by Leslie Meier
“I don’t know, Rosana! She just did!” Mona snapped, suddenly discombobulated, disturbed by the recollection of events. “I’m sure there’s nothing to it, right, Hayley?”
Hayley nodded, but her mind was elsewhere.
Mona instantly noticed. “What, Hayley? What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing . . . I . . . It’s nothing,” Hayley said, waving away the memory.
“No, you’re obviously thinking about something! Come on, tell us!” Mona yelled.
Hayley took a deep breath, not sure if she should proceed, but it was too late now. Both Mona and Rosana were on pins and needles. “I honestly don’t want to add to the hysteria, because I really don’t think this means anything—”
“Hayley!” Mona bellowed.
“I put it out of my mind at the time, since I didn’t think Dennis would ever be capable of anything like that . . .”
Mona was now seething. “What did that lousy dog do?”
Hayley raised her hands. “Nothing. What I saw was probably one hundred percent innocent, but I remember last August I was driving to the bank to get some money from the ATM and I passed by Carol Waterman’s house on the way. I was surprised to see Dennis sitting on her front porch with her and they were having some lemonade and they were laughing about something.”
“Dennis laughed? I’ve been married to the man for over twenty years and I’ve never heard him laugh,” Mona said.
Hayley took another sharp intake of breath. “Um, he was also—”
“Stop dragging it out, Hayley, tell us,” Rosana begged.
“He was also shirtless.”
There was a pause.
Hayley quickly followed up. “But it was superhot that day and I’m sure he was just taking a break from his yard work.”
“So, was Carol rubbing Dennis’s fat beer gut like Aladdin’s lamp or what?”
“No, of course not!” Hayley said.
“Then I’m not worried. Is that all you’ve got?” Mona asked.
“Well, no,” Hayley continued, sighing. “The sight of the two of them struck me as odd, and I kept staring. I didn’t see where I was going, and the next thing I knew, I plowed my car right into Carol’s mailbox at the end of her driveway.”
Rosana tittered, unable to control herself.
“Needless to say, I was mortified, and I apologized profusely to Carol. Dennis was kind enough to fix it, and Carol offered me a glass of lemonade, which I declined. I remember choking on the strong scent of Carol’s perfume. She said it was White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor. Her favorite. I heard Dennis say—”
Mona stepped forward and growled, “What did he say, Hayley?”
“He said . . . ‘I wish Mona would wear perfume sometimes. ’ ”
“He did not!” Rosana shrieked.
“Well, that’s just stupid! What am I, competing to be a stupid Miss America? I don’t need to smell nice! I haul lobster traps for a living!” Mona huffed.
“I know, it was just an offhanded comment he said under his breath. It totally meant nothing!” Hayley said.
“How did Carol react to that?” Mona asked quietly.
“She didn’t say anything. She just had this proud look on her face, and this big knowing smile. It was almost as if . . .” Hayley considered her thought before cautiously proceeding. “It was almost as if she was enjoying the fact that I had seen the two of them on the porch.”
There was yet another pause.
Hayley felt awful for bringing any of this up, but given the circumstances, she felt compelled. And as she eyed her best friend, who was usually so unruffled about most things, she could sense Mona was suddenly rattled by this revelation.
And Hayley knew Mona well enough to know that she was right now thinking, Does Dennis actually have it in him to have an affair with another woman?
Chapter Four
Hayley stared into the blinking colored lights of the cheap desktop plastic Christmas tree that Rosana had picked up at the Christmas Spirit Shop on Main Street. She could hear herself breathing, in and out, slowly, as if trapped inside her own head. Rosana was next to her saying something, but the words didn’t make any sense. Her mind couldn’t grasp anything at the moment; she found herself in some kind of momentary paralysis, or shock.
It had crept up on her so suddenly when she realized she had her own Carol Waterman story to share, an incident she had totally forgotten about, something she had brushed aside, unconcerned, as if it had meant nothing. But now, with the power of hindsight, and the two disturbing stories Rosana and Mona had both shared, it finally had found its way back into her mind and could no longer be suppressed. As she recounted the details, she knew in her gut that this was not a story to be summarily dismissed as innocent or inconsequential.
“Hayley, are you all right?” Rosana asked, presumably again, since she hadn’t heard her the first time.
Hayley robotically turned to Rosana, who had a distinct look of worry on her face, fearing Hayley was ill or about to faint. “Yes, sorry.”
“What is it? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost,” Rosana gasped.
“I . . . I remembered something that happened . . . just last week,” Hayley said in a monotone voice.
Rosana and Mona exchanged inquisitive looks.
Hayley paused, making sure she recalled the events correctly, before proceeding. “I came home from work, and when I walked into the kitchen, I saw Bruce coming up from the basement. He was carrying one of those old turntables, the kind you play old vinyl records on.”
Rosana and Mona were both nodding, eager to hear more.
“He dusted it off with an old dishrag and took it into the living room. I didn’t even ask him what he was doing. I just went about making dinner. I was filling a pot with water to boil on the stove—I remember I was making spaghetti—and all of a sudden, I heard music blasting in the other room. I recognized the voice. Stevie Nicks. It was an old song from the 1970s.
“After putting the pot on the burner and turning on the stove, I went into the living room and found Bruce sitting on the couch, reading the back of an old record album. It was that classic Fleetwood Mac album Rumours. I think the song was ‘Gold Dust Woman.’ He was beaming. He looked so happy. I asked him if he had been thumbing through his old record collection that day, and he shook his head and said, ‘No, it was a Christmas present from Carol Waterman.’ ”
Rosana gasped, throwing a hand to her heart.
“I know, I know, I just didn’t think much about it at the time,” Hayley said, sounding a little defensive.
“What do you mean you didn’t think much about it?” Mona scoffed.
“I didn’t have any reason to. Not then. But now—”
“What did you say to him?” Rosana asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Nothing at first. He said his father was a huge Fleetwood Mac fan and turned him onto them, and Rumours became his favorite album. He had lost his old vinyl copy one summer after packing for college and never replaced it. I just remember thinking at the time, ‘How on earth does Carol Waterman know Bruce’s favorite band is Fleetwood Mac, and I don’t?’ ”
“So, did you ask him?” Mona bellowed.
Hayley nodded her head. “Yes, eventually. I didn’t want to be the nagging, jealous type, so I waited until we were sitting at the dining table eating our spaghetti. I just casually threw it out there that I was surprised Carol knew he was such a big Fleetwood Mac fan when he was younger. He explained to me that they had run into each other at a used-record store in Ellsworth. She had been looking at a copy and he casually mentioned in conversation how much he loved the album. So she bought it for him, gift-wrapped it, and dropped it off at the house.”
“It is not appropriate for a single woman to buy a Christmas present for a married man and not include his wife!” Rosana cried.
“I know . . . I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Of course, I—I trust Bruce,” Hayley stammered.
“Wel
l, that’s your first mistake!” Mona huffed. “No man should be trusted!”
“I need a drink!” Rosana wailed as she made a beeline for the spiked-eggnog bowl and poured herself a plastic cup full with the ladle.
“I remember asking him if I should be jealous and he just laughed, as if it was the most ridiculous thought in the world. He assured me they were just friends . . .” Hayley’s voice trailed off as her mind wandered.
“I feel as if you’re leaving something out,” Mona said, eyes narrowing.
Hayley took a deep breath. “Bruce told me something. I didn’t give it any serious thought at the time. I just found the idea so utterly ridiculous.”
“What did he tell you?” Rosana demanded to know, tightening her grip on the plastic cup of spiked eggnog.
Hayley took a deep breath. “He told me . . .”
Hayley could see both Rosana and Mona leaning forward, their entire bodies full of anticipation.
“He told me—”
“For the love of God, Hayley, what?” Mona wailed.
“That a few years back, when Bruce was still a single man about town, long before we ever got involved, mind you—”
“He dated Carol Waterman!” Rosana screamed, dropping her now-empty plastic cup to the floor.
“Just a couple of times, but he insisted nothing ever came of it, and they had remained friendly.”
Mona shook her head. “Unbelievable. And he dropped this bombshell just last week?”
“Yes, I found the idea of Bruce and Carol as a couple so ludicrous. Plus, his account of what happened at the record store, and casually telling Carol his favorite band was Fleetwood Mac, seemed logical, so I didn’t question it. I let the whole thing slip from my mind . . . until we got Carol’s Christmas card.”
“I’ll tell you what I think!” Mona howled. “I think that Carol Waterman’s favorite band is Supertramp, because that’s exactly what she is, and she’s probably running off with all of our husbands!”
Rosana covered her mouth with both hands, and her eyes were so big and bulging, Hayley thought they might just pop right off her face.
“No, I still think this card is some kind of joke. It’s not real,” Hayley said, trying to reassure them, and, more to the point, herself.
But as she re-read the message inside the card one more time, she had more than a slight pang in the pit of her stomach. For a brief moment, she wondered if Bruce, a man she had grown to trust implicitly, had actually been telling her the truth about his innocent run-in with Carol at the record store.
Or was he the one secretly planning to run off with Carol Waterman?
Chapter Five
The door to the Island Times office swung open, and David Pine blew in, his cheeks rosy from the frightfully chilly air outside. He was carrying a brown paper bag under his arm. He stopped short at the sight of Hayley, Mona, and Rosana. The trio stood in the middle of the reception area, among the plethora of Christmas decorations and party foods, staring numbly at him, as if they were seeing him for the first time.
He offered them a bright smile. “What’d I miss?”
At first, none of the women could find their voice to respond, but within a few seconds, Mona was the first to manage it. “Where the hell have you been?”
David chuckled, confused, and handed Mona the paper bag. “You sent me to pick up napkins, remember?”
Mona snatched the bag and peered inside. “You got the elegant ones. This isn’t a state dinner for the queen. It’s a friggin’ office Christmas party.”
“Don’t worry. They were on sale. And it’s my treat,” David said, eyeing the bright yellow spiked eggnog in the bowl. “Would you mind if I help myself to a cup?”
Without waiting for an answer, he glided over to the table and picked up a red cup and ladled some eggnog into it.
“You’ve been gone a while. What took so long?” Hayley asked casually as she continued exchanging curious looks with Rosana and Mona.
David took a generous sip of the eggnog. “Oh, that’s good. I had to stop by my house and change, because when I was at the grocery store, I opened a can of soda while I was buying the napkins and these rug rats were running up and down the aisle, chasing each other. They slammed into my back, and I spilled Dr Pepper all down the front of my shirt. Does this look okay for the party? It was the only thing I had that wasn’t in the laundry basket.”
Hayley thought David had looked much better in the smart, tailored blue Oxford shirt, but even in a more modest black lightweight cashmere turtleneck sweater, the man still cut a mighty fine figure.
David finally seemed to notice the strained expressions on the faces of all three women.
“Are you three okay? You all look a little shell-shocked,” he observed.
“No, we’re fine,” Hayley said quickly, instinctively hiding the red Christmas card from Carol behind her back.
“By the way, while I was home changing, I got a text from Carol. She had to cancel our date tonight.”
“What?” Hayley gasped.
David stared at her, not sure why she hadn’t heard him. “She’s not coming.”
“But . . . but . . . but why?” Hayley stammered.
David studied her, not sure what was bothering her, but then chose to ignore whatever it might be. “She’s not feeling well. She thinks she may be coming down with something. I hear the flu’s going around town.”
Rosana’s whole body shook as she croaked, “She’s not coming to the Christmas party?”
David downed the rest of his eggnog as his eyes bounced around to all three women. “Uh, yeah, isn’t that what I just said? What is going on with you three?”
“Nothing!” Mona snapped. “Mind your own business!”
David raised his arms in surrender and then turned his back to them to pour himself another cup of eggnog.
“And save some of that eggnog for the other guests!” Mona yelled.
“Relax, Mona, I saw Andrea at the supermarket. She was picking up some more rum. We’ll have plenty,” David said.
Luckily, he couldn’t hear the alarm bells going off in all their heads. Hayley rushed over to her desk and plunged her hand deep inside her bag in search of her phone. As she plucked it out to speed-dial Bruce, she noticed Mona and Rosana scrambling for their own phones as well.
“Hi, this is Bruce. I’m somewhere stomping out crime, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
Beep.
Dead air.
“Uh, Bruce, it’s me. Call me when you get this. Please. It’s not urgent, but . . . just call me.”
Hayley ended the call and dropped her hand clutching the phone as she watched Rosana, her lip quivering, say into her own phone, “Sal, honey, I need you to call me back just as soon as you can.” And then she lifted a shaky hand to her mouth.
Hayley glanced over at Mona, who was scratching her head, exasperated. “Dennis, where the hell are you? Why aren’t you on the couch with your phone lying next to you on the coffee table, like every other day of the week? Call me back, you imbecile!”
Why weren’t any of their husbands picking up?
All three calls had gone straight to voice mail.
It was so strange.
And more than a little disturbing.
Island Food & Spirits
By Hayley Powell
I have been in the Christmas spirit since before Black Friday, so I have been in my kitchen baking a lot of holiday goodies!
Last weekend, I thought it might be fun to prepare and send a Christmas care package filled with delicious cookies, pies, cakes, and candy to my daughter, Gemma, and her boyfriend, Conner, in New York, since they would not be flying to Maine to join us this year. Of course, I would make sure to include Gemma’s absolute favorite ... my Candy Cane Christmas Bark!
When my BFFs, Liddy and Mona, got wind of my plans, they invited themselves over for the day to help out, which I knew actually meant they wanted me to make them their own holiday favorite . .
. my Candy Cane Cocktails!
When the girls arrived in the afternoon on Saturday, we put on some Christmas music while sipping our cocktails and got to work chopping candy canes and measuring and melting the chocolate, according to my grandmother’s prized recipe. After finally popping the pans into the refrigerator to let our bark harden, before breaking it into pieces, we decided to reward ourselves with one more Christmas cocktail.
That was just about the time Bruce arrived home from the office. He had spent his Saturday morning covering a break-in of an ice-fishing shed out on Eagle Lake and breezed into the back door to the kitchen, loudly announcing, “I’m starving!” He sniffed the beef stew I had bubbling on the stovetop, but whined that he was in the mood for something sweet, so he snatched up one of the leftover candy canes we had on the counter and bit off a big piece. A few moments later, Bruce ambled over to the kitchen table, where Mona, Liddy, and I were deeply immersed in a gossip session. He said, only slightly concerned, “Honey, I think I chipped my tooth a little bit.” He smiled wide to show us.
The three of us stared at Bruce, slack-jawed. One of his front teeth was completely gone!
Mona was the first to speak. “Good Lord, Bruce, you look just like the jack-o’-lantern one of my kids carved this past Halloween!”
“What?” Bruce cried, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth. He then turned and pounded out of the room to inspect his toothless smile in the mirror that hung on the wall in the hallway.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
Bruce flew back into the kitchen, arms waving in the air, screaming, “Nobody move! You might step on my tooth!”
We sat frozen at the kitchen table.
Bruce blinked at us, then began yelling again. “Don’t just sit there! Somebody call 911!”
Liddy, Mona, and I looked at each other. I then said softly to Bruce, “Honey, you told us not to move.”
Bruce sighed, annoyed, then grabbed his phone to make the call himself.
I gently said, “Bruce, dear, please don’t call 911. I don’t think we’ll be needing an ambulance. I can get you wherever we need to go without the assistance of any first responders.”