Glazed

by Deany Ray

  It took her a long moment to respond. “Charlie, you…you…”

  Gyrating glazed eclairs! “Marge! Say something. Now!”

  She just pointed to her eyebrows.

  I reached up to feel mine…but they were no longer there. Absolutely perfect. No eyebrows! None at all. As if my dating life did not already suck. I took a long, deep breath. Perhaps no one would notice. Except Marge.

  I heard Eddy’s voice. “What’s going on?” he asked as he came back with more corn – which I decided he could grill himself, thank you very much.

  He glanced at me and took a big step back. “Whoa! Would you take a look at that?”

  Yep. So much for no one would notice. It was a little obvious what was missing from my face. I tried to think of happy things, like burgers with lots of ketchup and a plate piled high with different kinds of cake.

  Celeste found her way to me and slipped an arm around my waist. Her voice was extra calm.

  “Charlie, I think it’s best if we switched you and Marge from corn and put you on napkin duty.”

  “Napkins!” Marge said with enthusiasm. “Napkins we can do.”

  It sounded safe enough to me.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were gathered around long tables, and silence filled the air as everyone concentrated on their food. And the food was amazing. Creamy mac and cheese, baked beans flavored with brown sugar, barbecue chicken that was to die for…

  When I was finished with dessert and could absolutely eat no more, some of the women came out with thermoses of coffee. A group of several ladies motioned for me to sit beside them while I enjoyed my after-dinner drink. Soon we were in hysterics over well-worn stories of things gone wrong at family parties through the years. It was a kind way of reassuring me that my mishap at the grill was far from the craziest thing to ever happen at a gathering of Ortizes.

  An older woman leaned in to speak softly in my ear. “Suzy’s youngest over there? Decided last year that she’d ‘help’ with the desserts. Mistook the salt for sugar.” We all glanced toward the dark-haired child, who looked like she was six or seven.

  Another woman sighed. “That was quite a cake. And, of course, we had to eat it. Because the child was so proud.”

  The women all laughed, and each laugh was identical except for differences in pitch. The effect was that of a musical waterfall, one peal of feminine laughter cascading merrily over the other. The young woman beside me looked at me and smiled. With her perfectly applied lipstick, her fingernails each painted a slightly different shade of pink, and her long hair brushed to a lustrous shine, she was a softer, younger – and absolutely gorgeous – version of Celeste.

  We caught our breath and watched the children chase each other by the lake. Right in the middle of them was a gleeful Marge.

  The woman beside me took my hand. “It’s so lovely to have you here. Please do come again.”

  I was just about to answer that I’d love to do just that when Celeste touched me on the shoulder.

  “Ladies, I’m afraid I’m going to steal my friend away,” she said. “Uncle Moe would like to have a word.”

  The mood suddenly grew serious at the mention of that name. Somberly, they nodded.

  We rounded up Marge as well and headed toward a large tree at the water’s edge. Celeste told us in a low voice, “Uncle Moe is second in charge of family business here on the East Coast. He’d like to talk to us about what’s going on with Lucas.”

  “Who’s first in charge?” Marge asked, fascinated.

  “That would be my Grandpop, who’s standing over by the sweets. Grandpop loves blueberry pie with a lot of cream on top. Now that he’s gotten older, he lets Uncle Moe handle business unless something big is about to blow.”

  As we got closer to the tree, the man who was waiting for us slowly turned around. He did not look at all like the head of family business I’d pictured in my head. I was thinking maybe a Hispanic Marlon Brando. Instead, we had a small man with a hint of a potbelly and an air of shyness in the way he greeted us with a nod and a whisper. I kind of got the idea that this guy was more chill than fierce, that he’d rather doze over a crossword puzzle and half a mug of beer than set into motion some violent plan.

  After Celeste had made the introductions, it didn’t take him long to get down to business. “Girls, I appreciate your help – what you’re doing for Lucas and the family. I appreciate you hiding him, and I understand that you’re in the business of investigations. But I want you to know that this thing can turn deadly dangerous at any moment. Do you understand that?”

  We nodded.

  “I want to assure you, Uncle Moe, that I check on Lucas twice a day, and our boy’s doing fine,” Celeste reported to her uncle. “Of course, a kid his age is ready to get out and do the things kids do. Plus, he worries about his studies, missing class and all.”

  Uncle Moe nodded. “A college man. It was a proud day when our Lucas moved into residence on that campus.” He paused. “Now, I know that you have proved you know your stuff when it comes to solving cases – even though you might not go about it the way other people might. Normal ways don’t always get the job done. So, I say good for you; keep on keeping on.”

  I wondered how many in the family knew the real business we were in. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Uncle Moe knew what was up; I’m sure he watched all the family members to make sure they were okay.

  “Eddy brought me up to date on what’s going on with Lucas and the case,” Uncle Moe said. “And I think you’re on the right track. There’s a protection money scheme mixed up in all of this. It sounds like Eddy’s right about all that.”

  “Do you have any idea who could be behind it?” I asked. Celeste’s family business might just come in handy.

  Uncle Moe shook his head. “I’m familiar with some groups who do that kind of thing,” he said. “But there seems to be a new group that’s moved in to operate in Springston. We’re trying to figure out exactly who it is, but so far, we don’t know much. There’s only one thing we were able to find out.”

  We all leaned in, interested.

  “We think this new group is operating from a base somewhere on Moraine Avenue.”

  Marge nodded thoughtfully. “Moraine Avenue. We’re on it.”

  “Just remember. Keep a low profile. We already know what these people are capable of and we don’t want any more bodies,” Moe added.

  We nodded again.

  Hmm. Keeping a low profile. That always sounded so simple and yet again, we often found ourselves in situations where we were running for our lives.

  We visited a little longer and promised Uncle Moe that we’d send word through Celeste when we knew something more. He promised that he’d do the same.

  We helped the family bring the dishes into the house and throw away the trash before we said our goodbyes. Soon, we were headed toward the boat to be in the first group ferried to the parking lot. We hadn’t gotten very far before a small boy ran up and grabbed hold of Marge’s hand. He looked at Celeste with hopeful eyes. “Aunt Celeste,” he begged, “can your friend play one more game?”

  Celeste looked at Marge.

  “Just one more? Pretty please?” Marge asked her with a grin.

  Celeste sighed, but smiled as she waved them off, Marge whooping as loudly as the boy. They were met with a round of applause from the other children as the boy came back with their new grown-up friend in tow.

  “Fine,” Celeste said. “It gives me more time to talk to my relatives, and we can wait for the second shift to get on the boat.”

  Half an hour later, Marge and I were sitting up front as the boat sped back to the parking lot. Celeste was sitting with family in the back. I’d seen a side of her that day I’d never seen before: a talkative and happy side, totally relaxed. More than once, I saw her laugh so hard she could barely catch her breath. It was nice to see that. I wondered why Celeste thought her family was wacko, since they all seemed the most pleasant people in the world.<
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  We were drifting along and I enjoyed the mild sunrays when I noticed that the boat looked different. At least I thought it was the boat. Something was definitely different but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. I looked around me. Was it the water? Yes, the water seemed to get higher. Or the boat seemed to get lower. But that was crazy, right? Had I had too much to drink? No, that wasn’t it.

  I stood and leaned over the side of the boat, looking to the front and to the back. The boat seemed to be drifting at a crazy angle. It was almost as if it had suddenly tilted toward the front. I was about to decide that I’m just imagining things and maybe I did have too much to drink, when Marge caught my eye. She’d noticed something, too. And not just her, others on the boat were also looking around confused.

  Everyone rushed in to crowd the front, looking over the sides to see what the heck was going on. That was a big mistake. The mass of family in the front made the boat tilt even more, causing water to rush in and flood the floor.

  People squealed, slipped, cursed, Marge grabbed my shirt and almost exposed my old, white please-don’t-let-me-have-an-accident-in-this-thing bra.

  As people tried to hold on to each other, trying not to fall overboard, I glanced toward the back of the boat just in time to see the motor rise up slowly from the water. Holy cow! The boat had tilted to the point that a few of the people were now sprawled out on the floor, screaming, asking questions, helping each other up.

  Marge grabbed on to me for dear life as we both tried to stand up straight. I held tightly to her as the water rushed up almost to our knees.

  We looked at each other desperately. What had happened? What was this? I hoped the cousins and the aunties could all swim.

  Chapter Eleven

  Everyone stumbled into each other as they rushed to even out the load so we’d have a level boat. What we needed was a balance: half the shrieking cousins on the back side, half of the slippers and sliders clinging to each other in the front. No wonder, as with all disasters that involved me, that plan didn’t work. As everybody chose the front, the boat tilted forward and the murky water rushed on board. That was the signal for the clump of Ortizes to make their way quickly to the back, tilting the boat the other way. It was like a treacherous, wet and wacky kind of seesaw.

  Marge still held on to me as the group raced en masse back to the front.

  “Let’s stay in the back,” Marge said, squealing as she almost fell into the waves that hit us in the knees.

  The boat filled with water when the group was crowded in the front. Then it rushed back out again as they moved to the back. It all seemed like a bad movie.

  Then – at last – someone desperately tried to restore some order.

  “If your last name comes after the letter L, you head to the back! Everyone else stay put,” a bearded man yelled as he held on tightly to the side. That did not help. They were all Ortizes! A-through-L folks at this picnic were in short supply.

  Seeing his mistake, the man began to pull some people to the front, telling others to stay put.

  “Desserts!” an older woman yelled. “Go to the front if you brought pie. Casserole people to the back.” Confusion ensued again as people tried to decide if they should follow the directions of the bearded man or listen to the woman.

  The cold water rushed up fast and the boat pitched forward toward the lake. I almost lost the good food still digesting in my stomach. Wasn’t that my luck? I finally get a decent meal and lose it in the lake.

  Up front, one of the aunties leaned over the side to do a little inspection as another woman held her arm tightly for support.

  “I’ve found the problem,” the auntie screamed. “It looks like our anchor’s stuck.” That brought another round of shrieks.

  Everyone rushed up front to see what the aunt was seeing – which, of course, tilted us forward again and brought another flood into the boat.

  “C’mon, you guys,” I said. “It’s really simple science.”

  “She’s right,” the bearded man said. “Let’s pull ourselves together.”

  The man rushed in again to try to pull half the people to the back. At least this one guy got it. I sighed and this time, I held on to Marge, who was turning pale.

  Celeste – who was up until that point busy with helping people get up off the wet floor – glanced down at the water.

  “For Christ’s sake! The anchor’s fallen off,” she said. “This whole time, we’ve been dragging it along. That’s why we’re going under.”

  The next voice we heard was the boat driver’s. Where exactly was he this whole time?

  “Let me see,” he said and leaned over the side of the boat.

  My only thoughts were, Please, Mr. Boat Driver, do something, or else the good mac and cheese will land into the water.

  “I need to cut the thing off,” he said. “I can’t think of any other way.”

  “Then do it!” everybody yelled.

  With help from some other men, things soon were put to rights, the boat was up again, the seesaw stopped, but we were cold and wet and anxious. A couple of women were fanning themselves, and an older woman wiped tears out of her eyes while another tried to offer comfort. Not two seconds later, as if the danger they had been in had finally hit them all at once, some kids began to wail.

  Get me off this boat, I thought. Surely, we were almost to the other side.

  I looked across at Marge, who was clutching her dripping purse and looking as freaked out as I felt. One thing was surprising, though. I still had my glasses on. Still no eyebrows, but my glasses were okay.

  On the other side of the boat, Celeste whispered something into the ear of a crying child. The child’s tears turned into giggles of delight, and Celeste gave her a hug. Then she turned to help an older man get up off the floor and limp to a seat. When she caught my eye, I nodded to indicate that we were okay. Or at least I would be after a long, warm shower.

  I turned my head to the left and…wait…is that…it couldn’t be. No way. I squinted through my glasses. Eddy. Eddy was on the boat. In all the commotion, I forgot he was on the same shift back to the parking lot. He was curled up into a ball underneath a bench, his eyes still wide with fear.

  Are you kidding me? Just take a look at this guy who masquerades as some fearless stud. I couldn’t help but smirk. On second thought, jerk or not, he was still my partner in the case at hand, so I made my way to his hiding place and offered him a hand.

  “Need some help?” I asked.

  He looked up at me and I could see relief in his eyes that salvation was finally here.

  Holding tightly to my hand, he slowly stood up and looked around the boat. He was still taking the shallow breaths of a very frightened man. Finally assured that the danger had now passed, he puffed out his chest.

  “I was just…I was just coming to check on you three girls. I was just coming to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

  Yeah, right.

  “Did you think we were under the bench?” I tried hard not to laugh, then I whispered in his ear, “Is that a super-hero trick? Diving for the floor in a single leap?”

  Watching the red spread across his face was almost worth getting my clothes soaked and having my stomach tied in knots.

  He mumbled something, I think I heard a ‘thanks’ somewhere, then he turned and walked to the back of the boat.

  What a goofus.

  When we finally made it back to the parking lot, the feel of the ground beneath my sandals felt comforting and safe. Marge was waiting for me as I stepped off of the boat. She’d been one of the first ones to rush onto the dock. She put her hand on my back, moving me quickly toward the cars.

  “Never again!” she cried. “I’m done with boats. Forever!”

  By then, Celeste had caught up to us.

  “Marge, was it really all that bad?” she asked. “It’s not like we were out to sea with no land in sight.”

  Marge looked somewhat embarrassed by her outburst. “Oh, I don’t kno
w,” she said. “There was just all that tossing around and all that water on the floor. It was just…scary.” She frowned.

  “Boats are great,” I said. “My father used to take us for boat rides on the weekends. And don’t you see we made it? We’re all okay now.”

  Marge looked like she might faint. I was surprised to see her shaking. I put an arm around her.

  “We’re just a little shaken up,” I said. “Nothing a good toweling off won’t fix. We’ve had much scarier adventures.”

  “Well,” Marge began in a soft voice. “It’s just that I…well, I never learned how to swim properly. It messes up your hair, and it’s just so wet out there in the water, and I never saw the point. At least I never saw the point until this afternoon.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So that’s what this is about?”

  Marge blushed.

  “You can’t swim at all?” I asked.

  “I guess I could hold myself above water somehow,” Marge said. “Only not for too long and I think swimming is really scary.”

  Now I understood her panic on the boat. She must have been scared to death when we started getting water into the boat. She should have been the one curled up beneath the bench.

  “But you survived,” Celeste told her in a calm voice. “You survived the boat – and you survived my family.” She smiled gently at her friend. “Even more impressively, you kept your eyebrows in the process. Unlike someone that I know.” Celeste gave me a wink. “Also, now you’ve gone and fixed it so that if I show up without you at the next event, those nieces and nephews of mine are gonna kill their Aunt Celeste.”

  Marge was smiling and saying something about how she’d almost won some race while pretending to be an evil dragon from the land of Ooop-de-Loop and wasn’t that so much fun.

  Ooop-de-what? Who makes up a thing like that?

  It hit me then how much I still had to learn about these women I worked with almost every day. Marge wasn’t afraid to pull out her gun and take perfect aim no matter how badass the guy might be, but the thought of swimming did her in. She was full of contradictions. Her love of kittens and knitting cozy sweaters didn’t mean there wasn’t a take-charge woman hiding in there behind the giggles. While I whined about my lack of dates, Marge would just freshen up her lipstick and go after any guy she wanted.