Death of a Christmas Caterer (3 page)

Chapter 3

Sal charged out of the back bull pen at the
Island Times
newspaper into the front office, where Hayley was at her desk and on the phone with an advertiser.

“Hayley, what day is this?”

“Monday, Sal,” Hayley said before returning to her call. “So you'd like to buy a full half-page in ad space?”

“When's the office Christmas party?”

“Hold on just one moment, please,” Hayley said, cupping the phone receiver with her hand. “Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, as in next week?”

“No, Tuesday as in tomorrow night.”

“Damn!”

“Sal, please! I'm on with the Congregational Church. They want to buy an ad for their upcoming Nativity pageant.”

“Sorry for my language, Reverend Staples!” Sal bellowed into the phone.

“It's not Reverend Staples. It's his secretary.”

“Oh, well, then who the hell cares? It's not like
she
has the authority to get me in trouble with God.”

“Can I call you back in about five minutes, Denise?” Hayley asked. “Thanks.”

Sal waited for her to hang up the phone before he offered Hayley his biggest, widest smile. “I've got some good news for you, Hayley.”

Hayley looked at him skeptically. “I'm listening.”

“I'm giving you a promotion.”

Hayley could hardly believe her ears. “A promotion? Really?”

“That's right,” Sal said, crossing to the coffeepot and pouring himself a cup. “I am making you
senior
office manager.”

“
Senior office manager?
But, Sal, I'm the
only
office manager. Wait. Does this mean you're going to hire someone to help me? Like a junior office manager? Oh, Sal, that would be fantastic!”

“No, there's a hiring freeze. There's no junior anything. I just want to recognize the bang-up job you've done around here and give you a fancier title and some more responsibilities.”

“And more
money,
” Hayley added emphatically.

“Yeah, we can talk about all of that after New Year's. But in the meantime, I just want to bring you up to speed on the senior office manager's duties. Answering phones, handling the classified ads, press releases, obituaries, stuff like that.”

“I already do all of that, Sal.”

“Oh, and, of course, the senior office manager is in charge of the annual Christmas party.”

“Hold on, Sal—”

“Congratulations, Hayley!”

“Now, wait just a minute—”

“I don't expect anything too elaborate, given the fact the party's tomorrow night.”

“Your wife always plans the Christmas party. What's changed?”

“Nothing. I just feel that it should be up to you as senior office manager to decide what we do for the party. I'm giving you free rein. Anything you want to do.”

“Sal . . .”

“Okay, we've been fighting a lot lately. She let her lazy college dropout nephew move in with us for a few days to, in his words, ‘get his head together. ' Well, that was six weeks ago and it's put a real strain on our marriage. We've barely been speaking to each other. Last week, when I asked her how the party preparations were going, she told me to go straight to hell. So I figured I would handle it, because—let's face it—how hard can it be? But then it just kind of slipped my mind and I was just checking my calendar and realized—”

“Senior office manager? Really, Sal? Is that what you chose to go with in order to lay this whole party off on me?”

“I really do value you and what you do around here, Hayley. If I could make you a senior vice president of whatever, I would. I would do anything to keep you happy, but newspapers aren't what they used to be, and our online traffic has been down ever since the
Herald
became Bar Harbor's answer to
TMZ,
focusing on sleazy town gossip, and basically doubled their readership in four months. . . .”

“You're really going to stick me with planning the Christmas party at the very last minute, Sal?”

Sal took a deep breath and then let out a whoosh of air. “No, you're right. It's not fair to place the burden on you. This was my screwup. I'll handle it. I'll just cancel the party this year. I'm sure everyone will understand.”

Sal lowered his head and slinked away.

Before he left the front office, Hayley stopped him. “Sal, wait. Okay, you win. I will take over the party. I've heard great things about Garth Rawlings. He catered a dinner party I attended a few months ago and his food was delicious. Maybe he can whip up a few hors d'oeuvres for us at the last minute.”

“Whatever you think is best, Hayley. I trust you. Just make sure everybody has a good time, since the Christmas bonuses are going to be so low this year,” Sal said before escaping to his office.

That's just what Hayley did not want to hear—a paltry Christmas bonus.

She was counting on a decent amount in order to pay off her credit card bills and maybe have a few dollars left over to get her hair done in case she was invited to a swanky New Year's Eve party.

A girl can dream, can't she?

She glanced at the clock: almost noon. She had thirty hours to pull together a memorable Christmas party. If anyone could deliver mouthwatering holiday treats, it was Garth Rawlings. Why he didn't have his own show on the Food Network was a mystery.

Hayley reached for the phone just as it rang. She picked up the receiver. “
Island Times,
this is Hayley.”

“Hayley, this is Tilly over at the hospital. I'm afraid I have some bad news.”

“Oh, God, what? Is it one of my kids?”

“No, oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's okay. Nobody died. There's just been an accident.”

Hayley gasped. “One of my kids? Which one? What happened?”

“No, your kids are fine. Boy, I really should have thought this through before I called you. My gut told me to stay out of it and now I know my gut was right because I've upset you, and—”

“Tilly, please tell me who's been hurt!”

“Lex Bansfield.”

“What?”

“They just brought him in. Apparently, he was hanging garland from a streetlamp at the corner of Cottage and Main. He slipped and fell off his ladder. They think he may have a broken collarbone, and his right leg was twisted and all banged up. Well, I know you two have been on the outs—”

“We're not on the outs, Tilly. We just don't see each other anymore.”

“Yes, well, he's all alone here, and I don't know why I thought to call you and let you know because my gut told me not to. . . .”

“I know all about your gut, Tilly. I'm glad you called me. I'm on my way.”

Hayley slammed down the phone, jumped up from her desk, grabbed her winter jacket off the coatrack, and flew out the door with one thought in her mind.

Lex was injured and she had to be by his bedside.

Chapter 4

By the time Hayley got home from the hospital, it was already approaching the dinner hour; she had yet to even think about what she would serve her kids. Leroy, her adorable white Shih Tzu, with a pronounced underbite and boundless energy, greeted her at the door, with his tail wagging. Blueberry, her recently adopted cat, an oversize Persian fur ball, with an infinite amount of attitude, was sitting menacingly in the hallway just off the kitchen. With his tail flapping up and down, he glared at Hayley, perturbed his own dinner had yet to be served.

As she yanked open the refrigerator to take a quick inventory, Gemma came bounding down the stairs, squealing with delight. Blueberry skittered out of the way just in time to avoid Gemma's sneaker nearly crushing his tail. Gemma raced into the kitchen, her arms waving in the air.

“Mom! Mom! You're never going to believe what just happened!”

“What?”

Gemma stopped suddenly, a disappointed look on her face.

“You mean that wasn't a rhetorical question? You actually want me to guess?”

Gemma nodded.

“Um, okay. You got an A on your geometry test.”

“No. Come on, Mom. Be serious. Guess something that's, like, actually in the realm of possibility. By the way, I flunked it and you have to sign the test to acknowledge I showed you the score, and I have to take it again next week before the Christmas break. Now guess again.”

“You flunked? Gemma, if you ever want to get into vet school, you're going to have to do better. . . .”

“Stay on topic, please, okay, Mom?”

“Fine. But we're not finished discussing that test. Okay. Let me think. That cute boy in gym class that you've been texting all of your friends about finally asked you out on a date.”

“No. And thanks for reminding me about his total lack of interest in me. Good job, Mom. Now I'm completely depressed. Way to go.”

“Okay, you know what? I'm not going to guess anymore. Why don't you just tell me?”

“Reverend Staples called a few minutes ago and he's decided to cast
me
in the Congregational Church's Nativity play. I tried out for one of the Three Wise Men, but he didn't think I was right for that part.”

“He probably saw your geometry test.”

“Just kidding. So, who are you going to play?”

“The Virgin Mary!”

“Gemma, that's fantastic. I'm so proud of you!”

Hayley hugged her daughter tightly.

“Mary's, like, one of the leading roles!” Gemma shrieked. “The show is totally centered around her. She's the most important character in the whole play.”

“Well, yes, honey, but God and the baby Jesus are pretty critical too in the scheme of things.”

“What are you talking about? They have no lines! I have pages and pages of dialogue I have to start memorizing. I just hope they get someone really hot to play Joseph.”

Gemma sailed back out of the kitchen and up the stairs, nearly plowing over Blueberry again. He had ventured gingerly back into the hallway, still annoyed that his ceramic bowl, with kitty paw prints on it, was still not filled with food.

Hayley went to the cupboard and foraged for some special-diet canned cat food when the back door to the kitchen swung open and Aaron walked in, rubbing his hands to warm up from the cold.

Hayley smiled at the sight of him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work late.”

“I was supposed to neuter Alma Henderson's Maine coon cat at five-thirty, but he somehow got out the back screen door and ran away before she could get him into the pet carrier. Probably knew what was coming and got the hell out of Dodge.”

Hayley laughed. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“I was thinking of taking you and the kids out for pizza at Geddy's.”

“Well, Dustin's having dinner over at Spanky's house, and Gemma is confined to her room cramming for a makeup geometry test, but she doesn't know it yet. I've got some leftover meat loaf and makings for a side salad she can have.”

“Perfect. You prepare that for her and I'll call and make a reservation at Portofino for two. Candlelight dinner. Bottle of wine. I'll even let you spoon-feed me the tiramisu.”

“Now that's quite an upgrade from pizza.”

“Sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful. Oh, wait. I have a meeting later tonight, around nine, with Garth Rawlings, the caterer. I'm going to hire him to prepare a few appetizers for our office Christmas party tomorrow night and wanted to go over everything with him at his office.”

“Okay, so we skip the tiramisu. But the bottle of wine is nonnegotiable.”

“Deal.”

He kissed Hayley on the lips. “You smell so good.”

“That's probably just the wild cherry Little Trees air freshener I hung from my rearview mirror this morning.”

“Don't kill the mood,” Aaron said, tickling her with his hands.

Hayley chortled and tried to pull his hands away, but he was having too much fun. He tickled her some more until her whole body was spasming. Then he locked his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, kissing her again, just as the phone rang. After it rang several times, it became abundantly clear Gemma had no intention of answering it from upstairs.

“Be just a minute,” Hayley said, reluctantly extricating herself from Aaron's grip and picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hayley?”

She instantly recognized the voice.

Lex Bansfield.

“Lex, how are you doing?”

Aaron bristled just a bit at hearing Lex's name. He was acutely aware of Hayley's past history with him.

“My pride's hurt more than anything else. I just wanted to thank you for stopping by to see me this afternoon. It meant a lot,” Lex said.

“Of course. When I heard you were hurt, I knew I had to see you to make sure you're okay. Is there something you need?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Lex?”

“I'm kind of embarrassed to ask. I know how busy you are.”

“You know you can ask me anything, Lex.”

“I had a bit of a tantrum earlier here at the hospital. Not proud of it. It was about the food they tried to serve me for dinner. Some rancid piece of overcooked meat and a tiny cup of something they called ‘vegetable medley' made up of cold peas and stale carrots. Oh, and green Jell-O. Can you believe it, Hayley? Green Jell-O? Seriously, I haven't eaten crap like that since the third grade. I sent it all back to the kitchen and now I'm starving. Guess I didn't think things through.”

“Do you want me to pick something up for you at the Shop 'n Save and bring it over to you?”

“Actually, I remember you keep cartons of your homemade turkey chili in the freezer out in your garage, and I was hoping, if you weren't too busy . . .”

“You know I completely forgot about that.”

“I still dream about that chili.”

“Well, I can defrost some in the microwave and bring it over to you in about a half hour.”

Hayley glanced at Aaron, who was quickly summing up the situation in his mind and was frowning.

Hayley averted her eyes. “Hang on. I'll be there soon.”

“Hayley, I know I'm not your responsibility, and I probably shouldn't even be calling you, since we're no longer—”

“We're friends, Lex, and I don't want to hear another word.”

Hayley hung up.

“You're going to make him dinner?”

“No! Just warm up some of my chili. It's already made. I feel bad for him, Aaron. He's laid up in the hospital, and you know how awful the food is there. It's not like he has any dietary restrictions, so I thought it would be a nice thing to do.”

“Well, I'll go with you to the hospital, and after you drop off the chili, we can go to dinner.”

“Then we'll be rushed because I have to meet Garth at nine.”

“Another time, then,” Aaron said, turning to leave.

“Aaron . . .”

Aaron turned back around. “No, it's fine, Hayley. Really. I get it. He's your friend. I have no problem with you doing him a favor. No problem at all.”

Nice words. But his face, however, told an entirely different story.