1 Catered to Death

by Marlo Hollinger

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was Junebug, the one they all couldn’t wait to get rid of? She looked as harmless as a fly.

  Chapter Three

  “Junebug!” Claudine got to her feet and walked toward the older woman. When she reached her, she bent over and gave her an awkward hug. Junebug responded by twisting out of Claudine’s hold. “Don’t do that! You know I hate being touched by strangers. I hate being touched period!”

  “It’s just that I’m so happy you’re finally here. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

  Junebug strode to the table, her legs slightly bowed like she’d just gotten off a miniature pony. “How in hell would I have gotten here any sooner when I didn’t even know there was a luncheon going on today? In my honor, I might add.”

  “I did send you an email,” Claudine pointed out.

  “You know I don’t know how to open my email. If Ruth hadn’t mentioned the party to me on my way out, I would have gone home and missed my own birthday bash.”

  Simpson caught my eye and made a slight twirling gesture next to his forehead. “Looney tunes,” he mouthed. I ignored him.

  “You’re here now, aren’t you?” Frank asked after exchanging glances with Claudine. “Sit down already so we can get this show on the road.”

  “Where am I supposed to sit? The two best seats are already taken. You know I like to sit next to you, Frank.” Junebug became even more Bette Davis-like, playing a coy Baby Jane.

  “For crying out loud, Junebug, you’re a big girl. Sit wherever you want to,” Jack told her.

  “Well, if I can’t sit next to Frank, I’ll sit next to this handsome young man instead.” Junebug sat down next to Simpson, completing the circle around the table. Glancing across from her, she nodded at Monica. “I’m surprised to see you here, Monica. I thought this was just for teachers, not any of the office staff.”

  “Congratulations, Junebug,” Monica said through tight lips.

  Junebug blinked at her. “Congratulations for what?”

  “Your retirement,” Monica replied.

  “Who said anything about me retiring?” Junebug looked around the table suspiciously. “I thought this was a birthday party! My birthday’s next week, you know. I’ll take some of that iced tea, missy,” she said to me.

  I glanced at the faces circling the table. Claudine’s face had turned a shade of grey that is normally associated with the color of clouds before a blizzard strikes. Passing behind Frank as I moved to fill Junebug’s class, I heard him angrily whisper, “How could Junebug not know that this party is for her retirement?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Claudine snapped back at him in a hushed tone. “I thought she did know. You did talk to her, didn’t you, Frank? You told her how we can’t afford her salary any longer, right?”

  “Of course I did,” he said gruffly. “I called her into my office and told her that we can’t continue to pay her as much as we do.”

  “And what did she say?” Claudine pressed.

  “For Pete’s sake, Claudine, I don’t remember what she said! But I did talk to her. I did what I was supposed to do, just like I always do.”

  “He did, Claudine,” Monica said, jumping into the conversation with a loud whisper. “I was in Frank’s office that day and I heard him talking to Junebug.”

  It was pretty obvious to me that the female portion of the Eden Academy staff was clearly besotted with Frank Ubermann, even Junebug. The only woman at the table who didn’t seem impressed with him was Emily and that was probably because of the age difference between them, although I didn’t doubt for a second that Frank would figure out a way to win her over too.

  “Not that I asked for your input, but it seems rather odd to me that Junebug failed to realize that this party is in honor of her retirement if Frank spoke to her about leaving,” Claudine snarled at Monica. “Why would she think that any of us even know when her birthday is?”

  “What are you guys whispering about?” Junebug shouted toward the small knot made up of Frank, Claudine and Monica. “Don’t you know it’s rude to whisper in front of other people? Are you talking about me?”

  The three pulled their heads apart quickly like a gone-to-seed dandelion that someone blew on. “Let’s get this over with,” Claudine murmured, sounding tired.

  “Brilliant idea, Claudine,” Frank said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “After all, this whole party was your idea.”

  Claudine got to her feet again, a surprisingly warm smile on her face. “Junebug, I—oops! I mean we—have prepared a short toast to you as Eden Academy’s way of saying ‘thank you’ for all your years of service and dedication to our students. And also to say happy birthday, of course.”

  “Don’t say that!” Frank whispered, tugging frantically at Claudine’s sleeve. “Don’t encourage her!”

  Claudine yanked her arm away and gave Frank a cool stare. “We have to soften the blow since you didn’t do your job!” she hissed.

  “How can we toast her with coffee?” Jack Mulholland questioned. “That seems downright un-American to me. Didn’t anyone bring a bottle of something?”

  “I’ve got some tequila in my room,” Emily offered.

  Frank leaned forward to fix an angry glare at the student teacher. “Need I remind you that we are a school? We shouldn’t be imbibing on school premises. Do you have any idea of what would happen if someone from the state department of education walked in here and found us drinking?”

  “We aren’t a monastery, Frank,” Simpson snapped. “And we’re all over twenty-one. Especially Junebug. Besides, I bet every single desk at the state department of education has a drawer with a bottle of mood enhancer in it.”

  “Hold on. I’ve got something right here.” Junebug reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a silver flask. “One hundred and one proof,” she announced. “Wild Turkey. Who wants some?”

  The air was immediately filled with waving coffee cups and half-filled iced tea glasses. I watched as Junebug jumped up from her seat and went around the table putting a slug into everyone’s cup from the seemingly endless flask. It reminded me of a book I used to read to Tyler and Jane about a never ending pot of porridge. When she got back to her own seat, Junebug looked around the table. “Did I get everybody?”

  “Yes, we’re all fine,” Frank told her.

  I didn’t expect to be included so I wasn’t insulted that Junebug hadn’t offered me any Wild Turkey but I suddenly remembered the school’s receptionist, the one who had informed Junebug that she was missing her own party.

  “Would you like me to go get the receptionist?” I asked the room in general.

  Half a dozen pairs of shocked eyes swung in unison up at me. “Why would you go get Ruth?” Jack asked, truly sounding dumbfounded. “Do you need something cleaned up?”

  “To join the party,” I replied. “She must not realize it’s already started.”

  “Ruth is the receptionist,” Claudine said.

  “We never include her in anything,” Monica added in a tone that implied that DeeDee was an idiot not to have realized her faux pas. “Our get-togethers are only for the salaried staff, not the hourly employees.”

  “I see.” And I did see. I saw that the entire staff—at least the salaried staff—of Eden Academy was quite loathsome. I couldn’t imagine what kind of people would leave the receptionist out of a luncheon as if she wasn’t good enough to eat with everyone else just because she got paid by the hour. I didn’t have to imagine what kind of people would do something like that; I was sitting in a room full of them. I made a mental note to fix a plate of food for Ruth as soon as the others had finished eating and bring it down to her so she would realize that she hadn’t been forgotten by everyone.

  Frank gave me an exasperated look. “Forget about Ruth,” he ordered. “Why don’t you start serving while Claudine talks? I always say, kill two birds with one stone if you can and I’m starving over here.”

  Claudine seemed pained. “Frank, my speec
h won’t take that long. Surely you can wait a few minutes before eating. It always seems so uncouth when people are chewing during a speech.”

  “Oh, all right. Would you get going then? I do have other things to take care of today and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

  “Like me,” Simpson said. “I have an appointment at three.”

  “And me. I’m firing some new pieces this afternoon,” Jack added.

  “And me,” Emily put in. “I’m meeting someone I met online at that new bar downtown for Happy Hour.” Maybe she wasn’t the kind of girl I would like Tyler to date.

  “Did you ask for time off to leave early, Emily?” Frank questioned.

  “Oh, no, I forgot,” Emily replied.

  “You know the Eden Academy policy. It was explained to you when you started working here.” He began to speak in a sing-song monotone. “If you know you’re leaving early then you put in for time off. Once you put in for time off, it has to be approved by me.” He spoke in his normal tone again only his voice was now laced with exasperation. “It’s been like that ever since you started working here. I know you’re just a student teacher but you still need to abide by our rules. It’s the only way we can guarantee that things function smoothly at Eden Academy.”

  “Frank’s right,” Monica said. “You really need to do everything you’re told to do, Emily. Especially if you want a letter of recommendation from us.” She looked at Frank for approval and beamed when he nodded at her.

  “I’m leaving half an hour early,” Emily protested. “I’m supposed to put in for time off for that?”

  “If you’re leaving prior to your contractual time, then yes. That’s how it’s done here. Rules are rules.”

  “The same rules apply to everyone, Emily,” Monica said with a smarmy smile. “Even you.”

  I looked over at Junebug to see how she was reacting to the less than gala-like atmosphere of her farewell party but Junebug didn’t seem to be reacting at all. She had tilted her silver flask up into the air and was sucking on whatever drops were left in it energetically. When she was done, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Well,” she said, “let’s do what the man said and get going. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Who is?” Simpson asked no one in particular.

  I suddenly realized that my palms were sweating. Given the way the staff of Eden Academy treated each other, I couldn’t help wondering how they were going to react to my seafood casserole. I had the feeling that I should have made something a little more appropriate, like a nice casserole out of vipers or boa constrictors.

  Claudine got to her feet and removed a sheet of paper from the purple file folder she’d brought with her. Clearing her throat elaborately, Claudine waited for the other staff members to quiet down before she began to read. When the room was finally still she started to read her message in a fast, flat delivery as she faced Junebug.

  “Junebug, it’s been a true pleasure working with you for the past ten years. Your dedication to the students as well as your all-encompassing knowledge of things quite arcane have been an inspiration to each of us––”

  “Oh, brother,” Simpson muttered under his breath. “All encompassing knowledge? Give me a freaking break! The woman doesn’t remember where she parked her car on most mornings.”

  Claudine ignored him. “—and we hope that you will know how much we’ll miss you. We also hope that you’ll know what an impact you’ve had on so many students’ lives.”

  “She doesn’t even know the names of most of the students,” Jack said to Emily sotto voce. “I don’t think she even knows her own name a lot of the time.” Emily giggled.

  “Now that the time has come for you to say good-bye to Eden Academy, we hope that you’ll accept this small token of our appreciation and that every time you look at it you’ll remember us with love and affection.”

  Claudine stopped reading and looked up, clearly expecting the rest of the group to burst into applause over her touching speech that she delivered like someone reading directions off a GPS. When it was obvious that none was forthcoming, she reached for a small box wrapped in gold paper with a silver bow that sat next to the file folder.

  “Is that my birthday present?” Junebug asked.

  “It’s your retirement present,” Claudine said in a gentle tone of voice that surprised me. She carried it around the table and handed it to Junebug.

  “I already told you that I’m not retiring so we’ll just call this my birthday present.” Tearing off the paper, Junebug revealed a plain white box. She lifted the lid and stared down at the box. “What is it?” she asked.

  Claudine beamed. “It’s a paperweight. See?” Reaching into the box, Claudine pulled out a small paper weight that looked like a doll-sized bronzed cowboy hat. “I saw it at an antique store and I thought of you immediately since you have such a love for the West and all things Western.”

  “Antique store my ass. I saw that thing at a thrift store last week,” Jack said to Emily. “I bet you ten bucks that Claudine got it during their half price sale.”

  Junebug picked up the tiny paperweight and inspected it through her bifocals. “Well, thank you,” she finally said. “I guess I’ll put it on my desk.”

  “It will look lovely on your desk at home,” Claudine enthused.

  “Not my desk at home; my desk here at school,” Junebug corrected. “And you’re right, Claudine, every time I look at it, I’ll think of the gang at Eden Academy, my home away from home, the home I plan on staying at forever. Where else could I make twenty-five bucks an hour for doing so little?”

  I couldn’t miss the look that surged between Claudine and Frank. Although neither of them said anything, it was fairly obvious that they were both thinking the same thing: Now what?

  “Shall I begin serving?” I piped up in the lull that occurred after Junebug’s remark.

  “Excellent idea, DeeDee,” Claudine replied as she dropped back into her chair next to Frank.

  I began serving the food. As I set Claudine’s plate down in front of her, I couldn’t help noticing how Frank’s hand was resting quite comfortably on Claudine’s knee, his fingers absentmindedly kneading her flesh. Looking up, I saw that someone else had observed the same thing. Monica was staring at Frank’s hand like it was a tarantula resting on a rock in the hot sun. Monica glanced up and caught me catching her. Instantly, her eyes narrowed as she gave me a so what stare. I quickly averted my glance. The clock on the wall said it was almost one-forty-five. I had no doubt that the eating portion of Junebug’s retirement party was going to move along very swiftly since it seemed like the group of colleagues had already run out of things to say to each other, which was fine with me. The faster they ate, the faster I could get out of here and return to my house where no one snarled at each other. After an hour with the Eden Academy staff, I was sure of one thing: I wouldn’t mind in the least if I never saw any of them again.

  Chapter Four

  The seafood casserole seemed to be a success. Ditto for the croissants, the herb butter, and the tossed salad with garlic dressing and homemade croutons. All in all, Classy Catering’s inaugural luncheon was going very well, much to my intense relief. As soon as everyone had a plate full of food in front of them, just about all of the snapping and sniping between the Eden Academy staff members ground to a halt and I was finally able to step back and take a much needed breather.

  I positioned myself next to the food and watched as the staff settled down and got to the business of eating. I have to admit that it felt a little strange to be the caterer instead of a guest. I was more used to talking to people at parties and hearing about their lives, a quirk of mine that Steve has always predicted would get me in trouble some day. But I can’t seem to help myself; I love hearing people’s life stories and from the looks of the Eden Academy crew, I had the feeling that I’d hear some true lulus if the opportunity arose. Jack Mulholland alone looked as if he’d be able to keep me entertained for at least an e
ntire afternoon. I controlled myself though by sternly reminding myself that I was getting paid to do a job and kept my mouth shut and my eyes open for empty glasses and plates.

  “Well, that was pretty good,” Frank said as the luncheon wound down. “Nice job, DeeDee.” He shot me a sexy smile that just about knocked me over. I had to admit that there was something extremely compelling about the man. Sleazy, but compelling.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I think you might have let the seafood casserole cook a wee bit longer,” Monica remarked in a musing tone. “I’m not an expert like you, of course, but I feel it was a tiny bit undercooked.”

  “It was not,” Simpson disagreed. “It was perfect. The whole meal was perfect.”

  I decided that I liked Simpson. “There’s still dessert,” I told him as I planned to give him an extra large portion of whatever he wanted.

  Simpson shook his head regretfully. “Thanks but not for me. I’m getting a paunch.”

  “We noticed,” Frank told him. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head and a sly grin on his face. “Speaking of paunches, whose turn is it to take out the garbage?”

  “I don’t get the segue from my paunch to garbage duty,” Simpson said a little snippily.

  “Simple. You got your paunch eating too much garbage,” Frank replied as if all of us should follow his line of thinking. “You eat junk food all the time, Simpson. I thought you learned better eating habits when you were a Scout. Looking at that burgeoning gut of yours reminded me that it’s garbage day tomorrow.”