stopped, unable to get past the two other carts and Hayley’s belongings littering the floor.
Karen hissed, “You’re blocking the aisle. I’ll help. Just hurry up.”
Hayley felt her face burning again. This woman was insufferable.
Karen knelt down and picked up one eyebrow liner and waved it in Hayley’s face. “Here.”
Hayley clenched her teeth. “Thank you.”
Hayley went to take it from her, but Karen’s hand was wrapped around it in a viselike grip and she wasn’t letting it go. They struggled for possession of the eyebrow liner for a few seconds before Karen leaned forward and whispered in Hayley’s ear, “That was my recipe. You stole it.”
Karen suddenly let go of the eyebrow liner and Hayley fell back, slamming into the spice rack and knocking over a few bottles of paprika.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hayley said.
“That was my recipe for Maine Crab Stuffed Mushrooms. I don’t know how you got your hands on it, but this means war.”
“I can assure you, Karen, that was my recipe. It’s been in my family for years.”
