Parked on the gravel drive on the far side of the fountain, was the dark blue van bearing the name Merriot Catering in big red letters, and Jayne herself was supervising its unloading by two of her weary looking assistants.
“Remember, Betsy, play nice,” Lottie said. “We’re all professionals here.”
“You better remind her of that,” Betsy drawled as they parked up.
Jayne shot them a sharp look as Lottie and Betsy got out of the SUV and then went back to her business. She was a slight, severe looking woman with long mousy blonde hair that hung insipidly over her bony shoulders.
“Morning Jayne,” Lottie called out in as friendly a tone as she could muster. “You’re starting early.”
“Be careful with that, Craig!” Jayne snapped at the pimply teenager struggling with a large tray covered with aluminium foil. “You drop anything else and I’ll drop you headfirst into a vat of boiling oil!”
The stricken look on poor unfortunate Craig’s face suggested he believed she’d carry out her threat. “No, Miss Merriot,” he mumbled, and gingerly carried the tray into the house as if it were unexploded bomb.
Jayne deigned to look at Lottie and Betsy again and her thin mouth pursed. “Lottie,” she said in a clipped tone.
“Good luck for today,” Lottie said, trying again to build bridges. “I hope everything goes off without a hitch.”
“When you’re a professional, you don’t need luck,” Jayne snorted. “That’s why hiring amateurs is such a big mistake.”
Lottie felt Betsy bristling next to her, and decided it would be best to leave Jayne to it before things got even more unpleasant. She gave Betsy’s arm a light tug and was just going to make her curt goodbyes to Jayne when she suddenly heard the deep growl of a motorbike engine.
All three women turned to look in the direction of the front gates as a sleek, dark red motorbike came tearing up the gravel pathway. Its rider was in matching red leathers and wearing a helmet with a jet-black visor.
The rider didn’t show any signs of slowing down and Lottie and Betsy had to move out of the way as the bike came screeching to a stop at the front steps of the house.
“Who the devil is that?” Betsy said to Lottie in a low voice.
“I have no idea,” replied Lottie.
They watched in silence as the rider removed the helmet, shaking their lustrous, jet black hair free. Lottie stared at the elegant beautiful face of the woman that had hidden under the helmet.
As the woman manoeuvred her slender body off the bike, Genevieve Van Korbel came out of the house. A younger man trailed after her and Lottie’s heart jumped into her mouth when she realised who he was.
“Mercedes!” Genevieve called out, her rich, cultured voice fraught with anxiety. “Mercedes where have you been?”
The woman’s dark eyes shot her a disdainful glance, and with her helmet under her arm, she sauntered up the front steps. So that was Mercedes Destelle, Lottie thought to herself.
She was absolutely beautiful and young too, and Lottie had to fight hard not to be too jealous. She was just the sort of woman Orlando would marry.
“Mercedes, grandmother has been besides herself with worry,” the handsome, blond haired man who was with Genevieve was almost shrill as he bustled forward.
His sharp blue eyes and boyish, cut-glass features left Lottie in doubt who he was, even if he hadn’t called Genevieve grandmother. Orlando was as gorgeous as ever.
Without a word, Mercedes shoved her helmet into Orlando’s chest, and he grunted as he was forced to hold on to it. Moving with the icy grace of a goddess, his bride-to-be disappeared inside the house.
“That woman is the absolute limit!” Genevieve snapped, shooting an angry glare at Orlando. “Why you want to marry me is an absolute mystery! She’ll make your life hell, you mark my words!”
Orlando gritted his perfect white teeth. “Grandmother,” he muttered in a warning tone and his eyes flicked over in the direction of Lottie, Betsy and Jayne, who were watching the spectacle in surprised silence.
Genevieve turned round and her eyes widened as she noticed them for the first time. Her brief look of horror quickly became a friendly smile. “Lottie, you’re here early,” she said, coming forward.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Lottie stammered, her gaze lingering on Orlando’s alpine white skin. “We thought it best to get the wedding cake set up as soon as possible, but we could come back in an hour if right now is not convenient?”
“Don’t be silly,” Genevieve said warmly, sweeping forward all charm and smiles. “Good morning Betsy, how are you doing?”
“I’m well Genevieve,” Betsy replied, giving the other woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you’re holding up, okay, weddings are such stressful beasts.”
“I’m still in one piece,” Genevieve said in a wry voice, “only just, mind. The young people are driving me to distraction.”
“Excuse me,” Jayne said sullenly, moving past the other women with a food tray in her hands. She gave Orlando a quick look as she entered the house but he ignored her.
When Jayne was gone, Lottie shot him a shy glance. “Hello, Orlando,” she called out, “I bet you don’t remember me?”
Orlando stared at her like she had just come from another planet and then scowled. “What?” he said gruffly.
“Orlando, this is little Lottie Foxglove,” Genevieve said. “You remember her don’t you? You used to play together when you were younger.”
Lottie gave him a hopeful smile, but Orlando’s scowl did not leave his face. “Huh,” he said under his breath and stalked back into the house.
“You know, traditionally, it’s unlucky for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” Betsy pointed out.
“We’ve had nothing but bad luck since Orlando met her,” Genevieve grumbled. “I’ve never met much a difficult girl.”
“She’s very beautiful,” Lottie remarked, trying not to compare herself with the goddess. There was no competition really, no wonder Orlando never looked twice at Lottie.
“Oh she is that,” Genevieve agreed, “and she knows it. She works as a model, mostly in Europe, that’s where Orlando met her. She has brains as well, got a First at Oxford in biochemistry and pharmacology and a dozen more scientific disciplines.
She’s smart enough to cure every disease known to man, but she’d rather jet around the world partying, and she’s got Orlando doing it to. Not that he needs much persuading in the profligate department, believe you me.”
Lottie thought about the overheard phone argument Yelma had said had been about money. “Orlando’s being irresponsible then?”
“Orlando’s always irresponsible,” Genevieve sighed. “I really wished you and him and got together. You would have been a good influence on him. I know you had the biggest crush on him back when you were kids.”
Lottie felt her face redden and she didn’t know what to say for a moment. Betsy shot her a knowing smile. “I was never Orlando’s type,” Lottie said at length. “I guess I’m just not glamorous enough for him. I was never in his league anyway.”
“Nonsense, you would have been doing him the favour. He has tremendous bad taste when it comes to women. I tried to teach him to value everyone, but Orlando only cares about dollar signs and how useful people are to him, not the other way round. If he had just a fraction of your good sense Lottie, he would never have gotten mixed up with that vile –”
Genevieve stopped dead, realising she had said too much. Lottie gave her a curious look, now intensely curious at what or who Orlando had gotten mixed up in but too polite to press her on it.
“Is Orlando in some kind of trouble, Genevieve?” she asked as tactfully as she could manage. “Do you need any help with anything?”
There was a troubled look in Genevieve’s blue eyes and she seemed about to go on, but then her charming hostess smile returned in force and she suddenly acted like nothing had happened. “Oh goodness, listen to me prattle on. I’m sorry. I
’m keeping you from your work. It must just be all the stress of the wedding.”
“It’s okay Genevieve,” Betsy said. “If there is anything troubling you, we’d only be too glad to help, that right, Lottie?”
“You just have to ask,” Lottie said resolutely.
“You’re both very kind, but everything’s fine. Orlando is a good boy really and Mercedes will settle down after they are married. Things will work out in the end, they always do,” Genevieve replied, her eyes looking off into the middle distance.
“Well, I better leave you to it. I have countless things to do before the ceremony and I’ve forgotten half of them. I’ll see you both later.”
“Bye Genevieve,” Lottie said. “We’ll set up the cake and lay the rest of the food we’ve brought.”
“Splendid,” Genevieve said. “The ballroom is all ready. If you need anything just ask Jayne, she’s in charge of all the catering arrangements.”
“And won’t she be falling over herself to help us, the mean faced trout,” Betsy said aside to Lottie as she smiled at the retreating Genevieve.
“Now, Betsy, we play nice today,” Lottie said in a voice of mock warning.
“You don’t need to tell me that dear. It’s Jayne who needs to play nice and from the sound of it so do Orlando and her high and mighty fancy woman.”
Lottie smiled wistfully as she thought about Orlando again. He was ravishingly handsome and her feelings of attraction for him had flooded back with a vengeance.
For a moment she wondered what it would have been like if they had gotten together all those years ago. Perhaps this would have been her wedding day, and Orlando wouldn’t be as reckless as he obviously was now . . .
She pushed the thought away straight away. “Come on,” she said to Betsy, “let’s get started.”
It was no use dwelling on what might have been, she reflected as she opened up the back of the SUV. As she took out the first of the food, she thought she glimpsed Tommy standing at the front door but he was nowhere to be seen when they entered the house. Yes, she said to herself, it was no use dwelling on what might have been at all.
Chapter 3: A Touch of Poison
The attractive leggy blonde girl on the stage was singing at the top of her voice, or should that be screaming? Lottie couldn’t be completely sure. Judging from the amount of champagne the bridesmaid had consumed, it probably didn’t matter.
The wedding band that were on the stage behind her politely tried to keep in time with the girl but were failing miserably, which only added to the din.
Matters were not helped when Mercedes, who had imbibed a liberal amount of champagne herself, staggered up to join the blonde girl and joined in with the singing. She clutched a champagne bottle in one hand and chugged it back in between verses.
“I do like seeing young ladies acting with restraint and decorum,” Abner drawled as he came to join Lottie where she was standing by the buffet table. “Young people just seem to love letting themselves go these days.”
“Hello Abner,” Lottie replied. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”
“A lot more than Orlando did, judging by how miserable he looked,” Abner replied. “Still, the food is quite satisfactory,” he added, taking a large bite out of one of Lottie’s lemon cupcakes. “You’ve outdone yourself Lottie.”
“Thanks very much,” beamed Lottie. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “What did you think of Jayne’s food?”
Abner arched his bushy eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t care? Jayne’s not a competitor after all, is she?”
“I’m just curious from a professional point of view,” Lottie said airily.
“Haven’t you tried any of her stuff? What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Lottie conceded. “I loved the poached salmon and chilli sauce.”
“True enough, but her meringues leave a lot to be desired,” replied Abner. “You did well with the wedding cake, and your white chocolate cookies are to die for. Your snowball donuts were a little iffy. They had an odd taste to them. I only had half of one.”
“Wow, my standards are slipping,” Lottie replied. “I was quite proud of those.”
“Don’t worry. You can make it up to me with a batch on the house. That way, I won’t be forced to post an unfavourable review online. Everyone’s a winner.”
“You’re too kind,” drawled Lottie. “Though I’m surprised your husband allows you back on the web after what came up in your search history.”
On the stage, Mercedes and her bridesmaid were attempting a duet but only succeeded in strangling the song they were reciting. When they finally reached the end, Mercedes fist pumped the air and almost dropped the champagne bottle.
“Here’s to you, Regan!” she called out across the ballroom. “We’ll never forget you!”
“Never forget!” the bridesmaid echoed, her voice barely coherent. She hugged onto Mercedes and both girls shrieked with hysterical laughter.
Slumped at a nearby table, Mercedes’s other bridesmaid, an equally devastatingly beautiful redhead, jerked out of her drunken stupor and thrust her hand into the air. “Regan!” she howled.
“Regan!” the girls on stage repeated and staggered down to join the redhead. The three of them collapsed into a giggling heap on the floor.
“You’re right, Mercedes and her bridesmaids sure do like to let themselves go,” Lottie observed. “Who are those two anyway?”
“The blonde one pouring champagne into her shoe is Terri Lamonk, a fashion model, and the redhead crawling about on all fours and barking like a dog is one Sonia Jerrek, a reality TV star.”
Lottie cocked an eyebrow. “A TV star? She doesn’t look familiar.”
“Really? She was on Celebrity Cheese Making, she was very good,” replied Abner.
“I must have missed that one,” Lottie said sourly.
“She’s a model as well,” Abner continued.
Lottie nodded. “I’m not surprised with those looks, is that how they all met, through modelling work?”
“Oh no, they’ve known each other from their school days.”
“They were at Oxford together?”
Abner shook his head. “No, they met at a private girls’ school. I think it was in Switzerland. Been the best of friends ever since. That’s what Genevieve told me anyway.”
“Regan!” Mercedes called out again, staggering to her feet. She really had drunk a lot of champagne. “We love you, Regan!”
“Regan!” Terri and Sonia yelled in ragged unison.
“Who’s this Regan they keep going on about?” Lottie asked.
“Another school friend, I think,” Abner said. He had become distracted and was peering at the dance floor.
Lottie scanned the guests. “Oh right, what’s she look like? Is she here?”
Abner shook his head. “No, no, she died years ago.” He was still staring intently at the dance floor and a look of alarm suddenly spread across his face. “Doris!” he shouted. “Stop that! We said no break-dancing, remember? You know what happened the last time! Doris! You’ll break your hip!”
Abner hurried off and Lottie was about to follow him when she heard her name being called.
“Lottie? Lottie Foxglove? Is that you?”
Lottie turned to see a dark-haired, heavyset woman in her sixties smiling at her. She was wearing an olive green dress and had a round, kindly face, and soft brown eyes. It took Lottie a moment or two to recognise her. “Olga?” she said in surprise. “Olga Kasterny?”
“Lottie,” Olga said warmly coming forward to embrace her. “It’s so good to see you again. You were just a teenager when we last met.”
“Yes,” said Lottie. “That was such a long time ago, or seems it. I didn’t know you were back in Lincolne Bay.”
“I only moved back four months ago,” Olga replied as they parted. “The place has hardly changed at all. I felt right at home straight away.”
“Tell me about it,” Lottie replied with a grin. “I f
elt exactly the same when I moved back here too.”
“Oh yes, I’d heard you’d moved to New York,” Olga said, “when you got married. I take it things didn’t work out?”
“That’s an understatement,” Lottie said making a face. Her disastrous marriage to Nathan had been the stuff of nightmare. “It was doomed from the start. I’m so glad I’m back in Lincolne Bay now. I just want to put it all behind me. I even changed back to using my maiden name rather than my married one. I’ve been back over two years now and I couldn’t be happier.”
Olga nodded. “You’re running the Sleepy Fox again. I’m so glad it stayed in the family. Your father was a wonderful, sweet man. I wished I could have come home for the funeral.”
“He was a great guy,” Lottie agreed, “and I’m glad that I’m carrying on the business too. But enough about me, what have you been doing with yourself all these years? Have you been abroad all this time?”
“That’s right, I’ve been here and there,” Olga said. “After I moved to Germany to take up a governess position, I stayed with the same family for quite a few years before moving on. I’ve been with a few families since then, but now I feel it’s time to retire and I’ve always wanted to come back to Lincolne Bay.”
“Well, I’m glad you are back,” Lottie said with genuine affection. “You were my favourite teacher at Lincolne High. If it wasn’t for your support and encouragement, I’d have never have taken the plunge and moved to New York to train to become an architect. You made me believe in myself.”
“You’re too kind,” Olga said, “though if it wasn’t for my encouragement you might not have ended up in such a bad marriage.”
“Oh that was all my own doing,” laughed Lottie. “I’m just glad I took the gamble, I have you to thank for that.”
“Well we’ve both taken gambles and lost,” Olga said enigmatically, “but now we are back in Lincolne Bay where we belong. Where are you living? At your parents’ old place?”
Lottie shook her head. “I planned to, but I had to sell it to help boost the finances of the Sleepy Fox. I ended up moving into the Joseph Bonaparte Hotel, you know? It’s still run by Doris Lefebvre.
Donuts And Dead (Sleepy Fox Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 3