Permanently Booked
Page 27
“Jeez, she sure didn’t want us sitting here,” Summer said, when the hostess finally left. “Who else was she going to seat here, the Queen of Milano? There’s another empty table right behind us.”
“I may be able to answer that,” Esmé said. She leaned closer to Dorothy and Summer. “Zoe Z is in the house.”
“You’re kidding.” Summer craned her neck. “Where?”
Esmé ran a hand over her loose French braid, and sighed. “Remember that backstage issue I mentioned? She should be showing up here any second, the brat.”
“Who on earth is Zoe Z?” Dorothy asked.
“A celebrity train wreck,” Summer said. “She was ZeeZee’s daughter on that reality show Life with ZeeZee.”
“Never heard of it,” Dorothy murmured. It was hard to believe that a young TV star would be interested in an older ladies’ luncheon and fashion show.
“And after she got out of rehab Zoe Z made the worst pop album ever,” Summer went on. “So when her big music career didn’t work out, she decided she wanted to be a serious actress. She actually bugged my dad to cast her in his next movie, but he said no way. Huge insurance liability.”
“Well, I need you to watch her for me,” Esmé said. “Zoe happens to be my cousin.”
Summer stared at her friend. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. I’ll explain later,” Esmé said. “She has her manager with her, who’s an equal pain and totally useless. But I promised Aunt ZeeZee I’d look out for Zoe while she’s here in Milano. And I think maybe she’s in town to see you.”
“Me?” Summer said. “She’s, like, nineteen. I’m ten years older than her. I mean, seven. And how come you never told me you’re related to ZeeZee?”
Esmé shrugged. “Never came up, girl. And being linked to Zoe in any way isn’t exactly something to be proud of. All I know is, she’s asked me about you a zillion times.”
“Perhaps Zoe is hoping you’ll put in a good word for her with your father.” Dorothy took a sip from the glass of ice water a harried waitress had just placed in front of her.
“Ha,” Summer said. “Like Syd ever listens to me.”
Dorothy was quite sure he did listen—possibly more, it seemed, than he heeded the concerns of Summer’s overly-sensible sister, Joy, or his many former wives. It sounded as if the young women’s adventurous mother, Harmony Moon Smythe-Sloan, was mostly out of the picture—according to Summer, in any case.
“Esmé, what are you doing out here?” A sharp-chinned, red-haired woman in a long, linen wrap skirt came up beside Summer’s friend. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Backstage. Now. The other interns are useless.”
“Sorry,” Esmé said. “There was a mix-up with these guests’ reservations.”
“All under control. Esmé fixed everything.” Summer threw the woman a mega-watt smile. “What exactly is it we need to do, if there are any more, uh, issues?” she asked her friend.
“Just keep an eye out,” Esmé said over her shoulder, as her employer pulled her away. “We’ll talk later.”
“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Summer said to Dorothy, when the two women had disappeared. “I’m a terrible babysitter, remember?”
“That’s not true,” Dorothy said. “You do a wonderful job with your friend Dash’s daughter, Juliette-Margot.”
“Yeah, but she’s only six,” Summer said. “And she’s a good kid. If this Zoe Z girl is anything like she was on TV—and what I’ve heard about her—she’s impossible to deal with.”
Dorothy glanced toward the entrance. A slender, raven-haired teen was crossing the dining room in a skintight, daffodil-lace dress, without the slightest wobble of her canary yellow, sky-high heels. “Well, dear, we’re about to find out.”
*
Summer was careful not to turn around or even look up from her menu as Zoe Z and her manager—Aleesha Berman, if she remembered right—seated themselves directly behind her and Dorothy. Apparently those two hadn’t wanted the hostess to escort them, and wreck Zoe’s big entrance.
They’d probably stuffed the hostess in that giant vase in the foyer. And no one was paying much attention to Zoe, anyway. Probably not a lot of Life with ZeeZee or tabloid fans in here.
There wasn’t any time to eavesdrop on their new neighbors, though, because a silver-haired woman draped head-to-toe in silver lame appeared at the front of the room.
Maybe a slight overkill on the bling, Summer thought. For lunch, anyway. And anyone over thirty-five.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” the woman greeted the crowd through her wireless headset. “I’m Martha Kirk, president of the Milano Women’s League, and I’d like to welcome you all here to Waterman’s on the Bay for our first annual Charisma on the Catwalk Lunch and Fashion Show.”
The attendees all clapped politely.
“And I am thrilled to introduce you to our celebrity designer, Roland Cho, who created the fabulously unique pieces of jewelry our models are wearing this afternoon. Roland, can you step out here, please?”
The crowd burst into even more enthusiastic applause as a very short, spikey-haired man in his early thirties—white jeans, white turtleneck, purple jacket—emerged through the velvet curtain that had been set up to create a backstage area.
Roland smiled and waved, bowing a few times to his fans. Across the room, Gladys Rumway split the air with a screeching wolf whistle. “Really?” Summer whispered to Dorothy. Her friend just shook her head.
Summer was glad she’d worn something fairly conservative. With this crowd, you couldn’t go wrong with a flowered sundress, strappy sandals, and pearls. Dorothy looked great as usual, in a coral-knit twinset and pleated white skirt. Summer had almost suggested that she lose the thick-heeled Aerolite pumps, maybe, but at least her friend was comfortable. Besides, no one wore really sweet shoes when they were seventy-eight.
Martha Kirk droned on, introducing a bunch of local boutique owners. Summer hadn’t heard of any of them. She’d been in Milano three whole months, so she’d figured she knew all the retail options. The decent ones, anyway.
This fashion show would probably be a snooze, but that was okay. She wasn’t here for herself. She’d brought Dorothy here to get them out of Hibiscus Pointe for a fun afternoon.
Things had been a little boring lately. She and her sleuthing partner had been so busy earlier, investigating a couple of murders, that it seemed super quiet now, back at the complex. Not that she wasn’t working hard—well, sort of—at her volunteer job as Hibiscus Pointe Aquatics Director. It kept the Residents Board off her case for living in her late Grandma Sloan’s condo.
Why anyone cared that she was under age fifty-five, she had no clue. What a stupid rule. Her dad owned the place now, and she paid her rent to him on time each month, didn’t she? Well, so far, her sister Joy had. But that was going to change soon, when she got a decent, paying job.
“So let’s give a big round of applause for our hardworking models,” the silver-bullet MC said, as Summer tuned back in. “They’ll be stopping by your tables before the show begins, handing out goodies from our sponsors.”
Goodies? Summer hoped Martha K. meant cookies or something. She hadn’t had breakfast yet since she’d had to get up way earlier than usual, and she was starving.
She was about to ask Dorothy if she wanted her to go get their waitress, when she felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. “Hey, you know me, right?” a nasally voice said behind her.
Summer turned. “No. Sorry.”
“Of course you do,” Zoe Z said, flipping her shiny dark hair. “Life with ZeeZee? Hello?”
“Nope,” Summer said. Dorothy raised an eyebrow at her over her menu.
Okay, so maybe she was being a little harsh. The kid was related to Esmé, and she’d promised to keep an eye on her. “Oh, yeah, right,” she said. “Great show.”
“Well, your dad definitely knows me,” Zoe said. “He offered me a major role in The Girl on the Ledge. I haven’t decided whether I’ll
take it yet.”
Aleesha, Zoe’s manager, gave her client a not-now look. “Congratulations,” Summer said.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” A gorgeous older woman, tall and graceful in a long silk dress that matched the colors of the bay through the window, stopped at their table. She carried a shallow white basket filled with cards, perfume samples, and those little closet sachets. “Won’t you please take a card with these lovely gifts, courtesy of Monique’s Boutique?”
Ugh. Monique could have come up with a better name for her store.
“Why thank you, I believe I will,” Dorothy said, reaching into the basket.
The model glanced over her shoulder. “I see you have a Hibiscus Pointe tag on your purse,” she said. “My name is Angelica Downs, and I just moved my ninety-five-year-old mother into Hibiscus Glen.”
The memory care unit on the other side of the complex from her and Dorothy, Summer remembered. She’d never been over there.
“It’s a very nice facility,” Dorothy said. “I have several friends who…”
“Her name is Madeline, and I’m quite worried about her,” Angelica said. Why was she talking so fast? Summer wondered. She sounded really nervous.
“Angelica, let’s move along, please. The other tables are waiting, and we need to get the show on the road. Literally.”
Ugh. Esmé’s boss again. Didn’t she have anything better to do than chase people back to work? What was her problem?
“I’m sorry, Monique,” Angelica said, and Summer frowned. Was the model’s hand actually shaking on that basket handle?
“No, I apologize,” Dorothy said. “I’m afraid I delayed Angelica on her rounds. I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful bracelet she’s wearing. Is that a Roland Cho piece?”
“Why yes, it is,” Monique said, stepping in front of Angelica. “We carry several of his styles at Monique’s Boutique. The model gave you my card, didn’t she?”
“No,” Angelica said. “I must have forgotten. And if I didn’t, here, take this one.” She fumbled in her basket and handed a second card to Dorothy.
“Goodbye now,” Monique said, as she hustled the model to the next table. Zoe Z and Aleesha were gone, Summer noticed. Jeez, had they left already? Not that either of them would be interested in a bunch of old-lady clothes, but didn’t they at least want some lunch?
She sure did.
“Oh my,” Dorothy said, looking around the room. “Where did Angelica go? Do you see her?”
“Nope,” Summer said. “Monique’s probably giving her a lecture backstage, or something.”
“I don’t think so. Look at this.” Dorothy pushed the pink boutique card across the tablecloth.
Summer peered at it closer, and frowned. Beneath the raised-gold, swirly letters, someone had scrawled in red pencil: “CALL 911.”
*
Don’t miss
FASHIONABLY LATE by Lisa Q. Mathews,
Available September 2016 wherever
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Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Q. Mathews
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my fellow mystery writers and blogmates at Chicks on the Case: Ellen Byron, Kellye Garrett and Marla Cooper; my incredible agent, Stephany Evans at FinePrint Literary; and of course the hardworking staff at Carina Press, especially my ever-awesome editor, Kerri Buckley. And as always, love and gratitude to my husband and kids who always have my back: Rich, Kimberly, Stephanie and Rory—couldn’t do this without you guys.
Also available from Lisa Q. Mathews
and Carina Press
Lisa Q. Mathews
Cardiac Arrest
Fashionably Late (coming soon!)
About the Author
Lisa Q. Mathews prepped for her career as an author by studying ads in the back of her mom’s magazines (“We’re looking for people to write children’s books!”) and investing her hard-earned allowance in pristine spiral notebooks. She also devoured every Nancy Drew book in her summer camp library, determined to outwit the perfect girl detective. She failed, of course, but years later she had another chance.
After graduating from college with a typing speed of twelve wpm, Lisa headed to New York to work as an assistant to four busy editors. Soon after, she became an editor herself—of new Nancy Drew books! She also wrote under a pen name for other kids’ series, including Mary-Kate and Ashley and The Lizzie McGuire Mysteries. Eventually, she became Creative Director at Random House Children’s Books.
But Lisa had always dreamed of writing mysteries full-time—for grown-ups. During an extended stay at her parents’ floral-themed retirement community in Southwest Florida—and a chance elevator meeting with a memorable senior—The Ladies Smythe & Westin series was born.
A former figure skater and lifeguard, and mom to three grown kids, Lisa now scribbles in her notebooks from New Hampshire, where she lives with her husband, her own mom and a golden retriever puppy named Farley. She is happy to report that her typing speed is much improved, and she and Nancy Drew are still fast chums.
To learn more about Lisa and her books, please visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at lisaqmathews.com. You can also follow her on Twitter, @lisaqmathews, friend her on Facebook, and share in her writing adventures at the group blog Chicks on the Case. Lisa hopes you’ll enjoy The Ladies Smythe & Westin books as much as she enjoys writing them—and she looks forward to meeting you!
Fall in love with Lexi Carmichael, geek extraordinaire and trouble magnet, in the Lexi Carmichael Mystery series!
“No Woman Left Behind is first-rate fun, combining thrilling cyber suspense, treacherous military maneuvers and a barely-out-of-the-box romance that’s headed for potentially hostile territory, all relayed in the delightfully self-deprecating voice of sweet geek Lexi Carmichael.”
—USA TODAY, Must-read romance
The Lexi Carmichael Mystery series
NO MONEY DOWN (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, prequel novella)
NO ONE LIVES TWICE (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book one)
NO ONE TO TRUST (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book two)
NO PLACE LIKE ROME (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book three)
NO BIZ LIKE SHOWBIZ (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book four)
NO TEST FOR THE WICKED (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book five)
NO WOMAN LEFT BEHIND (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book six)
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NO STRINGS ATTACHED (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, book eight)
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ISBN-13: 9781459290624
Permanently Booked
Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Q. Mathews
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