“As long as we don’t get attacked by bears, I’m happy.” Josie, not a nature girl, wondered what other kind of animals lived in these woods.
“Keep your eyes open. Maybe you’ll even see a moose.”
“You’re kidding, right? Aren’t those in Maine?” Josie had never seen a live moose and was curious.
“We’ve got them here, too. They’re huge. Keep your distance if you ever come across one. Although sightings are pretty rare. They’re dangerous.”
People can be like that too, Josie thought. Dangerous. Her thoughts went back to Lyndon lying dead on the floor of his shop. He’d faced the ultimate danger and lost.
Chapter 21
Within a few minutes Lorna had pulled the car to a stop. They were in a cleared area on a gravel driveway. Ahead of them loomed a broad expanse of wall, covered in dark wood shakes, punctuated by a few white-trimmed windows. To the right of the house were more woods. To the left, Josie could just see water in the near distance. Even from this vantage, it was clear that the front of the house had a million-dollar view of Lake Warren.
“This is the kitchen entrance,” Lorna said. “We’ll unload, then get started.” She popped open her trunk, and she and Josie exited the vehicle.
“Aren’t there some liveried servants who could help us?” Josie was sort of, but not quite kidding. Some servants would definitely be nice.
Lorna laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Alden is cheap, which is probably how he’s stayed so rich over the years. He has a woman come in and clean for him every other week, and she brings him basic groceries. I pack up meals for him when he comes in to the g.s. or when Dougie’s going out to visit. I don’t know how Alden manages while he’s in Florida during the cold months, but I imagine he has a similar arrangement.”
“I guess we’re pack mules again. Load me up.” Josie took hold of a box, Lorna did the same, and they headed for the back door of Alden Brewster’s lake house.
For a house of this size, the kitchen was fairly small, not to mention fairly outdated. It wasn’t quite as retro as the kitchen at Bea Ryder’s house cum brewery, but probably dated to the 1980s based on the white laminate cabinets and sage green countertops. Despite the obvious age, the surfaces were in pristine condition, which made sense if, as Lorna had indicated, this wasn’t a kitchen that got used much.
They set their boxes on the counter, which was thankfully clear except for an inexpensive coffee maker and a toaster, then went back out for the rest.
When everything had been transferred to the kitchen, Lorna took charge in earnest. She handed Josie a black apron, then pulled out her phone, made a few swipes and taps with her thumb, and studied the display. “Okay, first item on my list is to get the roast and potatoes into the oven. Can you pull the potatoes out of the cooler and arrange them in this baking pan? Line it with foil and our cleanup will be easier.” Lorna took a pan out of one of the boxes and handed it to Josie, who was all for easier cleanup. Lorna turned on one of the ovens to preheat. “I’ll deal with the meat. Dougie assured me both of these ovens worked. He’d better be right.”
Josie lined the shallow pan with foil, then placed the potatoes, the same ones she’d scrubbed and oiled previously, inside it in a single layer. Lorna instructed her to sprinkle more coarse salt on the skins. “Not that any of these guys is probably allowed to have salt. They’re probably all hypertensive. But since nobody gave me any dietary restrictions, we’ll make these babies taste good.”
“Should I put them in the oven?”
“Go ahead. It’s not critical that it be up to temperature to start the potatoes.”
They worked steadily and companionably for the next half hour, Lorna giving instructions and Josie gladly following them. She was just placing plastic wrap over the tops of two crystal bowls filled with rich sour cream and topped with a generous sprinkling of chopped dill, parsley, and chives when the kitchen door opened.
Dougie Brewster held the door ajar while his father rolled in, in his motorized wheelchair, and circled to a stop in front of Lorna. “Our guests are starting to arrive. Did you fill the ice bucket in the living room? Why does it look like a tornado hit here?” Alden Brewster had that classic old-man Yankee charm.
Lorna smiled. “Everything’s under control, Mr. Brewster. I have a cheese and charcuterie platter ready to put out as soon as your first guest gets here, to be followed by tropical shrimp cocktails. I also have your bar garnishes ready, and plenty of ice.”
Dougie frowned. “Shar-coot-a-what? If I can’t pronounce it, I don’t want to eat it.”
“Charcuterie,” Lorna said. “It’s a selection of sausages and dry-cured meats. You’ll love it.” She offered the platter to Dougie, then to Alden.
“Well, I do like sausage, so I guess it’ll be okay.” Dougie waved the toothpick containing his chunk of meat in Josie’s direction. “What’s she doing here? Did she talk you into making something with eggs so she could sell more to you?”
Josie would have quite liked to dump the sour cream she’d just prepared on his head. The four dozen eggs she delivered to the general store most mornings netted her and Eb just about enough to pay for chicken feed, and prevented Dorset Falls-ites from having to go all the way into Kent for basic groceries. She wasn’t gouging anyone. She smiled sweetly instead. “Hi, Dougie. Lorna needed help, so I offered. We want everything to run smoothly for you tonight.”
Alden Brewster looked at Josie appraisingly, then at Lorna, and nodded. “Very good. Efficient. Smart.” He turned his gaze on his son. “Which is why I hired this out to her.” He pressed a button on his wheelchair, which whirred to life. “Come on. I need a drink before your cronies get here.” He wheeled through the swinging door into the main part of the house, Dougie following.
Not daring to say anything for fear of being overheard while Dougie and Alden made their way to the bar, Josie just looked at Lorna. It’s only one night, Josie mouthed. Lorna smiled.
“Josie, would you take that sausage platter into the living room? It’s right through that door, you can’t miss it. There’s a buffet table covered in a white cloth set up in front of the bay window. I had the cleaning lady get it ready.”
“Aye-aye, skipper. Maybe they’ll be happier if they eat.” Josie hefted up the tray, bumped the swinging door open with her hip, and entered the main house.
The room was large and open, with a more or less full wall of glass windows overlooking Lake Warren. Even from this far away, Josie could see that the water was calm and blue, with an overlay of rosy silver shimmering from the early evening sun. The view was nothing short of spectacular. She must have emitted some small noise, because Alden and Dougie, who were at the bar, turned to look at her.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “But I’m just admiring your view. It’s stunning.”
Alden sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, and I bought when land here went for nothing. It’s worth a small fortune now. Not sure who I’m going to will it to when I die.” He shot a look at Dougie. As poorly as Dougie treated Lorna, Josie almost felt sorry for him. It couldn’t be easy to have a rich, successful, controlling father who had no respect for you. She squelched her tender feelings. Her first loyalty was to Lorna.
Josie set the tray down on the table, adjusted the stack of small plates and napkins so they looked balanced, then headed back for the kitchen. A formal dining area took up one end of the room, but was open to the seating areas, which were furnished, predictably for a single man with lots of money and a no-nonsense style, with lots of dark leather and simple wooden coffee and occasional tables topped with smoky glass. She noticed a book sitting on one of the tables as she passed. There was no mistaking the Collingswood Academy logo emblazoned on the leather cover. Well, this was a reunion. People would probably be looking at the book and reminiscing tonight.
When Josie returned to the kitchen, Lorna was checking on the beef. “So far, so good,” Lorna said, nodding toward the oven dials. “They both seem to be heating.”
Josie kept her voice low. “There’s no love lost between those two.” She inclined her head toward the door.
“Nope. I’m not sure Alden even attended Collingswood. Maybe. It might not have been as exclusive back then. But Dougie needs his father to support him, so he does what his father wants. And frankly, I think deep down, even as old as he is, Dougie is still a little boy who craves his father’s approval.” She started pulling the salad ingredients out of the refrigerator. “Here, you can start putting these together. The plates are right here.”
As they continued to work, the relative silence was punctuated by the metallic clunk of car doors opening and closing. Dougie’s friends must have started arriving.
“They’re not coming through the kitchen, so how are they getting in?” Josie asked.
“There’s another road that services all the big cottages on this side of the lake, and another driveway. The one we came in on is only for this house.”
Made sense. Wouldn’t want the servants entering through the same doors as guests, and vice versa. This property must be enormous if it had a private driveway. They’d come a long way through those woods.
“Whew.” Lorna used her forearm to smooth back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Those salads look good. Just before we serve them we’ll drizzle on the dressing. And the shrimp cocktails are ready to go as the first course. So we can take a little break now.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Josie said. “Catering is hard work. Honestly, I had no idea.”
Lorna laughed and handed Josie a bottle of water, then twisted off the top on one of her own. “That’s because when it’s done well, it seems effortless to the person being catered to.” She took a long swig, and Josie followed suit. The water was icy cold and tasted wonderful.
“We haven’t talked about this,” Lorna continued, “and I’m not sure when I’ll get paid. But I want to pay you for assisting me. This was so much easier with you helping.”
Josie had no intention of taking any money for tonight, and told Lorna so. “Consider this an investment.” She glanced toward the door to the living room. “You know what I mean.”
Lorna opened her mouth as though to argue, but then closed it up again. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m so glad you came back to Dorset Falls, and we found each other again. That’s probably selfish of me. You probably miss the excitement of New York.”
Josie thought for a moment. “Well, I have to admit I didn’t stick my hands into the nests of live chickens in the neighborhood I lived in, and the town didn’t roll up the streets at six o’clock. But I like it here. It’s a different kind of life, one I never thought was for me, if I gave it any thought at all. Yet here I am. I’ve got my shop, which I love, and I’ve got great friends, whom I also love. I’ve even got Uncle Eb and his dog. It’s a pretty good deal.”
A crash sounded from the living room, causing Josie and Lorna to start. Dougie burst through the kitchen door a moment later, moving faster than Josie would have given him credit for being capable of. “Lorna, come help. Somebody knocked over a beer glass, and it broke on the floor.”
“I’ll see if I can find a broom and a dustpan,” Josie said.
“And I’ll take the paper towels in and get started. Thanks.” Lorna grabbed the roll from the counter and followed Dougie.
Josie located a small closet and pulled out the broom and dustpan, which she took into the living room. There were now five or six other men there in addition to the Brewsters. Four of them, now including Dougie, were wearing football jerseys that looked a bit, or, in Dougie’s case, more than a bit, tight around the middle. She glanced around again. It was like being transported to some high-school party in an alternate dimension. She hurried to where Lorna was squatting near one of the side tables.
Lorna looked up. “We’re in luck,” she said. “It broke on the hardwood, not the carpet, so it’ll be much easier to clean up.”
A man stood nearby, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, honey. We were reminiscing about the championship game our senior year, and I got a little animated I guess. You want me to help with that?”
“We’ve got this, but thanks,” Lorna said. She mopped at the mess, placed the big pieces of glass in the dustpan Josie dutifully held out, then applied some fresh paper towels to the remaining liquid. She stood. “I’ll go throw this away, then come back with some cleaner. Josie, can you sweep up the small pieces?” Josie nodded and set down the dustpan, carefully so as not to dump the shards already collected back onto the floor.
“I haven’t seen you around,” the man said. “Trevor Mason. I manage the third largest hedge fund in Connecticut.” Big whoop, Josie thought. If it was the first largest, maybe the second, then I’d be impressed. Did he know how big Connecticut was? Or more accurately, how big it wasn’t? Josie began to sweep. But she supposed she had to answer.
“Josie Blair. I haven’t been in town long.” She poked the broom under the leather chair and pulled a few pieces of glass out from under it.
He rubbed his fingers over his well-barbered gray goatee. “Is this your job? You a caterer?”
“Uh, no. I own the yarn shop downtown. I’m just helping out a friend tonight.” She made a few more passes with the broom, then swept everything she’d collected into the dustpan. It was the best she could do.
The man was staring at her. “The yarn shop? Isn’t that next to the antique store? I saw it as I drove into town.” Every head turned.
Dougie shot him a look. “Yeah, it is,” he said quickly. “And apparently it’s not doing very well if its owner is chopping salads and cleaning up after us.”
Jerk. She wished she could tell him off, but this was important to Lorna, so Josie kept her mouth shut. And what was that all about, anyway? Why had Trevor stared at her like that? And why had Dougie cut him off, unless it was just to put her in her place? Or the place he thought she belonged in, anyway. She picked up her broom with one hand and her dustpan with the other and made her way back to the kitchen. One of the men was gentleman enough to hold the door open for her as she passed. It wasn’t Dougie. Josie wasn’t surprised.
Chapter 22
Over the next hour, the noise level from the living room increased. There was a lot of good-natured shouting, and what even sounded like a bit of roughhousing. Josie remained in the kitchen while Lorna braved the fray to restock the bar—which Josie guessed was pretty depleted at this point—and check on the platter of cheese and crackers. Josie was making garnishes consisting of a lime wedge wrapped in a basil leaf and skewered with a toothpick for the shrimp cocktails. When she finished the eleventh one, she stood back to admire her handiwork. They looked pretty good, two shades of green and fresh. She placed one in each of eleven martini glasses, which were filled with shredded basil and stacked high with fat pink shrimp glistening with Lorna’s sauce. There were two extra glasses of shrimp. Josie assumed those were backups and made two more garnishes.
When Lorna returned, she was carrying a box of empty beer bottles. “Nobody wants wine,” she said. “They’re just going to drink beer with their dinner, which means less work for us. Refilling wineglasses all night is a pain.”
“Has everyone arrived?”
Lorna nodded. “Alden said to start serving the first course in ten minutes. Those shrimp cocktails look delicious, by the way. We can load them up on this tray. I’ll carry them in, since I’m experienced. It’s not as easy as you might think to walk while balancing a tray full of food on your shoulder and the palm of your hand.”
Josie had never thought that was easy. Getting the tray down from the shoulder without creating a disaster seemed even harder. She cleaned up her garnish-making supplies and washed her hands for at least the tenth time this evening, then smoothed them over her apron. It was still clean enough to serve in.
Lorna filled two small dishes with extra sauce and put them on the tray. “Ready?” she asked. “You go in first and set up the tray stand. Then I’ll set down t
he tray. You’ll serve one end of the table, and I’ll serve the other.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“It will be.” Lorna hefted the tray onto her shoulder, and Josie followed her into the dining area.
Alden or Dougie must have corralled their guests, because eleven men now sat around the big table. Josie recognized Rick Steuben, whom she’d seen at the general store. Alden’s mechanical steed sat empty, off to one side. Its former occupant now sat at the head of the table nearest the windows. Perhaps Dougie, or one or more of the others, had helped him into the dining chair or perhaps he was able to move short distances on his own. The men continued to chat while they waited to be served.
Josie retrieved two glasses of shrimp from the tray and set one down in front of Alden, mentally patting herself on the back for remembering to do it from his right side. She set the other in front of Trevor. “Thanks, honey,” he said. Josie steeled herself. She hated being called that. You’re doing this for Lorna. Suck it up. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it anyway, so don’t be so sensitive.
Josie delivered the rest of her appetizers. Lorna had already finished her end of the table and was now pouring glasses of water for everyone. “Will there be anything else right now?” she asked Alden. He shoved a shrimp into his mouth and shook his head. Lorna and Josie retreated to the kitchen.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Josie said, taking another long sip of her bottled water.
“Yeah, when you put food in front of them, people tend not to notice you so much.” She handed one of the extra shrimp cocktails to Josie. “Chef’s treat,” she said.
Josie realized she was starving. She popped a shrimp into her mouth. It was perfectly cooked, tender, and the sauce was sweet and spicy at the same time. In short, delicious. Not that Josie was surprised. Lorna had a talent for cooking and a talent for identifying delicious recipes—unless she’d invented this one herself, in which case her gifts were all the more impressive. “This. Is. Amazing.”
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