“That’s actually what I was hoping to talk to you about. Dear Belinda mentioned you’d be showing up around this time and I wanted to catch you before you got into the thick of it, cooking and baking and all.”
“Sure, what do you need?”
“Well,” he paused. “Perhaps we could talk inside where it isn’t so dismally gray and cold. It doesn’t do much for my complexion.”
At this, Alison openly rolled her eyes.
Sonja shot her a look that said cool it before continuing on. Ally could be so serious at times, and yet she could also be one of the most sarcastic people Sonja knew. It wasn’t that Sonja didn’t have plenty of commentary or sarcasm for the situation at hand, she just had a better professional filter than her partner.
They temporarily obliged Mr. Wales and stepped inside, hoping this wouldn’t take more than a minute since they had a lot of work to get done before the dance.
“Much better,” he noted upon stepping into the warmth of the manor. Removing his glasses, he began to make his case. “I just wanted to speak with you and make sure that whatever little treats you may be making for this evening don’t clash with my color scheme.”
“Color scheme?” Ally asked, a slight groan in her tone.
“Well,” Sonja shrugged. “We’re going with pinks, reds, and whites. Normal Valentine’s colors, I assumed.”
Looking at the woman with wide eyes, Johnny burst into laughter—a series of guffaws that sounded more condescending than anything else. “Of course, pinks, reds, and whites, my dear, but what shades?”
“Shades?” Alison shot back, one eyebrow cocked in irritation.
“There are many shades of pink, red, and white. If your foods are even one shade off, the whole thing will clash and the dance will be ruined.”
Somehow, Sonja doubted that. They weren’t catering to the upper class here. Most of everyone attending were normal folks from Haunted Falls. “We haven’t picked any shades, yet,” she openly admitted.
“Oh dear. Oh, dear, oh dear,” he muttered repeatedly. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
“Can we?” Alison remarked with another hint of sarcasm in her tone.
“Dear me, no!” he exclaimed, touching Ally gently on the hand.
Sonja watched her resist the urge to pull away in disgust.
“How about this?” Reaching into his suit jacket he pulled out a few cardboard color samples. “You can keep these. They’re my shade markers for the dance. I have them memorized, so I won’t need them.” Holding them out, he placed them in Sonja’s hand. “But it looks like you will.”
“Certainly.” Sonja plastered on a fake smile. This day just got better and better.
“And don’t hesitate to ask if you need a little help.” He made a sign with his hand by holding his thumb and index finger close together. Smiling, he appeared to be immensely proud of himself.
“Actually, if you don’t mind,” Alison interjected with a humorous smile, “We could use some help moving the things from our van into the kitchen.”
Instantly, his smile faded, his lip twitching slightly. “W-well, I meant if you needed help with the color scheme.”
“Oh, I see,” she responded knowingly.
“Well, I’ll see you two a little later,” he trilled, clearly wanting to get out of there before anyone else asked him to do any manual labor. “Ta, ta.” With the slightest skip in his step, he walked out the door.
Raising an eyebrow at her friend, Sonja smiled. “That was mean.”
“But funny,” Alison laughed.
Sonja laughed, too.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
Finally, after getting all of the boxes of food and utensils out of the van, the two women quickly got to work on preparations for the party. Sonja took over making a large batch of waffle batter, while Alison worked cutting fresh vegetables for dipping trays.
Pulling out the industrial sized bag of flour, Sonja scooped a good helping into her largest mixing bowl. Adding the sugar, baking powder, salt, and a touch of vanilla, she knew this was going to be an excellent batch of waffles.
Next, she added the buttermilk. Cracking in the eggs and adding the vegetable oil, she began to stir, using all of her might to combine the ingredients into a beautiful light brown froth. To top it all off, she added in a hearty serving of heart shaped sprinkles and distributed them throughout the batter.
Now, she just needed to chill the mix until the dance that evening, when she would cook up the waffles fresh.
“Things are looking good in here,” came a voice from the doorway.
Glancing up, Sonja felt her heart begin to beat faster as she saw Borja Brightstar step into the kitchen. Unlike earlier, her hair was down, hanging around her shoulders making her appear more like a Greek goddess than a nightclub singer.
As before, Sonja felt shaky just being in the same room with the singer. “T-Thanks,” she managed to say.
“Can we help you?” Ally asked with a smile, cutting to the chase. It was clear she had no idea who Borja was.
“No, Belinda just mentioned you guys were probably down here. I wanted to say hello to Sonja.”
“T-To me?” the redheaded woman stuttered.
“Oh, you’re a friend of Belinda’s?” Alison asked, her attitude and tone of voice suddenly turning to frustration.
Sonja raised a confused eyebrow at her friend’s sudden turn of face. Back at the diner, it was a rare occasion where someone other than the normal staff and cooks were in the kitchen. Perhaps Ally wasn’t used to other people interrupting the process.
“Yep. She asked me to come sing at tonight’s dance.”
Finishing up a plate of chopped cauliflower, Alison covered the dish in plastic wrap and placed it in the fridge. Turning back to the unexpected guest, she put on a strained smile. “So, you’re a singer?”
Borja attempted not to laugh. “Yes, yes I am.” She glanced at Sonja and raised a knowing eyebrow.
“This is Borja Brightstar,” Sonja commented.
“Oh?” Allison replied. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She nodded at the singer and started chopping red bell pepper. “Do you perform often?”
“She’s a very popular jazz singer,” Sonja finally managed to blurt out, unable to bear the awkward conversation anymore. “I have her CD and listen to it in the van all the time.”
Borja in response simply laughed out loud. “Thank you, Sonja.”
Alison looked shocked at her own friend’s outburst, a brief glimpse of anger passing through her eyes. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she went back to chopping. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to Borja. “I just don’t really care about jazz.”
“It’s okay,” the singer responded through a giggle. “Jazz isn’t exactly a very popular genre these days.”
“No, I guess not,” Ally noted.
“But I knew Sonja was a pretty big fan.”
Eyes growing wide, Sonja felt her face begin to heat up. She knew she was turning red. “I-I do enjoy your music.” She felt a little childish reacting this way.
“If you bring your CD later tonight, I’ll sign it for you.”
“Thank you!” Sonja beamed.
Checking her wrist watch, Borja took one step further into the room. “Anyway, I was just running out to get some lunch and wondered if you girls would be interested in anything?”
“We’re fine,” Ally said flat out. “I try not to eat out. It’s a waste of money.”
“Can’t fault you there,” Borja agreed. “Sonja?”
“I’m okay,” the nervous fan responded, wishing she could go and have lunch with her. Unfortunately, for some reason unknown to Sonja, Alison seemed irked by the whole situation. She didn’t want to further irritate her friend, not when they had to work the rest of the day and well into the evening together.
“Okay then. Suit yourselves,” Borja replied. The singer headed for the door but paused as if she had something else to say.
�
��Anything else?” Alison pressed, chopping the red bell pepper more furiously.
“Actually, I had a question for Sonja,”
The red headed cook instantly perked up, looking over at the singer with fervent attention. “Y-yes?”
“Belinda tells me that you practice in the occult.”
Instantly the room went silent, as if someone had turned the volume knob on their conversation all the way to mute.
Sonja glanced nervously from Borja to Alison, wondering just what might happen next.
“What?” Ally exclaimed, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
Sonja felt sick to her stomach and a little light headed, worried about how her friend might respond to this blatant assertion. To her surprise, Alison burst into fits of laughter. “Sonja? Practice occult magic?”
Now it was Borja’s turn to look irritated. “What is so funny about that?”
“You’ve got the wrong person,” she guffawed between sentences. “Sonja just isn’t the type.”
It was partially true. Sonja didn’t really practice occult magic, or any magic for that matter. She simply had supernatural powers.
“Oh,” Borja replied, folding her arms defiantly and narrowing her eyes at the two women. “Well, Belinda talked it up like you were one of the best practitioners she’d ever worked with.”
“Don’t believe everything that nutcase has to say,” Alison replied in a snide tone. “She isn’t called the ghost lady for nothing.”
“Well, excuse me,” Borja snapped, walking out of the room.
“Ally,” Sonja scolded her friend, quickly running out of the kitchen and outside into the cold. “Borja, wait,” she called, just as the singer had reached an expensive looking silver car parked out back. It was one of two cars that hadn’t been there earlier when they had arrived. The second car had a bumper sticker that said Haunted Falls Electrician’s Union on it, indicating the car belonged to Hayden.
“If you and your friend think it’s funny to string Belinda along, you’re wrong.”
“String Belinda along?”
“Pretending to practice the occult just to get a good laugh?”
Why was she reacting so adversely all of a sudden? Sonja wondered. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I don’t practice the occult. Not really. But I do possess inherent supernatural abilities, and I’ve turned to Belinda as a friend on countless occasions to help me figure out more about what I was going through.”
Pausing just beside the driver side door of her car, Borja raised a skeptical eyebrow. It was clear she had some sort of deep attachment to the practice of the occult and any disrespect of the lifestyle was extremely offensive.
“Alison doesn’t know anything about my abilities, and I couldn’t tell her even if I wanted to.” Taking a few steps closer to the singer, Sonja wanted nothing more to explain things, to clear all of this up. “I’m sorry if you felt she insulted something that was important to you.”
“Oh,” Borja replied, her face brightening up a little. “Well, I recently gained an interest in the occult when Belinda mentioned being able to talk to deceased loved ones.” The young, blonde haired woman’s eyes began to mist up.
Things were starting to make a little more sense for Sonja now. “Did you lose someone recently?”
Shaking her head, Borja wiped away the tears before they could fall. “Not recently, but yes. The pain of losing her has been almost unbearable these past few years. I’ve grown desperate.” She shrugged. “When I learned that talking to the dead was a real possibility, it gave me hope again. Belinda said you were one of the best people to talk to if I wanted to learn more.”
While the supernaturally sensitive woman knew she didn’t have any specific knowledge of the occult, she did have the ability to speak to the dead—which made Belinda absolutely right in her assertion that Sonja was the person to talk to.
Additionally, she understood now why Borja had reacted so poorly to someone basically calling the study of occult and spiritualism a joke.
“For a second,” Borja admitted, “I thought you and your friend were being disrespectful.”
“You have to understand Alison. She isn’t always the best at filtering her opinion.” Sonja shrugged. “And even if I told her about my supernatural abilities, she wouldn’t believe me or even understand.”
Borja looked down at her feet. “Now I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.”
“It’s okay,” Sonja commented, thinking of how her friend’s actions were just as inappropriate.
“And I shouldn’t have brought it up in front of her.”
“You couldn’t have known.” She felt odd talking to one of her favorite singers face to face like it was normal, and was also surprised to see that her nervous jitters were mostly gone. It sent a certain sensation of excitement through her body. “Tell you what. Why don’t we set a private time for later tonight, after the dance? I can tell you anything I know then.”
Borja looked up and smiled warmly. “That would be great,” she exclaimed.
“Then it’s a plan.”
CHAPTER 9
* * *
Upon arriving back in the kitchen, Sonja was instantly greeted with stony silence from her friend. Not wanting to aggravate the situation, Sonja quickly got back to work on her own portion of the preparations.
Working in silence for a good five minutes, Alison finally broke the ice. “Why did you have to act like that?”
Glancing up at her, Sonja wore a furrowed brow of confusion. “How did I act?”
“You got all wishy-washy over that woman like she was something special. She’s just a singer, Sonja.”
Stopping her work, Sonja put her hands on her hips. “She’s a singer that I happen to like,” she retorted, “and I’ve enjoyed meeting her.”
“And what was all that business about the occult?” Alison continued her string of accusations without skipping a beat.
“Just a mistake,” she replied, hoping that would put an end to the subject.
“Whatever,” her friend muttered, chopping into the next bell pepper.
Sighing, Sonja knew that there was more to all of this than Alison was letting on. “What’s really going on, Ally? I know you can be a little sarcastic sometimes, but this behavior is totally unlike you.”
Stopping her chopping, Alison sighed and set down the knife. “I-I thought we were best friends.”
Sonja felt slightly taken aback by the comment. “We are best friends. Why would that have changed?”
“It just seems like you don’t have a whole lot of time for me, lately,” Ally sniffed, her anger finally turning into tears. “Ever since you started dating Frank, it’s like I don’t really exist. You drop everything to run off whenever he needs you, and the rest of the time it feels like you’re with Belinda,” she spat.
Sonja remained silent for a moment. Her friend was absolutely right. Besides the occasional shift they worked together at the diner, the two women hardly ever saw one another. Sonja had just never once thought she might be neglecting a friend or that Alison may grow jealous of Frank and Belinda. “I’m really, really sorry, Ally. You’re completely right.”
“Why Belinda? Is she really a better friend than I am?”
“No, she isn’t a better friend, but she does help me sometimes.” How could she explain that there were just some things she couldn’t talk about with Ally? “You are still my best friend.”
“Do you mean that?”
“How about this? Why don’t we plan a trip together, just the two of us?”
“Really?” Alison exclaimed, a smile returning to her tear streaked face.
“You bet,” she beamed. “As soon as Valentine’s Day is over, we’re going to have a girl’s only trip.”
Straightening up, Alison embraced her friend tightly. “I’d really enjoy that,” her friend admitted.
* * *
The women finished up most of the preliminary food preparations for the party early on, just around fou
r. The manor’s kitchen was a mass of pink, red, and white appetizers and desserts. In addition to the same scone recipe her parents had been eating earlier, she also had strawberry scones—pink of course—with a light chocolate drizzle. There would also be miniature BBQ sausages cooked on top of heart-shaped cuts of flaky dough, ranch and French onion dips with cut up vegetables, and even some burger sliders that Sonja liked to call “Sweetheart Sliders.”
Sonja suggested they take a break for an hour. When they returned at five they should have just enough time to cook up fresh, warm waffles, bake and fry all the meats, and dress the serving tables in the ballroom before the party started at seven.
Alison was glad for a break and headed home to be with her daughter, Cynthia, and her husband for an hour until the babysitter showed up.
Sonja had no desire to head home and deal with her father again, not yet anyway. She also considered calling Frank but knew he was likely busy with the murder investigation. If anything, she needed to wait for him to call her. She just hoped that, when he did, he would be asking to meet her at the Valentine’s dance and not asking her to come into the station to give a statement.
“Please remember the dance,” she whispered, crossing her fingers. Frank was such a sweet and considerate man, that it seemed completely out of character for him to not remember something as important as Valentine’s Day or a special town-wide dance.
After dropping Alison off at home, she decided to head to the library instead. It was a long shot, but maybe she could read through some old newspapers and find a connection between Daniella and Carson. She was having difficulty thinking of any possible tie a beauty queen and a garbage man might have.
She also hoped she might do a little digging and figure out where she had heard the name Johnny Wales before.
The murder case could at least take her mind off her father for a little while, if nothing else. Pulling onto the street just outside the library, which at one time had been an old church built in the classic gothic style, she got out and walked up the steps.
Spooky Sweetheart Waffle: Book 9 in The Diner of the Dead Series Page 4