Beauty Expos Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  One of the men made a face at Shayla. “Dude, I got band practice this afternoon.”

  She made a face back at him. “Then you better hurry up, huh? Oh my lord, there is so much to do to set up for this thing. Let’s go see if your husband has that espresso ready.”

  My stomach did a drop and I felt myself overreacting. “Oh, he’s not really my husband. . . .”

  Shayla laughed again. “I know. I’m just messin’ with ya. Talk about your Freudian slips, though. I don’t blame you, he’s hot!”

  Gia had the bar up and running. Once Shayla had her cinnamon latte and Gia and I made test lattes for ourselves, it didn’t take long for the smell of fresh-roasted coffee beans to spread. Gia was cranking out espresso drinks for the other vendors for hours while I managed to store all our supplies, hang the banner, and get the cream and sugar station set up for tomorrow’s opening. Every time I tried to lift something heavy, he took it from me. “Bella, I got it.” Once things slowed down and I could leave Gia alone to ring up the sales on the Square, I took a stack of our menus around to hand out to the other vendors and introduce our booth.

  Shayla Rose wasn’t the only skin-care line at the Expo. There was Naked Skin Care, Glow Skin Care, Lolly Korean sheet masks, and every kind of botanical perfume, organic makeup, and sustainable bath product you could imagine. The whole room was overwhelmed with essential oils, and the sickly sweet lavender and smoky sandalwood were competing with our coffee beans. The Radiance Day Spa was setting up a booth, and Mr. Charles had a station to show off his line of organic scalp treatments.

  I turned down the third aisle and came across an unmanned booth over by the room entrance. The table was set up with a green canopy overhead that said Paleo Diva across the front, and on the green tablecloth were brochures promising the Shore’s best Paleo baking. My first instinct was an itchy resentment that there would be two Paleo vendors. Then I told myself I was being ridiculous. What were the odds that we would have the exact same things? Besides, we sell a lot of allergy friendly items in the coffee shop that were not strictly Paleo because I loved butter too much to substitute for it all the time. I decided I would think positive and be excited to meet the other Paleo baker at the Shore. Maybe I’d get some good ideas that I could use in the B&B.

  Gia had found me and was waving me over. “Poppy.” Ooh, that was weird. Gia almost never calls me Poppy. “Vieni, amore mio. It is enough for today. Let’s go.” Amore mio. My heart gave an extra beat that deflated at the end. This time should have been full of romance. Instead it was full of Alex. I didn’t want to cry in front of Gia, so I pushed that thought aside. At least our booth looked cheerful, even if we weren’t feeling it. Tomorrow we’d be here bright and early with baked goods and brave smiles. We gathered up the cash box and the iPad we ran the payments on. Gia told the security guard we were leaving, and we exited out onto the boardwalk. The cool air coming off the ocean felt good after being on the move all day. We stopped for a moment to listen to the surf and the seagulls and let the salt breeze wash over us.

  Gia searched my face. His eyes full of wanting mixed with mischief. “Thank you for today. You are una brava moglie.”

  “What is a moglie?”

  “It means partner.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sì.”

  “Then why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

  Gia winked in response.

  I could tell he was teasing me about something and I was working on a snarky follow up, but we were interrupted when a wiry little woman with corkscrews of golden brown hair charged us and shoved a bright, pink flyer into my hands. “You’ve been warned!” She scuttled off like a hermit crab in purple Crocs, her orange sweater flailing around her.

  “What do you think that was about?”

  Gia pointed to the flyer. “She does not like the doctor.”

  There was a grainy picture of Dr. Lance in front of the Rubinesque Cosmetic Surgery Institute that was probably taken from his website. Someone had added, “Dr. Lance ruins people’s lives. Boycott the Expo.”

  “No, I would say not.”

  We took the ramp off the boardwalk and down to the crosswalk to wait for the light. I nudged Gia’s arm. “Look!” Up and down Beach Avenue, car after car, every windshield, parking meter, and light pole had a bright-pink flyer flapping in the ocean breeze. “We aren’t the only ones who’ve been busy today.”

  CHAPTER 10

  A twenty-foot-tall, inflatable Easter Bunny had taken over my front yard. I stared at it from several angles, hoping that I was imagining things. I had been under a lot of stress lately. And I hadn’t eaten anything all day except for a protein bar, and that was only because Gia insisted on it when I wouldn’t get a salad from the hoagie shop. I was too sad to eat.

  And I was tense. Being alone with Gia all day and not being with him had me feeling like I was being gently electrocuted. I thought I was being cool about everything that was going on with Alex. Then I would hear testy remarks come out of my mouth that I instantly regretted. And now this. Maybe a big wind will kick up tonight and blow that thing down the street.

  Itty Bitty Smitty, my well-meaning handyman, came out of the garage carrying an eight-foot metal pole that was about three feet taller than he was. He gave me a salute. “Hey, Moe! Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!” Smitty had a perpetual Three Stooges episode playing in his head. The biggest shock of my life was when I caught him kissing Georgina, my prissy and genteel, widowed, former mother-in-law last fall. Opposites attract and extreme opposites make out on the wraparound porch under the wind chimes.

  “What’s that pole for? And what’s with Rabbitzilla here?”

  Smitty dropped the T-pole in a hole that I had never noticed. “Ginny wants to hang a bird feeder and smarten up the place for Easter.”

  I pointed to the ground. “How long has that hole been there?”

  “Thirty minutes.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  I looked back at the menacing rabbit in a pink vest. “Is that thing tethered to the ground?”

  “You know it, Boss!”

  “Did you tether it?”

  “Yes indeedy!”

  So, there is hope it will blow away by morning. “Okay. What else does she have you doing?”

  Smitty took off his Eagles cap and scratched his bald head. “I got a box of blue, yellow, and white bunting to drape along the porch and windows. And I gotta swap out the butterfly flag for one with Easter chicks and a cross on it.”

  I sighed. “That sounds tame enough. If she comes up with anything else, run it by me first, okay?”

  Smitty saluted and I saluted back. When I stomped my feet on the welcome mat, Aunt Ginny came running down the hall. “Welcome home, my sweet girl. You look gorgeous today. Did you lose weight?”

  Uh-oh. “What did you do?”

  Aunt Ginny breathed out a laugh. “What . . . nothing . . . really.”

  I looked into the library and two older women waved at me.

  One was short and trim and wore red designer glasses. She had auburn hair with a white-blond swish in the front. She was sitting on the couch reading a romance novel and eating a box of fudge. The other was a bit older, with a cinnamon-brown bob. She was large and broad, with an ample bosom that I imagined made it difficult for her to see the knitting in her lap or Figaro tangled up in the yarn at her feet.

  I stepped into the library. “Oh, hello.”

  Aunt Ginny ducked in next to me to do damage control. “Poppy, this is Rita Bagshaw.” The woman knitting smiled and nodded. “And her sister, Faelynn Archer. They arrived a day early, so I checked them in.” Aunt Ginny gave me a toothy smile and I returned it with eyes so wide you could see my nightmares in them.

  “Welcome, ladies. And how do you like your room?”

  Faelynn answered for them. “Oh, both rooms are just lovely, aren’t they, Rita? I have the Purple Emperor Butterfly Suite. The pillows are gorgeous!”

  Rita cut in as a way of explanation. “I go to s
leep early and she stays up all night with the reading light on, so we learned long ago we prefer our own walls. Ginny was able to switch me to the blue-and-yellow Swallowtail Suite. I prefer a tub.”

  I smiled and nodded to hide the panic I was feeling. “And what brings you two to Cape May?”

  They answered in unison. “Shopping.”

  “Oh, fun. I have a stack of coupons for the Fudge Kitchen and Morrow’s Nut House I can leave on the table by the front door for you, plus a buy-one-get-one-half-off ornament at Winter Wonderland.”

  They both lit up and nodded vigorously.

  “Well, if you need anything at all, let us know.”

  Faelynn put down her book on her lap. “Ginny told us all about the afternoon tea you have on Saturday. We’d love to get a reservation for that.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Aunt Ginny and I backed out of the library. Once we were in the hall we mouthed a silent argument with each other. What are they doing here?

  I don’t know, they just showed up.

  Why didn’t you call me?

  Because I knew you were busy and I thought I could handle it.

  Victory came down the stairs dressed in ripped net stockings, a pink leopard-print miniskirt, and combat boots. She had on an oversize white T-shirt with a skull and roses tied in a knot at the hip. She walked down the hall without giving us a second glance. Figaro darted out of the library with some of Rita Bagshaw’s yarn still wrapped around his middle and followed Victory into the kitchen.

  “I’m not upset, but you put that lady in the Swallowtail Suite and someone else has requested it for the weekend.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll leave early too.”

  “What will we do if they don’t?”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged.

  Victory came out of the kitchen with a can of Dr Pepper and passed us again in the hall. “I am leeving for today. I have punk concert weith new friend. I weill not be here in morning because I weill have flu.” She opened the front door and walked out.

  I gave Aunt Ginny an exasperated look.

  Her face brightened and she upgraded to a whisper, “Well, then, I have good news for you. I hired someone to help out in the kitchen.”

  I pointed to the front door. “Your last hire just called in preemptively hungover.”

  Aunt Ginny took my arm and led me down the hall. “This one will be fine. She’s from around here. She has experience and she bakes like a dream.”

  Now I had ice water running through my veins.

  “Plus, you already know her.”

  What have you done? I peeked around the corner into the kitchen and Oh. My. God.

  Sitting at my banquette, casually drinking a cappuccino made from my precious powder-pink espresso machine, was my high-school nemesis, Joanne Junk. Figaro, the faithless rat, was sitting on the table in front of Joanne, purple yarn dangling from his foot, letting Joanne feed him crumbs from some flaky pastry.

  I pulled Aunt Ginny around the corner before Joanne spotted me. “Have you lost your mind? No way am I working with her. She has always hated me. Don’t you remember that time she filled my locker with jock straps? She has serious issues, Aunt Ginny. You know she still blames me for killing Barbie. Even though the killer had a psychotic breakdown on the stand and confessed.”

  Aunt Ginny rolled her eyes. “You. Are. An elitist snob. Plus, it’s too late. I already hired her. She’s making chocolate croissants for breakfast tomorrow. See, I told you I would help.”

  CHAPTER 11

  That night I did some yoga to destress, followed by a long soak in the tub with a rainbow unicorn bath bomb. Figaro sat on the edge of the tub, trying to make up for his earlier shift in loyalties. I gave him a light splash, so he’d know I was still hurt. When I was done I dressed in Eeyore pajamas and wrapped my hair in rags so I’d have some curls tomorrow. Then I dug out my new Shayla Rose Immortality. I smoothed a little of the cream over my face. It smelled amazing. Like English roses. I really hope that tingling means it’s working and not giving me a blistering allergy. Don’t I have enough going against me right now with Victory and Joanne and Alex? Sirens blared down the street, followed by a loud pop! I ran to the window to throw it open. It was stuck. I set down the Shayla Rose container and banged the top of the sash with the palm of my hand. The window finally slid up and I could stick out my head and see the flashing lights. Down the street from the Sheinbergs, there were two police cars blocking the road like they’d screeched to a stop and were thrown into Park like an episode of Wildest Police Videos. I couldn’t see any cops, but I was mostly relieved that for a change they weren’t at my house.

  My cell phone rang, and the home number flashed up on the screen. “Aunt Ginny? What’s wrong?”

  She cried out, “They shot him!”

  I pulled the window closed and flew down the stairs to the front door. “Shot who? What’s going on?”

  Aunt Ginny was on the front porch with the cordless phone in her hands. “Benjamin Bunny. He’s been the victim of a drive-by.”

  I stepped out onto the porch and looked into the side yard. The giant Rabbitzilla was deflating as fast as my ego when trying on bathing suits in a dressing room. I put my arm around Aunt Ginny. “That’s all right. We can have Smitty come patch him in the morning. Don’t be upset.”

  Aunt Ginny threw herself into me, wailing. “We’re the victims of a hate crime!”

  “I wouldn’t say . . .”

  “Do you really think Smitty can fix him enough to inflate again?”

  I rubbed her back. “Yes, of course.” My eyes slid down the street to the growing number of neighbors gawking at the police presence. “Why don’t we go inside and I’ll call him?”

  Aunt Ginny nodded and tottered her way back inside, heading to her room. It was rare to see her this upset.

  I speed-dialed Smitty. “We have a situation.”

  * * *

  The next morning I moved Figaro off my face so I could check the time on my phone. The alarm was supposed to go off in forty minutes, but I’d been awake for more than an hour already. I lay there, awash with anxiety and shame. I couldn’t tell you why; it was just how I felt. I may as well get up.

  I was looking haggard. There were purple circles under my blue eyes that screamed insomnia, and one of my rags had come loose in the night so I would have a full head of curls minus one obvious flag of auburn limpness mocking me. I plugged in the hot rollers to try to punish the loose shock into a curl before Gia arrived.

  I dressed in stretchy denim jeggings and a peacock-blue T-shirt that would go with the chocolate-colored La Dolce Vita apron once I arrived at the expo. I applied makeup more for damage control than ornamentation at this point. No amount of color corrector and concealer would hide that I hadn’t been sleeping since Alex rolled into town.

  Heavenly smells drifted up the back stairs. I picked out coffee and sausage and buttery pastry. When I popped out of the pantry, Joanne jumped and smacked the counter with her spatula. “Good God, how did you get in there?!”

  I shut the door behind me and pointed to it. “Didn’t you notice the spiral stairs in there?”

  Joanne made a face much like I did when I found the jock straps in my locker. “No, I was only in there for a second to see the preserves.”

  “Well, they go up to my bedroom on the third floor.”

  Joanne gave a half shrug. “Whatever. I’m not going up there.”

  Figaro had followed his cake-sniffing nose down ahead of me and was eating a few scraps of meat from his crystal pedestal bowl.

  Joanne pointed the spatula toward him. “That is for him to eat out of, isn’t it? It’s nicer than everything in my house.”

  “Yes, that’s his lordship’s mush bowl. It’s a long story, but let’s just say he refuses to adjust back down to paper plates.” I looked in the large sauté pan to see what she was working on. “Something smells good. What is that?”

  I can’t repeat what Joanne s
aid she was putting “on a shingle,” but suffice it to say we also call it creamed chip beef on toast.

  “I also have pain au chocolat in the oven and a single-origin Brazil in the carafe. Hey! My eyes are up here.”

  I flicked my eyes up to meet hers, then back down to her chest again. “What the heck is on your shirt? It looks like a cat in outer space playing a giant taco piano with pizzas flying around.”

  Joanne looked down her neckline. “Yeah, so?”

  She also had on gray sweatpants and neon-green sneakers, but all things considered, no one would notice those.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee while keeping one eye glued to Joanne’s shirt. The cat’s eyes were following me. “So, we’re going to have to discuss the afternoon tea. I’ve already got recipes for the scones and hot cross buns that I’ve been working on for days. And I’m thinking about a chocolate sandwich with sweet mascarpone cheese and cherry preserves. If I give you a recipe, do you think you could make me the chocolate bread if I run out of time?”

  Joanne covered her cream chipped beef and gave me a sidelong glance. “If you give me a recipe, I’ll quit. I know what I’m doing in here. And I already promised Ginny I’d make you petits fours and custard tarts.”

  “Will they be gluten free?”

  Joanne screwed her eyebrows down. “No! They’ll be good.”

  I didn’t have time to get into an argument because Aunt Ginny busted through the front door. “You’ll never believe what happened last night.”

  “Smitty’s coming today to patch him.”

  “No. Not that. Gia! Come in here and tell them!”

  Gia turned the corner into the kitchen and Joanne audibly gasped. I didn’t blame her. He looked like a centerfold for Italian GQ. My heart gave a sad little flip to remind me he wasn’t mine.

  Gia smiled at Joanne and pointed to the carafe. “May I?”

  Joanne dropped her spatula and grabbed a mug. “I’ll get it for you. You just stand there.”