Death of a Chocoholic

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Death of a Chocoholic Page 17

by Lee Hollis


  “She had a meeting with the Food Network?”

  “Oh, God, no, but every so often she’d scrape together some money and take a bus trip down there and hang around out in front of the building, hoping to run into one of her idols, who might be willing to help her get her foot in the door. Yes, she was totally delusional.”

  “So you helped her out?”

  “Yuck! Of course not! My mother wouldn’t let me step one foot inside that house with all those nasty, disease-ridden cats. Gross! I told her no. No offense, Blackberry,” Tawnia said to Blueberry, who walked past her, tail swishing.

  Tawnia reached down to pet him, but Blueberry hissed and Tawnia quickly retracted her fingers.

  “Was Bessie upset you refused to help her?” Hayley asked.

  “She was at first, but then she got distracted. Apparently, someone was looking at her through her windows. At first, I thought she was just making it up. I mean, seriously, what kind of Peeping Tom would want to look at Aunt Bessie?”

  The popcorn began popping like machine-gun fire.

  Gemma stood close to the microwave, grateful that the loud noise was drowning out Tawnia’s voice.

  “But then Aunt Bessie saw who it was and she got really, really scared.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Her creepy ex.”

  “Wolf Conway?”

  “Yeah, him. What a loser. I mean, spying on Aunt Bessie? It’s not like she’s a Kardashian!”

  “Did she open the door and confront him?”

  “I don’t know. I got bored and hung up.”

  Gemma opened the microwave door, ripped open the bag, and poured the contents into the green bowl. She walked back over to the table and put it down in front of Tawnia, who immediately scooped out a fistful and crammed it into her mouth.

  “But my mother told me she had run into Bessie in the grocery store, and Bessie had told her that she had to take a restraining order out on Wolf because he wouldn’t leave her alone. But that didn’t stop him from showing up on her doorstep all the time. She told Mom she was really frightened that he might do something to her. He had a vicious temper, just like Aunt Bessie.”

  “Did your mother call the police?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She was family,” Gemma said, trying not to slap Tawnia across the face. “Bessie was in danger.”

  “My daddy ditched us over twelve years ago. Mom was so mad she even made me change my last name to Wentworth, which is her maiden name. She was so done with him! She said his kooky sister is not our problem,” Tawnia said coldly, before noticing the judgmental looks from Hayley and Gemma. “But, seriously, I’m sorry she’s dead and all.”

  “Yeah, bummer about those iTunes gift certificates,” Gemma said.

  There was an uncomfortable silence as Tawnia realized she didn’t know her audience. She slurped some more chocolate milk and then stood up from the table. “Well, I’m going to go upstairs and put some makeup on in case a couple of cute boys show up outside and throw pebbles at the window while we’re doing each other’s hair later.”

  “I’m sorry, Tawnia, but we’re not going to model this slumber party after the one in Grease,” Gemma said.

  “It’s always been my fantasy having boys show up to whisk me away for a night of beer drinking and making out.”

  “Well, it’s going to remain a fantasy, as long as you’re here under my roof,” Hayley said.

  “I know!” Tawnia cackled. “Putting on makeup was just an excuse anyway. I’m actually going upstairs to call my mother and tell her we’re going to be rich!”

  Tawnia grabbed some more popcorn, then thought better of it, and tossed it back before picking up the entire bowl and running up the stairs.

  “I’m so, so sorry, honey,” Hayley said.

  “What for? Oh, you mean strong-arming me into inviting that hideous girl over here for a sleepover just so you could pump her for information?”

  “Boy, it really does sound bad when you put it that way.”

  Gemma grinned. “Don’t sweat it. I was happy to do it. I liked Bessie. She was always very sweet to me when she saw me. Constantly offering me some of her candy. I kind of miss her. And if you think there’s more to her death than what people are saying, then I say more power to you.”

  Hayley sat back in her chair, floored by her daughter’s sudden mood change. “Who are you? And what have you done with my daughter?”

  “I know I’ve been a little difficult lately—”

  “Climbing Mount Everest is difficult. You’ve been a nightmare.”

  “Okay, don’t make me sound so horrible. It’s just . . .”

  “What, Gemma?”

  Her eyes welled up with tears and she turned away.

  Hayley put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “What? You can tell me.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Nothing that upsets you like this is stupid, okay?”

  “Next year I’m going to be a senior and then I’m going to graduate. . . .”

  “And then you’ll go to college. I know.”

  “All my friends, they already know what they want to do. Carrie Weston is going to go to Boston College and then law school. Kendra’s going to be a teacher. Everyone’s always asking me, ‘What are you going to do?’ or ‘What do you want to be?’ I just draw a blank, because I don’t know.”

  “There’s no rush, honey. It’s okay not to know.”

  “But I feel like I’m way behind everybody else.”

  “Your grades are fine.”

  “No, I have no idea what I want. And I’m afraid that when the time comes, and all my friends go off to college, I still won’t know, and I’ll be stuck here forever!”

  Gemma sobbed and Hayley hugged her tightly. “It’s going to be okay. Trust me. You’ll figure it out.”

  Gemma tried desperately to stop crying. She was a very dramatic kid at times, but she tended to curb her real emotions, keep up a brave front, like nothing bothered her. So this moment had to have been building up inside her for a while now, to the point where she could no longer control it.

  “You’re a good kid, a smart kid. You impress me every day. I’m not the least bit worried that when the time comes, you’ll know which direction to take. And if it doesn’t work out, then you go in another direction. Life is one big map. You like visiting some places better than others. But the most important thing to remember is that it’s about the journey, not the destination.”

  “That’s a pretty good speech, Mom,” Gemma said, wiping her eyes.

  “Believe me, I just pulled it out of my butt. This mothering thing didn’t come with a manual.”

  Gemma giggled.

  “And, hey, look on the bright side. What’s the worst-case scenario? You live with me the rest of your life and we grow old together.”

  Gemma wailed.

  But she was faking it.

  Mother and daughter exchanged smirks and then convulsed with laughter.

  Hayley hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Last night after cooking dinner for the kids, I collapsed in my comfy chair with a glass of wine. (Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I brought the whole bottle with me; but to be fair, it had been a really stressful day.) I closed my eyes and sipped my wine, grateful for a moment’s peace. That’s when the phone rang. It was Liddy, who was dying to tell me some new gossip.

  My son, Dustin, is an expert at ambushing me when I am at my most vulnerable. Dead tired. Drinking wine. Hearing juicy dirt. How could I possibly focus on anything else? He rattled on about the money he got from his grandmother for Christmas, and how he wanted to spend it on a new video game. There was a big sale at the Bangor Mall on Saturday, and this was his one and only chance to buy the game he wanted. I nodded and waved him away, not really hearing all the details.

  So I paid for my lack of concentration the following Saturday in the wee hours of the morning, around s
even, when Dustin charged into my bedroom and began shaking me to get up and dressed so we could make the one-hour drive to Bangor before the stores in the mall opened. I simply stared at him. The Bangor Mall on a Saturday? Packed with crowds of obnoxious teenagers and screaming babies? Was he serious?

  Apparently he was. “A deal’s a deal,” he wailed. I knew there was no getting out of it. Note to self: No more wine after dinner. I always end up paying for it with days like these.

  Dustin invited his best buddy, Spanky, to tag along, which was a godsend. Spanky could keep Dustin company while he picked out his video and then they could hang at the Game Zone while I snuck away to shop for a scarf and sweater to update my work wardrobe.

  After arriving at the mall, I told the boys to meet me at the food court in two hours. After some whining and shuffling of the feet, they agreed. Nothing in the stores caught my eye and I got bored pretty quickly. It had only been thirty minutes. I still had another hour and a half before I was scheduled to rendezvous with the boys.

  I was thirsty, so I headed over to the food court to buy something to drink. The smell of freshly baked pizza was overpowering. I found myself purchasing a large slice of meat-stuffed pizza, along with my bottle of water. I set my tray down on a table to eat and started people watching.

  I began noticing a lot of young couples who had small children in strollers; they were all dressed to the nines in matching colors. Who has the time to coordinate outfits perfectly like that? They were like Stepford families, and they reminded me of all those popular kids in high school who spent hours on the phone discussing what to wear so they would match and stand out as a clique. I glanced down at my ratty jeans and pink t-shirt that said SAVE THE TA-TA’S, which was a gift from Mona last fall when we participated in the Breast Cancer Walkathon. I felt so uncool.

  As I munched on my pizza, I watched some mothers and daughters pass by. The mothers were dressed younger than their kids: miniskirts, thigh-high boots, shiny lip gloss. Gemma would never forgive me if I wore an outfit like that! And they were trashing a friend who wasn’t there to defend herself, just laughing and making fun of her. Like overgrown mean girls.

  I had to get away from that bad energy. So I got up and walked over to the pretzel cart and purchased a bag of warm salty pretzel nuggets and a cheddar-cheese dipping sauce. A family of five wandered past me. Every single one of them was wearing camouflage hunting jackets and scowls on their faces. They were like those rebellious kids who hate school and spend most of their time congregating outside in the smoking area.

  After the salty pretzels, I craved something sweet. I made my way through the crowd to the DQ and ordered a large hot-fudge sundae. That’s when it hit me. Shopping at the mall was just like being at high school with all the various cliques, groups of outsiders, popular kids, etc.

  “Mom!” Dustin yelled, interrupting my reverie. He and Spanky were staring at me, wide-eyed. “What?” I said. Dustin gestured at the table where I was sitting with a sweep of his arm. I suddenly realized it was littered with pizza crust, two empty water bottles, pretzel crumbs, dollops of cheese dip, crumpled napkins, and a half-eaten ice-cream sundae. Chocolate fudge sauce was dripping down the front of my pink t-shirt. I realized at that moment I was still that same girl in high school too: the one who could always be found sitting in the school cafeteria, eating, people watching, and usually dripping something on her clothes. Some things just never change.

  That night my embarrassed son deigned to forgive me, but only because I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought the ingredients for homemade hot-fudge sundaes, which I served to him while he played his brand-new video game. I left him to his fun so I could relax with a new, adults-only cocktail I made with the leftover chocolate syrup.

  Ultra Alexander

  Ingredients

  2 ounces brandy

  2 ounces crème de cacao

  1 tablespoon whipping cream

  1 tablespoon chocolate syrup

  Fill your cocktail shaker with ice. Add the brandy, crème de cacao, whipping cream, and chocolate syrup. Shake, strain, and serve in a glass.

  Hayley’s Hot-Fudge Sauce

  Ingredients

  1½ cups granulated sugar

  ½ cup brown sugar

  ¾ cup cocoa

  ¼ cup all-purpose flour

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 can evaporated milk (14 ounces)

  1 cup water

  2 tablespoons butter

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  Combine the sugar, cocoa, flour, and salt in a saucepan. Add the milk, water, and butter. Cook over medium heat, cool, then stir in the vanilla.

  Top over your favorite ice cream and add your favorite toppings.

  Chapter 33

  Hayley tried to ignore the intoxicating smell of sizzling bacon on the flat grill as she stood behind a hulking brute in a stained white wife-beater shirt and ratty jeans.

  “I’m not leaving until you talk to me, Wolf.” Hayley had managed to track down Bessie’s loutish ex-boyfriend Wolf Conway at the newly renovated Starfish Diner on Main Street, just a few hundred feet from the town pier.

  According to her sources—okay, Mona, who took her entire brood there earlier in the week for their signature eggs Benedict—Wolf was the new cook for the breakfast and lunch shift. Mona was certain it was Wolf because she got into an argument with him over her undercooked side of sausage. They nearly came to blows before the owner, Cindy Callahan, stepped in to defuse the escalating situation by comping Mona’s meal.

  Cindy was a former Delta Airlines flight attendant and recent divorcée who took her ex-husband’s settlement money and bought the flailing diner. She gave it a much-needed face-lift. She launched her grand opening on the Fourth of July, and quickly drew in a lot of tourists and cruise ship passengers. Now during the bleak winter months, business had slowed considerably, though Cindy was determined to stay open year-round.

  When her cook left her high and dry in early February to follow a strapping marine, whom she had met at Drinks Like A Fish, back to his base in warm Florida, Cindy was desperate. Apparently, she knew all about Wolf’s run-ins with the law and his unsettling reputation, but the big oaf could fry an egg. Also, as a newly single woman in her late thirties, Cindy appreciated Wolf’s muscles, which glistened with sweat from the kitchen heat and flexed so impressively when he used the spatula to flip pancakes.

  The restaurant was nearly empty when Hayley arrived, so Cindy was kind enough to allow Hayley to have a word with her employee. Unfortunately, Wolf wasn’t nearly as accommodating. With his back to Hayley, he simply chose to ignore her.

  “I’m not here to cause you any trouble, Wolf. I just want to talk to you.”

  Wolf picked up a large knife and began dicing an onion and a green pepper for an omelette.

  “There are no customers in the diner, Wolf. I know you’re just making that omelette so you don’t have to talk to me.”

  He kept chopping.

  Faster.

  Angrier.

  “Okay. Would you at least explain why Bessie felt the need to take out a restraining order against you?”

  Wolf stopped for a moment.

  Gripped the knife more tightly.

  Then kept chopping.

  He used the knife to scrape the bits of onion and green pepper onto the flat grill. Then he grabbed a tomato and started violently slicing it.

  “She told her ex-sister-in-law that she was scared of you and she was afraid of what you might do to her. And now she’s dead.”

  Wolf spun around, brandishing the sharp knife, pointing it at Hayley, who took a step back.

  “I didn’t do nothing to her. Papers said she died of a heart attack. So, why are you poking your nose where it don’t belong?”

  Hayley suddenly noticed the distinct T-shaped scar on his left bicep.

  Exactly like the one she spotted on the intruder who attacked her at Bessie’s house.

  It was Wolf Conway.

>   Wolf noticed Hayley staring at the scar.

  His face twitched a little.

  He pointed the knife in Hayley’s direction.

  “Just leave me alone!”

  “It was you. You were the one who broke into Bessie’s house.”

  “So you wanna call the cops? Go ahead. Then you can explain what the hell you were doing there too!”

  “What were you looking for?”

  Wolf turned back to the grill, poured some whipped eggs into a small frying pan, along with the veggies and some shredded cheese, and placed it on a red-hot burner, just to the left of the flat grill.

  “Talk to me, Wolf. I know it’s taken you a long while to find this job. It would be a shame if word got out you were robbing houses.”

  Wolf twisted back around, waving the knife at Hayley. “Cindy doesn’t care about my past. She says she’s comfortable with it.”

  “Yes, but she’s probably assuming the past isn’t just yesterday when you broke into your ex-girlfriend’s house and ransacked it.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “The truth.”

  Wolf sighed and lowered the knife, but he still clutched it at his side.

  “I wasn’t there to steal anything. I just wanted to get back what’s mine.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Two grand in cash.”

  Wolf detected the skepticism on Hayley’s face.

 

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