Jeremiah dropped Penelope’s hand and laughed. “That’s your mission. Not only the food, but how it was made. That way we can really experience the time, from the inside, moving outward.”
Penelope stammered, “We can do that.” Her voice cracked a bit, but her gaze held his firmly. “We’ll research it.”
“There are lots of cookbooks in the boathouse, from every decade you’ll need. Hopefully they will give you some good ideas.”
Penelope rubbed her thumb against her palm in her lap, still feeling the impression on her skin from his strong grasp. “I can do some online research, find some articles about how people entertained.”
Thomas’ fork paused mid-air. “There is a library in town. They have a few computers.”
“How far away is that?” Francis asked quickly.
Jeremiah chuckled. “Not too far. Half hour up the road.”
Francis visibly deflated in his seat. He finished the wine in his glass, then grabbed the half-full bottle in front of him to refill it.
“That will be an adjustment for us,” Penelope said. “We usually do our food ordering, report payroll to production, menu plan, you know...pretty much everything, all online.”
Jeremiah leaned back in his chair. “We’re production. You’ll be submitting handwritten reports like everyone else on the team. And you won’t be doing big food orders, having products trucked in from who knows where. Everything you prepare for us will be sourced locally, either out of our garden here or through the local businesses in Micklesburg, or our neighboring local farms. And the lake you’ll be sleeping over,” he nodded at the windows and the blackness beyond, “has some of the best trout you can catch in the country. You’ll have access to the boats and fishing gear.”
“Fishing?” Lewis asked. He took another gulp of wine.
“You don’t fish?” Jeremiah asked.
“Never in my life,” Lewis responded. “I can cook any kind of fish you give me, though.”
“Where are you from?” Thomas asked.
“Downtown Baltimore,” Lewis said, sitting up taller.
“Some of the best seafood in the country comes from there,” Thomas said.
“That’s true,” Lewis said with a laugh. His eyes were glassy in the light, Penelope couldn’t decide if it was amusement or exhaustion from traveling.
“Okay,” Thomas said, raising his arms in the air. “Bright and early, we’re going fishing. These young chefs are going to see what it’s like to catch what they cook.”
“Wait,” Penelope said. “We have to get organized, prepare for the rest of the crew arriving.”
“Not a problem,” Thomas said. “I’ll have them back by first light.”
“I get seasick,” Tama said quietly. “Do I have to go?”
“No, you don’t,” Penelope said. “Lewis, you and Francis can go fishing. Tama and I will head into Micklesburg and maybe some of the surrounding farms and introduce ourselves.”
“Perfect,” Jeremiah said. “I like how you think on your feet, Penelope.”
Penelope gave him a halfhearted smile and picked up her wine glass.
“You’re going to use modern cameras and sound equipment, right?” Arlena asked. “Not antiques.” Nervous laughter filled the room.
Jeremiah chuckled. “Yes, state of the art. But, newly designed to be more environmentally friendly. And the boat these guys are going out on is brand new, top of the line.”
“That’s a relief,” Arlena said. She and Nadia shared a glance and laughed.
“I’m not trying to make life hard on any of you,” Jeremiah said. “My intention is to capture a mood and translate that to film for the audience to experience.”
Penelope continued to watch Arlena and Nadia, who were whispering to one another behind Nadia’s napkin. Her eyes wandered over to Nevan, who to her surprise was gazing at her.
“Have you done this before? Consulting on a movie?” Penelope asked him.
He shook his head. “I’m a professor at the university. Jeremiah contacted me after reading a book I wrote on twentieth-century American sport, tennis in particular. I’m excited to see what a real film set is like.”
Penelope looked at the brothers at each end of the table and said, “I can tell already this is going to be a new experience for me too.”
Chapter 16
The next morning Penelope and Tama drove to the small town of Micklesburg, Vermont, in the Jeep. Thomas had given them general directions and encouraged them to take their time to discover more of the area. As promised, Lewis and Francis had gotten up before dawn and were still out fishing on the lake.
Tama had her eyes closed and her face tilted toward the sun as they hummed along the road.
“Did you sleep okay?” Penelope asked.
“Yes,” Tama replied. “It’s so peaceful on the lake.”
Penelope hadn’t slept as well as she would’ve liked. Unfamiliar noises and the sound of rushing water from the lake roused her a few times during the night. A loud splash from what must have been a fish jumping out of the water woke her one time. After she’d dozed off the croaking of a frog woke her yet again. She was convinced the frog was in the room, but then realized it was just outside the open window, which thankfully had a screen. Penelope had gotten up and pulled it closed, shivering slightly. The air had cooled dramatically from the time they’d arrived to when they’d gone to bed. Tama hadn’t moved once during the night, lying motionless on her side, only the sounds of very faint breathing coming from beneath her comforter.
“I’m a city girl,” Penelope said. “Although I’ve been spending more time in the country lately with work.”
“I’m from upstate New York,” Tama said. “I grew up hiking in the woods, vacationing in spots like this. My home town is a lot like here, actually, maybe a few more people. I guess it’s what I’m used to.”
“You don’t miss being able to use your phone?” Penelope asked.
“No,” Tama said. She pulled an ancient looking flip phone from the pocket of her windbreaker. “I only keep one on me so my parents can reach me if there’s an emergency.”
“You might be the only person under twenty-five I’ve heard say that,” Penelope said, shouting over the wind. They picked up speed as they headed down the steep mountain toward Micklesburg.
Tama shrugged. “I suppose. I just want to be in the kitchen, make the best food I can.”
“What do you like to do for fun when you’re not working?” Penelope asked.
Tama shrugged and smiled. “I read, hike, enjoy the quiet of nature.”
Penelope nodded and slowed the Jeep to take the next turn. “What about friends?”
“We’re all busy,” Tama said. “Look at me. I’m staying in a remote lake cottage in Vermont. Most of my friends from cooking school got jobs in kitchens, in cities across the country, mostly working long hours.”
“But they’re home at the end of the day,” Penelope said.
“I got the better gig, if you ask me,” Tama said confidently.
“I think you did too. But I might be a little biased.”
Penelope pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of a large barn-shaped building with a carved wooden sign over the door that read Micklesburg Market.
Tama slid a dog-eared cookbook from her knapsack and flipped through the glossy pages, some of them sticking together from food residue. “I grabbed this book from the boat house. Looks like it was well used back in the day. There are a few ideas in here we might want to try, put a modern twist on an old classic. I think it’s from the sixties.”
Penelope eyed the book. The faded cover featured a woman in an apron holding a tray of deviled eggs. Everything from her dress, to the kitchen behind her and the lettering was in different shades of orange.
“Nice find,” Penelope said. “Today’s goal is
to set up the shopping and find out where we can bring product in. In an environmentally friendly way, of course.”
Penelope handed Tama a handwritten list she’d jotted that morning in the kitchen over coffee and tucked another one into her jacket pocket as they exited the Jeep.
When Penelope and Tama entered the market, they wandered in opposite directions. Tama headed toward the produce section while Penelope walked to the front of the store. A young girl stood behind the counter, flipping through a magazine behind a display case of energy bars near the register.
“Good morning,” Penelope said.
The girl glanced up from the counter. “Morning.”
“I’m part of a local filming crew, on the catering team. We might be using your market to stock our kitchen, so it’s possible we’ll be here quite a bit in the next couple of months.”
The girl stared at Penelope, a bored expression on her face. “Filming crew? Nice. Help yourself, I guess.”
“So, is there a manager or someone I can talk to?” Penelope asked.
The girl pointed languidly toward the back of the store. “In the office. Dairy section.” She looked back down, returning to her magazine.
Penelope strolled toward where the girl had pointed. A wooden door was tucked in the corner. The words “STAFF ONLY” were hand printed in red marker and taped crookedly. Underneath someone had scrawled the words “Enter at your own risk” in ballpoint pen, which caused Penelope to chuckle under her breath.
Just behind the door she heard a man’s voice, having a one-sided conversation. Penelope assumed the manager was on the phone and didn’t want to interrupt him, so she decided she’d wait for him to finish his call before she knocked. Penelope pulled open a glass refrigerator case door and felt the cool air rush out as she glanced at an unfamiliar milk label on a row of glass bottles. Plucking one out, she studied it closer. The label was a drawing of a black cow in the middle of a green field, the words Hefheiser Farms in scripted type beneath it. Penelope stared at the cow, remembering the green fields and black cows they’d driven past the day before on the way to the lake. She turned the bottle around and nodded, seeing the milk was indeed from a local farm, in the town they’d driven through to get to their new set.
“Check off the dairy box,” Penelope said. “Can’t get more locally sourced than this.”
Loud voices from the front of the store startled her and she looked back toward the register. Two young men were talking loudly to each other, joking about something. The young girl at the register stood up and turned to watch them, her arms crossed at her chest, the same bored look on her face.
Penelope took a few steps closer and saw another young man standing just outside the front door, which was propped open to let in the morning breeze. He was leaning against the frame, his back to the store, a phone held up to his ear. Suddenly Penelope’s vision brightened, and the side of his face seemed to glow. She squinted and took a step, eyeing the boy’s jawline as he spoke. A twitch and a smile caused her mind to skip back to the boy outside of Sonya’s, their faces melting into one right in front of her eyes.
Penelope sucked in a sharp breath, then another. Her heart began to pound and she breathed even harder. The floor shifted beneath her feet and she broke out in a sweat, despite the coolness of the air.
The glass bottle of milk slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor at her feet. The store around her began to spin, then turned to black as Penelope fell, fighting to catch her breath.
Chapter 17
“Chef!” Tama’s voice came to her in waves, getting louder as she came to. “Chef,” Tama urged. “What happened?”
Penelope focused on the wood floor slats she was now sitting on, the pool of milk at her feet. Her heart was still pounding, but her breath had slowed. She concentrated on filling her lungs slowly, then exhaling as her vision regained focus.
“Chef,” Tama said, more panicked this time.
Penelope looked at Tama, then put a hand on her shoulder. She was sitting on the floor, her back pressed to the refrigerator door and Tama had squatted down next to her.
“What’s going on?” A man emerged from the office door and hurried to Penelope. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure what happened,” Penelope said thickly. “I thought I saw someone I recognized.” Her eyes darted to the front of the store, but she couldn’t see the door from her seated position.
“Come on, let’s get you up,” Tama said, lacing her arm behind Penelope and urging her to her feet.
“Yeah, thanks,” Penelope said foggily. Tama pulled her to a standing position with the help of the store manager, each of them on one side of her.
When she was back upright, Penelope saw the cashier from the front of the store staring at her from the aisle, with the three boys who were now all inside watching her silently in a loose circle.
“Cheri,” the man said gruffly, “stop staring at the lady and help, will you?”
Cheri blushed and she turned around, ushering the others away from the aisle so Penelope could pass through.
“Do you need an ambulance?” the man asked. He was short and solid, his arm under Penelope’s hand thick and muscular.
“No,” Penelope said quickly. “I just got dizzy there for a minute. I’ll be okay.” She shot a glance at the boys who were pretending not to watch her walk to the counter and a strange weightless feeling slipped over her again. None of them looked familiar to her, they weren’t the boys from the attack at Sonya’s. Penelope’s cheeks blushed as she pushed down her embarrassment. “Sorry about the milk. I’ll pay for it, of course.”
The manager waved her off. He was dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt. He didn’t have a nametag and Penelope realized she just assumed he was in charge. “It’s nothing. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”
Cheri pulled a wooden stool from behind the counter and offered it to Penelope, who smiled gratefully. Penelope closed her eyes and took a few breaths.
“Okay, we’ve all seen enough,” the man said. “You boys go about your business now.”
The three young men shuffled away from the counter, heading further into the store to finish their shopping.
Penelope opened her eyes and smiled weakly at the man. “I’m really sorry.”
The man put a burly hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “It’s nothing. Honestly.” Tama looked at her with concern.
“Tama,” Penelope said, clearing her throat, “go ahead and get the stuff on the lists. I’m going to rest a bit.” She pulled out the one from her pocket and handed it to her.
“Sure,” Tama said.
“I’m Penelope Sutherland,” she said after Tama had stepped away. “We’re staying up at the Truegood house for the next few weeks.”
“Oh yeah,” the man said. “I heard the Truegoods were in town, making a movie up at the house.”
“Right,” Penelope said. “So we’ll be coming to you for some things. At least a couple times a week to stock the kitchen. I was hoping we could talk, figure out the best way that will work for both of us.”
“Sure,” the man said. “We can help with delivery, bring whatever you need up the mountain.”
“Oh, that sounds great. I’m sorry,” Penelope said. “What was your name?”
“Oh,” the man laughed. “Nate Hefheiser. This is my family’s store.”
Penelope remembered the milk bottle’s label. “Are you part of Hefheiser Farm, too?”
“That’s us,” Nate said, smiling. “Fourth generation dairy farmer, at your service.”
“Nice to meet you,” Penelope said. She slid a foot down to the floor and tested her strength before rising up to shake his hand. “Sorry to make such a dramatic first impression.”
Nate laughed. The lines in his face told her he did that a lot. “There’s plenty more where that came from. You know th
e old saying about spilt milk.”
Penelope laughed and rolled her eyes. “I must not have had enough for breakfast. I’ve never fainted before.”
“Let me get you something to eat,” Nate said.
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble,” Penelope said.
“Wait here,” Nate said as he turned to go.
“So you’re really working on a movie set?” Cheri said from behind the counter. Penelope forgot the girl had been standing there.
Penelope cleared her throat and nodded. Cheri appeared about to say something else but didn’t as the boys approached the counter. They took turns laying down items in front of her, similar in their combination of tastes: chips, sodas, and energy drinks. The last young man seemed to linger, smiling shyly at Cheri as she counted out his change. Penelope noticed the other two ribbing him as they left, the back of his neck red from their teasing.
“You know them?” Penelope asked.
“Yeah,” Cheri said shrugging. “From school. But I graduated already.”
“And how about Mr. Hefheiser?”
“He’s my uncle,” Cheri said with another shrug.
“Oh,” Penelope said. Cheri seemed to say the fewest words possible, which didn’t leave much to work with to sustain a conversation.
“Why did you faint?” Cheri asked suddenly.
“I’m not sure,” Penelope said. “I haven’t been sleeping well.” What she really thought was she’d had some kind of flashback that caused her to panic, something that had never happened to her before.
“Your face went totally white. I was watching you,” Cheri said. She turned on her heel abruptly and went to the far end of the counter where she opened a small box and began to sort through a new stack of magazines.
“Here you go, Mrs. Sutherland,” Nate said. He held out a paper plate with a few slices of cheddar cheese and a plum sliced into several pieces. In his hand was a paper cup of what looked like tea. “It’s got some natural honey in it. The sugar in the tea and plum will help set you right, if you’re feeling faint. Tourists come here to climb and ski our big rocks and mountains all the time, but the elevation can mess with your head if you’re not used to it.”
Murder on the Rocks Page 11