by Lee Hollis
I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was also at fault for the packed garage. I had some boxes of clothes I swore I’d fit into soon stacked in the corner, some stray kitchen items I didn’t have room for in my cupboards, and even a pink treadmill. Yes, pink. I know. I know. But it was one of those New Year’s resolutions to get back into shape that faded by mid-January and by then I resented having to look at the spontaneous expensive purchase so I had Aaron help me haul it to the garage so I wouldn’t have to look at it. The garage was in such utter chaos there wasn’t even room for me to park my car when I got home from work one night. Apparently, Dustin and his friend Spanky had been looking for some of his old superhero action figures and left them in the middle of the garage floor, so I had to park outside to avoid crushing Superman and Green Lantern.
This was the last straw. I marched into the house where my two cherubs were flopped on the couch in the living room watching Doctor Who with snack wrappers and juice bottles strewn all around them. I told them in no uncertain terms that if they ever wanted to see their friends again—if they ever wanted to have any kind of social life outside of the house before they finished high school—they would spend their entire Saturday cleaning out the garage. I had plans to drive up to Bangor with Mona to stock up on some bulk food times (plus we set aside some time to gamble at Hollywood Slots, but I left out that tiny detail while yelling at the kids) and the garage was to be in tip top shape when I returned. I would rent a large garbage bin for the junk and the rest we would donate to Goodwill.
The following morning, the kids got out of bed at the crack of dawn and began carrying out boxes from the garage without argument. Sometimes, a firm hand is exactly what is needed. Mona and I left for Bangor, and by lunchtime we had all our shopping done and were enjoying a couple of hours of mental therapy playing the slot machines.
Unfortunately the noise of the slot machines sometimes drowns out my ringing cell phone, so when Mona and I finished for the day I noticed I had eight missed calls from Liddy. I rang her right back and without even saying hello she immediately started scolding me for not being upfront with her about hating the handpicked hat she had bought me during her trip to Paris last year, and that the polite thing to have done was to at least keep it as a souvenir since God only knows when I would be getting to Paris in the near future. I stood there listening to her tirade.
“Liddy, you’ve lost me. I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Your yard sale!”
“What yard sale?”
“Don’t you check your Facebook and Twitter feeds? It’s all over social media. There was a yard sale at your house from 9 to 3 today.”
Gemma and Dustin.
“I happened to swing by the Shop ’n Save to pick up a few necessities,” Liddy said.
Wine and cheese, no doubt.
“And I ran into Mrs. Crowley and she was wearing a deep purple felt French hat with a lovely peacock feather sticking out the side. Of course I recognized it immediately! I knew it had to be the one I bought specially for you because I know for a fact old Mrs. Crowley hasn’t been past Bangor in her seventy-odd years! That’s when she told me she bought it at your yard sale for twenty bucks! Twenty bucks! The box it came in is worth more than that!”
After hanging up with Liddy, Mona and I raced back to the island, passing a small dark blue Toyota Tacoma truck with a bright pink treadmill in the back. My treadmill!
Mona and I glanced at each other, and she hit the gas a little harder as we careened down Spring Street toward Glen Mary Road. I had to admit to myself, I was happy to see that pink treadmill go.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when we pulled up to the house. The garage door was wide open and it looked so neat and orderly I thought we had pulled into the wrong driveway!
Well, as much as I wanted to be mad at my kids for selling our property without telling me, I was actually relieved to finally be able to move around in my garage. Plus, the three hundred bucks we split three ways was an added bonus.
Liddy showed up with the purple hat with the peacock feather. I feared she might have wrestled it away from Mrs. Crowley, but she said she paid her thirty dollars for it so the old woman was content with a ten dollar profit. I had to fake my gratitude that she got my hat back even though I knew I would never wear it and it would be sold in the next yard sale.
I fixed us girls some lemonade cocktails and we sat on the deck enjoying the evening view of my spiffy clean garage.
Summer Lemonade Cocktail
Ingredients:
2 cups club soda
½ cup citrus vodka
½ cup fresh lemon juice
¼ cup sugar
¼ cup orange juice
Ice
Lemon slices to garnish (optional)
Put ice in glasses; mix together all five ingredients in a pitcher. Pour in ice filled glasses. Garnish with lemon slices if desired and sit back, relax and bottoms up!
Lemon Tart
Ingredients:
1 sheet puff pastry
2 lemons
Zest of 2 lemons
¾ cup sugar
4 tablespoons butter
2 eggs
¼ lemon juice (from the 2 lemons)
Pinch of salt
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.
Place your rolled out puff pastry on a parchment lined baking sheet. Fold all sides of pastry in one inch and prick all over with a fork. Bake 20 minutes or until golden brown.
In a food processor add your sugar and the zest of two lemons and pulse until finely minced.
In a bowl cream your butter then add the lemon and sugar mixture, add eggs one at a time mixing in each one, add lemon juice and salt and mix well.
Pour into a 2 quart sauce pan and heat on low until thickened, stirring constantly.
When thickened place into the refrigerator for 1 hour to cool.
Spread cooled mixture on top of the cooked puff pastry slice and serve for a delicious summer treat.
Chapter 17
Liddy pulled her Mercedes into the Congregational Church parking lot and squeezed into the last space between a brand new Range Rover and a five series BMW. “I’m only parking here because it’s obvious the owners of these two cars will take extra care not to bang their doors into mine. Otherwise, we’d be parking down the street.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect such a big crowd,” Hayley said, downing a sandwich she had picked up on the way because she didn’t have a chance to eat lunch before the service. “I mean, Ivy’s lived in New York for years. I didn’t realize she still had so many ties to the island.”
“Well, it’s just a matter of giving the people what they want,” Mona said, chuckling from the back seat.
“This is not a joke, Mona. A woman has died. A woman we’ve known since childhood.”
“I’m sorry, but I told you I am not going to be a hypocrite. Ivy Foster never gave me the time of day and had no use for me. The only reason I’m here is because her aunt and uncle who live in Tremont are nice folks and loyal customers of mine, so I’m here out of respect to them.”
“Well, just try and behave during the actual service,” Liddy said as she whipped open the driver’s door and banged the side of the Range Rover. “Oops.”
Hayley popped the last of her sandwich in her mouth and crumpled up the wrapping paper in her hands.
“Try not to get crumbs on the upholstery, okay, Hayley?” Liddy warned.
“Yes, Liddy. I’m glad to see you have your priorities in order today,” Hayley said, shaking her head.
As Hayley carefully climbed out of the car making sure not to make contact with the BMW with the passenger side door, she spotted Sabrina Merryweather, in a smart, form-fitting black business suit, appropriate for mourning, standing around the side of the church engaged in a conversation with Vanda Spears, who had parked a rusted shopping cart off to the side and wore a lumpy gray sweater and a stained flower print skirt. She looked like a bag lady as she wav
ed her finger in Sabrina’s horrified face.
Mona huffed and puffed as she tried squeezing her way out of the backseat since there was very little room to maneuver between the parked cars.
“Liddy, why don’t you and Mona go inside and get us seats. I’ll be right in,” Hayley said, keeping her eyes fixed on Sabrina and Vanda.
“She’s right, Liddy. I bet it’s standing room only at this point. They could’ve sold tickets.”
“Mona, enough with the jokes, please!” Hayley scolded. “It’s not funny.”
Mona shrugged and followed Liddy inside while Hayley quietly tiptoed over to the side of the church toward Sabrina and Vanda, who were too involved in their heated exchange to notice her.
“The last thing you want to do, Sabrina, is upset me because when I get upset I tend to go a little crazy and when I get crazy, I talk. I talk about everything. I get it all off my chest and that could be very uncomfortable for you!” Vanda threatened, sneering at Sabrina.
“Vanda, please, I’m begging you, don’t breathe a word. I promise to make things easier for you than they have been. You just have to trust me and not go off blabbing to anyone what you know.”
“I’ll think about it,” Vanda said, moving behind her grocery cart and starting to push it away.
Sabrina shoved her black high heel in front of it, slamming it down on a loose wheel and stopping Vanda in her tracks. “I need you to promise me right now.”
Vanda cackled. “Why should I do that? Half the fun for me is watching you squirm. Now get your damn heel off my wheel before I call a cop!”
Sabrina instantly pulled her foot back and Vanda pushed past her, whistling the tune to “I Got the Music in Me” as Sabrina watched her go, terrified.
Vanda passed by Hayley with her cart. “Afternoon, Hayley. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Nice to see you, Vanda,” Hayley said, watching Sabrina who spun around, surprised at Hayley’s presence.
“Hayley, would you please stop sneaking around trying to overhear my private conversations? Enough is enough.”
“I would if you would just be honest with me. What the hell is going on between you and Vanda Spears?”
“Nothing. She’s crazy. She’s spewing nonsense. She shouldn’t be wandering the streets. She should be locked up in a mental facility.”
“That would certainly take care of whatever problem she’s causing you,” Hayley said, staring at Sabrina.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sabrina said, blowing past Hayley and racing toward the front entrance of the church.
Hayley followed.
Inside the church, Sabrina managed to ditch Hayley and join a crowd of former high school classmates who were huddled in a corner.
As Hayley scanned the main room for Liddy and Mona, Nykki approached her.
“Can you believe this has happened, Hayley? I am just so distraught!” Nykki wailed as she grabbed Hayley in a bear hug.
When she finally let go, Hayley noticed that despite Nykki’s sobs her eyes were completely dry.
No sign of any tears.
It was as if she were putting on a performance.
Which didn’t surprise Hayley because it seemed Nykki was always acting.
“Have you seen Liddy and Mona?” Hayley asked.
“Yes,” Nykki said, clearing her throat, pretending to pull herself together. “They’re down in the front pew. They were the only seats left.”
Hayley wasn’t happy about sitting in the front row at any funeral. She always felt too exposed. It made her supremely uncomfortable. But it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.
She passed Nigel, whose back was to her. He was in his signature tweed jacket that screamed “I am an author!” and had his cell phone clamped to his ear.
“I find it inexcusable that your airline is charging me a change fee for my reservation because I want to go home a day early. My beloved wife has died! Where is your compassion? I am a Premier Silver member and I find your tone grossly inappropriate given these grim circumstances,” Nigel barked, seemingly unconcerned that several of Ivy’s family members, including her sister Irene, were within earshot.
Hayley couldn’t believe his cold and insensitive behavior, but just bit her lip to refrain from commenting.
Suddenly she felt someone’s hand cupping her butt and then squeezing the flesh.
She knew who it was.
Hayley whirled around and found herself face to face with Mason Cassidy, most of his body tattoos covered by a crisp linen charcoal gray suit and a white dress shirt that was open enough to show a bit of an eagle’s wing tattoo on his tan bronzed chest.
“Well, hello, beautiful,” Mason said, a wolfish grin on his face.
“Get your hand off me,” Hayley warned, her voice a low growl.
“It’s tragic Ivy’s dead and all, but we’re not,” Mason said, defiantly leaving his large hand on Hayley’s butt.
Hayley kept a thin smile on her face as she reached behind her and grabbed Mason’s hand, bending the fingers back so far he almost dropped to his knees in pain. “I like men, not boys.”
She finally let go and he rubbed his fingers, a scowl on his face.
Hayley did an about face and marched down the aisle spotting Liddy and Mona in the far left pew directly in front of a closed coffin.
The coffin.
She got her first look at Ivy’s coffin.
Bright pink.
With a giant ceramic cupcake on top.
Instead of flowers there were trays and trays of freshly baked cupcakes surrounding the casket.
Someone had gone way overboard.
Hayley found herself biting her lip again but this time to keep herself from laughing.
How was it possible that the family allowed this embarrassing display to be approved?
Hayley glanced over at Liddy and Mona, who refused to make eye contact with her out of fear of losing their composure and screaming with laughter.
Hayley sat down between her two best friends, now biting the side of her lip so hard she feared drawing blood.
Reverend Staples solemnly walked up the steps and behind the podium. The murmurs faded until there was silence and then he proceeded. “Ivy Foster was a daughter, wife, sister, and master baker. She leaves us with many happy memories of our time with her, not to mention an artistic mark when it comes to her world famous cupcakes. Who could forget her Dark Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter frosting or my personal favorite her Guinness, Whiskey and Irish Cream cupcakes? More than one and I would need a designated driver to get home from the church.”
There were soft titters from the crowd.
“I remember one Christmas my wife bought a box of Ivy’s special Santa Claus cupcakes where Santa’s beard was made of coconut. Good times. Good times.”
Hayley tried desperately not to lose it.
She shifted in her seat.
Covered her mouth with her hand.
She felt her cheeks burning red as she tried to stay calm and composed.
“Ivy Foster’s creations were confection perfection,” Reverend Staples said. “She was the Monet of her time but she did not use a canvas and paint. No. Her tools were a baking pan and buttercream frosting.”
That was it.
Hayley couldn’t contain herself any longer.
Without warning a loud guffaw erupted out of her.
Reverend Staples glared down at the front row of the pew where Mona and Liddy kept their eyes glued to the floor while Hayley’s entire body shook while wedged between them.
She hugged herself in a last ditch attempt to hold everything inside.
But it was too late.
Her mouth ripped open and a machine gun burst of laughter escaped.
Chapter 18
Hayley didn’t know what to do.
She couldn’t just jump up and run out of the church because she would have to dash down the center of the aisle for all to see her red-faced and laughing.
/> Liddy quickly rummaged through her bag for a handkerchief, which Hayley snatched out of her fingers and covered her face with, desperately trying to make it appear as if her fit of giggles were in fact tears of grief.
But nobody was buying it.
Reverend Staples continued to stare down at her from the podium for a few more seconds before resuming his speech. “Ivy baked with love. Her husband Nigel told me a sweet story. He woke up one morning with a cupcake waiting for him on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. A tradition Ivy carried on until Nigel was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes.”
A loud chortling sound escaped Hayley’s lips.
She was losing it again.
Mona, who was never one to be embarrassed, forcefully nudged Hayley in the ribs trying to get her to settle down.
Reverend Staples cleared his throat. “Now I would like to bring up one of Ivy’s dearest friends, Sabrina Merryweather, who will be saying a few words.”
Sabrina, who was sitting near the back, slowly got to her feet and calmly walked down the aisle and up the steps, offering Reverend Staples a thin smile as he moved aside and let her take over at the podium.
Sabrina’s hands were shaking and her mascara was smudged from crying. She scanned the crowd of mourners, took a deep breath, and said, “I first met Ivy when we were both in the third grade. Her family had just moved to Bar Harbor from New Jersey because her Dad had gotten a job as a park ranger in Acadia National Park. On her first day, Mrs. Cook gave us a spelling test and we had to exchange papers with the student next to us when it was time to go over the answers so they could mark the ones we got wrong. That way, nobody could erase their wrong answers and quickly scribble in the correct ones.”
There was gentle laughter from the crowd.
Hayley seized the opportunity to laugh along with everybody else.
It was an enormous relief to let it all out and not try to hold it inside anymore.
“I knew I had misspelled seven words,” Sabrina said. “But when Ivy gave me my paper back I had all the right answers. Ivy had changed all my wrong answers to the right ones so I didn’t fail the test.”