Class Reunions Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  My stomach was tied up in knots over what I was about to do, but I pressed on. “I see. Well, in that case I guess selling the house is inevitable.”

  Aunt Ginny’s lip quivered and she sniffed back a tear.

  “But I think we want to use a real estate agent of our choosing.”

  Ms. Carson blanched and her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back into place. “You don’t want to do that. An agent will take a percentage of equity from the sale for their fee. I already have a buyer lined up for you. You will save thousands of dollars by selling to him directly.”

  She set a contract on the table in front of me and tried to hand me a pen.

  I looked it over. “Who is Jeremy Hereford?

  “That’s the person who wants to buy the house.” She stabbed the pen at me again.

  Aunt Ginny began to bawl.

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable signing this in front of Aunt Ginny. Maybe we should do this later.”

  Something flashed behind the social worker’s eyes. Greed? Anger?

  “No! We have to do it now.” Ms. Carson tried to regain her composure. “I’ve already done all the hard work for you; you just need to sign. I can’t hold this buyer forever. This deal is only available if you sign right now. Think of Aunt Ginny’s welfare.”

  Aunt Ginny stopped crying and sobered up instantly. “Hold on a jalapeno-hot minute! Jeremy Hereford is a real estate developer specializing in flipping historical houses, isn’t he?”

  Ms. Carson’s jaw dropped and she turned a shade of crimson.

  “ISN’T HE?” Aunt Ginny all but roared.

  “What? I think you may be confused again, Mrs. Frankowski.”

  Aunt Ginny held up her smartphone. “No, I’m not. I just googled him. Plus, he has some negative reviews on Zillow for being too aggressive with sellers.”

  Ms. Carson breathed out a tentative laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, there is nothing wrong with that. A sale is a sale. I think we will all have better peace of mind when Mrs. Frankowski is safely tucked away in Sunset Hills.”

  I put the contract down and looked Ms. Carson in the eye. “Could I see the case documents you’ve assembled against Aunt Ginny?”

  Ms. Carson’s eyes shifted from me to Aunt Ginny and back to me again. “I’m afraid I don’t have them with me. They are on file at my office for the competency hearing.”

  Aunt Ginny cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her nose, giving Ms. Carson a patronizing look. “Are they?”

  Ms. Carson narrowed her eyes at Aunt Ginny and spoke through gritted teeth. “I can get them to you later. You need to sign the sales agreement now or you will end up out on the street, old lady!”

  “That’s enough!” A dark-haired woman in a brown tweed suit came through the kitchen door followed by a uniformed officer.

  Ms. Carson lunged for the sales contract, but I was ready for her and snatched it away.

  “Director Chamberlain! What are you doing here?” Ms. Carson jumped to her feet and slammed her briefcase shut.

  “I’ve spent the morning with Mrs. Frankowski and her niece, and we’ve been discussing your visits and concerns.”

  Ms. Carson began to stammer and wring her hands. “Of course, I’ve told you all about Mrs. Frankowski in my reports.”

  The older woman took a step forward. “No, you haven’t, Rosalind. You’ve fed me a load of horse manure and made this delightful woman appear to be deranged.”

  “B-b-bu . . .”

  “Can it, Rosalind.” The director’s voice was severe. “Ms. McAllister told us about the people looking to buy this property on a ‘hot tip,’ which made me suspicious enough to look into your buyer, who happens to be your boyfriend, Jeremy Hereford.”

  Ms. Carson’s laugh sounded thin and anxious. “What? He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “The two of you have been taking advantage of the elderly all up and down the East Coast, tricking people into selling their houses and forcing them into nursing homes. It ends here. You’re fired from the department and we’re pressing charges.”

  “No. I . . .” Ms. Carson’s lip began to quiver.

  The officer took a step toward Ms. Carson and removed a pair of shiny handcuffs from his utility belt. “You’re under arrest for three counts of fraud and one for attempted fraud.”

  “There’s no use denying it, Rosalind,” the director barked. “We’ve had IT comb through your hard drive and capture your e-mails to Mr. Hereford. Your boyfriend is already in custody, and he rolled over on you. He says you came up with the plan yourself and forced him into it.”

  “I did not force him! It was Jeremy’s idea to target these old wheeze-bags. I just found the houses. I want immunity!”

  As the officer handcuffed the woman we’d come to know as the Social Worker from Hell, Aunt Ginny stood to face her.

  “Ms. Carson, do you know why it’s easy to fool old people?”

  Ms. Carson looked down her nose at Aunt Ginny.

  “It’s because we remember when people were decent and trustworthy. Back in our day we had respect for our elders. People took care of each other and weren’t out trying to scam everybody all the time. We aren’t used to lowlifes like you, so sometimes we get fooled when a scam artist calls on the phone or comes to the door. But we’ve lived long enough to know that what goes around comes around. You’re getting older by the minute, and your day is coming.”

  A patrol car pulled up in front and the officer led Ms. Carson to it while reciting her rights. The last thing we heard her whimper on the way out was, “That old lady played me.”

  Epilogue

  I put the finishing touches on a dairy-free chocolate birthday cake for Henry. Aunt Ginny didn’t have any pastry bags so I used a Ziploc bag with the corner cut off to write “Happy Birthday, Henry” in white icing.

  It had been a crazy few days here in Cape May. Georgina’s attorney, Jim Donohue, arrived just in time for Amber to drop the charges against me.

  The district attorney officially charged Missy Sparks with the murder of Barbara Clark. The syringe she nicked me with the night of the PTA meeting was full of the same poison she’d used to kill Barbie. As it turned out, Missy didn’t have Botox treatments. She stole the syringe from the spa after one of her vitamin B shot appointments for energy. Apparently, she just has good genes in the wrinkle department. The sanity department is the real area in question. A psych eval is pending, so it hasn’t been determined yet if Missy will be doing her time at Edna Mahan Women’s Prison or Bridgeton Mental Health Hospital.

  Kristen and Joel had a baby girl, born at Burdette Tomlin Hospital in Cape May Court House. Then they had a baby boy. I guess twins are common when you’ve had fertility treatments, and the little guy was hiding out in there this whole time.

  Billy finally turned up. He wasn’t missing after all. I guess seeing Barbie at the reunion made him even more sure that he was in love with his fiancée. So they flew off in his private jet to Anguilla and got married in a remote beach ceremony. They returned to town after their honeymoon and had no idea that anything had even happened.

  Robert is doing well in the polls and is favored to win the election in a couple of weeks. He is being called “one to watch” for the presidency in eight to twelve years. The news media is comparing him to Bill Clinton. Boy, if they only knew the half of it.

  I’d done a lot of reflecting over the past few weeks and realized something big. I was so afraid of going to prison that I failed to see that I was already there. Not all prisons are made out of iron bars. I had created my own prison in my mind when I chose to live shackled to shame and regret. I’d never lived life to the fullest out of fear. Fear of being too fat. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being humiliated. I should have put myself out there and reached for the stars. It’s my life, no one is going to live it for me. Aunt Ginny once told me, “You will never regret the things you fail, only the things you fail to try.”

  I’ve been able to stick
to my new Paleo way of eating most of the time and I feel so much better. I’ve also lost ten pounds. I’m working toward eating Paleo all the time, but mostly I’m trying to accept myself the way I am. We all look different and won’t fit in a cookie-cutter ideal of beauty and I need to stop trying and make peace with my thighs.

  Another thing I have to figure out is my relationship with Tim. Every decision we make closes some doors and opens new ones. I messed up our relationship twenty years ago when a one-night stand left me pregnant, but it opened a new door to my wonderful husband, John. Twenty years later, I’m getting a second chance with Tim. I used to wonder what my life would have been like if things had gone differently. Now I have the chance to find out. It’s hard to capture the lightning-in-a-jar of your first love. The heat is still there, but twenty-five years apart has left us without a lot in common other than our love for cooking. I just hope we aren’t trying to force something that will never work. Only time will tell.

  Aunt Ginny sniffed her way into the kitchen, wearing a black leotard and puffy black tutu with pink ballet slippers. I gave her a big smile.

  “What do you have planned for today?”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Well, I’m either going to start a beginners’ ballet class, or I might just dance for joy around the house a while.”

  “We have a lot to dance about. The check cleared.”

  Aunt Ginny did a little two-footed pirouette. More like a tap tap tap in a circle, really. “I bet Georgina had a stroke when you told her you were staying up here with me.”

  “I think a part of her is relieved not to have me around to embarrass her anymore.”

  Aunt Ginny helped herself to one of the Paleo Orange Dreamsicle Muffins I made for the coffee shop. “I can’t believe you convinced her to take your money out of trust and let you have it all now.”

  “With Georgina, there are always strings attached. She gave me my money because she likes the idea of turning your house into a bed and breakfast. Her condition was that she be allowed to invest some of her own money, so she’d have a ten percent ownership in the business, but not the house.”

  “I called Frank. I’m putting the house in your name and I won’t hear any buts about it. I almost lost this house once to that scheming social worker and her shifty boyfriend. I’m not going to let that happen again. You were so smart to figure out what they were up to.”

  “You weren’t the first senior citizen they had tried to shake down with false claims. There was a lady in Paramus they convinced she couldn’t live alone and needed full-time care. She signed her house over to them and they flipped it for a lot of money to an investor who turned it into a Jiffy Lube.”

  “I will always remember that smug look being wiped off of Rosalind Carson’s face when that cop handcuffed her.” Aunt Ginny cackled.

  I loaded the muffins into a basket and put a lid on the cake carrier. “I’m going to the zoo with Gia and his girlfriend today for Henry’s birthday. When I come home, we need to go over our remodel plans for the Butterfly Wings B&B if we’re going to try to open next summer.”

  I kissed Aunt Ginny on the cheek and fed Figaro some salmon crunchies. “Try to behave while I’m gone.”

  “Are you talking to me or Figaro?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  I walked into the coffee shop and Gia’s girlfriend was behind the counter. She barely acknowledged my presence. Henry jumped off the barstool and ran to me. “Poppy, you came!”

  “Of course I did. I want to see the kitties with you.”

  Henry’s eyes grew huge through his glasses when he saw the cake. “Is that for me?”

  “I made it special for your birthday. No dairy.”

  Henry threw his arms around my legs and hugged me. “Thank you.”

  Gia came out of the back wearing blue jeans and a faded Boston T-shirt. My knees started to buckle and I caught myself on one of the leather club chairs.

  “Daddy, Poppy made me a special birthday cake!”

  Gia gave me a sexy smile. It was probably just a regular smile, but he is so sexy. Snap out of it, Poppy!

  “She did?”

  “We allergy sufferers have to stick together, don’t we?”

  Henry nodded.

  Gia ruffled Henry’s hair. “He’s very serious about chocolate. Good choice.”

  I looked at Gia’s girlfriend, who was putting the new muffins in the bakery case. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

  She snapped her gum at me. “Karla.”

  “Thanks for letting me tag along today, Karla.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Oh, boy. It was going to be an interesting afternoon. Gia was no help. He just stood there watching me with that cryptic smile on his face.

  Henry looked up at his father. “Can we go now, Daddy? I want to get there before the kitties get tired.”

  Gia smiled down at Henry. “Karla, why don’t you take Henry out to the truck for me?”

  Karla came around the counter and took Henry’s hand. My heart flipped with longing for a child of my own like Henry.

  When they were out of the room, I asked, “Are you sure your girlfriend is okay with me tagging along? It seems very third-wheel of me.”

  Gia blinked and breathed out a fraction of a laugh.

  I suddenly felt very foolish and small. What an impression I was making.

  “Karla doesn’t have anything to worry about with me. I mean . . . look at her . . . Not that I wouldn’t go out with you, of course I would . . . I mean you’re gorgeous but then so is she so that makes more sense. . . .”

  Gia shook his head and took a step in my direction.

  I took a half step backward and tried to will myself to shut up.

  “Not that I think you were asking me out or anything. It may have seemed like I was flirting with you once or twice but I was just trying to be friendly. As far as you’re probably concerned I’m just the muffin lady and you know . . . that’s cool.”

  Gia looked like he was trying to keep from laughing and quickly closed the distance between us. “Poppy.”

  I tried to breathe. “Umm-hmm?”

  He was so near I could feel his breath on my face. He smiled down at me. Then he put his hands on my waist and pulled me close. “Karla is my sister.” He stared into my eyes with a deep intensity and I lost all conscious thought.

  Then he leaned in and kissed me.

  Please turn the page for

  seven yummy recipes from

  Poppy’s kitchen!

  PALEO CHICKEN ENCHILADAS

  Filling

  2 pounds cooked, shredded chicken (you can even use a rotisserie chicken or leftovers from another meal if you don’t want to make it tonight)

  1 (14 ounce) can El Paso enchilada sauce

  1 (6 ounce) can diced green chilies

  1 orange bell pepper, seeded and diced

  1 yellow bell pepper, seeded and diced

  1 poblano pepper, seeded and diced

  1 jalapeño pepper, seeded and diced (leave out if you don’t like it hot)—be very careful with this. Wear gloves if possible and wash everything when you are done. Do not touch your face until you have washed up.

  1 onion, diced

  2 cloves of garlic, minced

  1 teaspoon chili powder

  1 teaspoon dried cumin

  1 teaspoon paprika (smoked is my favorite)

  ½ teaspoon sea salt

  ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper (leave out if you don’t like it hot)

  ½ teaspoon dried oregano

  *Non-Paleo option: You can top or fill your enchiladas with 2 cups of shredded cheese. They wouldn’t be Paleo but they would still be gluten-free and I’m not going to judge you.

  Wrap

  8–12 Paleo Tortillas—recipes to follow

  Topping

  1 16-ounce jar salsa—I used Frontier green tomatillo but any Paleo-friendly (sugar-free, preservative-free) salsa will do.

 
Garnish—All are optional but Paleo-acceptable:

  • Chopped Cilantro

  • Chopped Scallion

  • Sliced Avocado

  • Guacamole—recipe to follow

  • Cashew Cream—recipe to follow

  Preheat oven to 350°F (177°C). Spray a 9x11 baking dish with coconut spray.

  Toss filling ingredients together in a large bowl.

  Fill each Paleo Tortilla with the chicken-and-pepper mixture and roll up like burritos. If the ends won’t fold over, it’s okay for them to stay open-ended like tubes.

  Place each roll into your baking dish in a row.

  Cover with the salsa. Add your optional cheese if you like and never, never tell the Paleo police.

  Cover with foil, place in oven, and bake for about 1 hour. Everything is cooked; you are just making sure it is heated through and bubbly.

  Let rest for 10 minutes, then garnish and serve.

  PALEO TORTILLA RECIPES

  Making tortillas is a lot like making crepes. You need a round-bottomed frying pan, preferably ceramic or nonstick. And Paleo-friendly lubricant. I use PAM coconut spray.

  There are a lot of ways to make tortillas. I’ve included three different recipes so you can pick whichever one appeals to you. You can make these ahead and store between layers of wax or parchment paper. They are good for breakfast burritos, sandwich wraps, and if you make just the coconut flour ones, I think you can turn them into dessert crepes—but that’s because I try to make everything into dessert.