Behind the Frame

by Tracy Gardner

  Skylar turned and shot Savanna a look. “What happened last night?”

  “Something happened,” Sydney said. “Finn got a text from Dr. Aidan and had to run home, and Savanna came in, like, two minutes later and went right to bed!”

  “Why do you feel the need to know everything about everyone all the time?” Savanna asked.

  “This is just because you’re upset I didn’t tell you I was dating Finn.” She flounced back against the back seat, making a ridiculous pouty face.

  “You’re dating? You’re dating Aidan’s brother, who’s in town for a short visit?” Skylar glanced at Syd in her rearview mirror.

  “Not everything is about you, you know,” Savanna told Sydney.

  “You only said you saw them at dinner,” Skylar said to Savanna. “This is a thing? They’re dating? How’s that going to work if he’s leaving?”

  Sydney was back, hanging over the front seat again. “I’m right here. You could ask me. Finn isn’t sure now that he really will leave. He likes it here.”

  Savanna whipped her head around to stare at Sydney. “He’s staying? He decided that after a couple of dates?”

  Sydney shrugged, eyebrows raised as if she’d had nothing to do with it. “He’s thinking things over. He’s a med flight paramedic, so he can work from anywhere. He takes travel assignments all over the country.”

  “Oh my God.” Skylar shook her head. “This isn’t going to end well.”

  “Okay,” Sydney protested. “You could both be a little supportive. Finn is the coolest guy I’ve ever met. Ever. He’s funny and smart and super sweet. You don’t know him. And you’ve never even met him, Skylar. You could get to know him before you decide the whole thing will go up in flames.”

  Savanna fell silent. Skylar gave Savanna a sideways glance, lips pressed together.

  “Syd,” Savanna said, softening her voice. “I don’t think we’re trying to slam Finn. You know we love you, but you tend to keep things light, even when the other person might feel more strongly. Like with Brad.”

  Skylar spoke up. “And with Alex before Brad. And Milo before that.”

  “You have walls,” Savanna said.

  “Major, impenetrable walls. But you don’t think you do.”

  Sydney’s hyped-up demeanor had crashed. She leaned to one side and rested her temple on Savanna’s headrest. “I know,” she groaned. “I do realize that, guys. I’m working on it. Kate’s helping me, I’ve been taking her meditative yoga sessions. I know it’s an issue. I realized it with Brad. Dang, I feel like this is an intervention to save Sydney from herself.”

  Savanna said, “Maybe it’d be good to take things slow with Finn, before anyone makes any big decisions?”

  “Yeah. I know you’re right. But he’s so…” Sydney sighed. “I’ve never met anyone like him before. I swear, you’d both like him.”

  “The most important thing is that you like him,” Skylar said. “If you start feeling like he’s more invested than you are, Syd, you’ve got to tell him. Before he turns his life upside down for you.”

  Sydney shook her head. “I hardly know him. I mean, seriously. All of this is crazy. I know you’re right.” She leaned back, returning to the back seat.

  They rode in heavy silence for a few minutes. Skylar’s GPS showed they were six minutes away from Chef Joe’s house. Savanna felt bad for reining Sydney in, but she didn’t regret it. The last thing she wanted was for her sister to end up hurt or stuck in a self-defeating cycle.

  She had to do something to change the mood. The air in the car felt stifling. “Aidan kissed me.”

  “Oh!” Sydney screamed, instantly back in Savanna’s face and clapping her hands on the leather of the front seat. “I knew it!”

  Skylar laughed, keeping both hands on the wheel. “You’re lucky I’m a good driver. Sheesh.” She rolled her eyes at Sydney.

  “I actually thought maybe you broke up,” Sydney admitted. “But a kiss is so much better! It’s about time.”

  Heat crept into Savanna’s cheeks, thinking about last night. “I know.”

  “Oh-my-God-tell-us-everything-was-it-amazing?”

  “Yes. It was beyond amazing.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I can’t…There’s just nothing else I can say.”

  Sydney let out one more little shriek. “Ooh, I love it. Good for you.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Skylar said. “I’m shocked it took this long.”

  “Um, we’ve both been a little busy. And he’s only recently back in Michigan. He had to fly back to New York last night.” She explained what had happened as they pulled into Chef Joe’s long, winding driveway

  A pretty young woman opened the door for them, introducing herself as Fratelli’s niece, Angela. “He said you were coming. Thank you so much for helping him,” she said, leading them through the open-floor-plan house to a large room with a vaulted ceiling, done in gleaming oak with massive beams framing the two-story-high windows on the back wall. The view was woodsy and breathtaking, looking out over an elevated deck and a small lake, surrounded with lush green forest. The aroma of some delicious concoction grew stronger as they entered the room.

  “Gorgeous,” Savanna breathed, going to the windows.

  Chef Joe stood at a large island cooktop, frying round slices of ham and stirring something in a sauce pan. “Ah, you’re just in time!” She spotted the flashing light on his ankle monitor. He spread his arms wide, welcoming them. He handed the wooden spoon in one hand to his niece. “Don’t stop stirring.”

  She did as she was told, and Joe came around the island, giving each of them a hug. Savanna remembered Chef Joe being taller. He seemed diminished, somehow.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much, all of you, Skylar’s been keeping me updated. I’m so fortunate to have you on my team.” His eyes were glossy. “Come, sit. We’re having eggs benedict, my special recipe.”

  The long oak table was set for breakfast. Joe made the finishing touches at the stove, and then, one by one, delivered plates to each of them, still steaming. The meal was almost too pretty to eat, with a light sprinkle of paprika on the yellow hollandaise sauce over English muffins, Canadian bacon and poached eggs, a sprig of parsley adorning the decorative drizzled sauce on the square white plate.

  “We should’ve visited Chef Joe days ago,” Sydney whispered to Savanna.

  “This looks incredible,” Skylar said. “You really didn’t need to feed us.”

  Angela chuckled. “He can’t help it.”

  Joe sat at the head of the table, beaming at the four of them. “This makes me happy.”

  “So, to update you on—”

  Chef Joe put a hand up, stopping Skylar. “First, we eat. Then we’ll talk, okay?”

  “This is the way,” Angela said, closing her hand affectionately around her uncle’s forearm and smiling. “You can’t sway him on this.”

  Joe looked at her. “This is the way, young lady. Stress is bad for digestion. No one wants a good meal ruined. Eat!”

  Breakfast tasted even better than it looked. Savanna hadn’t even thought she was hungry, but she cleaned her plate.

  Angela carried their empty dishes to the sink and returned with the coffee pot, refilling cups. She sat back down and spoke to the Shepherd sisters. “My family’s taking turns coming to stay with Uncle Joe. Being on house arrest takes its toll after a while, and we don’t want him to be alone. We’re hoping you might have some news. Is that why you came to see him today?”

  The breakfast and conversation had been so enjoyable Savanna had momentarily forgotten why they were really there. She looked worriedly at Skylar; as far as she knew, they didn’t have any earthshaking updates that would mean Chef Joe’s freedom.

  Skylar set her briefcase on the table, taking a folder, yellow legal pad and pen out and returning the case to the floor by her chair. “We’re get
ting close, I promise. There are a few things. First, Detective Jordan has questioned both Mia James and her son, your sous chef Remy. Fingerprints were identified on a picture frame and the hidden safe behind it, belonging to Remy and Mia. Your wine glass results came back,” she said to Savanna.

  “So they were Mia’s prints! She was with Remy when they got into the safe. He was lying to protect her.”

  “But,” Skylar said, glancing up from the papers in front of her, “the evidence collected from the basement access door doesn’t match either of them. There was an initial party who entered the house illegally, through that door, to murder John. And it confirms the theory that whatever was in the safe wasn’t the motive. The painting was moved and the safe was opened after the night the councilman was killed. Jordan believes your authenticator’s eye,” she said, looking again at Savanna. “He feels if that painting was crooked the night you were in the house with his response team, you’d have seen it.”

  “You can’t blame Remy for taking back what belonged to him and his mother,” Chef Joe spoke up. “John Bellamy never should’ve had that ring or deed in the first place.”

  “Remy told you about that?” Skylar asked.

  “No, Mia told me. We dated a while back.”

  “How did that end?” Skylar asked.

  “We realized we were a poor match,” Fratelli said. “It only lasted a few months. We’re still friends. She’s moved on—I hear she’s dating someone.”

  Sydney spoke up. “So we can cross Remy off the suspect list. And Mia, I assume. If either of them were the murderer, there wouldn’t be any reason to break in. Unless they were trying to throw off the police by making it look like a break-in and got scared away by Savanna ringing the doorbell before they could grab what was in the safe.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Savanna said. “It doesn’t explain the unknown fingerprints on the cellar door.”

  “Which means we have to go at this from a different angle,” Skylar said. “The murder weapon. Chef Joe, we know with reasonable certainty that your knife was stolen the night of Savanna’s planning banquet at Carson Ballroom. You’re positive you started the evening with it?”

  “I am. I used it to chop the scallions. I discovered it missing when we got back to the restaurant and began cleaning up.”

  “Savanna has photos of attendees who were seen entering or leaving the kitchen that night. Do you think you’d remember why a given person was in your kitchen?”

  Joe nodded. “I don’t enjoy non-staff in my kitchen. Let’s see the photos.”

  Skylar set a tablet in front of him on the table and scrolled slowly through each one Savanna had dragged into the separate file.

  “All right. Councilman Bellamy wanted real butter for his dinner roll. And this next one is Bellamy’s assistant, isn’t it? Can’t think of her name, but Bellamy sent her to ask when dessert would be served.” He swiped to the third photo, showing the inn owner Paul Stevens. “This fellow was a piece of work. He started giving me and Remy the third degree about average turnout for Giuseppe’s dinner crowds and the number of waitstaff I employ. Remy got rid of him. Who is he?”

  Savanna answered. “He owns the hotel and restaurant in Grand Pier that handled the Art in the Park event the last three years. His interrogation of you two was just sour grapes, nothing personal against you.”

  Fratelli nodded. “Ah. And here’s Mia—she poked her head in to say the food was delicious.” He looked at the picture of Talia Devries. “All right, and this next lady said she was one of the judges, right? She needed to know if the tortellini dish was gluten free. It is. And there’s the mayor and Mrs. Greenwood, God love ’em,” he said, laughing.

  They all looked at him curiously.

  “Oh, it was nothing. Roger came to tell us the sauce was running out. I think he was worried he wouldn’t get seconds. And Mrs. Greenwood burst through the door after him…well, come to think of it, that was a little odd. The mayor’s wife has never said two words to me, but she felt it necessary to reassure me I shouldn’t worry about the new restaurants going in on the lake.” He frowned. “I thought it was strange, but Roger waved it off. He told her she was mixed up, getting me confused with someone else or something. I don’t know. We were in the middle of glazing the pastries and if you don’t move fast, the sauce congeals.”

  “What do you think she was talking about?” Savanna asked.

  “I honestly haven’t thought about it since that night. She had to be mixed up; we aren’t getting a new restaurant in town as far as I know.”

  “That’s everyone.” Skylar reached for the tablet, but Chef Joe touched the screen again, swiping back through to the beginning and then slowly perusing each photo again.

  “There were two others,” he murmured. “Those two guys from the paper, the reporter and his photographer, wanting to know if they might do a piece sometime on Giuseppe’s. I said absolutely, that’d be great for business. The photographer took some shots in the kitchen when we were plating dessert.”

  Savanna nodded. “That makes sense. His cameraman gave us these photos. The article’s running in this morning’s paper, since the festival kicks off Thursday morning.” She’d nearly forgotten about the article.

  “I cancelled my subscription last year,” Chef Joe said. “I’d love to see what they printed. Would you pick up a copy for me when you’re in town?” He looked at Angela.

  “Of course!”

  “Try Happy Family. They always have plenty,” Sydney said. “We need to grab a copy too.”

  On the drive home, Savanna filled Skylar and Sydney in on her research yesterday at the library and the huge discrepancy in stories between their county newspaper and most other media outlets covering the Better Living proposal on Carson’s waterfront. Because it was Skylar’s turn to cook Sunday dinner, Savanna dropped off her sisters at Sydney’s house with a plan for the three of them to go over all the new pieces of information that evening.

  Savanna had just pulled up at Charlotte and Harlan’s late in the afternoon when a text from Aidan came through on her phone. She opened her car door, letting Fonzie scamper around the side of the house ahead of her while she followed, reading his message.

  Just out of surgery. All went well. Henry’s in post op. I think he has a good chance. Wanted to let you know that your friend Yvonne woke up today, a good sign. You didn’t hear it from me, but I spoke with her sister who said she’d be reaching out to Yvonne’s friends to visit as soon as she’s out of ICU this evening.

  Thank you, Aidan! So happy to hear on both counts. Henry has a wonderful surgeon—I know he will be just fine. xo

  She typed the last bit, the “xo,” and hit send before she could second-guess herself. She dropped the phone back into her purse, her step lighter with happiness at hearing Yvonne had finally woken up. Savanna had been so afraid things might go the other way. She’d visit tomorrow.

  Her parents’ orange tabby, Pumpkin, meowed at her from the porch chair and she patted him on the head. She opened the French door to the kitchen and entered the second house that day filled with delectable aromas.

  Travis worked over a large pan full of what looked like beef stroganoff. He added a small portion of beef broth to the pan, stirring vigorously, then a spoonful of something from the other pan on the stove, and turned up the heat.

  Skylar was at the counter, with Nolan standing on a chair beside her. They were carefully placing thin strips of pie crust dough in a criss-cross pattern over the tops of several mini rhubarb pies.

  “No way.” Savanna grabbed a spoon and swiped it through the sauce in the mostly empty mixing bowl. She popped the bit of sugary pink concoction in her mouth, closing her eyes. “Oh, I love you guys! Rhubarb is my favorite.”

  “First of the summer,” Skylar said. “I’ve been craving it.”

  “The little pies are so pretty. You’re doing
a great job, Nolan. They look delicious.”

  Skylar helped him put on an oven mitt and they slid the two large baking sheets full of little pies into the oven.

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” Travis announced. “Nolan, would you please go tell Grandpa we’re eating in about ten minutes? I think he’s in the pole barn working on a bike.”

  Nolan and Fonzie were out the kitchen door in a flash, nearly knocking Sydney and Charlotte down coming in, laden with bags from a spur-of-the-moment Sunday shopping trip. Savanna had opted out, choosing instead to spend her afternoon at the library trying to make sense of the Better Living proposal issues and articles. She couldn’t wait to show her sisters what she’d found.

  She tried not to rush dinner, but once everyone seemed to have finished, Savanna stood and began clearing plates, carrying them to the kitchen sink. She helped Skylar carry in the pies and vanilla ice cream, the aroma of rhubarb wafting behind them. “You’re probably too full for pie now,” she joked with Nolan, ruffling her nephew’s hair.

  He threw his head back, arms out to the side. “Never! You’re too full for pie!” He stared up at Savanna, eliciting laughter around the table.

  Skylar scooped the ice cream and Savanna distributed the plates. By the time the family was done, Nolan’s face was a sticky pink mess. Skylar started to stand, but Travis put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

  “I’ve got him. Grandpa wants to show us the motorcycle he’s almost done restoring.”

  Harlan pushed his chair back, rising slowly. “I’m stuffed.”

  Travis pulled Nolan’s chair out. “Okay, little man. Let’s go clean up. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

  Nolan minded, walking stiffly to the kitchen sink with arms straight out in front of him like a robot.

  “Are we done? Everyone?” Savanna circled the table again, collecting plates and utensils.

  Sydney laughed. “Okay, she’s got something up her sleeve. What did you find, Savvy?”