It was more than obvious that Annie had no interest in coming to this event. He hadn’t pushed her about Maria’s show, but this was different. If everyone didn’t show up tonight, Maxwell wasn’t sure when they’d all be together again.
Maxwell stood next to Annie at the mirror.
“You’re still the fairest of them all.”
Annie broke eye contact with herself to smirk at him. “Yeah, like you actually believe that.”
The darkness in her tone shook him. He took her by the shoulders and turned her in his direction. “I do believe that, Annie. There’s never been a time when I didn’t believe that.”
Annie shook her head slowly.
“Annie, talk to me.”
She locked eyes with him for a moment and then looked away. “We don’t need to talk.”
He realized he was still holding her shoulders, and he gave them a light squeeze before stepping back. “We do need to talk. Look, I know I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about my future lately, but in case I haven’t made it as clear as I thought I’d always made it, I want you to be happy and I want you to have all of the things you want. We’ll figure out whatever we need to figure out.”
“You’re just saying that because you want me to be a bouncy, smiling accessory for your campaign.”
Maxwell looked down at the floor for a second, unsure of how he could have ever let his wife believe this. “I’m saying that because I’m deeply in love with you and I have been for as long as I can remember. I have lots of agendas, Annie, but you’re not one of them. My desires for your happiness are as pure as anything I’ve ever felt.”
Annie turned back toward the mirror and tried to get back to her eyeliner. She couldn’t do it through her tears, though.
“Annie, tell me what’s going on.”
She turned back to him and threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking Maxwell backward. Momentarily stunned, he recovered and pulled her close.
“I can’t,” she said, “But –”
“– Daddy, Bob made my pants dirty.”
Still hugging Annie, Maxwell looked down at Joey, who’d somehow managed to draw all over his khakis.
“Pinball, I need a minute with your mom.”
Annie patted his chest and wiped at her eyes. “Go. Get him cleaned up again. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
**^^^**
The canapés put Corrina over the top. The party had been going for about an hour and a half now. As happened every year, the first people to show up were the families with young children. The kids went straight for the huge bowls of candy and seemed to love the animatronic ghouls, cackling witches, and “scary” sound effects. They even showed an interest in Tyler’s flying bats, though Corrina herself had to prevent them from being a major insurance liability.
About an hour into the party, families with older children and people with no children at all started showing up. A surprising number, including several of Oldham’s most notable citizens, showed up in costume, which made Corrina regret even more that she’d allowed Maxwell to talk her out of having all the hosts in costume. The press showed up around the same time, with video cameras chronicling the event. Corrina was slightly miffed that when they needed a member of the family for an interview they went for Maxwell instead of her, but it was probably better that way, as her hands were full keeping everything running.
At this point, there were easily more than a hundred people in attendance, walking through the haunted house, listening to the ghost-storyteller hired for the event, dancing to the DJ on the makeshift dance floor, or mostly standing around and chatting while nibbling canapés.
Or at least they would be nibbling canapés if there were anywhere near enough to go around. Corrina found it frustrating at the highest level that her sister – who knew how important this event was, and who had had all the notice she could possibly need – hadn’t prepared enough food for the crowd she knew was coming. Coming into the night, Corrina had convinced herself that Deborah was the least of her concerns. That had obviously been an enormous mistake.
She headed off to the kitchen.
Deborah was buzzing around from workstation to workstation when Corrina got there. She certainly looked busy, even if she wasn’t producing anything.
“What the hell is going on with the food?” Corrina said, pulling her sister away from one of her staff.
“What are you talking about?”
“There isn’t enough of it for how many people are out there. Please tell me you didn’t underestimate this entire thing.”
“I didn’t underestimate anything. We’ve just had a little bottleneck getting it out. One waiter called in sick, another cut himself and had to be bandaged up, and a third had a crisis with his new employer that we had to talk him through. We’ve called in a replacement for the sick one, we’ve patched up the wounded one, and we’ve pulled the one in crisis back from the ledge. A lot more stuff will start going out now.”
Corrina wasn’t mollified. “You should have prepared for contingencies on a night like this.”
“I never would have prepared for losing three members of the wait staff.”
“Well, the lack of food is destroying the party.”
“For who? Are people walking out? Are they collapsing from starvation?”
“I’m not saying they are.”
“What are you saying, then?”
Corrina watched the motion around the kitchen, an awkward ballet of spinning chefs and weaving waiters. It was a wonder that people and dishes weren’t splayed across the floor every few minutes.
She took a deep breath and turned back to her sister, whose confrontational glare had not diminished.
“First the music was too low, then it was too loud, and now the DJ is just being obstinate. The smoke machine was pumping so hard that a toddler nearly disappeared. The storyteller has told the same story five times already. The candy is disappearing way too fast. And the video guy has caught all of this so we can be mocked later tonight on the local news.”
Deborah threw her head skyward and then took Corrina by the arm to lead her back out into the party. “Look at this,” she said, pointing. “Does anyone here seem to be having a bad time?”
Corrina scanned the area. Kids were laughing, adults were talking animatedly, and there now seemed to be a dozen waiters delivering food in every direction. “No.”
“Then just calm down. You can’t manage this anymore, Corrina. It’s happening – and by all indications, it’s happening the way we hoped it would happen. Just lighten up.”
With that, Deborah pivoted and went back into the kitchen. Corrina stayed where she was for another couple of minutes, simply watching the revelers. They did seem to be, well, reveling. Maybe it was time to take her foot off the pedal.
As she started to walk back into the main function room, Gardner came up to her.
“I’m gonna go home,” he said.
Corrina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her husband had shown up an hour late and now he was bolting. “What? You want to leave already?”
“I think I’ve got something. My head is pounding, and the noise in here isn’t helping. I’m gonna go to bed.”
Corrina knew that wasn’t it. He was going back to the house to work on his case. He’d probably been calculating exactly how long he’d need to be here to make a decent showing. He’d calculated wrong.
“This is a big night for me, Gardner.”
“So you’ve mentioned a few thousand times. I’m sorry. I feel miserable. I’ve been feeling like I was coming down with something for a while, and it really hit me tonight.”
“Then go. I’ll see you when I get home.”
Gardner kissed her cheek and then left without another word. As she watched him cross the room, Corrina caught sight of Ryan, who noticed Gardner’s exit and then turned to her and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing she was thinki
ng, though she was surprised that he was willing to acknowledge it. There would be a conversation about this as soon as she could grab her husband’s attention again.
“The gravlax is spectacular,” Etta Colter said as she walked past.
Corrina smiled at her. “Thanks. I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.”
**^^^**
Deborah rarely made cakes. Her pastry skills were not up to her other culinary skills, and she tended to keep her desserts on a less ambitious scale than the savory dishes she served. Still, tonight was an occasion for a cake – and not just any cake, but a very large one. Once she’d figured out what last night’s menu was going to be, constructing this cake had become her most nagging obsession.
The dark chocolate cake with orange buttercream was done now, though. She’d just finished garnishing it with frosted cranberries, and it was ready to roll out to the guests.
Deborah glanced around her at the still-bustling kitchen. There was still plenty to do: washing, cleaning, sanitizing, putting everything in place for the chef who would take over this spot when the new owners reopened the inn. This was the last dish that was ever going to leave this kitchen with Deborah in charge, though. How ironic that the last thing she would serve at the inn would be so far from her strengths. It would easily be the least refined item she’d presented all evening. Maybe she should have started with the cake and then moved on from there.
Deborah began to unbutton her jacket. Corrina told her that she wanted her with the rest of the family for the last hour of the party. Deborah wanted to disagree just because Corrina suggested it, but her sister was right. Once she’d finished with the food service, she needed to switch from chef to co-host.
As she shrugged off her jacket, Sage came up to her. He’d been flitting in and out of the kitchen all night, obviously unsure of whether he was here as Deborah’s emotional aid, a part of the Oldham community, or a member of the inner circle. All of those roles were so new to him, though he maintained each with a level of grace that was one of the hundreds of things Deborah found so endearing.
“Do you want me to take this?” he said, reaching for her jacket.
She smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“The cake looks fantastic.”
“It tastes like Plaster of Paris.”
“I doubt that.”
She kissed his lips softly. “That’s because you’re a good man.”
She kissed him again, then looked down at the cake, and then around the room.
“I think I need a minute alone,” she said.
He touched her arm. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“No, I mean completely alone.”
She called out to her staff. It took a full thirty seconds for the clattering and washing to stop. She asked them to give her the kitchen for a moment, and they respectfully cleared out, Sage included.
When the room was empty, Deborah closed her eyes and let the room fill her soul. She remembered the first time her mother let her come in here to do more than beg a chocolate chip cookie. It was a few weeks after her fourteenth birthday and she wanted to try to make a stir-fry. She’d cooked things in the family kitchen before, but she’d read in a magazine that real stir-frys required a level of heat that most people didn’t have in their homes. She guessed that if most kids told their parents they wanted to play with fire in the parents’ place of business they would be shunted aside, but that didn’t happen to Deborah. The stir-fry was a mess that day, but the power in the kitchen thrummed through her. She knew it was where she was meant to be.
Deborah opened her eyes and slowly walked from station to station. They’d replaced nearly all the equipment over the years, but the basic layout of the room had remained the same. That made it very easy to envision her days as an apprentice under Chef Marco, or the way her hands shook as she sent out her very first amuse bouche as head chef, or the way she leaned her head against the door to the walk-in when she learned that her father was gone.
Would the new management decide that the kitchen needed a facelift, maybe an expansion into the storage space beyond the walk-in? Would Deborah ever come back here to see this kitchen in someone else’s hands, even though she’d sworn to never set foot in the inn again? Right now, she couldn’t think about such things. She just wanted to feel this place, this home, one more time.
Again, she closed her eyes, keeping them closed for an unknowable stretch.
Then she walked over to the cake. Sage was right; it looked okay. And it probably didn’t taste too much like paste.
She rolled it out to the party.
**^^^**
Maria thought Deborah’s cake was gorgeous, and she couldn’t have been happier for her for the ovation she received when she brought it out. It was a nice moment for her and for the entire family. Now Maxwell was speaking. He was so much better at this sort of thing than Maria was. To her, a crowd was only addressable if there was a guitar between her and it.
Maria hadn’t mentioned to anyone that she’d written a song for the event, though she’d snuck her guitar behind the front desk earlier in the evening. Maria assumed that Corrina would want to say something after Maxwell, after which she could get her instrument. She was very pleased with the way the song had turned out. It was less nuanced than “What If I Told You?” but she thought the chorus might be stronger. She could even imagine others singing along by the time she got to the third refrain, as she’d kept the message very simple and clear there.
The entire evening had run the spectrum of emotions for Maria. So many people had come up to her to share their favorite stories about the inn, and Maria found these warming, even if sometimes bittersweet. She also loved watching Olivia “work the room,” impressed with how her daughter had added an extra layer of polish to her social skills since going off to college. At the same time, though, it was impossible to forget the occasion behind the occasion here. Yes, this was the annual Halloween party at the Sugar Maple Inn. That was impossible to mistake between the costumed attendees and Tyler’s very prominent decorations. But it was also a wake. Everyone here was in some ways paying their last respects to the Gold family’s presence at this place that had been theirs for so long.
Corrina was speaking now, explaining to all in attendance how much effort went into putting on this celebration, thanking others in a way that made it clear that she’d masterminded everything. As Corrina continued, Maria noticed something she hadn’t seen earlier. Corrina was holding court in the middle of the room, partygoers extending out from her in concentric circles. Maxwell had addressed the crowd from a spot near the buffet on the far wall. Deborah was still near the cake in the back of the room closest to the kitchen entrance. Tyler, camera around his neck, had one leg up on a chair near the wall opposite Maxwell. And Maria was situated closest to the exit out to the front desk.
Had she said much of anything to her siblings tonight? She’d kissed Maxwell hello when he came in with Annie and Joey, and she’d spent a minute with Tyler talking about his trip to South Carolina. Deborah was in the kitchen until now, and Corrina was, well, everywhere, but never in one place for long.
The chorus of the song she’d written for the party came to mind. It was all about the legacy of families and unbreakable bonds. She’d written it in major chords with a key change coming out of the bridge to give the entire thing the feel of a soaring anthem, and just a few minutes ago, she’d imagined the entire room singing it. The chorus had come to her so easily and had practically written itself. She thought she understood why now. She had written a song about the mythology of her family, maybe even about the family they once were.
It was not reflective of the family they were now, though.
As the room broke into applause, Maria’s attention drew back to the gathering. Corrina was smiling and attempting humility. Then Corrina looked around the room and caught sight of Maria. Pointing in her direction, Corrina said, “Maria, do you want to say something?”
; Heads swiveled in her direction. Maria considered the song one more time and then said, “No, I’m good, thanks.”
**^^^**
Tyler had been toting a camera around most of the night, snapping candids of the party, even though he’d never gotten good at that. He especially loved shooting the kids interacting with the flying bats. He had no idea what Corrina’s issue had been with them, but he thought they were a great touch.
Now, as the last few partiers got ready to leave, Tyler went to his car to retrieve his tripod. He knew he couldn’t let this event pass without a portrait.
He’d enjoyed himself at the party tonight, even though he’d spent much of it staying out of Corrina’s way. He’d gotten the chance to tell a few gallery owners about what was going on with Joe Elliott, and they seemed genuinely happy for him. He also got the opportunity to have some hangout time with Ryan (though the girlfriend was nowhere to be found), which was a good thing. It would sustain them. It was so good not to be tussling with the kid anymore, though he had a feeling that Ryan would be engaging in a bit of tussle with Corrina and Gardner soon.
He half-expected Patrice to make an appearance tonight, if for no other reason than that she should have been here as an Oldham entrepreneur. It would have been nice to have some additional closure, but maybe it was right this way. Tyler wasn’t an everything-works-out-for-the-best kind of guy, but that might just be the case here.
When he got back to the main function room, Corrina was calling out to Ryan from across the room, Maxwell was chatting up Mike Mills while Annie sat in a chair watching Joey run in circles, Deborah and Sage were in a corner making love with their eyes (get a room, will ya? – there’s a dozen of them upstairs), and Maria, Doug, and Olivia were preparing to head out.
Leaves Page 22