by Jenny Kales
“I was just so surprised to see you on the floor like that,” Callie stammered to the costumed woman. “You were so…motionless. I thought you were…”
“Dead?” the flapper asked gleefully, a gleam in her eye. When she saw Callie’s expression, she changed her tone. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “But this is good news! I was doing a lousy job of lying still. I kept shifting and blinking. Allan Browne, the director, was ready to kill me for real!” The young woman paused and exhaled loudly. The blunt bangs of her glossy wig blew upward.
She extended her hand to Callie. “I’m Tammy Heckstrom. Nice to meet you. And I’m sorry to have scared you.”
Callie shook Tammy’s hand, which was soft and slightly damp. “I’m Callie Costas, and I brought some treats for the cast party at the request of Holly Tennyson. She’s my daughter’s grade school teacher.”
“Oh, sure, Holly and I go way back. Besides acting together, we’re both in grad school.”
“Really? How nice. Well, I’m happy to meet you and I’m just as happy you’re alive and well.” Tammy giggled and Callie dimly remembered grad school as something that Holly had mentioned during one of their chats at school.
“Want me to go find Holly?” Tammy asked. “It’s the least I can do after scaring you half to death,” Tammy touched Callie’s arm. “I have to fix my makeup and run some lines.”
Callie decided that she’d experienced enough pre-show drama. “That’s OK. I’m going to look for my family and friends. They’ll be here tonight, too. And, uh, break a leg!” She turned to leave, anxious to distance herself from the embarrassing situation. She was also considering attempting to nurse her shoulder and back pain with one of The Harris House’s signature martinis. That is, until a peppy voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.
“Callie! I thought that was you!”
Taking a deep breath before turning around, Callie found herself staring into the grinning face of Raine, Hugh’s new wife, Olivia’s new stepmother and Callie’s new neighbor.
“Raine,” Callie said flatly. “What are you doing here?” she asked, before she could stop herself. She hadn’t meant to sound so rude.
But Raine, bless her, didn’t appear to notice. Tall and curvy with big blue eyes and long blonde hair, Raine and Callie couldn’t be more different physically or personality-wise. Where Callie was dark and more on the petite side, Raine towered over her, her fair skin and rosy cheeks making her look like the Swiss Miss girl.
“Didn’t Hugh tell you? I’m doing costumes for the murder mystery dinner!” She beamed at Callie, all dimples and white teeth.
Callie gave Raine a quick once-over. She wore a rumpled black T-shirt and leggings, with a pink tape measure worn around her neck like a skinny scarf. She certainly looked like someone who was working backstage. The question was: why? She didn’t need to ask, though, because Raine was burbling away in a friendly manner.
“Well, with moving to Crystal Bay and trying to get a permanent job, I thought it would be a good idea to network. And I always did love the theater. I used to perform at Saint Mary’s, my high school, but I wasn’t that good.” She giggled. “I admit it. But Kathy said that they needed volunteers and I’m a better seamstress than I am an actress. So here I am.”
Raine was certainly a sunbeam. Kathy, her realtor aunt, was dating Callie’s father, something that Callie still hadn’t gotten quite used to yet. Yep, small town life at its finest, Callie thought. Most of the time, small town life was just fine, unless you really didn’t want to see someone. Then you saw them everywhere you went.
“Well, it’s certainly a surprise to see you here.” Callie attempted a smile. “I suppose Hugh will be here, too?”
“No, not this time,” said Raine, her voice losing some of its enthusiasm. “He’s finishing up some work on a house because a new project just came in.”
Well, that was a lucky break, Callie thought. At least it wouldn’t be awkward when Sands showed up.
“I don’t want to keep you,” Callie said, feeling her shoulders start to ache. “I hope everything goes well with the show!”
“Thanks,” Raine replied, her blue eyes blinking. “It’s nice to finally be back home in Crystal Bay. Maybe…” she stopped.
“Yes?” Callie prompted.
“Well, I’m hoping we can be friends. You know, with living so close to each other and all.” Raine batted her big blue eyes at Callie. They appeared totally guileless and sincere. Darn it.
“Uh…sure.”
Inwardly, she cringed. She and Raine had plenty of obstacles to a friendship, but it would be best for everyone if they at least got along. She smiled as warmly as she could, while Raine said goodbye and scurried away, mumbling something about loose fringe on a flapper dress.
Callie made her way to the front of The Harris House in search of the sun room. Lisa was on the phone and didn’t look up. Sinking down into one of the cushioned wicker chairs, Callie let out a deep sigh.
It looked like it was going to be a long night.
Two
A glass of wine in hand, Callie was happy to discover that she was able to enjoy the murder mystery dinner. The actors were funny and entertaining. Every one of them seemed to be having a great time playing their over-the-top roles. Even better, Callie didn’t jump a mile high during Tammy Heckstrom’s dramatic death scene. Due to her slapstick incident before the show, she was prepared for it. The killer was well hidden, but in an interesting twist, it had turned out to be Holly Tennyson’s character. When the play ended, Callie stretched and looked around the table.
Sands, who had shown up a few minutes late, was to her right. When he saw her glance at him, he smiled at and put his arm around her shoulders. Callie felt her face relax into a Cheshire cat grin. Blushing, she noticed that her Irish-American maternal grandmother, Viv, was smiling her dimpled smile across the table at her. Viv, who had cared for Callie when she’d lost her mother at a young age, enjoyed Agatha Christie-style anything, and she’d been among the first to sign on for the dinner. Next to Viv was Samantha, Callie’s best friend, a criminal attorney. Sam yawned.
“That was cute, but a little corny,” she observed. “Still, it’s nice to be able to solve a fictional mystery for a change.”
“Yes, a fictional mystery suits me just fine,” answered Sands. “I quite enjoyed it. What about you, Viv?” Sands winked at Callie.
“Oh, I just loved it,” Viv gushed. “The costumes, the intrigue, the humor: all of it was wonderful. Who knew that Olivia’s teacher was such a good actress? That gal is really talented.”
As if summoned by Viv’s praise, Holly Tennyson walked over to their table, a red-lipsticked smile on her pretty face. “Callie! It’s great to see you!” She nodded at the rest of the group. “I’m so glad you all could come to the play tonight.” She leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that I would be the killer!” Holly’s normally long, light brown hair was covered with a glossy blonde flapper wig set in vintage marcel waves. She was wearing a black fringed gown and vintage jewelry. Her long, chandelier earrings sparkled and danced as she dipped her head pertly at them.
“Hon, you were delightfully evil,” Viv said, and they all laughed.
“Thanks,” Holly said, tugging off one of her elbow-length gloves. “I wasn’t sure if I’d have time for acting this summer, since I’ve been busy writing a thesis for graduate school but I’m sure glad I did. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Yes, Tammy Heckstrom, tonight’s murder victim, happened to mention that you’re in grad school together,” Callie replied.
“I thought I’d told you. I’m going for my Master’s degree. I’m writing a paper on F. Scott Fitzgerald. So you could say that acting in a 1920s-style play in a 1920s-style hotel/restaurant almost counts as research.” Holly grinned at them.
“How fascinating,” Viv remarked, clearly wanting to engage Holly in conversation about the topic. Viv was a big reader and a frequent volunteer at the Cryst
al Bay Public Library. However, Holly seemed pre-occupied by someone standing behind Sands. She smiled shakily at the group.
“Well, well. Holly, what do we have here? More of your devoted fans?” said a man’s voice.
Callie turned to look at the source of the snarky words. A tall, portly man with a shock of red hair and a full beard was smiling tolerantly at Holly as if she were amusing to him, like a puppy or kitten. He had a booming voice and an impressive belly to match.
“As a matter of fact, yes. We are fans of Holly,” Callie said firmly, not caring for the man’s jeering tone. “We came here specifically to see her perform tonight.”
“Is that so? Well, I certainly hope you got your money’s worth. Holly plays an excellent villainess, don’t you think?”
“Uh, allow me to introduce you all to Allan Browne,” Holly said through teeth clenched in a pasted-on smile. She made a queenly gesture at him. “Director of our little theatre troupe.”
“Little!” Allan Browne’s eyebrows drew together over his Roman nose. “Why, we perform all over the state, and we were at a Chicago theater festival just last year.” He stammered a bit and Callie winked at Holly who tried to stifle a laugh.
“It’s a pleasure, sir.” Sands spoke to Allan in his smooth voice. Allan Browne raised his eyebrows, perhaps surprised at Sands’ British accent still evident despite his many years in Wisconsin.
“I really should let you all get back to your evening,” Holly was saying. “Tell Olivia I said hello.” She directed this last remark at Callie, who nodded in assent.
Allan Browne leaned toward the group, an ingratiating grin on his face. “Yes, yes. It’s wonderful to have you in the audience tonight. Please tell your friends about us; we plan to have more shows here at The Harris House.” A little too late to try for the charming salesman act, Callie thought.
“We certainly will, dear boy.” Viv twinkled at the group while Allan Browne grumbled a bit more at Viv’s use of the endearment. Allan Browne had to be at least 55 if he was a day.
When they were clearly out of earshot, Sam chimed in. “What a character.” She paused. “And that’s putting it nicely.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Sands drawled. “All the world’s a stage.”
“Yes, and he’s playing Holly for a fool,” Callie retorted. “He should be thrilled to have her. She’s really good!”
“Oh, Callie, honey,” Viv admonished. “These creative and artistic types are all so temperamental. In any case, it looks like Holly can take care of herself.”
“She certainly does. Still, I’m glad we were able to give her some support tonight,” Callie said. She watched as Holly and Allan Browne spoke briefly to the group at another table, but the two soon parted. Callie couldn’t blame Holly for wanting to get away.
Sands squeezed Callie’s forearm, diverting her attention away from the pair. “I’m glad we showed up, too. It was a fun evening. Next time, let’s bring Olivia, shall we?” She nodded and smiled at the warmth in his words and his hazel eyes. Since he’d lost his own daughter in an accident years prior, Callie was happy that he and Olivia had become such good pals.
“I’ll be here, too. But I bet I know who Holly wishes was the murder victim, fictional or not,” Viv said, draining the last of her chardonnay. Everybody laughed.
***
“Callie, we’ve got issues,” Max, Callie’s assistant was saying. It was the day following the murder mystery dinner and Callie was wondering if she should have spent the time baking instead of watching a play with her friends and family. Tourist season in Crystal Bay was in full swing, and Callie’s Kitchen was experiencing a resurgence of clientele. This was welcome news to Callie’s bank account, but it did mean that she often felt as if she spent her workday on roller skates. Come to think of it, roller skates might not be a bad idea.
“What is it, Max?” Callie said. “Please tell me it’s not serious.”
“I guess it depends on what you mean by serious. We’re running out of food.”
“Oh, no! Like what?” Callie pushed damp hair off of her forehead. The sunnier and hotter it grew outside, the more the kitchen felt like an inferno.
“We’re running really low on the loukoumades and some of the other Greek pastries.” Max, his spiky hair drooping slightly, didn’t want to seem to meet her eyes.
“Oh,” Callie said, puzzled. “I thought you stayed late to bake last night.” That was the usual deal. Max’s vintage clothing-wearing, social media-expert girlfriend, Piper, was supposed to be helping him. She worked part-time at Callie’s Kitchen, and Callie didn’t know how she would get along without either of them. She could hear Piper’s sing-song voice chatting to customers in the front of the shop.
“I was supposed to,” Max said slowly. He folded his arms across his Callie’s Kitchen apron, offering Callie a look at his colorfully tattooed forearms. Max was big and muscular, but with a boyishly handsome face that was a magnet to Callie’s clientele.
“Well, what happened?” Callie was growing frustrated.
“I’ll admit it. I had some things going on at home. I didn’t get as much done as I promised. I’m sorry!”
Callie started to admonish him, but he interrupted her. “You’re totally justified in being angry at me. I’ll stay late tonight and finish up whatever we need to do. What do you say?”
Callie nodded at him. He was such a hard-working employee that this type of thing was completely out of character. “Fine. What about in the meantime, though?”
“I’ll get some stuff out of the freezer. It won’t be as good, but you never know. People might come in earlier next time to get the good stuff. You know, if they think we’ll sell out of everybody’s favorites, it could work in our favor.”
It was difficult to stay angry at Max. “All right.” She went back to mixing the Greek meatballs she was making, one of her favorite dishes. They would be served with a tangy tzatziki, the cucumber-yogurt sauce that was a hallmark of Greek warm weather cuisine. She was also making Greek rice pudding that she would serve chilled and sprinkled with cinnamon. Delightful sweet and savory fragrances filled her kitchen workspace, and she inhaled them deeply, finding that the food smells had a calming effect.
As Max rummaged in the freezer, Callie had a thought. “I’m not happy about running out of food, but it’s not like you to shirk a responsibility.” She turned to face him. “Is everything all right with you?”
Max emerged from the walk-in freezer with a grim look on his face. “You sound like my father.”
“What do you mean?”
Max piled his muscled arms with frozen spinach triangles and butter cookie dough before laying the foodstuffs on a large worktable. He rubbed his face tiredly before answering.
“He wants me to come back home and work the farm. He knows that I want to cook but…” Max took a deep breath. “He’s getting older.”
Max looked at Callie, his expression glum. “I’m the only one left in Wisconsin. You remember my brother got married last year and moved to Seattle. It’s only me. There’s just one problem: I don’t want that life. I want to keep doing what I’m doing. I love to work with food, with the customers.” He smiled. “With you. The best boss ever.”
Callie laughed. “You don’t need to butter me up, Max. I like working with you, too. You know that.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Family is always an issue, isn’t it?”
Callie could certainly identify with Max’s dilemma. Her father, George, hailed from Greece and had wanted Callie, as his only child, to work with him at his diner The Olympia. His dream was for her to take it over one day when he retired, though he certainly did not show signs of doing so. However, Callie had stood firm. She loved her father, but she wanted to create her own business, and that’s how Callie’s Kitchen was born. George had finally accepted the situation and was one of her staunchest supporters, but it hadn’t been easy at first.
“It’s just that my dad and I have never really seen eye to eye.
” Max was saying. “I love him, of course, and I don’t want to let him down.” He paused. “I don’t really even get home that much. He must be desperate if he wants me to take over.”
“Now, now,” Callie replied. “I’m sure you’d do a fine job wherever you landed. It’s more a matter of…do you see yourself as a farmer? And if the answer is no, I guess you’ll have to have a talk with your dad. Let him know so that he can find another option.”
“That’s just it, Callie.” Max stared glumly at the countertops, covered with food. “I think I am the only option.”
Callie didn’t like the sound of that. Before she could respond, the phone rang. Distractedly, she picked it up.
“Hello?” shouted Hugh, Callie’s ex-husband. It sounded like he was speaking to her from on top of a jackhammer.
“Hugh, what’s going on? I can’t hear you very well,” Callie shouted back into the phone. Max, she noticed, was busying himself placing frozen spanakopita triangles onto industrial-sized cookie sheets.
“I’m at a job site. Just about to leave, actually, and I’ve got Olivia with me. She wanted to see the site, so I brought her along. Don’t worry. I didn’t let her near anything dangerous,” he said pre-emptively, before Callie could interject any motherly concerns about her daughter’s safety.
“The problem,” he continued, “is that they want me to go get some measurements at a new house that I’ll be working on next week. I was wondering if you could meet me there. I’m really crunched for time.” Loud sounds of construction drowned out whatever he said next.
Callie felt her frustration rising. Still, the important thing was to retrieve her daughter
“Sure, OK. Just give me the address. It’s not too far away, I hope.”