One Taste Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  “There are lots of ways to make spinach pie. Greek, Italian, or some people simply take shortcuts using frozen or creamed spinach and a deep-dish crust. Can you believe they have the gall to call their concoction spinach pie? Real cooks like you and me know the difference. Right?”

  Sarah felt like Jane was looking straight at her, but she couldn’t be. How could she know where Sarah stood? Still, she thought, Jane was unbelievable. Even with Sarah taking care of RahRah as a favor to her, Jane couldn’t miss the chance to mock Sarah’s way of cooking. She wondered if Jane knew Sarah’s recipe for spinach pie used two Stouffer’s spinach soufflés and a premade pie crust.

  Different pockets of the audience rallied behind Jane’s words about real cooks. Sarah hoped those who remained silent were Emily supporters, including any other secret cooks of convenience.

  Sarah tried to concentrate as Jane droned on about her spinach filling, but she was more focused on finding Emily. She couldn’t wait one more minute to tell her everything she knew.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sarah spotted Emily, partially hidden behind a support wall to the right of the stage, watching Jane’s performance. Balancing RahRah, it took Sarah a minute to work her way over to Emily. She figured they had about fifteen minutes to talk before Jane’s presentation ended.

  “What are you doing with RahRah? Did Jane give him back to you?”

  “Only for the contest, but that’s not important now. I’ve got a lot to tell you about.” Emily’s eyes widened as Sarah summarized what she’d found in Harlan’s office and her discussion with Peter.

  “Harlan is two-timing us? Supposedly defending me from being convicted of two murders I didn’t commit, while actually tightening the noose around my neck?”

  “That’s what Peter implied during our conversation.”

  “And Peter’s letting him get away with that?”

  “Of course not.” Sarah flung her head backward, settling her long hair out of her face. “He doesn’t want to make a move without developing some independent evidence. Besides, I think there may be an explanation for Harlan’s behavior—that the real culprit is Jane. Think about it. She now has the majority share of Southwind, she controls RahRah’s money, she owns both Blair properties, and she’s soulless enough to be behind all of this.”

  “Well, whether it’s Harlan or Jane, it sounds like Peter could have gotten some of the same information a lot faster by simply questioning Harlan. Harlan doesn’t impress me as someone who would particularly like being on the other side in the metal questioning room.”

  “Probably not. Even as we talk, Peter is running a title search. Hopefully he can avoid implicating me as his source.”

  “Still, Harlan seems like the logical starting point. If he had all the deeds and drawings, where did he get them? And what is he doing with them?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Well, we need to find out.”

  “I think Peter would tell you that’s his job.”

  “But it’s my neck. You heard that heckler. Some people in this room already think I’m guilty.”

  “Peter doesn’t.”

  “He has a strange way of showing it. Look, Harlan is standing right over there by the wine bar. Peter’s nowhere around. You can do what you want, but I’m not going to let Harlan wander freely around this expo and possibly cause me more harm. Are you with me?”

  Sarah answered by following Emily’s lead, RahRah in tow.

  “Harlan!” Emily ran up to him, Sarah and RahRah in her wake.

  He smiled when she reached him. “Your presentation was spot-on, far better than the little bit I caught of your predecessor or Jane’s performances. If you don’t win, someone has rigged the ballots.”

  “That’s what we’re afraid people might say if she does win,” Sarah said.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind about Sarah. She’s just being her usual silly self.”

  Sarah glared at Emily. She didn’t expect her sister to put her down in front of her boss. Emily wouldn’t be pleased if she told Chef Marcus something disparaging about his favorite sous chef. Rather than discuss this further, she changed the subject. “They certainly have a great crowd out here today.”

  “They do,” Harlan agreed. “You know, people don’t realize how much Wheaton has to offer. With a little more development and marketing, we could easily entice folks from Birmingham and some of the other surrounding small communities to make us their destination for a day of shopping or evening of entertainment.”

  “Do you have anything special in mind?” Emily’s tone was less than friendly.

  Harlan’s answer was drowned out by static from the large speaker they were standing next to. He started to repeat himself but was interrupted again by a shrill whistle emitted by the speaker.

  The noise stopped as abruptly as it began. Chef Marcus’s voice filled the silence. “Sorry about our technical difficulties. One thing the judges haven’t had any difficulty agreeing on is how hard deciding the winner has been. After much deliberation, honorable mention goes to Fritz Handler.”

  Emily stared at the stage as Marcus named the third-place finisher. Sarah let out a hearty “Woohoo!!!” when Marcus called Emily and Jane to the stage.

  “Gotta go,” Emily said, and glanced from Harlan to Sarah. Her gaze met Sarah’s. Sarah took the stare as being a “You can do it and you better do it” instruction.

  Sarah nodded and took a deep breath before turning back to Harlan.

  “Here’s rooting for Emily,” Harlan said.

  “Not Jane?”

  Harlan coughed. “Excuse me. I swallowed wrong.”

  “I thought you’d be pulling for Jane.”

  “What would give you that idea? I’m in the Emily and Sarah camp.”

  RahRah chose that moment to stretch in Sarah’s arms. She shifted her hold and he pawed at the air in front of Harlan.

  “Surely you’re not holding it against me for telling you Jane had a legal right to RahRah?” Harlan peered over his glasses at RahRah and her. “By the way, what are you doing with him? You didn’t steal him back, did you?”

  “I only wish.”

  Harlan threw her a stern look.

  “For some reason, Jane didn’t want to leave him at the carriage house so she asked me to hold him for her during the competition.” Sarah steeled herself to steer the conversation back to what she needed to know. “It seemed to me, you were awfully chummy at the Expo with Chef Marcus and Jane.”

  Harlan wrinkled his forehead. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Yesterday—” she began, but Harlan cut her off. Marcus was announcing the winner. Sarah wanted to continue to press her point, but her moment had passed. She joined Harlan and the rest of the crowd facing the stage for the results.

  Jane and Emily stood next to Chef Marcus, holding hands like the final moments of a beauty pageant. Unlike Jane’s confident smug look, Emily’s expression appeared anxious. She knew how important winning this competition was to Emily and Southwind.

  “Let’s hope Aunt Emily pulls this off,” she whispered to RahRah. “And that Jane . . .” She let her negative prayer go unfinished, but she held RahRah a little tighter and gently crossed his front paws.

  Harlan, noticing what she’d done, laughed. “Looks like RahRah and you got your wish.”

  Jane gave Emily a perfunctory hug, accepted her green runner-up ribbon and certificate from Marcus, and walked off the stage straight toward Harlan and Sarah. A sweet smile was pasted on her face, but its frozen position made Sarah pray Jane wasn’t too upset at coming in second.

  As Jane neared them, her gait became more determined. Sarah realized the anger part of her prayer had gone unanswered. She hoped Jane wouldn’t take her disappointment out on RahRah.

  Without any small talk, Jane held out her arms. “My cat.”

  Sarah looked for guidance from Harlan, but his attention was fixed on the stage, where Emily was receiving her
first-place accolades. Even though he didn’t seem to notice her interaction with Jane, Sarah felt certain she saw him nod slightly.

  Not having a choice, she slowly held RahRah out to Jane.

  The stiff-armed way Jane took him made Sarah want to scream. If Jane didn’t show warmth to RahRah now, after having been away from him for such a long period of time, Sarah couldn’t imagine how she treated him without an audience.

  Jane twisted her lips into a snarl. “Where did you leave RahRah’s carrier?”

  Sarah pointed to the corner of the room “It’s back there, out of the way.”

  “Wonderful.” She held RahRah away from her body, as if he was a battling ram. “Hopefully, while you left the crate unattended, no little monster got the brilliant idea to crawl in and try it out.”

  “I think you’re probably safe on that one.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows.

  To Sarah, Jane’s face transformed itself into an angry replica of Bill’s when he would wordlessly chastise her with his piercing eyes and features stiffened in disapproval. Her legs turned to jelly. She willed them not to shake. Bill was dead. He could never hurt her with looks or words again. No matter how much of a bully Jane was, she was no Bill.

  Harlan tapped her arm gently. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She swallowed. “Harlan . . .”

  “Yes?” His hand stayed on her arm.

  With difficulty, she pushed the swirling thoughts overtaking her mind about his gentle touch away and concentrated on what she’d seen in his office. She didn’t want to tell him she’d snooped. She needed another way to broach the subject. Maybe a small white lie would work. “You started telling me about an idea for Southwind you discussed with Chef Marcus and Jane on Saturday.”

  He took his hand off Sarah’s arm and placed it on his cheek. “I don’t seem to recall that.”

  “It probably was right after you talked to me when I was under the table.”

  “Oh yeah, when everyone was a little hot under the collar. I tried to calm things down. You must have misunderstood me, though. I told them I had an idea for Southwind, but believe me, as touchy as everyone was, I didn’t go into any details then.”

  “Did you later?”

  “No, why?”

  Sarah decided to try another tactic. “How soon do you think Chef Marcus will be able to reopen Southwind?”

  “I’m not sure Southwind will ever reopen.”

  “What?”

  “Well, Marcus was struggling before the fire. I don’t know what the state of his finances and insurance are.”

  “Surely he had insurance.”

  “Probably, but even if he is fully insured, he may not be able to sustain himself and his employees through the time necessary to bring Southwind back online. In addition, being a tenant in the shopping center, he doesn’t control the timing for fixing his space.”

  Sarah realized this was her opening to work Main Street into their conversation. “Maybe he can open right away in a new location? Emily told me Chef Marcus’s ultimate dream was to move Southwind from the strip center into one of the grand old houses on Main Street. Any possibility of that happening?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Sarah clenched her fist at Harlan’s obvious lie and struggled to keep any sign of anger off her face and out of her voice. “In Peter’s office, you mentioned Bill had come to see you about zoning regulations for his house. Wouldn’t that be a perfect place for Southwind to move?”

  Harlan cocked his head and weighed his words. “It might be, but again, it would take money and time to bring Bill’s house up to code for a restaurant. Besides, Marcus would either have to buy it or work out a rental deal with the new owner, once that’s established.”

  Now it was Sarah’s turn to shoot Harlan a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. I’m not sure who owns the house.”

  “What are you talking about? Jane’s his heir and owns the house. You showed me Bill’s will.” She puckered her lips in a pout. “I seem to remember Peter and you had no problems with the terms of any of her documents when we were in his office.”

  “Well, call it the lawyer in me. I’m still researching it a bit. For all I know, everything might belong to you.” He continued talking before the shocked look she knew was on her face faded and she could formulate a question. “Even if Jane is the lawful owner of all of Bill’s properties, I can’t imagine she’ll want to pay the taxes and upkeep on the big house when the animal trust only covers the carriage house.”

  Sarah frowned. “I can’t either. I would think she’d sell it for a bundle and live in the carriage house for free. Without Bill, she’s on easy street in her own right.” Which played right back into what she hoped Peter was investigating: follow the money = Jane. Then again, maybe she was wrong. What if the documents weren’t what they purported to be? The consequences of Harlan’s research offered different possibilities than hers suggested. Hopefully, she could keep an open mind to conceive of every alternative.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Emily ran up to Harlan and Sarah, clutching a white business card and her blue ribbon.

  “Congratulations!” Harlan said.

  Sarah gave her sister a hug and raised the arm holding the blue ribbon over Emily’s head. “The champion! You brought it home for you, Mom, Southwind, and the tradition of apple pie. Oops, I mean rhubarb.”

  Emily giggled and pulled her arm back down. “You’re being silly.” She leaned her head forward so only Sarah could hear her. “But it does feel pretty good.”

  “Winning or beating Jane?”

  “Sarah Blair, you’re too much.” Emily swatted at Sarah with the business card, letting it cut through the air without touching her sister. “Truth be told—both.”

  “That sounds like it calls for a celebratory drink,” Harlan suggested.

  “So does this.” Emily brandished the business card again. “Thomas Howell gave me his card.”

  “Who is Thomas Howell?”

  “He owns that new luxury hotel that opened in Birmingham, the Howellian.”

  “So?” Sarah had heard about the new hotel that featured cat and dog motifs, but she wasn’t familiar with Thomas Howell.

  “Mr. Howell came to the Expo to learn about some of the new young chefs exhibiting here. Apparently, he’s been quietly going around and tasting our food this weekend. After I won, he congratulated me on my win and invited me to participate in a competition he wants to hold at his hotel in February. It’s going to be the climax of his year of kickoff events.”

  “What did you tell him?” Harlan asked.

  Sarah noticed his smile had disappeared. From the way Emily was bubbling over, it was obvious to Sarah that she was oblivious to the change in his expression.

  “I told him, ‘Of course. I’d love to.’”

  “Harlan? Is there any reason Emily won’t be able to participate? Anything else you haven’t told us?”

  “To paraphrase Emily, of course not.” He smiled, but Sarah couldn’t help but notice that, other than relaxing his lips to force the grin, his neck and jaw remained tensed.

  As someone stepped up to congratulate Emily, Sarah turned to quietly ask Harlan, “Is there something wrong with Howell?”

  “Not that I personally know of.”

  Sarah waited. It seemed to her Harlan was weighing whether to elaborate on his statement.

  “He’s known around Birmingham for being a ruthless developer and he apparently has some aggressive plans for Wheaton, too.”

  A bloodcurdling scream erupted from the far corner of the room. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She jerked her head in the direction from which the shriek emanated. A crowd was gathering around someone.

  “That monster! I’m going to kill him! Grab him! No, not him—my cat!”

  At the clarification that it was a cat at the heart of the melee, the circle of responders splintered. Some drifted away while others b
ent and bumped into one another in their haste to locate the errant cat.

  Sarah knew, even before she could confirm through a break in the group of bystanders, the screaming woman was Jane and the cat, RahRah. What had the witch done to poor RahRah now? Leaving Harlan and Emily behind, Sarah ran toward Jane’s end of the room using the outside aisle, her eyes pinned to the floor. “RahRah, where are you?”

  She figured if no one in the more clogged part of the room had spotted RahRah by now, RahRah probably had taken refuge as far away from Jane as he could. Sarah barely missed colliding with a pocket of Expo attendees as she glanced up to see if there was a place or ledge RahRah could have jumped to. There wasn’t.

  Dodging other attendees, Sarah concentrated her search efforts on peeking under the tables lining the aisle and checking behind a stack of boxes piled on the wall near the main door. For RahRah’s sake, she prayed she found him before Jane or someone else did. This time, she’d never give him back.

  Almost reaching the double glass front doors, Sarah saw Peter push one open. “Watch out!” Sarah waved her hands to catch Peter’s attention.

  He waved back. As he did, Sarah caught a glimpse of tan flash by his leg.

  “No! Catch him!”

  Peter whirled around and shot a questioning glance at Sarah as she raced past him. She had no time to explain.

  Outside, she stopped to get her bearings. There was no sign of RahRah, but she felt certain he was hiding nearby. She called his name and waited. Despite her repeatedly saying his name, no cat appeared as she searched the parking area. She checked one row and then another, peeking under cars and around corners.

  Giving up, she returned to the front of the building. Peter, Harlan, and Emily stood outside the main door.

  “I didn’t find him. Did RahRah come back this way?”

  Peter shook his head. She wasn’t sure if the way he squinted and twisted his face was an involuntary response to the sun being in his eyes or her statement.

  “We need to find him before he gets hurt.”

  Sarah was surprised by the gentle tone of Peter’s voice.