Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (19 page)

Ted looked ready to blow, and he clenched his jaw. "Don’t put words in my mouth." He blew out a breath. "And don’t treat me like an idiot. I know you, Scotti. If you were hanging out with Zee and forgot the time, you would’ve called or texted. I wouldn’t be pulling anything out of you, and we wouldn’t be fighting right now."

I dropped my spoon in the bowl. "All right, over-protective husband, you want to know what I was doing? I was with Joe visiting my mother’s grave." The sight of the chili made me wretch, and I carried the bowl to the sink. "Okay?" I turned around and stared at him. "Satisfied?"

Ted dropped his chin to his chest. "Oh."

I pulled Rose’s picture out of my bag and put it down on the butcher block in front of him. "I was going to tell you later. It’s just hard to talk about." I started blubbering. "And my damn hormones make me cry about everything." I wiped my eyes with the napkin. "I’m so tired of crying over nothing."

Ted stared at the photo then looked at me. "So Rose really is your mother?" I nodded. He pulled me next to him and held me. "Don't cry, babe. I’m sorry I jumped on you." He wiped my tears. "But the three of you guys are always on my mind, you know? And I’m still a rookie at this husband, daddy thing."

I leaned into him. "I should’ve told you. It just took me by surprise — Joe didn’t give me any warning. We just went there." I picked up the snapshot of Rose and stared at it. "I look like her, don’t I?"

Ted put his arm around me. "Yeah, just like her."

The chili churned in my stomach, and I wanted lie down. I put the photo away then said, "I’m so tired, let’s go to bed."

While I cleaned up, Ted rooted out Boomer, who was trapped in the backyard hydrangea bush. I wrapped him in his blanket and held him until he stopped trembling. Ted secured the house, and we all went upstairs to bed. Ordinarily, I’d have made Boomer sleep in his bed in the kitchen, but it was his first night, and he was traumatized by the flowers, so he snuggled at my feet, under the covers.

Ted and I lay together in the dark and listened to each other breathe. "Rose was killed when I was four years old."

Ted hugged me and kissed the top of my head. "I’m sorry, honey."

"She didn’t abandon me. Somebody did take me."

Ted switched on the bedside lamp. "Then left you at a church? Why?"

"I don’t know." I turned and faced him. "Doesn’t make sense, does it? But Rose tried to find me. She did her best."

Ted stroked my cheek. "I’m sure she did."

"She didn’t throw me away." I lay my head on his chest. "She loved me." Ted rubbed my back and kept quiet. "If something happened to me, you’d raise our kids, right?"

Ted tipped up my chin. "Don’t say that. Nothing’s going to happen to you."

"Things happen. You don’t expect them, but they happen anyway."

"Of course I’d raise our kids."

"You wouldn’t give them to Melinda? Or somebody else? You’d raise them?"

"Scotti…"

I sat up and looked into his eyes. "I want to know that they’ll be okay. That they’ll grow up with at least one of us. That I loved them. Promise me, you’ll never let anyone else raise our kids."

Ted nodded. "I swear."

I lay down again and pulled his arms tight around me. "Good. Okay. And we need to write a will. Name guardians for the kids. Make sure that they’ll be taken care of — if anything happens."

Ted held me for a while then said, "What exactly happened to Rose?"

"She was killed during a robbery in the restaurant where she worked." I smiled sadly. "She was a waitress and a cook — like me."

Ted stroked my cheek. "Is that why you think something might happen to you? Because of what happened to her?" He kissed me. "Your life isn’t like Rose’s was — nothing’s going to happen to you."

I shook my head. "No, that’s not it. I don’t want what happened to me to happen our kids. I don’t want them growing up without love."

He pulled me closer and whispered. "I’ll never let that happen to our kids. I swear."

I fell asleep thinking of Rose and the little yellow blanket. I wanted to believe that on some level I knew the blanket was a link to my mother. That it had kept us connected when life had torn us apart. Joe and I would try to find justice for Rose. I promised her I’d make things right somehow — wondering how I could keep such a promise.

Thanksgiving week was so hectic for the food truck that Thanksgiving Day was merely a pause in the action. Lots of food. Lots of people. With a football game or parade constantly playing in the background. I fell asleep on the sofa in the family room before dinner. I fell asleep on the sofa in the family room after dinner. I fell asleep on the drive home. So yeah, I slept through Thanksgiving.

Melinda sent us home with plenty of leftovers, so on Friday morning Ted and I had Thanksgiving dinner for breakfast. Zelda and I were heading out later that afternoon to start our Black Friday weekend adventure. Our plan was to work two to ten Friday, Saturday and Sunday, then close the business until New Year’s.

Over-protective husband scowled at me. "I’m going with you then."

I poured more gravy on my mashed potatoes and turkey. "Negative Captain."

He waved his fork at me like a bayonet. "Try and stop me."

I smirked. "What are you going to do, strap yourself to the roof? There are only two seats on the truck."

He narrowed his eyes. "I’ll ride in the back."

"Can’t do it. Against regulations." Although, a lot of food truckers ignored that regulation — including me. "You want us to get cited?"

"Then I’ll drive."

I savored a mouthful of Melinda’s stuffing. "What’ll we do with Zelda?"

"She can stay home."

I shook my head. "She’s already finagled the month of December off." I speared a chunk of turkey. "If I’m working, she’s working."

Ted huffed and puffed, tapped his fingers and twisted his lips. "There’s no law that says you have to work Thanksgiving weekend."

I speared a chunk of sweet potato. "This ain’t about the law, it’s about the biggest shopping weekend of the year. I want a piece of that." I shrugged. "Besides, I can’t change it now. Our schedule is posted on the website. If people show up and we’re not there, it’ll screw with our rep."

"So what?"

I pounded my fist on the counter top. "So what? Would you say that about your own business? Hell no, you wouldn’t. How many times have you gone in and stayed all night long because your dispatcher didn’t show up? Or you were short a driver? All those weekends I stayed home alone because you were working?" I glared at him. "Did I tell you to blow it off?"

He creased a brow. "I wasn’t pregnant."

I rubbed my forehead in exasperation. "You can’t play the pregnancy card on everything."

He puffed up his chest. "Sure I can."

I groaned. "What are you going to do? Lock me in the house until I give birth?" I shook my head. "Forget it, that ain’t happening my friend. My life doesn’t stop because I’m having a baby."

"Two babies."

I snorted. "From the looks of it, it’s three babies. I already have one sitting across from me." I forked a glob of gravy-soaked dressing. "We both have businesses. We’re both bosses. We both have to do what we have to do." I waved my fork at him. "And that’s just how it is — deal with it."

Ted threw up his hands. "Okay, fine."

"Fine?"

He nodded, staring at his plate. We ate the rest of our meal in silence. Cleaned our plates. Ted had seconds. Then I rinsed and racked the plates. Ted slid off his stool, stretched and yawned. "I’m going to watch the game."

I stared at the kitchen door long after Ted left the room. It wasn’t like him to give up — especially when he was on the future daddy train. If he had his way, I’d never leave the house, live on bon-bons and weigh 300 pounds by the time I gave birth.

Zelda came in through the back door. "Hey partner."

I sighed. "You ready for this?"

Zelda nodded. "Yeah." She laughed. "It’s going to be a bitch. What are we thinking?"

I unlocked the pantry, and we started pulling out pies. "Who said we were thinking?" We stocked the truck to capacity and then some. "You think we’ll last until ten?"

Zelda shrugged. "We can only carry as much as we can carry."

Ted was still pouting and staring at the television when I kissed him goodbye. He had a game to watch and knew how to order pizza, so I figured he’d get over it. And once I was underfoot for a whole month, I wondered how long it would be before he begged me to go back to work.

<<>>

Our strategy was to keep the route local — northern Glendale, Burbank, Sunland and Sylmar. We wanted to hit as many shopping areas as possible with a minimum of drive time. First, we stopped at all the big grocery stores and box stores. The parking lots were huge, the security was light and we were thronged by hungry shoppers even though we parked at the back. By six, our stock was reduced by half.

Our final stop was a big shopping center in Burbank with major discount, electronics and home improvement stores. We waited until dark because security would be concentrated at the front of the lot and our lime green truck wouldn’t draw attention at night. Word got out quickly, and both of us worked the window, trying to keep up. By seven, we were out of everything — including business cards. My little heart thrummed. The Thanksgiving weekend blitz was a brilliant idea. One I intended to repeat the following year.

I was home by eight, and at least one person was happy to see me. After Boomer stopped trembling, I set him down, fed him then ventured out to the living room to find the big dog.

The TV blared while Ted snored on the sofa. With one leg propped on the coffee table, arms above his head and hanging over the side of the sofa, he was the picture of the modern cave man. I switched off the TV and covered him with a throw. Cold pizza, empty beer bottles and dirty napkins were scattered on the coffee table, and I swept all of it into a trash bag. Boomer watched from his perch on Ted’s chest — his wagging stub brushing Ted’s chin. When I started for the kitchen, Ted said, "You’re home early."

I turned back to my stretching and blinking husband. "Hi."

He sat up and held out his arms. "Come here."

I put down the trash bag and went to him. "Still mad at me?"

Ted put his arms around me and squeezed. "How’d it go?"

I beamed. "Great! We ran out of everything."

"Going back out tomorrow?"

"That’s the plan."

He sighed and rested his chin on my head. "But you’re taking December off, right?"

"We are officially closed for the whole month of December."

He raised a brow. "So the baking lessons for Matt is just a casual thing?"

I wriggled out of his arms. "Oh, so this was a set-up?"

"You’re supposed to take the month off."

"It’s baking lessons for cripes sake. Here, at home." I pinched his cheek. "That’s what you wanted isn’t it? For me to be home?" Ted frowned. "You didn’t build me that kitchen so I could sit around and look at it, did you?"

He pulled my feet into his lap. "Stubborn, stubborn woman." He took off my shoes and socks and massaged my feet. "So pretty but so stubborn."

I groaned — Ted knew his way around a sore foot. "I can’t sit around and do nothing. I’ll go crazy."

Ted switched to my other foot. "So you’ll be home and baking all day? That’s not taking it easy."

The more Ted massaged my foot, the more I slid down the sofa. "Not all day. Not even every day. A few hours a week." I nudged him with my foot. "Besides, you’ll get all the rejects to take to work. Your crew will love you." I pulled my foot away and struggled to sit up — my belly already getting in the way of ordinary things. "Matt wants to learn and I want to teach him." I laughed. "I bake anyway, whether there’s a reason to or not. So why all the fuss?"

Ted looked at me for a long moment. "I’m not trying to be a controlling prick."

I nodded. "I’m not trying to be a stubborn bitch."

Ted slid over and put his arm around me. "Okay, we’ll work on it."

"Yeah, we’ll work on it."

The Black Friday weekend blitz was a huge success, but it kicked my ass, and I didn’t crawl out of bed until noon on Monday. Ted was working, Boomer was happily chasing squirrels in the backyard, and Zelda was on her way to LAX with Eric for their ski vacation. And I felt lonely.

I scowled at my reflection in the mirror. Nothing fit and I was down to three outfits, if you could call them that. I cycled through the same sweaters and baggy sweatpants every week. "Face it Scotti, you’re pregnant."

Up until that moment being pregnant was more like a romantic notion. Gurgling, cooing babies dressed in matching onesies, never crying and never needing a diaper change would just one day appear in the nursery. In some future dream world, I’d have two adorable four-year-olds whom I’d teach to bake and take on food truck runs. We’d make little uniforms for them and take pictures to be used in our promo. Ted, the kiddies and I would live happily ever after with a competent, cultured but very unattractive nanny. But in the meantime, I could ignore the fact that I was growing two clown-footed, big-headed baby Jordans and live life as I always had.