Out of the Dying Pan

by Linda Reilly

  Martha shrugged. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” She shoved the handle of her plastic chartreuse handbag over her arm. Talia locked up, and together they crossed the cobblestone plaza and headed in the direction of the town parking lot.

  All along Main Street, glimmering white snowflakes hung from the light poles. Wrapped diagonally around each pole was a garland of fake evergreen. Many of the storefronts boasted blinking lights. In the window of Peggy’s Bakery, a string of blue mini-lights illuminated a beaming fake Santa, one outstretched arm bearing a tray of red and green frosted cookies.

  “Isn’t the downtown lovely,” Talia said. “So festive and cheery. I love Halloween, but Christmas has always been my favorite time of year in Wrensdale.”

  Martha kept her head down, navigating the sidewalk in her sensible shoes as if there were landmines beneath the pavement. “Yup,” she said. “Pretty.”

  Talia wanted to question Martha about her own hometown, but sensed she wasn’t in a chatty mood. The woman was definitely an enigma.

  They came to the lighted parking lot, and Talia watched as Martha lowered herself onto the front seat of her olive green Chrysler. The car was a monstrosity that seemed to take up half the lot. The little silver tag identifying the model had fallen off, so Talia wasn’t even sure what it was.

  Martha revved the engine and waved a halfhearted good-bye. Talia slipped inside her own car, a turquoise Fiat, and locked the doors.

  She looked over to give Martha one final wave, but the green metal beast had already torn out of the lot as if a demon were riding its tail.

  2

  “See, Martha, doesn’t this look like fun?” Talia said.

  The gymnasium was chockablock with vendors setting up their tables. On the opposite side of the gym a charming Santa’s village had been created. An oversized chair covered in dark green velveteen served as Santa’s chair. Next to the chair was a bulging burlap sack stuffed with small wrapped gifts. Against the wall, above a faux fireplace, was a mantel wide enough to hold the items donated by the vendors for the annual raffle. Talia had donated a gift certificate for two free fish-and-chips dinners at Fry Me a Sliver.

  Martha stuck her chartreuse bag under their assigned table and peeled off her coat. She shoved that underneath, too, on top of the purse. Talia was grateful to see she’d left that horrendous scarf at home.

  “Yeah, well, first off, I had to park a block away,” Martha griped. “By the time I got here, all the spots were taken. Well, there was one spot, but my car couldn’t fit into it.”

  Maybe that’s because it’s the size of aircraft carrier, Talia was tempted to say, but then instantly scolded herself. The rattletrap Martha drove might be the only thing she could afford.

  “I’m glad you offered to help me today,” Talia said kindly. “I really think you’ll enjoy yourself.” She straightened the red plastic table cover that Martha had dislodged when she’d roughly stuck her belongings under it.

  “I didn’t offer, I agreed,” Martha pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

  Talia breathed in slowly, determined not to let Martha get to her today. “Yes, and I appreciate it more than you know.”

  Talia had been one of the first to arrive, and for the most part had her corner booth all set up for business. A smaller table rested behind the larger one, since she needed a safe place to set up the portable fryer. She didn’t want any curious fingers straying toward the sizzling hot oil.

  She glanced over at the empty table catty-corner to her own. So far, the vendor hadn’t shown up, but as it was only nine fifteen, there was still plenty of time.

  Talia was featuring only one item today—deep-fried marble cake with raspberry sauce. She’d already sliced three large sheets of marble cake—compliments of Peggy’s Bakery—into serving-sized squares. They were stacked inside a covered plastic container, next to the cooler that held the sweetened batter and the raspberry sauce.

  “I’ll need some help getting the portable fryer out of my car,” Talia told Martha. “Wanna make a trip to the parking lot with me?”

  “No need to trouble the lady, miss. I’ll help.”

  Talia turned abruptly. The voice came from a seriously attractive man with wavy blond hair and a muscular build, who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Late forties, early fifties, Talia guessed. Worked out a lot, for sure.

  “Oh, um, thanks,” Talia stammered. “But—”

  He stuck out his hand and grinned. “Scott Pollard, at your service. I own Pollard Home Renovations.”

  Talia smiled and accepted his handshake. “Talia Marby. I’m the new owner of Fry Me a Sliver, in the Wrensdale Arcade.”

  “Ah, my kind of comfort food,” he said, his dark brown eyes twinkling. “I’ve been meaning to check it out. Hey, look, if you’ll show me where your car’s parked, I’ll grab that fryer for you.”

  “Well, thank you, um, Scott. I believe I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Excellent.”

  Talia threw on her jacket and accompanied him toward the community center’s back entrance. He opened the door and they strode outside. “December’s been unseasonably warm, hasn’t it?” she said.

  “Yeah, too warm if you ask me. The cold weather suits me much better.”

  “That’s me. The blue Fiat,” Talia said. “I parked as close to the building as I could.” She popped the hatch, and Scott instantly leaned over and lifted the box holding the fryer. The left sleeve of his forest green sweater slid up slightly, and Talia spied part of a tattoo. She stifled a giggle. Was that the feathered tip of a pirate’s hat engraved into his skin? Ugh, she couldn’t imagine getting a tattoo. Just the thought of the needle piercing her skin was enough to give her the willies.

  Scott hefted the box with ease, while Talia lugged the half-gallon container of vegetable oil she’d brought along. Inside, Scott set the box down on the table Talia indicated. He studied the fryer, frowning as he peered at the electrical cord. “This won’t stretch to the wall,” he said. “I’m going to hunt down a power strip for you. I don’t like the looks of this table, either. You need something sturdier. Be back in a flash.”

  Martha ambled over. “Well, isn’t he helpful?” she said slyly, a rare twinkle in her soft gray eyes. “A real knight in golden armor.”

  “Seems like a nice man,” Talia said. Was Martha implying that Scott was interested in her? Even if he were, it wouldn’t matter. Not a man on earth compared to Talia’s current squeeze, Ryan Collins. They’d only been seeing each other for a number of weeks, but just thinking about him made her feel all warm and tingly. She pushed Ryan temporarily from her thoughts. For the next five hours, her focus had to stay on deep-frying slabs of cake for the masses.

  Vendors began arriving in clusters. The ambient noise level rose. Holiday music pumped from the speakers, and Talia caught herself humming to the cheery tune of “Jingle Bells.”

  At the edge of her vision, she saw a gorgeous woman marching in her direction trailing a wheeled suitcase behind her and carrying a tote bag on her shoulder. Eyes swiveled and gaped as the woman passed. Her thick mane of ginger-colored hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her blue-eyed gaze skimmed the room as if looking for someone.

  Oh no, it was that Ria woman! The one who’d treated Talia so rudely.

  When Ria saw that her assigned table was in the corner adjacent to Talia’s, her face went taut. Her plump lips morphed into a thin line. She slammed the wheels of her luggage on the floor and shot lasers at Talia with her blue eyes.

  “This is unacceptable,” Ria said. “I’m going to demand a different table.”

  At that moment, Scott reappeared clutching a power strip and two wooden pallets. Ria whirled on him. “Are you in charge here?”

  For a moment Scott looked stunned. “I’m helping out, but I’m not in charge. What can I do for you?”

  “This table will not work for me. I’ll have no visibility in this corner.” She aimed a blood red fingernail at Talia’s fryer. “And I
’m not going to spend my entire day smelling that greasy excuse for food. I need to relocate, preferably to a table near the entrance.”

  Scott’s jaw tightened. “Miss, I’d love to help, but the tables near the entrance are reserved for the hospital volunteers. They’re big supporters of this fund-raiser, and they bring in lots of do-re-mi, if you catch my drift.”

  “Then find me another spot.”

  Talia stepped forward. “Ria, have I done something to offend you?” she asked quietly. “You seemed perfectly fine until you saw me.”

  “I’m offended,” she said, “by being placed next to a fry cook.”

  Talia felt her temper bubble to the surface. “I’ll confess that I’m a fry cook, but I’m here to raise money for needy families, just as you are. Why don’t we try to work together, at least for the next five hours?”

  Ria’s face reddened. Attracted by the raised voices, a few curious faces gathered to gawk.

  “Oh, never mind,” she sputtered at Scott and waved a dismissive hand at him. “I’ll set up here.” Ria turned an evil eye on the gawkers, and they scattered like frightened mice.

  Scott nodded, winked at Talia, and went over to the portable fryer. “I found a nine-foot power strip, but tables are at a premium. Luckily I had two clean pallets in my truck. I’m going to set this up so it’ll be good and secure. I don’t want anyone getting burned by hot oil if they accidentally bump the table.”

  “That’s nice of you, Scott. Thank you.”

  He worked for the next few minutes setting up the fryer so that it was safe from wobbles and bumps. When he was through, the pallets rested neatly atop each other, and precisely parallel to the edge of the table. He gave Talia a two-fingered salute. “Let me know if you need anything else. Now I gotta go help Santa move his Christmas tree. He says it’s blocking his view, and he’s worried that the kids won’t see him there.”

  She laughed. “Sounds like you’re the good deed doer of the day. Thanks, Scott.”

  Ria had tossed a black velvet runner over her table and was setting out pieces of antique jewelry. When she saw Scott start to stride off, she called out, “Wait a minute. I’d like some help.”

  He turned, and she tossed her car keys at him. “Red Camry,” she said. “I need you to bring in my tall rack. It’s in the trunk.”

  Scott stared at her for a moment, his hand gripping the keys so hard Talia thought the metal was going to liquefy. “I’ll be right back,” he said softly.

  Her gaze aimed at her thick leather shoes, Martha tapped Talia on the shoulder. “I’m going for another coffee,” she said. “Want one?”

  “No thanks, but I’d like you to set out the napkins and paper plates when you get back. Oh, and the plastic forks.”

  Martha nodded and trudged off, passing Kelsey Dakoulas on the way.

  “Hey, Kelsey.” Talia smiled at the young woman, who looked as if she’d just swallowed a lump of coal. “That sweater is adorable.”

  Kelsey looked down at the whimsical cat wearing an elfin hat that graced the front of her maroon fleece top. “Oh, hi, um … Talia. Thanks.” She turned to Ria. “I need to talk to you,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Ria reached into her suitcase for another box. “Sorry, don’t have time,” she said, avoiding Kelsey’s stare. “My employee chose not to help me today, so I have to do everything myself.”

  “I told you, Ria, I do children’s face painting every year at this event, and I’m not going to disappoint the kids. And for the record,” Kelsey added in a lowered voice, “what you did to me was despicable. I’m not going to forget this.”

  Ria’s smile was devious. “Whatever do you mean?” she piped innocently.

  Kelsey glanced at Talia and then turned back to face Ria. She lowered her voice to a furious whisper, and the rest of the conversation melded into the surrounding din.

  Talia hated to be nosy, but with Ria treating Talia as if she carried the plague, she was more than anxious to learn what the woman had done to infuriate Kelsey. She unsealed the container of vegetable oil she’d carried in and slowly began filling the fryer. Ears perked, she leaned her head toward Ria’s table, but only a few snatches of conversation sifted through the growing clamor.

  “You’re … nasty woman … why I ever liked you.”

  “… over it. Cats are a dime a dozen.”

  Kelsey pounded her small fist on Ria’s table. “You are not going to get away with this,” she said, and stormed off.

  Whoa. What was that about?

  Ria dug a small folding table rack from her suitcase, stuck it on the corner of her table, and began setting out tree ornaments that had a vintage look. Talia stole a quick peek. The ornaments appeared to be tiny angels made of embossed foil. She itched to get a better look, but didn’t dare approach Ria’s table.

  And where was Martha? She’d been gone for over ten minutes. Talia was getting a bad feeling that the woman was going to be more of a hindrance today than a help.

  Scott returned carrying a tall stainless steel rack. He set it down between Ria’s table and Talia’s, plopped the car keys atop the velvet runner, and strode off.

  Well, isn’t this day starting with a bang, Talia thought to herself.

  Ria snagged her keys, stuffed them inside her purse, and then stalked off in the direction of the restrooms at the opposite corner of the gym. Talia was setting out plastic forks when she noticed a plump, white-haired senior wearing a bright gold sweater emblazoned with dachshunds leaning over Ria’s table.

  “Hello, there,” Talia greeted her.

  The woman jumped slightly, and her cheeks flushed. “Oh, golly, you startled me. I’m Vivian Lavoie. You must be the new fish lady,” she said. “I heard all about your restaurant.”

  Fish lady? Okay, the name did fit, sort of. In fact, Talia liked it.

  “Nice to meet you, Vivian.” Talia introduced herself. “We still serve fish and chips, but we’ve added some new dishes to the menu. I hope you’ll stop in sometime.”

  “Oh, I intend to. My friend Ethel told me about your scrumptious deep-fried meatballs, and I’m dying to try them.” Vivian’s gaze slid back to Ria’s table, and from her expression Talia saw that she was clearly perturbed about something.

  Talia shot a look at the wall clock. She still had twenty minutes before the official start of the event, and her internal engine needed a jolt of caffeine. Excusing herself, she began threading her way across the room, the luscious scent of fresh-brewed coffee drawing her to the table where a coffee urn and boxes of doughnuts had been set out. A thin, bespectacled man dressed in a Santa getup was struggling to fill a cardboard cup without staining the fuzzy sleeves of his outfit.

  “Need some help with that?” Talia asked.

  Santa turned abruptly. When he saw Talia, a fierce blush colored his sallow cheeks. “Oh, thank you. The coffee sputters all over the place every time I pull the lever.”

  Talia took his cup and filled it carefully. “I see what you mean. The spout’s a bit temperamental.” She handed him the cup of steaming coffee. “There. Mission accomplished.”

  Santa took the cup, staring at Talia through thick, roundish glasses that were clearly not a prop. “Thank you. You’re very sweet. May I ask your name?”

  “Talia Marby,” she said, filling a cup for herself. “I’m the new owner of Fry Me a Sliver, on the arcade.”

  Santa’s pale blue eyes lit up at the name. “Marby, huh?” He grinned and stuck out his free hand. “Andy Nash. You related to Pete?”

  Talia accepted his white-gloved handshake and then grabbed a cardboard cup for herself. She filled it with coffee and plopped in a creamer packet. “Sure am. Peter is my dad.”

  Andy nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a lucky girl, then. A lucky girl.”

  Interesting response, but Talia didn’t have time to pursue it. It wouldn’t be long before hungry customers might start flowing toward her table.

  “I’m the director of the community center,” Andy offered,
just as Talia’s foot was poised to make her escape. “Hence the yearly Santa gig. But I have a second job at my dad’s Ford place out on the Pittsfield-Lenox Road, so if you ever need a new set of wheels, stop in on a weekend and see me.” He winked at her. “Give you a great deal.”

  “Thanks, Andy. Right now I’m not looking, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

  His face fell. “Oh, okay. Anyway, it was nice meeting you. Hey, if you get a chance later, pop over to Santa’s village.”

  Talia breathed a sigh of relief after Andy strolled off. Coffee cup in hand, she wound her way back toward her table, anxious to get the fryer started. She was ten feet or so from her table when she realized that someone was crouched beneath it. Then a head popped up, ginger hair askew, her face a mask of fury.

  “What did you do with my angel ornaments?” Ria hissed. “They were right here five minutes ago, and now they’re missing. I know you took them.”

  Talia set her cup down. This was really too much. “All right, Ria. I’ve had enough. Get out from under there now. Martha and I left our personal things there, and you have no right to paw through them.”

  Ria crawled out from under the table and rose. “Then give me back my ornaments before I call the cops!”

  “I didn’t take your ornaments and you know it,” Talia said, squashing the urge to stamp her foot. “Did you check your car? Maybe you decided not to sell them and brought them out there for safekeeping?”

  Ria jabbed a finger at Talia’s nose. “Maybe I’ll check your car, because that’s where they are.”

  What was wrong with this woman? Talia threw up her hands. “I went to my car once, with Scott, to get the fryer and the vegetable oil. I’m not a thief, Ria.”

  At the word thief Ria paled. She stumbled backward a step and sent Talia a look blistering enough to melt the North Pole. “You won’t get away with this. Mark my words.”

  Mark my words? Was that a threat?

  Talia watched Ria stomp back behind her own table. She took three deep breaths to calm herself. The deep breaths did nothing, so she slugged back a mouthful of coffee from her paper cup. Not bad considering it was brewed in an ancient commercial urn.