by Jenny Kales
Phil stared at her. “I know what you mean. You found her, didn’t you? Holly?” Callie didn’t like the way Phil was looking at her.
“Yes, I did.” There was an uncomfortable silence.
“That’s what Tammy said. Anyway, Tammy and Holly had the same advisor. His name is Keith Dyson.” Friendly Phil had suddenly turned stone-faced.
Suddenly, Callie felt that it would be a good idea if she was no longer in a darkened, deserted hallway with Phil.
“Thanks, Phil,” she said, following him back to the lobby. “I’ll just wait here.” She sat down, doing her best to look innocent.
Phil walked to the door and turned the knob, but then he stopped and faced Callie. “We all feel terrible about Holly, you know.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Callie answered. Phil nodded once and finally left.
Callie exhaled loudly. Way to go. Phil knew something was up, he just didn’t know what. Giving him a minute to leave the area, Callie ran to the door. She saw Phil striding up the hill and didn’t relax until she saw him get in his car.
“Anybody here?” she called out but all she heard was the low hum of office machinery. She’d have to do her snooping quickly and before Mrs. DeWitt busted her.
Callie scurried down the hallway and tried the door for Keith Dyson. Of course it was locked.
“Darn.” She exhaled with a frustrated whoosh. Then she remembered the cubbies.
The cubbies didn’t have names on them, but they were numbered. Maybe by office number? She raced back down to Dyson’s office, which was marked not just with his name plate, but with the number 204.
“204, 204,” she repeated to herself. Looking right and left to make sure she was unobserved, she grabbed the envelopes out of his cubby.
Rapidly, she flipped through his mail. The Modern Language Association had sent him something. He also had what looked like a fundraising letter from The University of Minnesota. Maybe that’s where he’d gotten his advanced degrees. Then there was a flyer from a pizza place on the water. A couple more handwritten envelopes followed, but unfortunately, no return addresses. Letters from students?
All of the envelopes were unopened and Callie fairly itched to rip them apart, but she restrained herself. Tampering with the mail was a federal offense and she had no idea what she expected to find, in any case.
She wondered if she could find a way into Holly’s advisor’s office, but realized that wouldn’t work. Time was running out. It was already 12:50 and people would be returning from lunch any minute.
Not willing to call her visit to the college a bust-out just yet, she rummaged as quickly as she could through the rest of the cubbies. Since it was summertime, the cubbies didn’t offer much of interest: junk mail, educational brochures and the like.
Callie was tempted to call the whole thing off. Tossing her tangled waves out of her face, she dug into one of the last cubbies and pulled out what looked like a Xeroxed article.
Her heart pounding, she saw that it was the Fitzgerald article penned by Allan Browne. A sticky note on the first page read: “I thought you should see this.”
That was it. No name, no signature.
Twenty Four
Callie replaced all of the papers back into the cubby and zoomed to the front of the building. She felt chilled and it wasn’t from the overactive air-conditioning blasting through the office. Why did people want to be so cold in the summer? It was cold enough in Crystal Bay during the winter months. Callie shivered and looked around.
She was still alone. Apparently, summer was the time for a leisurely lunch hour. Head down, she nearly ran out the door, but froze when she spotted Mrs. DeWitt making her way down the hill. She looked crisp and cool in a pink linen shirtdress and she was headed in the direction of the advisory office.
Callie raised her eyes heavenward. She really didn’t want to run into her right now. She’d wonder what Callie was doing there and rightly so. Anyway, she’d fibbed enough for one day.
The office had a back door next to a large picture window that framed a picturesque view of the water. Callie scurried outside, but all too late realized she’d better hurry if she didn’t want to be seen, in case Mrs. DeWitt was headed for the graduate advisors’ offices.
Walking as fast as she could, she quickened her pace even more as a haven beckoned: the waterfront walking path, partially obscured by a thickly wooded area. In the hot sun, the trees provided delightfully cool shade. The tall pines and maples would also provide enough cover for her to escape the notice of anyone inside the graduate advisors’ office.
Callie race-walked over to the path and kept walking until the tall shoreline trees shielded her from office onlookers.
When she was a safe distance away, she peeked out from behind an oak tree. The campus had regained its deserted look, save for the children splashing at the beach. Taking the long way around, Callie managed to avoid most of the campus offices before darting back across the parking lot to her car.
***
It had felt like forever, but Callie was pleased to learn that she been away from her shop for less than an hour. Smiling, she walked through the door, pleased to see a happy crowd. Several customers were perusing her ready-made meal display cases and others seated at tables and enjoying a salad or piece of spanakopita.
Piper had a harried look when Callie approached. Callie’s smile faded. “They’ve been at it the whole time you’ve been gone,” she whispered. On closer inspection, Piper appeared near tears.
“What are you talking about?”
Loud arguing suddenly erupted from the back room, and Callie gasped. “That?” she asked.
“Yes. That. Arguing. I can’t listen to any more! I mean, is there really a right way or a wrong way to cut vegetables?”
“Sorry.” Callie’s heart sank. George meant well, but… “I’ll take care of it,” she told Piper, sounding more confident than she felt.
“Thank you,” Piper said in a beleaguered tone, but she smiled brightly as a customer approached.
Telling herself to stay calm, Callie went to the kitchen to see what was what. Josh, looking flushed, was chopping onions, but George was standing over him, shaking his head. “No, not like that. I need a fine dice. Like this.” Grabbing an onion, George started chopping rapidly, onion dice flying out everywhere.
“So, how’s it going?” Callie asked through clenched teeth.
Josh just looked at her and didn’t say anything. George looked up from his onions, seemingly unfazed.
“It’s going fine! I’ve already started several dishes for you, and now I’m teaching Josh how to chop. If you chop vegetables too big, you might as well feed them to a horse or donkey, not a human. He’s getting the hang of it.”
“No, that’s just what I’m not getting,” Josh said. To Callie’s horror, he tore off his apron and threw it on the counter. “I don’t think I’m cut out for cooking after all.”
“No pun intended?” Callie tried to make a joke but it fell flat. “Listen, Josh, I think with a little practice, you’ll be a great asset in the kitchen. I appreciate all you’ve done already.”
“Thanks, Callie.” Josh looked at George. “But I think this might be a case of too many cooks in the kitchen. And I don’t think I’m the right one.”
He walked over to Callie and shook her hand. “Thanks for the opportunity. I do appreciate it. If you think you need me on my own, just let me know.” He nodded to George. “Goodbye, George. I’ll be out of your hair now.”
“Now, Josh, everyone has to learn…” George protested, to no avail. Josh was already gone.
Callie stood there, slowly registering that she was now the only full-time cook in her kitchen.
“Calliope, I’m sorry!” George implored her, hands outstretched. “I only wanted to show him so that he could be a help to you. I didn’t mean for him to leave.”
“Dad, I know! I know. But you come on a little strong at times, and this is one of those times where it turned out to be t
oo much.” She felt overwhelmed, but she refused to cry. Why, oh why had she left the two of them together? She should have known.
“Callie, I’ll make this up to you. I promise I will! Let me help you until you find another cook.”
Callie felt torn between anger at her father, love for him and simple desperation about needing someone to help her cook. She walked over to her father and took him by the hand. “Dad, I would love you to help. On one condition, though. In your kitchen, you do things your way. But here, it’s my way. That’s the only way this will work. Remember, you always taught me to be in control of my own kitchen. Well, that’s what I’m going to have to do.”
George looked down at the diced onions, then back at her. “Calliope Costas…“” he began.
“Yes?” Callie braced herself for yet another argument.
“You’re absolutely right. Your kitchen…your rules.”
***
In the wee hours of a sleepless night, Callie had made a decision. There was someone she had to see, and it couldn’t wait any longer. As Callie made an early morning drive the next day, to say that she had “butterflies” in her stomach was a misnomer. At this point, it felt more like pterodactyls.
Olivia was staying with Hugh, so Callie was free to drive without making child care provisions. In addition, George had agreed to open Callie’s Kitchen for her. In fact, he’d been overly solicitous, probably in his eagerness to make up for the disaster with Josh. George had even promised to bring some of his signature baklava from The Olympia as a special treat for her customers.
First things first. If she was terminally short-staffed, she wouldn’t be able to keep things going at Callie’s Kitchen. Hence, her crack-of-dawn drive. Earlier, really. It wasn’t officially dawn until the sun came out.
The sky was fading from inky black to dark blue when Callie finally arrived at her destination, about an hour outside of Crystal Bay. She parked her car in front of a tall, weathered-looking red barn, got out and took a look around. Callie was glad she’d worn her oldest sneakers. No telling what you might step in on a farm.
Callie could hear the hum of machinery coming from one of the outbuildings. As she looked more closely, she could see a single light burning in one of the windows. Gathering her courage, she headed towards the building.
Sure enough, Max was inside, overseeing the milking of his father’s cows. It was a tiny dairy farm, but Callie knew from Max that it required a lot of work. No wonder his father had wanted him home.
Max must have heard her walking towards him because he spun around, startled.
“Callie! What are you doing here?” His face was scruffy with beard outgrowth, and he looked more haggard than the last time she’d seen him.
“I’m sorry to sneak up on you like this, but I thought what I have to ask you required an in-person meeting.”
Max stepped forward and hugged Callie. “I’m glad to see you. And there’s nobody here right now except me and the cows. Come on.” He led her to a pair of stools. Nearby, a black and white cow with huge brown eyes watched them placidly.
“What’s up? Is everything all right? I mean, something must be wrong or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m fine, Max. I’ll tell you why I’m here in a minute. How’s your Dad?”
“He’s doing better. Still can’t move around much, though, so he’s been as grouchy as a bear rousted out of hibernation. My mom is great, though. She just laughs at him when he acts up.” He half-smiled. “I wish I could follow her example.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing better. Max,” Callie hesitated. “I was wondering if there’s any possible way you can help out at Callie’s Kitchen, just until I can find somebody else. Even a few hours a week would help. You could set your own hours.”
Max was silent a minute, thinking. “Josh didn’t work out, huh?”
“He probably would have, eventually. It’s just that, well, George kind of took charge of my kitchen, and I think Josh got the wrong idea. He left.”
“Oh, boy. That does put you in a tough position. I’m sorry, Callie.” Max shook his head.
“I know you’re busy here, but I thought that maybe you could see your way clear to helping out even two or three days a week? Just until I find someone.”
“Yeah, Piper said things were rough, but I thought she might be exaggerating. Now I see she wasn’t.” Max shifted on the stool.
“Max, I wouldn’t ask but I’m really stuck. You know my business and you know my food. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. My life has become surreal. Look at this place!” He opened his arms wide as if to include the entire dairy barn. “I’m hanging out with cows at five in the morning instead of getting ready to bake and greet customers. I’ve hardly seen any humans besides my parents since I came out here. At the end of the day, I’m so tired I can’t even make it to Piper’s to see her. If that keeps up, she’ll probably dump me.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t blame her.”
“Max…”
“I know what you’re going to say. Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t mean to complain. This life would be perfect for some people. It’s a fine way to make a living, and I do love the animals.” He nodded at the cow, and she blinked her long eyelashes at him. “I miss working with food. Plus, I miss feeding people, dealing with the customers, the whole thing. I miss Callie’s Kitchen.” He smiled. “But I’m so busy here. I just don’t think I can do it.” When he saw Callie’s face, he added “Well. I’ll think about it.”
“Max, we miss you, too. All of us, the customers included. I understand what you’re saying and I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
Max chuckled softly. “Well, you are one for getting to the root of a problem. Any more sleuthing regarding Holly Tennyson’s murder?”
Callie blushed. “A little bit. Well, maybe more than a little. But look, I should get going.” She stood up. “I have to get to work.”
“Don’t go just yet. Come have a cup of coffee at least, for the ride home. I can leave the girls here for a few minutes. Let me finish up a few things, and we’ll go in the house. I think my mom even made some zucchini bread. It’s even made with Greek yogurt.”
“Sold.”
Max finished making his rounds of the milking machines and made sure each cow had enough water before securing the barn and leading Callie back to the large, white-washed frame house located at the edge of the property. Max wiped off his boots and took them off before entering the sunny kitchen, which was full of good cooking smells. Callie took her sneakers off, too, just to be on the safe side.
The homey scents of coffee, bacon and cinnamon floated through the air. Entering the kitchen behind Max, Callie was startled to see an older man already seated at the kitchen table. “Hey, Dad,” Max said. “This is Callie Costas.” Max cleared his throat.
Max’s father was sitting with a mug of coffee in front of him and what looked like the remains of scrambled eggs and bacon. He looked up in surprise, but then smiled kindly at her, and Callie could see traces of Max’s features. “Another one?” he asked, looking at his son and slowly shaking his head.
Another one? Were women visiting Max on a regular basis at the farm? Oh, dear. Did this man think she was interested in his son romantically?
“Dad, not now. Please,” Max said through clenched teeth.
“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Evans,” she said, extending her hand in the hopes of setting him straight. “I’m Max’s boss. Former boss, that is.” Max gave her a grateful look.
“Call me Henry,” Max’s father said, shaking her hand with a firm grip. “Nice to meet you too, after all this time. What brings you out here?”
Callie and Max looked at each other. “I was just checking on Max,” Callie finally spoke after an awkward silence. “You know, to see if he needed anything.”
“Is that so?” Henry took a bite of toast. “Well, that’s nice. He’s been a big help.” He beamed at his son. “Couldn’t d
o it without him.”
The tips of Max’s ears reddened. “Thanks, Dad. Uh, Callie, how about that coffee?”
While they were fixing their coffees, a tall woman with short blonde hair and pale blue eyes walked into the room. “I thought I heard voices in here. You must be Callie.”
Max’s mother. She wore a t-shirt and shorts with an incongruous flowery apron over them. Her youthful appearance was enhanced by a spray of freckles over her nose.
“Rose Evans.” She extended her hand to Callie. “I was just baking some more of that zucchini bread that Henry here likes so much.” She said, nodding at the oven. “You know how it is with zucchini in the garden. There’s always so much and you just need to use it up.”
“Yes, this is Callie.”
Callie remembered Max saying his parents were so busy on their farm that they rarely made it to town, much less her shop. She wondered if there were other reasons they hadn’t visited their son at his former workplace. It was intriguing to finally meet them and get a peek inside of Max’s life.
Max was hiding behind his coffee mug, making Callie wish once again that she hadn’t shown up out of the blue. However, Mrs. Evans was smiling warmly at her, as if it were commonplace to have a strange woman in her kitchen first thing in the morning.
Max put down his mug and addressed his mother. “Callie came out to check on me, and see how I’m doing. I’m giving her a cup of coffee before she heads back to work.”
“Well, now isn’t that sweet of you. Max sure loves Callie’s Kitchen. In fact, he gave me a tip to use the Greek yogurt in this zucchini bread, and it makes it just so good! Max is such a wonderful cook, and he said he’s learned so much working for you.”
Max glanced at his father nervously as if he were worried about his mother’s enthusiastic words offending him.
“Great, Mom. Thanks. Uh, Callie, here’s your coffee. Milk and sugar are on the table.”
The quartet sat in silence for a few minutes, the only conversation arising when Callie complimented Rose on the texture and flavor of the zucchini bread.