Grant came to join Caprice on the sofa. It was striped in purple and lime and fuchsia to complement the sixties decor, including a lava lamp.
As he sat beside her—very close beside her—she took a sip of tea and then placed the sweating glass on the mosaic-topped coffee table. She hadn’t turned the air on because the night breeze floated in the open windows.
“Dinner at your mom and dad’s is always like a family reunion,” he mused.
“That’s why we do it once a month, whether there’s a special occasion or not. Everybody enjoys going all-out—Nikki’s antipasto, Nana’s ravioli, Bella’s lima bean casserole and cake, my bread, Vince’s choice of wine.”
“The weather was perfect for the kids to play outside afterward.”
Kids were sometimes a sore subject with Grant, though he tried not to let it show. He’d experienced a tragedy in his past. His daughter had drowned, and his marriage had broken up because of it. When he’d moved to Kismet to join her brother’s law practice—she and her family had gotten to know him when he’d been her brother’s college roommate—he’d started a new life. Yet he really hadn’t been ready to move on. It had been only in the past few months that Caprice had felt he was putting the past behind him . . . or not regretting it as much.
“Megan and Timmy can be a handful,” she agreed. “It’s great when they can be outdoors to release some of that energy. Just wait until Benny joins in the fray.”
Apparently wanting to leave the subject of children, Grant changed the direction of their conversation. “Last night at Grocery Fresh, I ran into a client who’d stopped in at your open house.”
“Really? What did she think?”
“She liked the way the house was staged. I think she picked up one of your cards. She liked the food too, but—”
“But?” Caprice was surprised there was any question about Nikki’s food.
“Apparently she overheard an argument between Nikki and some guy.”
Caprice groaned. “That wasn’t some guy. That was Drew Pierson. I think he came by just to goad Nikki . . . and maybe intimidate her. Thank goodness she didn’t take him on as a partner. That could have been disastrous.”
“This was a heated argument?”
“Heated enough. He threatened to destroy her business. Fortunately not too many guests were there yet. Nikki told me yesterday that Drew made a pass at her when they were working together. I have a feeling it was more than just a pass. She didn’t confide the details to me, but I think whatever happened shook her up and that’s why she didn’t consider taking him on as a partner.”
“Why would he do that if he wanted to work with her?”
“Maybe he thought their working relationship could have benefits. Maybe it was his way of thinking he could solidify the deal.”
Grant set down his glass of iced tea next to hers. Then he curved his arm around her shoulders. “A kiss or a relationship should have nothing to do with a deal.”
Caprice gazed up at him, totally lost in his gray eyes, and he seemed lost in her dark brown ones. “I absolutely agree.”
For an instant she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he asked, “How would you like to go with me to a concert in the park on Wednesday night? We could spread out a blanket, take some snacks . . . and the dogs.”
“Who might want to eat the snacks,” she joked.
Grant smiled. “We’ll take a few treats for them too. What do you say?”
“I say it’s a terrific idea.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Grant bent his head and kissed her. The living room became a psychedelic swirl, and she knew she felt something good and true and lasting for him. She just hoped he felt the same.
* * *
Caprice’s childhood home was a haven for her. That’s why she visited it often. As she strolled up the walk on Monday morning, Lady padding beside her, she realized once again how the house’s Mediterranean-style exterior didn’t fit its Pennsylvania surroundings. When her parents had purchased it, it had been a real fixer-upper. They’d been “fixing up” for years because there was always something to repair. Yet with her dad’s masonry and carpentry talents and his coworker friends helping him, he’d kept up improvements year by year. A few years back when Nana had sold her house, Caprice’s parents had built an addition so she could live with them but still be independent.
With Lady sniffing the grass edging the sidewalk, Caprice went around to her Nana’s side of the house, mounted the steps, and knocked. Nana was an early riser and she might have turned on her morning TV programs. Caprice hoped she could hear the knock.
However, Nana immediately came to the door in yellow knit sportswear pants and a matching top. Her gray hair was fixed in the usual bun at her nape, and her golden brown eyes were alight with morning energy.
“Did I know you were coming?” Nana asked with a fond smile and a pat for Lady.
Caprice gave Nana a hug, then unhooked Lady’s leash. “No, you didn’t. But we didn’t have much of a chance to talk yesterday and I wanted to catch up.”
Nana motioned her inside. “I’m just having my morning cup of tea. You can join me.”
As soon as they stepped inside Nana’s small living room, Valentine came scampering from the bedroom. Caprice had found the gray tabby kitten in her yard one cold February night. Nana had decided she needed a pet, and bonds had formed quickly. Now, at five months, Valentine was becoming lankier and longer. She danced up to Lady, who took a sniff, then they both made a beeline for the kitchen.
“They want a midmorning snack too,” Caprice translated with a laugh.
“I have fresh-made biscotti for us, Greenie treats for Valentine, and a Perky Paws peanut butter cookie for Lady.”
Fifteen minutes later as the animals chased and played in the living room, Nana served Caprice tea at her small kitchen table, the TV sounding in the background.
“What are you watching?” Caprice asked, unfamiliar with morning TV. Morning was her best work time—meeting clients, making phone calls, or running errands to find furniture for her next house staging.
“Mornings With Mavis,” Nana responded. “It’s that new, local morning talk show. I learn about all kinds of businesses in the area, local charities, events that are coming up. It’s very informative.”
Caprice glanced at the TV as she pulled one of Nana’s biscotti from the canister that her grandmother had brought to the table. Then she took a second look at the TV, realizing what she’d seen. “That’s Drew Pierson!”
“Drew who?” Nana asked.
“Drew Pierson, the caterer who’s competing against Nikki. Can we turn it up?”
They both moved into the living room and Nana picked up the remote, increasing the volume. Drew was sitting in one of the interview chairs, looking all dapper and casual, his hair perfectly gelled in that new mussed way, while another gentleman in a suit and tie sat next to him. Mavis—at least Caprice guessed it was Mavis—with her flaming red hair and broad lipstick smile sat across from them.
She said, “Your chain of restaurants, Rack O’ Ribs, is well known up and down the East Coast, Mr. Cranshaw. And we’re so glad you opened a restaurant in Kismet not so long ago. Tell me how you came to decide that Chef Drew’s blackberry barbeque sauce would be used in your chain.”
“You’re kidding!” Caprice exclaimed. “He sold barbeque sauce?”
“Maybe he’ll be rich now and stop competing with Nikki,” Nana observed.
“I don’t know about rich. But if he sold the recipe, that could be quite profitable.”
“I tasted it,” Mr. Cranshaw said. “As soon as I did, I knew I wanted it.”
“The barbeque sauce is only the beginning,” Drew informed Mavis. “My catering service, Portable Edibles, is going to specialize in original recipes—main dishes, pies, and cakes. If you want a sampling, come out to the Kismet wedding expo on Sunday. I’ll be introducing a chocolate walnut groom’s cake. I’ve been told the recipe is t
o get married for!” He laughed as if he’d made an exceptional joke.
As the camera zoomed in on Mavis, Caprice realized the show must consist of short interviews. Mavis said, “We’ll post information about the wedding expo on our Web site. Viewers, make sure you check it out. If you’re in the area, stop by the wedding expo on Sunday.”
The segment over, the program went to commercial and Nana turned down the sound. “Do you need to tell Nikki about this?” Nana asked.
“I certainly do.” Caprice was already reaching for her phone in the pocket of her yellow bell-bottomed slacks—a staple in her vintage wardrobe.
“You know,” Nana said softly, “Drew’s grandmother, Rowena Pierson, makes a wonderful chocolate walnut cake . . . with maple icing, if I remember correctly.”
Caprice forgot the call to Nikki for the moment. “Do you know his grandmother?”
Nana frowned. “She attends St. Francis of Assisi church. Has for years. She has a reputation for being a wonderful cook. But she does have arthritis and some sight problems. She doesn’t cook as much as she used to. The thing is, I can’t imagine her giving anyone her recipes. She insists they’re unique and she doesn’t want everybody copying them. She once told me that she keeps them hidden.”
Either Drew’s grandmother had become generous with her recipes and given them to Drew, or else . . .
Could Drew have found those recipes and stolen them?
Chapter Two
Caprice had already been seated at Rack O’ Ribs on Tuesday when Bella entered the restaurant. Caprice spotted her sister over the line of people waiting to be seated and waved.
Bella waved back and said something to the hostess, a redhead dressed in a white blouse, red tie, and very short black skirt. Then her sister wound her way around the rustic wooden tables, bumped into one of the black iron chairs, and met Caprice at her back booth. The vinyl on the booth’s wooden bench sported a cowhide pattern.
Bella slipped into the booth across from Caprice with a resigned sigh. “And just why did you want me to meet you at this busy place? It’s new and everybody’s still trying it. We’ll hardly be able to hear ourselves over the chatter.”
“Good afternoon to you too,” Caprice said cheerily.
Bella wrinkled her nose at her and asked, “Well? When Mom came over, I told her I’d be away for an hour. You could have just gone through the drive-thru and brought lunch to my house.”
Yes, Caprice could have ordered the ribs, picked them up at the drive-thru, and taken them to Bella’s, but she wanted to be in the midst of the action and actually experience the restaurant.
“You can take Mom some ribs after we finish lunch. I told you this is about Drew Pierson. I want us to taste his recipe for blackberry barbeque sauce. They just started serving it yesterday.”
Bella looked around. “Rack O’ Ribs is a nice all-around restaurant for families, teens, and couples.” She turned her attention back to Caprice. “Why isn’t Nikki tasting the sauce with us?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll taste it. But she’s too upset about the whole thing right now to think clearly, or to taste well. We need to be objective. She couldn’t believe Drew had devised some secret recipe that was good enough to sell. She said he can cook well enough, he just can’t create from scratch. He insists his catering business is going to be known for its original recipes, and Nikki’s just shaking her head over the whole thing. He’ll be at the wedding expo this weekend with a supposedly divine chocolate walnut groom’s cake. Nana believes it’s his grandmother’s recipe.”
“Maybe it is,” Bella responded. “You know how recipes are handed down.”
“Maybe. But then he shouldn’t say it’s his recipe. I’m hoping this sauce isn’t anything special. Then we can tell Nikki that.”
“Does she know you’re here?” Bella asked.
Caprice shook her head. “No, I want to get the verdict first. I ordered half a rack for both of us, sweet potato fries, and steamed broccoli.”
“No carbs there. The broccoli will save us,” Bella decided with a grimace.
“Tell me about your house showing last night.” Caprice raised her voice a little so Bella could hear her over a sudden burst of loud chatter.
Bella squeezed the thin slice of lemon hanging on her tumbler into the water and dropped it in with the ice cubes. “The prospective buyers were a young couple, maybe in their midtwenties. They have one little girl who’s two. The real estate agent said they seemed to be interested. It is a perfect starter home. She said they liked the way you had it staged with the sectional sofa, the colorful throw pillows, and the bright stoneware on the kitchen table. Apparently that attracts family buyers.”
“That’s what I was hoping. Your house is terrific for a family just starting out. Have you and Joe found anything you really like?”
“We have our eye on a couple of places online, but we don’t want to go look at them and then get disappointed if it takes a long while for our house to sell.”
“It won’t,” Caprice assured her. “The market’s picking up, and you’re right in the perfect price range.”
“I wish I had your confidence. Joe insists we shouldn’t seriously look until we sell.”
“That’s one way to do it, but then everything could happen really fast. You might have to move out of your sold house and move in with Mom and Dad.”
Bella groaned. “Oh, right, with Uncle Dom there too. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”
“I don’t think he’ll be there that much longer,” Caprice confided. “He’s seriously considering setting up a pet-sitting business.”
Bella shook her head. “I couldn’t even imagine pet-sitting—walking dogs, cleaning up after cats, all day long and into the evening.”
“If you love animals, it’s not a chore, and I think Uncle Dom really does like caring for animals. Mix in house-sitting, and he could have a good business. It’s hard to find qualified, trusted people who will pet sit or house sit and take care of everything.
“I think our food’s here,” Caprice noted, catching sight of a waitress who was winding her way toward them with a tray. The brunette with the jaunty ponytail and sunny smile set one dish in front of Caprice and the other in front of Bella.
She said, “The plate is hot, so be careful.” She took foil packets from her pocket and set three in front of each plate. “These are to wipe sticky fingers. We know our customers like to eat their ribs with their fingers. Enjoy.”
Once she’d left the table, Caprice glanced down at the ribs. They were heavily glazed and glossy, and did look delicious.
Bella was shaking her head. “There goes my diet.”
“You can try just one or two,” Caprice offered. “Isn’t diet all about balance?”
Bella rolled her eyes. “Let’s see how good these are.”
Whereas Caprice was pulling the ribs apart with her fingers and then licking them, Bella used a knife and fork. Her sister was particular and wouldn’t get her fingers dirty with something like sticky rib sauce if she could help it.
Bella stabbed a nice chunk of meat with her fork, smelled it, put it to her lips, and then ate it. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “I don’t think one rib will be enough. Oh my gosh, Caprice, this is really good. If these are the kind of recipes Drew Pierson devises, Nikki’s going to have a battle on her hands.”
Caprice picked up a rib and, as delicately as she could, ate the meat from it. The taste on her tongue was fruity and sweet, yet with a bit of heat. Bella was right. This sauce was good. Maybe even genius.
“They’re selling bottles of it up at the cash register,” Bella informed her. “You can bet Drew Pierson will get his cut of each one.”
Caprice suddenly realized what a lucrative deal this had been for Drew. He was definitely on his way. On his way to destroying Nikki’s business?
Or on his way to something else?
* * *
Caprice sat at her computer working on Wednesday before she changed for her dat
e with Grant. At least she was supposed to be working. But she was thinking about how good those ribs had tasted yesterday and whether she should tell Nikki. Mirabelle sat on the cushy lime-green chair beside Caprice’s computer worktable. Every once in a while, she looked up and meowed and Caprice would pet her. Mirabelle was vocal, as lots of Persians were.
Suddenly her long-haired calico, with her strikingly beautiful white ruff, sauntered into the room and saw Lady sitting by Caprice’s foot and Mirabelle on the chair. Usually laid back, Sophia hadn’t been particularly happy about this recent addition to their family. The cats were adjusting to each other. Without hesitating, Sophia stood up on her hind legs and pawed at Mirabelle. It wasn’t a nasty pawing, more like an I-just-want-to-bother-you pawing. Mirabelle meowed, hopped down, jumped over Lady, and dashed for Caprice’s office closet.
Caprice always left the door open in case one of the cats wanted to take a nap in there. She knew the animals had to find their own relationships, and they were . . . slowly.
Caprice’s doorbell rang, and she checked the small portable monitor on her desk. Since her last brush with a murderer, she’d had an alarm system put in her house. Now she saw her sister waving at her, and she smiled. After hurrying to the front door, she unlocked it and Nikki stepped inside.
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said.
“I came from Rack O’ Ribs. I tried Drew’s sauce and it’s really good. I’m so disappointed.” Nikki sounded dejected, and that wasn’t like her.
“You wouldn’t be able to create a sauce that’s just as good?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, Caprice. Maybe I should just get a job as a chef somewhere.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Your Catered Capers is doing well, isn’t it?”
“I’m meeting my bills and paying my help. But I want more than that.”
“Then we have to get your name out there, like Drew has gotten his out there.”
Silence of the Lamps Page 2