by Aysia Amery
“You can resume service,” the butler, who I think Fiona called ‘William,’ instructed.
“Thank you,” I told him.
We followed him back out to the dining room.
“I’m so sorry for all the delay. I hope we haven’t ruined your delightful dishes,” Fiona said to me.
“It’s fine. Everything has been kept warm in the serving station.”
“Good.” She turned her attention to those at the table. “Let’s finish our meals. I’m sure everyone’s starved.”
“How can you make light of this, as though it’s a normal dinner night? The cat’s out of the bag, and I’m disturbed by it.”
Penelope should try out for plays. She’d make a good Wicked Witch or Lizzie Borden.
“And why would you have more strangers listening in on our private lives, when you knew you were going to bring this up tonight? You’re unbelievable, Mother!”
You knew when someone was peeved at you when they called you ‘Mother’ instead of ‘Mom.’ I’m sure Fiona noticed her daughter’s rebellion too.
“Would you have preferred we had this discussion in a restaurant? I think not, my dear. And I wasn’t about to have Joseph and Lester over for dinner without a proper spread.”
I took it Fiona was always into appearances. I’m sure Lester and his dad would’ve been fine with a home-cooked meal. I’d be fine with it if it were me. But that’s because I come from a middle-class family, so I wasn’t brought up having caterers do up fancy meals for home gatherings. Of course, special occasion parties were a different matter. And ever since I started my catering business, I’d been the one doing most of the food service for friends and family parties. But anyway...back to this soap opera.
“Sss-soo, you’re going to die if yyy-you don’t get the tttt-transplant?”
“Yes. I need the transplant.”
“Ccc-can’t a stranger ddd-donate you one?”
“There’s a waiting list. Also the doctors said it’s normally better to get an immediate family member to donate it. And even if my turn comes up, my dad and I don’t have the means to pay for all the expenses involved, even after insurance kicks in. There’s more than just the operation itself.”
“So you’ve come leeching on my dad.”
“Yes, Penelope, he’s my only hope right now. I’m not proud of having to beg for favors.”
“Yeah, you can’t get lower than that.”
“Penelope!” Fiona must’ve felt terribly embarrassed by her daughter’s behavior. I surely would if she were my kid. When she was a teenager, I would’ve sent her off to a boot camp for teens to teach her some humbleness and appreciation for what she had—which was an easy, comfortable life.
Penelope humphed and slumped in her chair, crossed her arms, and pouted like a child who couldn’t get her way.
“Let’s just hold off on any further conversation until after dinner, shall we?” Fiona was a matriarch, no doubt about that.
Everyone ate without another peep. It seemed quite awkward, actually. I was surprised Lizzie—I mean, Penelope—made it through without a single utterance.
Once we finished serving the dessert, we were dismissed so we could have our dinner. I always made extra and set it aside for our own meals.
We returned to the kitchen and sat on the barstools in front of the kitchen island. While we ate, you can bet our ears were perked for any further juicy drama.
“William, you may dismiss the staff for the night. Cleanup can wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Very well. I will bid you all a goodnight then.”
A few voices responded their goodnights.
Seemed the staff lived off-premises. I heard a couple of cars start up and pull out of the driveway.
Crash!
I jumped. What the hell was that?!
Chapter 5
“Dad!” Penelope screamed as though the world were coming to an end.
By the time we got to the scene, everyone except Lester and Regina was huddled around Richard.
The man’s eyes, glassy like a pool of water, stared at his wife as if shocked by a horror movie. An asthma sufferer sounded in better shape than he did as short, sporadic breaths, haunting in their gravelly resonance, wheezed in and out of his suffocating lungs. His hands, trembling and strained, grasped desperately at his throat, while his face color was that of a beach day gone wrong.
“Whoa!” I involuntarily cried, but not from the looks of Richard, but because shattered plate and food debris were bestrewed on the floor and I almost took a nasty spill as I rushed over to help.
“Call 911!” I yelled out to Jemma. I was surprised nobody else had made the effort to do that before we even got there.
“What can I do?” I asked Fiona.
Richard now flailed his arms like a drowning man. Was he choking? Why wasn’t somebody doing the Heimlich maneuver? Now I wished I had taken CPR. I had no idea what was going on or what to do.
“There’s nothing you can do. Penelope, get his epinephrine.”
Fiona seemed to know exactly what was happening to her husband. This must’ve happened before.
As if even possible, Richard’s gagging moved up a notch on the Richter scale, and as his face contorted into something almost alien, tonight’s dinner spewed out of him in a manner just short of that gross scene in The Exorcist. Granted, most of the scenes were gross in that film, but you know the one.
“You.” Fiona pointed to Reese. “Help me get him to the floor. We need to lay him on his side.”
Reese reacted immediately to her command, and the two of them laid Richard down.
Since I’d be more in the way than of help, I stayed back and let them do what they needed to do. I figured if Fiona needed my help, she’d let me know.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Vogel, who had stepped off to the side since he probably knew he couldn’t help either. I wondered why Fiona hadn’t beckoned her son to help instead of Reese, but then I realized he looked as though a short gust of wind could knock him over and shatter him into tiny pieces. He may have a health condition of his own. Who knows?
“Hee-ee’s having an ana-ph-ph-ph-ylaxis attack.”
I knew what that was. I had to. It was my business to know. But Fiona didn’t say he had an allergy to anything. Anaphylaxis was serious stuff.
Why would she not tell me? Maybe he’s having a reaction to the amber wine.
“I can’t find it! It’s not in the usual spot!” Penelope’s voice boomed from elsewhere in the house.
“Keep looking. It’s got to be there,” Fiona yelled back.
It seemed as though we could’ve watched an episode of The Walking Dead by the time Penelope bounded back in, holding a syringe in her hand. Although in actuality, it was probably closer to five minutes.
“Somebody moved it. Why would they move it?” She huffed out her breaths. “Here, Mom.”
Fiona grabbed it, plunging the needle into Richard’s outer mid-thigh. She held it there for about ten seconds.
“How long until an ambulance gets here?”
“This is Lanai. Who knows?” It was Penelope who answered.
And I thought Maui was bad, but Lanai’s population was even smaller (about 1 Lanaian to every 50 Mauians), so why would I be surprised? They’d surely have a lot more difficulty with emergency situations.
“Is he going to be okay?” My heart pounded and my muscles were tight. Worried, maybe even fearful, was what I felt for the man right now. I sure hoped it wasn’t my cuisine causing his critical state. This had never happened before in all the years I’d been catering.
“I hope so,” Fiona said, her tone calm, almost uncaring even.
“What was he allergic to?”
“He’s allergic to eel. I had told you not to include it. Did your dish have eel?”
My eyes popped.
“Yes, but I could swear you said to include eel, not exclude it. You even mentioned doing something different so that it’s undetectab
le.”
“You must have heard wrong. I specifically said NOT to include eel. And I was referring to cucumbers for the undetectable part. You must be working too hard. You should be more careful.”
Oh my god. She’s making me consciously responsible for this. I could swear I hadn’t heard wrong. In any case, I sure hoped he recovered. Where the hell were the paramedics?
My eyes met Jemma’s, and I furrowed my brows. She just shrugged. A dread hovered over me like a dark cloud waiting to drench me with acid rain. If Fiona stuck to her story, I might end up in deep doo-doo. I wondered if that was what Maile was trying to warn me about.
Gawd!
* * *
The dining table and floor were still a mess, but cleaning up was never our responsibility. My contract stated exactly what we did and didn’t do. We cleaned and packed up our stuff only.
Once our job was done, we retired to our quarters. The three of us shared a two-bedroom attached to the main house. Jemma and I took the master bedroom, while Reese had the other bedroom to himself.
The place was cozy and resembled an apartment with its own full kitchen, a bathroom with a tiled walk-in shower, and living area. It was small but adequate for a short stay. The furniture was mostly bamboo with Hawaiian quilt patterns—typical island style as seen in resorts and vacation condos or plantation-style homes.
There was an aromatic scent of pikake (jasmine) wafting in the air. I closed my eyes and my nostrils flared. I inhaled a long, deep breath. As my chest rose, the sweet fragrance swept over me, and a sense of peace soothed my entire being. You know, sort of like when you’re carrying a newborn baby and you snuggle up to his/her cheek, and when you kiss them you breathe in their vanilla-y scent and an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness swoons over you? That’s as close to how I can describe the way I felt.
How powerful scents were upon the mood of things. Being whacked with a dopamine high took me from stress to relaxation in but a few seconds. I finally let out my breath, but slowly, as though in meditation.
Unfortunately, the euphoria was short-lived. Thoughts of the night’s earlier episodes snapped me back to reality. And that whole allergy thing was bugging me to no end, like having an infestation of cockroaches that no matter how many you swat or blast with Raid, they just keep infiltrating your kitchen cabinets. Not mine anymore, of course, since I have to keep up with the health department rules, but just sayin’ (can’t have people thinking I’m serving cockroaches in my pupus).
“Did you really hear her wrong?” Jemma asked as she came to stand next to me while brushing her wavy, shoulder-length hair. Warmth and humidity emanated off her body, having just come out of the shower.
“No, I heard her right. You know I don’t make those kinds of mistakes. Not in this business. I would never miss someone saying they had an allergy to an ingredient. And she left it out on the form. She couldn’t have missed it. You don’t leave out something as important as that, especially when it’s a life-threatening condition. There’s something very strange about it all.”
“Yeah, I figured there’s no way you would’ve been that sloppy. You’re always so careful about stuff like that.”
I nodded, giving thought to why Fiona would lie and make it my fault. Did she want this to happen to her husband? Was she getting back at him for his adultery? Hmm. How convenient to blame it on somebody else to get you off the hook. Something smelt sour like that cream I had to throw out.
At this moment, Fiona was with her husband at the Lanai Community Hospital. Her kids were there too. I debated whether to snoop around for clues as to whether she did this on purpose, but decided against it in case they had cameras around the home. You never know when they do, especially a home this big.
After our baths, we sat in the living room and watched a movie. It was too early to go to bed.
In the middle of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter my cell rang. It was Blaine.
“Hey, hon, what’s up?” I asked.
“Just calling to check up on my babe and see how things went. You miss me?”
I so needed to hear his voice right now, but I did what I always do because I’m naughty that way.
“I just saw you this morning, so, umm, nope, not yet.” I beamed him a loving smile even though he couldn’t see it.
Blaine was the romantic one out of the two of us. He remembered dates like our anniversary, which I hated to say, but I was terrible at. And he was the one to call me when either of us was on trips without the other. With some things, our stereotypical gender roles were switched.
“Well, I’m missing you. I guess I’m gonna have to just fantasize about what we’ll do when you get back.”
“I’ll pick up some whipped cream on the way home. Mmm, can’t wait to lick it off you.” I tried to sound sexy but didn’t do Marilyn as well as Jemma did.
“For gosh sake, take it in the bedroom,” Jemma said as she nudged me. My torso swayed at her push.
I laughed. “Jemma’s grossing out.”
“Hey, put him on speaker phone so I can hear this kinky stuff.”
“Reese wants in on the kink.”
“Tell him to forget it. I don’t share you with no one.”
I got up off the sofa and headed for the bedroom since Jemma seemed genuinely engrossed in the movie, and I’d be a major distraction. Plus, we’d already had our fun with them.
“I have so much to tell you about what happened tonight, but I’m too exhausted right now to spill,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. But okay. Don’t wanna have you fall asleep on me while you’re in the middle of your story.”
“That only happened one time. Don’t keep bringing it up.” I sighed.
That time the vog (volcanic smog) stirred up my allergies, causing my sinuses to go ballistic. Just before Blaine called me, I had taken a strong-dosage allergy pill, and it worked as fast as Mohammad Ali knocking me out for the count. I don’t take that stuff anymore, but he won’t let me forget it. The scoundrel.
“So, what time you think you’ll be getting home tomorrow?”
“You that anxious for the whipped cream?” I jested. “We should be back by 10:00. I’ll call you when we’re on Maui.”
“I might catch some waves with your bro in the morning, but I should be home before you.”
“Okay, sounds good. You done?”
“You mean talking to you?”
“Yeah, I kinda need to go to the bathroom. Something’s about to explode and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“Oh, my poor babe. By all means, you better hit the can. Have a good night. I love you.”
“I love you too. Bye.”
Oh man, the rumble in my stomach felt like what a volcano must go through just before it spewed its lava guts out. Good god, there was nothing worse than spending the night with your friends and stinkin’ up the bathroom. Your spouse has seen you at your worst, but anybody else, it was just plain embarrassing.
There had better be a can of fresh-scented aerosol available.
I sprinted to the bathroom like an Olympic athlete on steroids. I didn’t mean to but in my rush the door slammed the jambs, probably shaking up the termites carving their homes in them.
I heard Jemma at the door shortly after my butt landed on the cold ceramic. “You okay? You mad at me cuz I told you to go talk dirty in the bedroom?”
“Go away, Jemma. I’m in the middle of a gut outbreak, and I don’t need to be worrying about you hearing my farts.”
“Oh. Sorry. I’m outta here.”
“Make sure Reese stays away too.”
“Okay. Don’t forget to spray Lysol. We gotta go in at some point before bed.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”
“If there’s no Lysol, you want me to ask Reese if he’s got some matches?”
“Get out of here!”
“Okay, I’m gone.”
It was times like these I hated rooming with
other people who weren’t my husband. Argh!
Chapter 6
Right after I finished fumigating the bathroom, there was a knock at the door.
Jemma opened it, and Fiona stood there, bags under her eyes and her whites veined with red.
I ambled out to where they stood, praying an odiferous cloud hadn’t followed me. You know how sometimes smells stay with you? That was my fear right now.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I had to let you folks know that my husband didn’t make it. He died shortly after he got to the hospital.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” I said. I didn’t even know the man, but a wave of sadness hit me at that moment.
Jemma and Reese offered their condolences as well.
“My kids and I will be leaving early in the morning to take care of things, so you might not see me before you leave. My staff will take care of you and get you back to Maui.”
“Thank you. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She acknowledged me with a few nods and then left.
This was not good. And not because I was worried that Fiona may sue me for serving the eel...well, that too, but more importantly—that something was amiss, and she may get away with it. There could be no other explanation as to why she lied about the eel.
“What are you thinking?” Jemma asked.
“I think Fiona might’ve planned his allergy attack to kill him.”
Reese did a double-take at me. “Say what? Are you serious?”
“How else would you explain her lying about the eel?”
“Can you prove it?” Jemma asked.
Hmm. That part was going to be a problem. My shoulders drooped. “No, not yet. It would be her word against mine. And since I don’t record my conversations, I have no proof.”
“Wow, who’d have figured,” Reese said, rubbing his crew cut with a palm.
“No kidding.”
Jemma frowned, then looked me in the eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I sensed her expression didn’t have to do with Fiona. She had that ‘something dawned on me’ look.
