The Diva Spices It Up

by Krista Davis

  But the second the light changed he was off in a hurry, walking across the street in great, confident strides ahead of the crowd. When he reached the sidewalk on the other side, he lifted the end of his tie and placed it in his mouth. In one swift movement, he raised the lid on a public garbage bin, bent over, reached inside, and pulled out a red soft drink can.

  I was so stunned that I stopped walking in the middle of the street.

  He dropped the top of the garbage can in place, let his tie fall back to his chest, and strode away.

  I looked around. No one else seemed to be watching him. Hadn’t anyone else noticed what he just did?

  A car honked at us, and we dashed across the street. I couldn’t help myself—I turned right and followed him.

  Chapter 2

  Dear Natasha,

  I love your TV show. You inspire me! I’m throwing a party and I’m planning to serve your jalapeño poppers. What do you recommend as a drink to go with them?

  Hot Mama in Volcano, Hawaii

  Dear Hot Mama,

  As much as I love those jalapeño poppers, I’m afraid they’re passé. Look for recipes involving smoked salts or peppered fish and meats. Or go all-out with fermented garlic! That’s what’s on trend right now.

  Natasha

  Unfortunately, Natasha intercepted me. “Sophie! Sophie! Where have you been? I went by your house half a dozen times last week, but you weren’t home. You really should let me know if you’re going out of town.”

  I watched the man round the corner at Cameron Street and debated whether to run to catch up to him. It was ridiculous, of course. Even if I saw him go into a house or building, it would be meaningless. And then I did something completely out of character.

  “Excuse me, Natasha.” I took off after the man with Daisy romping alongside me. I was out of breath by the time I reached the intersection where he had turned. He was gone. I stood there for a moment, scanning the sidewalks. They were nearly empty. I’d have seen him if he hadn’t turned somewhere or entered a building.

  I sucked in some deep breaths. Maybe I had lost my perspective. I thought there was something sinister about the suitcase in the river, and now I was chasing a man who had caught my attention. I was being ridiculous.

  When I turned back, Natasha still stood where I had left her. She wore an angry expression and had crossed her arms in irritation.

  I trudged back. “Sorry.”

  “What was that about?”

  “I thought I saw someone I knew,” I lied. If I told her about the soda can she would think I had lost my mind.

  “I was saying that you should keep me informed if you leave.”

  “I have a phone,” I said wryly.

  “But this is important. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I wanted to tell you in person.”

  I bit back the temptation to be snarky. “What is your wonderful news?”

  Natasha looked me over. “What are you wearing? Oh, Sophie! I don’t know what to say. Have you fallen on hard times?”

  I laughed. “Natasha, are you going to tell me your good news?”

  “I thought we might get a cup of coffee, but if you’re dressed like that . . .”

  I paid no attention to what she was saying. I had known Natasha since we were in grade school. The two of us had competed at everything except the beauty pageants that Natasha had treasured. She still maintained the kind of figure that clothes were meant to hang on. No elastic waistbands for her. She wore a black sweater with the sleeves pushed up and a black-and-white plaid skirt. The kind of skirt with a gathered waist that I longed to wear. But unlike Natasha, I was short and not slender. I would look twice as wide as I already was. She finished the outfit with black leather boots. While part of me hated to admit it, she looked chic.

  And now she gazed at me, raised her eyebrows, and nodded. “You will, won’t you?”

  Oy. Natasha was prone to outlandish ideas. I didn’t dare say yes without knowing to what I was agreeing.

  She tilted her head. “I would offer you something to wear, but I don’t think you would fit in my size.”

  “Thank you. It’s really not necessary. I’m heading home.” I started to walk in the direction of our houses, and she went with me. “Now, what was it you wanted me to do?”

  “Come to my party? I’m worried about you, Sophie. Didn’t you hear a word that I said? I found my sister!”

  Chapter 3

  Dear Sophie,

  My boyfriend’s mother uses black pepper in one of the cakes she likes to bake. I try to be open-minded, but that strikes me as odd. Who would bake sweets with black pepper in them?

  Girlfriend in Pepper Pike, Ohio

  Dear Girlfriend,

  Pepper is used in cookies from South Africa to Norway. It’s not uncommon to find it in spice cakes, either. You might like it!

  Sophie

  Now I was the one who was worried. “But you don’t have a sister.” “Okay, so she’s a half sister, but you know how I’ve always loved your little sister, Hannah. Now I’ll have a Hannah of my own!”

  I was quite certain that her mother was no longer of childbearing age. And the biggest blow in Natasha’s life was her father’s disappearance when she was only seven years old. Where could a half sister have come from? “Your mom adopted a child?”

  “No! I told you. I sent off one of those DNA saliva tests, thinking I might be able to find my dad. And this woman popped up as my half sister. That means my dad is alive! I always knew it. It was like a visceral thing that he was out there somewhere in the world. And get this. She lives right here in Old Town! What are the odds of that? We might have been shopping side by side or eating in the same restaurant at the same time and we never knew it!”

  I was stunned. If I hadn’t heard so many stories about killers being tracked down through the DNA of relatives for acts committed decades before, I might not have believed her at all. “Have you met her yet?”

  “No. That’s why I’m having the dinner party. I want all my friends to meet her.”

  “You didn’t run right out to meet her immediately?”

  Natasha stared at me. Not a muscle in her face moved. Had she gotten Botoxed?

  “It took me a while to work through the situation. Please don’t mention this to your parents. I don’t want my mother to know yet.”

  My parents and her mom still lived in the town where we had grown up. It wasn’t as though they were close friends, but a new half sister was the kind of thing a person might mention in a casual conversation at the supermarket. “No problem. But I think your mom would love to meet her.”

  “I’m not so sure. It might be very painful for her.”

  Natasha would know. The fact that she even considered her mother’s reaction suggested to me that it had been painful for Natasha. And why wouldn’t it be? It meant her father had left his family without so much as a fare thee well and went off to start another family.

  “We talked on the phone. You won’t believe what she asked me.”

  I could hardly believe Natasha had found a half sister. I didn’t think anything could top that! “What?”

  “She wanted to know where Dad was.”

  “He left them, too?”

  “I don’t know all the details. I hope she’ll tell us when she meets us. You’re good at prying into other people’s business. You’ll get it out of her.”

  I ignored her slight. She was probably right. Among my many faults, I was definitely nosy. “What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

  “Charlene Smith.”

  “Doesn’t ring any bells with me. I look forward to meeting her. When is the party?”

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  “What can I bring?”

  Natasha’s expression turned to horror. “Oh, Sophie! Please don’t bring a dish. Everything has to be perfect. This is my night to shine.”

  Natasha had a local TV show about all things domestic and a rabid fan base. I couldn’t help wondering if
she was being set up somehow. “Did she know who you are?”

  “If she did, she didn’t mention it.”

  We had reached my house. “I look forward to meeting her, Natasha. I truly do. And I’m super happy for you.”

  Natasha smiled at me. “Wear your best outfit, even if it’s last year’s fashion.”

  I turned on my heel to stalk away and with total horror realized suddenly that the half sister might be just like Natasha. After all, Natasha’s mom was an interesting woman who worked in a diner, believed in spirits and potions, and was an incurable flirt. What if the annoyingly pompous side of Natasha came from her dad? Not two of them!

  I unlocked the front door of my home and stepped inside with Daisy. Mochie came running and meowed complaints about being home alone. I unlatched Daisy and swept Mochie up into my arms. “You wouldn’t have liked it. We didn’t see a single mouse.”

  He purred as I carried him into the kitchen and spooned some salmon delight into his bowl.

  I looked forward to a leisurely hot shower and headed upstairs.

  Sometimes fate just toys with a person. On that particular day, while I was in the shower, a green tile fell off the wall and crashed into the bathtub.

  Daisy and Mochie came running to see what had happened.

  Three more tiles fell in quick succession. I could see the row of tiles beneath them beginning to bulge. This was fate’s way of telling me I had put off the bathroom renovation long enough. I felt fairly certain that the black and green tile and the green sink perched on weird aluminum legs that splayed like a colt standing up for the first time must have been the height of fashion once. For years I had longed for a modern bathroom, but I had taken out a whopping loan when I paid Mars for his half of the house in our divorce, and it didn’t leave much for pricey renovations.

  Green and black tile bathrooms excepted, I loved the old place with its creaking floorboards, tall windows, and huge double lot. Houses were pricey in Old Town Alexandria, and I was lucky that Mars’s aunt had left us this house. She had been a terrific cook and loved nothing more than to entertain. So much so that she had renovated the house by extending the dining room and living room to accommodate large gatherings.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and gazed at the space where the tiles had been. I could probably pry off a few more tiles, then glue them back in place and caulk around them. It was the kind of fix that might work, but only for a while.

  The figure Mars had written on the napkin hammered at me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad helping Tilly with her cookbook. I tried to imagine the bathroom in white, with a vanity and drawers for storage. There would be a place for the blow dryer and, be still my heart, maybe even a closet for towels!

  If the tiles hadn’t fallen off, I would have averted my eyes and continued to live with the ghastly old bathroom. But the truth was that the tiles had sounded an alarm. I knew the kind of damage that would occur if water leached behind the wall. Then I would be paying even more to repair the damage.

  I had noticed that things in life often happened with an odd synchronicity. I wasn’t particularly superstitious, but the timing was certainly interesting. Maybe it was a sign.

  I pulled on a fresh pair of elastic waist jeans, noting that their tightness was also a sign. I needed to cut back on my caloric intake, which definitely did not mesh with ghostwriting a cookbook. But there were slender chefs, I reasoned. Maybe I could learn to take one or two bites and not more.

  Fat chance that would ever happen!

  I slipped on a soft periwinkle blue top made of cotton, added a little makeup, and blew my hair dry. Daisy and Mochie watched me from the bed, not bothering to disguise their boredom.

  I gave some thought to flipping a coin about the cookbook. That wasn’t my style, though. I preferred to weigh the pros and cons and make a thoughtful decision. And to do that, I should probably meet Tilly Stratford.

  Daisy and Mochie followed me downstairs, where I phoned Mars to set up a meeting.

  I could hear him speaking to someone in the background. “How about right now? I’m at their house.”

  That was sooner than I had expected. But why not? I agreed, and Mars gave me their address on South Royal Street.

  Daisy and Mochie had settled in for naps, so I quietly grabbed my purse and left the house. I took my time, enjoying the wonderful weather. The Stratford and Winthrop home was a typical Federal-style house with tall windows and a red brick facade.

  Urns filled with conical evergreens flanked the front door. Gray shutters accented the windows and matched the color of the door. I turned and followed a short brick sidewalk to the house. The plaque on the wall designated the house as historical, which many people would have guessed from the aged appearance of the building.

  Most door knockers were brass, so it caught my attention that the bald eagle on the door was brushed silver. I clanked it three times.

  Tilly swung the door open. Blond strands of hair had escaped from a messy bun at the nape of her neck and blew around her face. Her eyebrows had been carefully penciled in light brown, and she had pale skin that looked as if it would burn easily, leading me to believe that she was a natural blonde. She looked at me in fear for the briefest moment before she smiled and held out her arms to hug me. “Sophie! I love you already!”

  She gave me a hug, which was interrupted by two teenaged girls. They were both out of breath when they darted toward us from the sidewalk, but only one of them was giddy.

  “Mom! You won’t believe what happened!”

  Tilly introduced me to them. “This wild one is my daughter, Briley.”

  Briley looked uncannily like her mother. Blond hair a few shades lighter than her mom’s danced around her face. Briley wore tight skinny jeans, an oversized baby blue sweater, and dangling drusy earrings that matched her sweater. I recognized the earrings as trendy designer jewelry.

  “And this is her friend and our next-door neighbor, Schuyler.” Copper-colored hair fell over her shoulders in waves. I assumed they had coordinated their outfits in advance, because Schuyler wore the same type of tight jeans and oversized sweater with matching drusy earrings. The only difference was that her sweater was a pine green.

  Tilly reached out to her and placed an arm around Schuyler’s thin shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” she said softly.

  She didn’t look okay. I wondered what was going on.

  “What’s so exciting?” Tilly asked her daughter.

  Briley could barely contain herself. “Troy Anderson! I think he might ask me to the homecoming dance!”

  The girls looked at each other, and Schuyler broke into an unenthusiastic smile. Briley raced inside and up the staircase with Schuyler following at a slower pace.

  Tilly ushered me into the foyer and closed the door. “Do you remember how wonderful life was when we were that age? They’re having so much fun. We were worried about Briley changing schools when we moved here. Luckily, Schuyler lives next door, and the two of them hit it off right away.”

  “What’s wrong with Schuyler?”

  “It’s the saddest thing. Her mother, Mia, has simply disappeared. Her husband is an obstetrician. He was called out to deliver a baby on Friday night, and I took the girls and some of their friends to a football game. When we came home, Mia wasn’t there. Naturally, I insisted that Schuyler stay with us until her parents came home. She’s here all the time, anyway. Eventually her dad returned, but her mother still hasn’t shown up or even called! The poor child is distraught.”

  The story reminded me a little bit too much of Natasha’s father disappearing. “I’m so sorry. Poor Schuyler.”

  Tilly paused in the foyer and gazed at me. “I have to confess that I was scared to death to meet you. Mars told me you were his former wife, and someone else told me he had been married to Natasha, whom I’ve seen on TV.”

  Mars hadn’t married Natasha, but I let it pass without correcting her.

  “I was a
fraid you might be like her. I’m sure she’s a very nice woman, but I don’t think she eats, or she wouldn’t be so thin. I just couldn’t work with someone like that. I mean, these are recipes we’re talking about. We have to taste them! I hope you won’t be offended, but you’re more my kind of gal.”

  I knew the feeling. I fought extra pounds all the time. And it was far too easy to feel self-conscious about not being slender. Tilly obviously liked to eat. We would get along fine.

  Tilly chattered as she led me to the living room, where I caught a glimpse of Mars.

  A man rose to his feet and came to meet me, his hand outstretched to shake mine. He had what I thought they were calling a “dad” body. Definitely not muscular but not overly flabby, either. What stood out to me was his face. Mars had a knack for working with attractive politicians. Wesley had a full head of well-trimmed silver-white hair, which enhanced his tan. I assumed Wesley and Tilly were around fifty years old, but Wesley’s face was that of a younger man, leading me to believe that he’d had some tweaking done. Long dimples ran along both sides of his face. He had what Mars called the look. Wesley would have been equally at home on a farmhouse porch drinking lemonade as he would in the Capitol, which would make him appeal to a wide group of people. He was blessed with the ability to make other people comfortable, a trait I had seen in many of Mars’s political clients. He smiled at me as if I were the most delightful person in the world. “Wesley Winthrop. Thank you so much for coming to Tilly’s rescue, Sophie. This recipe project means a great deal to her.”

  “I hope I can be of assistance.”

  Another man, who seemed vaguely familiar, called out, “Hi, Sophie.” I smiled at him and said hi, all the while wondering who he was.

  Tilly steered me away from him. “Isn’t this the most wonderful house? The minute I saw Old Town, I told Wesley that I had to have an authentically historical house. I just adore them.”

  We entered her kitchen, which had clearly been remodeled but was so charmingly colonial that Natasha would have broken out in hives. She simply did not appreciate blending the old with the new.