One Feta in the Grave

by Tina Kashian

  The timer dinged again, and Lucy took out a second batch of cookies. She’d had to make small batches by herself, but with her mother’s help, they could roll, stuff, and bake much faster.

  Her mother reached for a chunk of dough covered in plastic wrap. “Did you let this dough rest?” her mother asked.

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “Good. You remembered.”

  Lucy reached for a rolling pin and joined her mother at the worktable. Adding a pinch of flour to her work surface so the dough wouldn’t stick, Lucy started rolling. Once they rolled out the dough, they cut two-inch rounds with cookie cutters.

  As they worked side by side, Lucy’s mind turned back to the events of the morning. Angela had been in business in Ocean Crest for years and knew almost everyone in town. Maybe she’d have information on Archie or Harold.

  “Hey, Mom, what do you know about Archie Kincaid?” Lucy asked.

  “The owner of Seaside Gifts? He came to town about a year ago with his nephew and bought old man John’s shop on the boardwalk. Why?” Angela continued cutting the dough with the cookie cutter as she spoke. She worked quickly, and Lucy had often admired her for her efficiency and endurance in the kitchen. Her mother never seemed to tire.

  “Archie was a judge of the sand sculpture contest and never told the festival committee that his nephew was one of the sculptors. Archie gave Katie a hard time before he finally withdrew as a judge.”

  Her mother shrugged a slender shoulder. “I’m not surprised.”

  “You’re not?”

  Angela reached for a bowl of pitted and chopped dates that Lucy had prepared. She placed a tablespoon of filling in the center of each cut-out circle of dough. “Archie can be stubborn. His nephew, Neil, is a vagrant, and Archie tries to help the boy.”

  “Vagrant? What’s that supposed to mean?” English was her mother’s third language and sometimes she chose the wrong word to convey her meaning.

  Angela waved a flour-coated hand. “You know. Wanderer. Bum. He says he’s an artist, but never sells anything. He surfs all day and doesn’t work. He needs a haircut and a shave.”

  Lucy chuckled as she finally got her mother’s meaning. She thought negatively of any unshaved male with long hair. Old-school thinking for sure, but Lucy could almost picture Neil Kincaid based on her mother’s description. “Mom, bum is not a politically correct term.”

  “Fine. Neil isn’t homeless, he’s lazy. He could get a job if he wanted. Instead, he spends his days on the beach. He lives with his uncle, Archie, above their store.”

  “Yes, well. Archie argued with Katie. But Harold Harper instigated it.” After adding the filling, Lucy folded the dough to make a half-moon shape.

  “It’s no secret that the two dislike each other,” her mother said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Once, they happened to be in the restaurant at the same time. They started shouting across the dining room and drove poor Sally crazy. She threatened to kick them out if they didn’t behave.”

  “Really? I can’t picture Sally losing it.” Sally was a longtime waitress at Kebab Kitchen. She had an easygoing personality and the locals loved her. As long as Lucy had known her, Sally had never lost her temper.

  “Fortunately, both men have never been back to eat at the same time again.” Angela set down her spoon and glanced at Lucy’s workspace. “Be careful not to stuff the cookies too much.”

  Lucy immediately scraped some of the date filling back into the bowl. Once each cookie was filled, folded, and sealed, she placed it on a tray. Last, she brushed all the unbaked cookies with egg wash and slid the rack into the oven.

  “What smells so good in here?”

  Lucy turned to see Azad Zakarian walk in the kitchen. Tall, dark, and lean, the sight of the handsome head chef always made her pulse pound a bit too fast. His hair was wet, making it look almost black, and Lucy knew he’d gone home after the lunch shift to shower and return for the dinner shift. He hadn’t yet put on his chef’s coat, and he wore a tight white T-shirt that showed off muscled biceps and a lean stomach. She tore her gaze away.

  Get a grip, Lucy.

  She was his boss, and she needed better self-control if they were to continue to work together.

  Not long ago, Azad had left his sous chef job at a fancy Atlantic City restaurant to become head chef of Kebab Kitchen. Her parents no longer worked full-time, and she couldn’t have managed the place without him. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition. Azad had broken her heart after college, and she’d sworn never to fall for that charming dimple ever again.

  But since her return to Ocean Crest, Azad had expressed interest in resuming their romantic relationship.

  Trouble.

  Lucy was hesitant about any kind of relationship with him outside of the restaurant, but time and his steady pursuit—along with a bout of hormones—was wearing down her resistance.

  Lucy cleared her throat. “We’re making date cookies and baklava for the festival.”

  “They look great, too,” he said.

  Was that a compliment about just the cookies or was there more behind his words?

  “What do you have planned for the festival menu?”

  “I want samples that people can easily eat without utensils. I’m thinking of small wrapped gyros, bamboo skewers of lamb shish kebab, and grilled vegetable skewers of peppers, tomatoes, and onions. I also plan to make a meat bulgur sausage and falafel.”

  “Mmm. It all sounds delicious,” Lucy said.

  Azad flashed a grin, and the dimple in his cheek deepened. She was suddenly overly warm, and it had nothing to do with the heat from the ovens.

  “Excuse me. We need more flour,” she said. Grabbing the half-empty container, she left Azad with her mother and headed for the storage room. She didn’t need more flour, she needed a break.

  Shelves of dry items stacked the perimeter of the storage room. A tiny office was tucked away in the corner. She set the flour container on a shelf beside large bags of rice, bulgur, and spices—the essentials of Mediterranean cuisine.

  Grabbing a bag of cat food on a far shelf, she headed out the back door to the rear parking lot. She shook the bag and seconds later, a patchy orange and black cat with yellow eyes sauntered from behind the Dumpster to wind around her feet.

  “Hi, Gadoo. Where have you been?” She bent down to pet his soft fur and was rewarded with a rumbling purr.

  Her mother had named the outdoor cat Gadoo which meant cat in Armenian. Not very original, but Lucy had taken a liking to the feisty feline and took over feeding him twice a day and making sure he always had enough water.

  “I have your favorite.” She opened the bag of kibbles and poured some into his bowl which she kept outside by the restaurant’s back door. Gadoo looked up, blinked, then meowed.

  “You want more?”

  Another meow, louder this time.

  “Spoiled kitty,” she said, then added more food to his bowl. “If you keep eating like this, you’ll have to watch your feline figure.”

  He responded with a twitch of his tail, and then began eating.

  The back door opened, and Azad stepped out. “Hey. I was wondering where you went off to.”

  “I wanted to feed Gadoo.” Obvious answer since the cat was chowing down at her feet. How long would it take for her to get over this nervousness around him when they were alone?

  It didn’t help that her parents had always wanted them to be together. “Keep the business in the family, Lucy,” her mother had often said.

  It had always been enough to make her run for the hills.

  But now she was older and wiser. And Azad had changed. He was no longer the young, college boy who feared commitment. He’d stuck around and helped her by taking over as head chef.

  Azad had put on his chef’s coat, and he looked professional in the starched white jacket. Still, he shoved his hands into his pockets and a look of unease crossed his handsome features.

  Maybe h
e was just as nervous as she was.

  “Are you free Friday? There’s a new French restaurant, Le Gabriel, that I think you’d like,” he said. “Your mom is covering in the kitchen and your dad is managing then so it’s not a problem.”

  He’d followed her outside to ask her on a date? “I’ve heard of Le Gabriel. It’s received excellent reviews by the food critic in the Ocean Crest Town News.”

  “Are you free?” Azad’s dark gaze met hers, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Maybe it was time to take a leap. If a door of opportunity opened, shouldn’t she step through it? “Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”

  Azad’s mouth curved in a sensual smile. “Great. This time, I promise nothing will get in our way.”

  CHAPTER 2

  After finishing the cookies, Lucy walked into the dining room to make sure everything was running smoothly for the upcoming dinner shift. Kebab Kitchen was a quaint family restaurant. Tables with pristine white tablecloths, votive candles, and vases of fresh flowers, as well as a handful of similarly appointed maple booths, offered diners a cozy atmosphere. Large bay windows overlooked the glimmering Atlantic Ocean and the pristine stretch of beach. In the distance, diners could see the boardwalk pier with the Ferris wheel and wooden roller coaster.

  In the corner of the dining room was a hummus bar—one of the most popular features of the restaurant. The varieties of hummus changed daily, and tonight’s flavors were artichoke, black bean, spicy jalapeño, and of course, Angela’s famous traditional hummus. There were vegetables for dipping, and fresh pita bread could be ordered from the kitchen. Lucy never got tired of the hummus bar and would often grab a dish and indulge.

  Her sister, Emma, and their longtime waitress, Sally, were making sure each table had full salt and pepper shakers and fresh flowers in the vases.

  Emma spotted Lucy beside the waitress station and came over. “Hey, Lucy. How’d the sand sculpture judging go?”

  Lucy didn’t want to go into detail about Katie’s confrontation. “You have to stop by the beach on your way home. The sculptures are amazing.”

  “We plan to,” Sally said. “Meanwhile, here comes Butch to tell us tonight’s specials.”

  The swinging kitchen doors opened and a large, African American man carrying a tray of food stepped into the dining room. Butch was another longtime employee and their line cook. He had the broadest shoulders and chest Lucy had ever seen on a man, and he always wore a checkered bandana on his head. He smiled, and his gold tooth glinted beneath the fluorescent lights.

  “Hi, Lucy Lou,” he called out, using the nickname he’d chosen for her ever since she’d been in kindergarten. “Tonight’s appetizers are baba ganoush, and tabbouleh. The entrées are herb meatballs in a tomato sauce, duck with walnuts and rice, and vegetarian moussaka. Do you want to sample?”

  Lucy greeted him with a big smile. “You bet.” They always sampled the specials in case customers had questions while ordering.

  Butch set the tray down on the counter behind the waitress station. Emma fetched three forks and small plates. The women split the entrées and tasted.

  The baba ganoush had the perfect amount of tahini, or sesame seed paste, and melted in Lucy’s mouth. The tabbouleh was savory and the lemon dressing added just enough tartness. She moved on to sample the main courses. The herb meatballs in tomato sauce were hearty and delicious. The duck was moist and cooked perfectly and served with rice pilaf. The vegetarian moussaka with eggplant and creamy béchamel sauce was heavenly and full of flavor.

  Lucy set down her fork. “Oh my gosh. It’s all so good.”

  “I want to keep eating,” Emma said.

  Butch nodded. “I’ll tell Azad.”

  “Don’t. His ego is already too big,” Lucy said.

  Butch chuckled and carried the tray and their dishes back to the kitchen.

  The front door opened, and Emma and Sally stepped from behind the waitress station. “Well, well. Look who just walked in,” Emma said.

  Sally fanned herself. “What a hottie.”

  Lucy turned to see a dark-haired man with a bronzed complexion waiting by the hostess stand. Michael Citteroni ran the bicycle shop next door to Kebab Kitchen.

  Sally rushed forward to snatch a menu and seat him in one of the maple booths by the window. She lingered a moment, smiling down at her customer, then smoothed her hair as she hurried back. “He asked for you, Lucy.”

  “Lucky girl. Too bad I’m married,” Emma said.

  Sally winked. “Don’t let Azad see you talking to him.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Stop. Both of you. Michael is just a friend.”

  Sally and Emma gave each other looks that said, “Yeah, right.”

  Lucy ignored them and headed for the table. She slid in the booth across from him and met his gaze. The first time she’d seen him she’d thought his deep blue eyes rivaled a summer sky in Ocean Crest. “Hi, Michael.”

  “I heard there was an argument while judging the sand sculpture contest. Talk says you tangled with Archie Kincaid.”

  Nothing in the small town of Ocean Crest stayed private for long. Gossip traveled faster than tzatziki sauce gone bad in the summer heat. It was one of the things that had bothered Lucy when she’d first moved back home. Everyone was in everyone else’s business.

  “Not me, but Katie. She put him in his place,” she said.

  “Good for her. Archie can be a royal ass.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “I hear things at the bicycle shop, especially when my father makes an appearance.”

  No doubt. Michael’s father, Anthony Citteroni, was a bit shady, a mobster depending on who you believed, and according to local gossip he used his many businesses—bike rentals, Laundromats, and trash collection services—to launder money from his illegal activities and connections in Atlantic City.

  But Michael was different; he didn’t see eye to eye with his father, or his sister who idolized their father. Michael may not have initially wanted to run the bicycle shop, but like Lucy, he’d stepped up to help with the family business.

  No wonder he liked riding his Harley-Davidson. The few times Lucy had ridden with Michael, she’d felt free and, for those brief moments, she’d tossed her worries to the wind. It was an intoxicating experience.

  Lucy let out a puff of air. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me what you know about Archie.”

  “He has few friends in town,” Michael said. “Archie runs that boardwalk shop like a shark. Just ask the Gray sisters.” Everyone in town knew the pair of sweet older sisters who owned Gray’s Novelty Shop on the boardwalk.

  “Their store is next to Archie’s,” he continued. “He wanted to buy them out and expand his space. They refused. He knows better than to ask his business neighbor on the other side. The only thing Harold Harper would sell him is a counterfeit dollar.”

  “You know about their feud?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Once again, she was reminded of the Ocean Crest gossip mill. She wondered how many people had already heard about Katie’s brawl with Archie today.

  Michael opened his menu. “What do you recommend?”

  “The baba ganoush appetizer. The duck with walnuts for the main course. Both are amazing.”

  “Sold.” He handed her the menu. “By the way, do you want to go for a ride later this week? I just changed the carburetor on the Harley and it purrs like a dream.”

  Lucy smiled. “You bet.”

  Just then, Azad stepped out of the kitchen to get himself a glass of ice water from the waitress station. He spotted the pair and froze. His brow furrowed and he glared at Michael.

  Michael returned the stare.

  It was no secret that Azad didn’t like Michael, and Michael wasn’t a big fan of Azad’s.

  Just great. She’d had her share of big male egos for one day.

  “Looks like your chef wants me out of here,” Michael said. “Any chance he’ll poison my food?”
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  She tried not to grimace. “I’d be happy to taste test it for you.”

  * * *

  The following morning, Lucy woke to bright sunshine streaming through the open bedroom window, along with a cool breeze. She stretched, and her mouth watered from the scent of freshly brewing coffee.

  Thank goodness for Katie.

  Lucy had been staying with Katie and Bill, an Ocean Crest beat cop, since she’d returned home. They lived in a rancher two blocks from the beach. The guest room was small, but lovely, and decorated in a beach theme with white wicker furniture and a daybed with a coverlet embroidered with starfish and shells. Watercolors of beach scenes painted by a local artist hung on the pale blue walls.

  Lucy dressed in running shorts and a baggy T-shirt that read BEACH HAIR, DON’T CARE. It was a gift from her ten-year-old niece, Niari, after joking one day about how the summer humidity wreaked havoc with Lucy’s shoulder-length, curly hair. Lucy had chuckled and wore the shirt with pride. She tied her running shoes and put her hair in a ponytail.

  Lucy padded to the kitchen. Bill was already out of the house for his shift at the police station. As soon as Katie spotted her, she handed Lucy a mug of coffee and a chocolate glazed doughnut.

  “You spoil me.” Lucy sipped her coffee, then took a bite. “Mmm. Are these from Cutie’s Cupcakes?”

  “Yes. Susan Cutie’s doughnuts are better than Krispy Kreme in my opinion.”

  “Much better. I convinced Susan to offer samples of lemon meringue pie at the food and wine tasting tomorrow.”

  “Smart girl. I still plan to leave work early Tuesday and can help. Then I’m announcing the winner of the sand sculpture contest and giving away a fat check for five grand.”

  “I’m dying to know. Who’s the winner?”

  “I don’t even know. Gertrude Shaw and Francesca Stevens were in charge of calculating the scores. The winner’s name is top secret and sealed in an envelope,” Katie said.

  “Are you kidding? Gertrude and Francesca are the town’s worst gossips.” They were also members of the Ocean Crest town council and had their fingers in everything.