Midnight Snacks are Murder

by Libby Klein

  Twenty minutes later, Aunt Ginny sashayed into the waiting room looking like she’d just won first place at the Senior Center Tapioca Cook-off. She waved at friends across the waiting room. “Hammish, how’s the bursitis? Carol gets extra points if that rash has spread.”

  Nurse Tracy handed me Aunt Ginny’s discharge papers. “She’s suffering from anxiety and sleep deprivation. The doctor is giving her two prescriptions and she needs to relax and avoid stress as much as possible.” She pointed to the papers in my hand. “She has one for her nerves and one to help her sleep.”

  “That’s it? She doesn’t need a CAT scan or anything?”

  Aunt Ginny smiled at Nurse Tracy and jabbed me in the side with her elbow.

  Nurse Tracy smiled back. “Nope. If she doesn’t improve in a few days the doctor may order some further tests, but for now she’s free to go about her regular routine.”

  I wondered what Nurse Tracy would say if she knew Aunt Ginny’s regular routine included rollerblading on the boardwalk and Krav Maga classes. It was unusual for Aunt Ginny to fall victim to so much stress. Usually she was just a carrier.

  We made a quick stop at the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. We arrived home two hours later, loaded down with Aunt Ginny’s shampoo, conditioner, ajar of Oil of Olay, a tub of Noxzema, two packs of Halls cough drops, a tube of ChapStick, a box of Turtles candy, Maybelline’s entire Dazzling Disco collection of eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick, a pair of flip-flops from the dollar bin, silver glitter nail polish, emery boards, and the drugs. I was considering taking one of her antianxiety pills for my efforts.

  I opened the front door and was rolled over by an eerie calm. There were no saws or electric drills. No workmen hollering in Spanish to each other. No nyuck-nyuck-nyucks from Itty Bitty Smitty. Just deafening silence. The temperature had dropped, but it was warmer outside than in the foyer. Figaro was sitting on the third step with his ears flattened against his head, swishing his tail to a menacing beat.

  Aunt Ginny was frozen in place. “I don’t like this.”

  I took a step into the house and noticed all the workmen sitting on the couch in a line in the library, hands on knees, looking straight ahead. Smitty was perched on the end wearing a scowl. They looked like little boys caught smoking in the bathroom by the principal.

  I approached Smitty, their commander in chief. “What’s going on? Why is no one working?”

  Smitty rolled his eyes and nudged his head toward something behind me. A pair of icy hands came around to cover my eyes and a shrill voice said, “Guess who?”

  Chapter 3

  I felt my chest tighten and my breath came in short bursts. Please just let me be having a stroke.

  Five feet four inches of brunette wickedness packed in a vintage pink Coco Chanel suit stood in front of me.

  “Georgina. What a surprise.” Much like the way that iceberg was a surprise to the Titanic.

  “I came to check on my investment and see how the house was coming along.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  Aunt Ginny took a seat in the wingback chair in front of the fireplace. Figaro jumped up on her lap but kept his eyes on Georgina, as if waiting for her to turn back to her natural state as Queen of the Underworld when the sun set.

  Georgina marched in front of the workmen like she was looking at a prison lineup. “And thank God, I found these”—she waved her hand in dismissal at the workers—“men about to install the world’s largest refrigerator in that tiny kitchen. I knew there must be some mistake. I mean really, Poppy, why do you need a refrigerator that monstrous? You’re not holding retreats at the Ritz-Carlton.”

  “The refri—” I started, but Georgina cut me off.

  “And this little fellow …” She pointed a perfectly manicured pink fingernail at Smitty. “What was your name again? Smutty, or something?”

  Smitty rolled his eyes and grunted.

  “Anyway, I found him right in the thick of it, directing them to hook it up.”

  “Georgina!” My voice came out brusquer than I had intended, so I tried it again, softer. “Georgina, you didn’t have to come all the way up here to check on things. I could have sent you a report.”

  “Nonsense. You know you’ve never undertaken a project of this magnitude before. What kind of business partner would I be if I left you to lose all our investment money guided by your lack of experience? It’s like I told my dear late Phillip, we’re partners. You shouldn’t do anything without my valuable oversight.”

  Yeah, I was pretty sure that was what killed him.

  The workmen shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Smitty made the sign of the cross.

  “We’re not launching a hospital wing; we’re opening a bed-and-breakfast. Who do you think oversaw all the house repairs for the past twenty years?”

  “Well now, you’re just making my point for me.”

  My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. Oh, thank God, please be a telemarketer. I reviewed the alert. It was my calendar alarm reminding me about my appointment with Gia. Followed by another alert to put on Spanx.

  “So, I see your cell phone isn’t lost after all.”

  “I didn’t tell you it was lost.”

  “No. You just never answer it when I need you.”

  Only a fool answers the phone when death comes a-calling.

  Georgina put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin out. “What? You don’t have a smart response for that?”

  “Not one I can say out loud.”

  Georgina narrowed her eyes and squeezed her lips together.

  “I have a meeting I have to get to.” And a gorgeous Italian to try to control myself around. I turned to the workmen. “Guys, you can get back to work. The refrigerator is fine. Georgina, everything is under control. I’ll send you some pictures and flow charts by Friday. Have a safe trip back to Waterford.” The workmen hotfooted it out of the library. I snatched up my purse and held it in front of me like a shield.

  Georgina trilled an imperious laugh. “Poppy, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going home. I’m here for a few weeks to help you launch the business.”

  Dear God, what have I done to deserve this?

  Smitty grunted. Aunt Ginny took a pill. Figaro hacked up a fur ball. Being holed up in here with Georgina criticizing my every move. If I killed her now, I would be out in time to collect social security.

  Chapter 4

  The smell of freshly roasted espresso beans greeted me in the rear parking lot as I pulled into La Dolce Vita’s loading zone at the Washington Street Mall. He was waiting for me. Leaning seductively against the doorjamb, all six foot two of Italian sexy. My face grew warm and I began to tingle. Dressed in a sharp white dress shirt with navy pinstripes tucked into dark slacks, his arms were crossed over his chest beneath a confident smile. One eyebrow cocked when we made visual contact and I felt the heat rise to my face.

  “Bella, I miss you. You have been avoiding me.” His deep voice poured honey all over me.

  “What?” I gushed. “No, I haven’t. Don’t be silly. Why would anyone want to avoid you? I sure wouldn’t.” Oh God. Shut up, Poppy, shut up!

  He leaned in close and studied my eyes. The intensity of his gaze unnerved me. He smelled so good. A combination of vanilla, cedarwood, and coffee. “Was it the kiss?”

  My heart was galloping the Kentucky Derby, but all I could think about were his lips on mine and how I wanted to feel them again. “Wh-what? N-no. Not the kiss.”

  He reached up and tucked a wild strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t like me?”

  I stared into his eyes and my neck and shoulders went loose and giggly. My words came out breathy and uneven. “No … I … I like you.”

  He leaned in close to my face and I closed my eyes. I felt his lips graze my forehead. My eyes fluttered open and a moment passed between us where his eyes judged my response to him. He smiled warmly. “Good. I like you too.” My knees went gooey. “Come. I will make you a coconut latte and we’ll talk of p
lans.”

  Oooh. Plans for what? I need to lose at least thirty pounds before I’ll allow myself to get naked in the daylight. Wait. What are we talking about?

  We went through the back kitchen to the caramel-and-chocolate-colored dining room, where creamy coffee-tone leather bar stools lined up at the walnut espresso bar.

  “You’ve been dropping off the muffins and leaving so quickly I’ve hardly had any time with you. I thought maybe there was someone else.”

  “Someone else?” The image of Tim flashed in my mind with a burst of shame.

  Gia was watching me closely. His smile never left his face, but there was anxiety behind his eyes that belied some of his confidence. “Is there?”

  I took a deep breath. “Well. No. I mean maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Gia nodded and warmed a pitcher of coconut and almond milk. “Mm-hmm.”

  “I have sort of reconnected with an old boyfriend.”

  He nodded but never broke eye contact. “Okay.”

  “I was supposed to marry him twenty years ago, but my cheating on him and the resulting pregnancy kind of threw a kink into those plans.” I paused to let that sink in. I waited for signs of disappointment or disgust to roll over Gia’s expression.

  Gia cocked his head and a slow smile spread across his face. “Bella, you have a child?” He placed the finished latte in front of me.

  “Oh no! No. I-I lost the baby. I couldn’t have them after that.”

  His face paled. He came around the counter and wrapped me in his arms. I tried to be cool and keep it together, but I ended up with tears running down his pinstripes. He pulled me closer and I gave in to his embrace.

  “I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t know what I would do without my son. Henry is such a big part of my life. I know he isn’t the same for you, but he does adore you. If you ever want to spend time with him, you just need to say the word.”

  My heart swelled in my chest for this beautiful, generous man. If only our timing wasn’t so off. I dried my eyes on a paper napkin. “Thank you. I would love that.”

  Gia’s sister Karla came in from the back with her long dark hair tied up in a topknot, and wrapped an apron around her tiny waist. Dressed in a red leather miniskirt and red stiletto boots, she belonged on the cover of Italian Vogue rather than the business end of a frothing wand. Looking at Karla was like looking in a mirror. At a fun house. After cataract surgery.

  She looked from me to Gia and shook her head. Gia sent her off to get a new bottle of white chocolate syrup from the storage room and sat on the bar stool next to me.

  “So. This boyfriend. You are serious?”

  I took a sip of my latte. “What? Oh no. We’ve only been out a couple of times. He’s very busy running his restaurant.”

  Gia cocked his head to the side. “You have an understanding?”

  “About what?”

  “You are exclusive?”

  “With Tim? We’ve never talked about it. I’m not even sure we’re actually dating. I just feel really ashamed like I’m cheating on him again because I keep thinking about kissing you.”

  What did I just say? Oh no no no no! I flicked my eyes up to Gia’s to see if maybe luck was on my side and he didn’t catch that. Nope. Judging from his Cheshire-cat grin, I’d say he heard me. I’d seen that look in his eyes before, and I never quite knew what he was up to.

  Karla swiveled back into the room with the syrup.

  Gia spun my bar stool to face him. “If you haven’t discussed being exclusive, then there is no problem.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You can tell the high school boyfriend you are keeping your options open and he should too.”

  Karla snorted. “Oh yeah, that’ll work.”

  Gia threw her a scowl that she matched for him. Then he turned a much softer expression to me. “Let’s talk about your deliveries. The gluten-free muffins are selling faster than we can stock them. The Celiac Support Group keeps asking what else I have that’s gluten-free. Do you think you could come up with some afternoon and evening treats?”

  “I could try some gluten-free cookies, and brownies would be very easy.”

  “That sounds great. What do you think about those different-colored fancy French cookies that look like …” He trailed off and said something in Italian to Karla.

  She responded, “Pretentious whoopie pies?”

  “Sì. Can you make them?”

  “Macarons?”

  “Yes, those. I see those popping up in coffee shops in New York. Do you think they could be made gluten-free?”

  “I can check. I must warn you though. We’re having a bit of a snafu with the oven situation.”

  “What is sna-foo?”

  Oh Lord, he was so cute when he didn’t know American slang. “Snafu means … Well, the technical term isn’t important. It means my oven is on backorder and I can’t do any baking until it comes in.”

  He thought about that for a minute. “No problem. You can do the baking in Momma’s kitchen in the mornings. The restaurant is only open for dinner in the off-season, so the prep staff comes in late.”

  Gia’s mother owned Mia Famiglia, the Italian eatery across the stone courtyard on the Washington Street Mall.

  Karla snorted ominously and said something sarcastic sounding in Italian. Gia responded to her, also in Italian.

  They got into a passionate debate, hollering in each other’s faces in rapid-fire Italian. Then Karla shook her head and laughed. Gia turned his attention back to me.

  “Don’t worry, bella, I will get you everything you need, just give me a list.” He kissed me on the forehead and I tried not to let my disappointment show that the kiss wasn’t a couple inches further south. “And now you will get to know Momma.” Gia beamed a huge smile.

  Meeting Gia’s mother. I bet she’s delightful. Like in those Olive Garden commercials. If she’s half as sweet as Gia, I’m sure I’ll love her.

  Karla had an evil glint in her eye and whistled the tune to a death march.

  I swallowed hard. “What’s that for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Chapter 5

  I woke up on the edge of the mattress with Figaro planted in the small of my back. I don’t know how eleven pounds of fur can command so much space. I went about my morning routine while two orange eyes watched closely for any signs of a can opener in my hand. I was down another pound thanks to the Paleo changes Dr. Melinda had prescribed a few weeks ago. Or as I called it, the Pal-e-NO diet. As in no grain, no dairy, no sugar, and no happiness.

  I went through my yoga with a firebird flow, and planned my day ahead. I was committed to be at Mia Famiglia in an hour so Momma could give me a kitchen tour and I could begin working on some Paleo desserts I had planned for the coffee shop. I really wanted Gia’s mother to like me. Karla had totally psyched me out yesterday, and I nearly called the whole thing off. I tried to relax in corpse pose, but a sense of impending doom curled around my neck like a noose.

  I showered and put some mousse in my hair. It was a valiant effort, but it rarely ever delivered on the promise it made in the ads, to give me supermodel tresses. Still, I kept hoping that one day it would be magic and my red hair would look more like Debra Messing and less like Little Orphan Annie. I gave my hair a quick blow dry and applied some makeup, and dressed in skinny jeans—a term here which is very relative—and a gray T-shirt layered with a pink flannel covered in cat hair.

  Figaro tried to assassinate me several times while going down the steps to the kitchen, where Aunt Ginny was putting the finishing berries on our Paleo granola parfaits—coconut yogurt, strawberries, and toasted almonds.

  I grabbed a lint roller and removed some of the evidence of Figaro from my clothes. The rest of it had woven itself into the fabric permanently. “You look bright and chipper today. You must have gotten some sleep last night.”

  “I feel purty good. Those pills the doctor gave me must have done the trick.”

  I looked around the kitchen wall into
the hall and foyer. “Have you seen Georgina today?” I whispered.

  Aunt Ginny grimaced. “She left early this morning.”

  “Left as in to go home?” I asked hopefully.

  “Queen Georgie didn’t tell me.”

  Smitty peeked around the other corner from the dining room. “Is it safe?”

  “I think so.”

  He crept into the room and looked as nervous as the dog catcher’s cat. “She was waiting for me on the porch this morning to give me a list of chores.”

  I looked at Smitty’s list. It was full of oiling hinges and un-sticking windows. “I’d rather you get the kitchen painted today so we can be ready for the weekend.”

  Smitty saluted. “You got it, boss. I’ll start it this morning.”

  A familiar click-clacking of stilettos came in the front door and started down the hall. We all held our breath.

  Georgina assaulted the room with a giant pink box. “I thought I would get Dunkin’ Donuts for everyone. That won’t bother you on your diet, will it, Poppy?”

  She took out a pink frosted pillow and my shoulder was hit by rainbow sprinkle shrapnel. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Aunt Ginny took a step backwards and reached for her anxiety pills.

  “Of course not. I’m leaving soon anyway.” I rammed my spoon in my Paleo parfait. I imagined schmearing Georgina’s face with a Boston Kreme.

  Smitty sidestepped toward Georgina and took the box while watching me. “I’ll take these out onto the screened porch for the guys. They’re installing the new windows today.”

  I gave him a grateful smile.

  Georgina dabbed at pink icing on the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be out in a few minutes to inspect your work, Sooty.”

  “Oh goody.” Smitty rolled his eyes for me before the door closed behind him.

  Georgina ignored the irritated silence in the room and went on as if nothing had happened. “You’ll never believe what I heard out at your mailbox.”