Death of a Bacon Heiress (6 page)

“The seafood tastes funny,” Olivia said, practically gagging as she spit out what was in her mouth into a yellow cloth napkin and rolled it up into a ball.

She had ordered the Salmon-Stuffed Maine Crab Cakes with a spicy wasabi sauce off the menu, and when it arrived Hayley thought it looked absolutely delicious.

Olivia's handsome, suave husband, Nacho, kept his eyes glued to his plate and picked at his pan-seared halibut, fearing what was about to come.

Hayley simply tried to diffuse the situation by popping a gnocchi slathered in a brown-butter-sage sauce into her own mouth and moaning. “Mine is so good. The sauce is just bursting with flavor. And those fried raviolis with the basil and tomato marinara dipping sauce I had for an appetizer were incredible.”

It wasn't enough to stop Olivia from cranking her head around in search of the willowy young hostess in the pink sundress. “Excuse me, young lady, I'd like to speak to the owner.”

The girl nodded, her face a frozen mask of dread, and then she disappeared into the kitchen.

“I expected more of this place,” Olivia said, slamming her fork down and then picking up a glass of ice water and gulping it.

A restaurant with an impeccable reputation, the Blooming Rose was situated on the outskirts of the tiny hamlet of Town Hill in a small New England cottage nestled in a wooded area. It was a fifteen-minute drive from the center of Bar Harbor but always worth it for its culinary treats for the taste buds.

Hayley was thrilled because she had been dying to try it ever since they opened early for the season, a full six weeks ahead of their usual date, which was around Memorial Day.

The meal started out innocently enough with an array of appetizers, including the fried raviolis along with a local artisan cheese plate and a chilled lobster salad with a tarragon vinaigrette.

In fact, Hayley was in absolute heaven.

She made a note to write about this flawless meal in a future column, not only to praise the delicious food but also because she was fond of the owner, Felicity Flynn-Chan, who was always so kind to Hayley when she called the paper to place ads for the restaurant.

But then came the entrées, and although Hayley and Nacho were both pleased with their selections, she quickly noticed an appalled look of distaste suddenly appear on Olivia's face, and her mood instantly darkened.

She didn't like her seafood.

And it was going to be a big problem.

Felicity entered the dining room from the kitchen and bravely crossed to their table, a tight smile fixed on her face. “Ivy tells me you wanted to see me.”

“Yes,” Olivia said, turning her head and speaking in the most haughty, snobbish manner she could muster. “My name is Olivia Redmond. . . .”

“Yes, Ms. Redmond, of course I know you—”

“Please allow me to finish,” Olivia barked.

Felicity clammed up.

“I visit the island every summer and dine at all the restaurants in town, and I was so much looking forward to enjoying a meal here since all my friends seem to rave about this place, but I can't eat these crab cakes. They're too fishy and too spicy!”

Hayley wanted to shrink in her seat, but Felicity remained calm and collected and reached down to pick up the plate of half-eaten crab cakes in front of Olivia. “Then please, let me bring you something else.”

Olivia slapped her hand away. “I don't want anything else. This rotten fish has ruined my palette.”

“I assure you, Ms. Redmond, the salmon in the crab cakes is fresh.”

“It damn well may be, but it tastes lousy. You should consider investing in a new chef because whatever he's done to these crab cakes is a culinary crime.”

“My sweet potato gnocchi is delicious,” Hayley said impulsively, stabbing three pieces of gnocchi on her fork and shoveling it into her mouth. “Can't get enough of it.”

Felicity offered her a slight but grateful smile.

Olivia chose to ignore her.

Felicity sighed. She was adhering to the rule that the customer was always right, but it was a downright challenge. “My husband, Alan, is our chef. He prepared the crab cakes. I'm sorry it's not to your liking, but he has been trained all over Europe and Asia, and very rarely do we ever hear complaints about his talents.”

“I'm sure your husband, Alan, has an illustrious career ahead of him in the fast-food industry,” Olivia said, pushing her chair back. “I've had enough of your back talk. Clearly you are uninterested in my opinion.”

“On the contrary, I take what you're saying very seriously. . . .”

“Not seriously enough, I'm afraid. The chef is still in the kitchen working. Let's go. I'm sure I can find something edible at home.”

Olivia swiveled around to make sure her back was to Felicity as she stormed out. “Pay the bill, Nacho.”

Nacho reached for his wallet but Felicity stopped him.

“Please, the least I can do is comp the meal,” Felicity said, sighing.

Hayley glimpsed Felicity's good-looking, slight, wiry husband, Alan, poking his head above the carved wood swinging doors leading into the kitchen to see what was happening.

When he saw Hayley staring at him, he panicked and disappeared back inside. She had only met him once, at a wine-tasting party in town, and found him soft-spoken but warm and charming.

Felicity was the one in charge and running the show.

And everyone in town knew it.

But that didn't seem to bother him. He probably married her because he liked a strong woman telling him what to do.

“I'm sure part of the reason she's being so difficult is because you refused to allow her to bring her pig in here to dine on scraps underneath the table,” Nacho said, shaking his head.

“It's the law, I'm sorry,” Felicity said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Again, I
loved
my meal,” Hayley said as she stood up from the table, having polished off most of it. “I only wish we could stay for dessert.”

“Next time,” Felicity said, smiling.

“Thank you for your kindness,” Nacho said, shaking Felicity's hand before rushing out to calm his irritable wife.

Hayley turned to Felicity. “I am so embarrassed.”

“Don't be,” Felicity said. “I have to handle impossible customers all the time. It's really no big deal. In fact, most of them usually come back later in the summer and are very well behaved. Mostly because all their friends have talked up the place and they don't want to feel like they're missing out on something.”

“Well, it's nice to see you take it all in stride.”

“Part of the job,” Felicity said.

Hayley couldn't resist picking up her fork and trying the crab cake. She chewed it for a few seconds, the taste exploding in her mouth. “Oh my God, this is scrumptious. How could she complain about it?”

“Like her husband suggested, her churlish behavior had very little to do with not liking the food,” Felicity said.

“Would you mind . . . ?”

“Of course. Let me get you a doggy bag,” Felicity said, reading her mind.

“Make sure it's big enough to fit Nacho's halibut. I'd hate to see that go to waste too,” Hayley said.

Felicity gave her a wink and breezed into the kitchen.

After stocking up on the leftovers, which she was sure would be consumed before bedtime, Hayley carried the brown paper bag out to the gravel-lined parking lot to her Kia. She spotted Olivia's Rolls Royce still parked in a spot underneath a leafy tree on the far end of the lot, closest to the woods. She saw Nacho walking Pork Chop on that sparkling diamond-studded leash down a path, probably so he could take care of business before the ride back to the Redmond Estate.

The back door to the rolls opened and Olivia got out and waved at Hayley. “I need to speak to you before you leave,” she yelled, startling her.

Hayley nodded, dreading what was about to come, and then casually hid the doggie bag behind her as she slowly and deliberately walked over to the silver Rolls. “Yes?”

“I meant to discuss this with you at dinner, but that was before it all went so horribly wrong and I didn't get the chance. I couldn't stay there a moment longer.”

“What is it, Olivia?” Hayley said, praying she wouldn't smell the contents in the brown paper bag she clutched in her hand behind her left leg.

“I've been speaking to the administrator of our Redmond Meats Web site and we've decided we need a cooking blog, someone to post bacon-flavored recipes once or twice a week, and I was wondering if you . . .”

“I'm sure I could come up with a few names.”

“No, Hayley, I want
you
. Now, I know you have your column with the paper, but I promise you it won't interfere, and if your editor has a problem with you moonlighting, I would be happy to speak to him about it. The paper will always come first.”

Hayley was floored.

“I respect your skills, Hayley. Rhonda was kind enough to allow me to try that yummy chicken recipe you shared on her show and I was duly impressed. Plus you're a local, which adds to your charm. We love the Redmond connection to Maine and want to promote that on the site.”

“I don't know what to say. . . .”

“Say yes. I'll pay you well. Two hundred a column.”

Two hundred bucks a couple of times a week?

That was all she needed to hear.

“Of course. Thank you.”

Olivia hugged her, squeezing her tightly for a few seconds, and then abruptly pulled away. That was probably about as much as she could endure in the affection department.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Olivia purred before climbing back into the Rolls and shutting the door.

Nacho hurried up the path with Pork Chop, who scampered at his side, and they hopped in the other side.

The driver pulled away, leaving Hayley alone with her bag of leftover gourmet food.

She knew she had done the right thing jumping at this rare opportunity. How could she not for at least four hundred extra dollars a week?

But having witnessed the mercurial side of Olivia Redmond inside the Blooming Rose restaurant, there was a tiny voice inside her screaming that she was asking for big time trouble.

And you know what they say about those voices.

If the voice is loud enough, you should probably listen.

When Hayley pulled onto the Redmond Estate in Northeast Harbor she was taken aback by the colorful spring flowers that were being tended by four gardeners. One wore a fedora type hat to block his eyes from the sun and with a smile tipped it toward Hayley as she drove past him, heading to the main house.

She pulled up in front of the three-story mansion and got out to take in the breathtaking view of the Atlantic and the boats that dotted the harbor, bobbing up and down. She had lived on the island all her life, but still marveled at its unparalleled beauty.

She strolled up the gravel driveway to the front door and rang the bell.

It took almost a minute, but a young woman in a gray dress and white apron opened the door and invited her inside. She led Hayley to a parlor with large open windows that had clear views of the picturesque harbor and offered Hayley something to drink. Hayley politely declined and the young woman disappeared out the door, telling her that Ms. Olivia would be with her momentarily.

Hayley wandered over to the large wall-size bookcase and perused the titles that lined the shelves. Lots of classics and almanacs and books of maps. They were rather dusty and appeared as if they hadn't been touched in decades.

She suddenly heard faint shouting coming from down the hall.

It was a man's voice.

That persistent little voice inside her told her she should stay firmly put. Wait for Olivia to come to her as the young maid had clearly instructed.

But true to form, Hayley's curiosity got the best of her.

She casually walked over to the door and opened it, poking her head out to make sure the coast was clear before quietly following the sound of the bellowing voice, which slowly grew in volume.

About halfway down the hall, she spotted a door that was open a crack.

The man's tirade was at its peak and she could finally make out what he was saying.

“Olivia, you're being absolutely unreasonable.”

“I wish you would calm down. Frankly, I'm afraid you're going to hurt yourself with all this yelling.”

“Please don't patronize me. I think I deserve better than that.”

“I just find your constant nagging tiresome, Thorsten, and you're upsetting Pork Chop, so do try to lower your voice.”

“I have worked my fingers to the bone for this company. . . .”

“Playing tennis at the club and dining at expensive restaurants in New York every night on the company's dime?”

“You know I've given my life to Redmond Meats. Starting out in the mail room, working my way up, proving to your father I would be a worthy successor some day. . . .”

“And I'm sorry I surprised everyone by choosing to take a more active role and unfortunately scuttling your plans.”

“It's not that. I think it's great you took over. You have a relaxed style and everybody loves you.”

“Not everybody . . .” Olivia said, an ominous tone in her voice.

“But I have been working on these expansion plans for years, with your father's blessing I might add, and I strongly believe
now
is the time. We need to strike while we're on top, and I just need your tie-breaking vote to make it happen.”

“And I've told you, I'm not quite ready to make a decision yet. I'm sorry you flew all the way to Maine to hear this—I wish you had just called—but I'm not going to change my mind. At least in the foreseeable future.”

“Olivia, I'm begging you. . . .”

“My grandfather built this company from the ground up, and my father was a very successful steward, and now that I am in charge, I'm not going to make any half-cocked decisions until I have carefully considered all the options. And I need more time.”

“Half-cocked? Is that what you think this plan is?”

“I'm sorry, Thorsten.”

Hayley felt a finger tapping the back of her shoulder.

“Are you lost, ma'am?”

Hayley whipped around, startled.

Mostly startled by someone calling her “ma'am.”

It was the fresh-faced young maid who had escorted her to the parlor.

Although now she didn't look so fresh faced.

She looked pretty grim.

“I'm sorry, I was looking for the bathroom. . . .”

The maid cocked her head to one side, utterly unconvinced. “Would you please follow me back to the parlor, ma'am? As I told you, Ms. Olivia will be with you shortly.”

There it was again—“ma' am.”

Hayley just wanted to slap her.

“What's going on out there?” Olivia said from inside.

Hayley held her breath.

She was about to be fired as the company blogger and she hadn't even started yet.

With a frown the young maid pushed past Hayley and eased open the door. “I'm sorry, Ms. Olivia. I just happened upon this lady hovering outside your office. I told her to wait in the parlor.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

Hayley couldn't hold her breath anymore. On an exhale she popped her head inside the room and waved awkwardly at Olivia.

“Oh, Hayley, I'm glad you're here. Come in.”

Olivia didn't seem the least bit concerned that Hayley had been eavesdropping.

Hayley smiled at the maid and gingerly stepped around her into the office where Olivia stood behind a large oak desk. The man who had been yelling, this Thorsten, gazed out the window at the view, lost in his thoughts, grinding his teeth, hardly noticing there were more people in the room. He was tall and slim, with slicked back black hair and a handsome face. He was in a blue blazer, white shirt, and khakis and deck shoes.

Pretty much dressed for sailing.

“That will be all. Thank you.”

Grimacing, the maid backed out, not taking her eyes off Hayley.

And Hayley didn't blame her one bit.

“Hayley, I'd like you to meet Thorsten Brandt, our senior vice president of Business Development,” Olivia said.

Thorsten turned his attention to Hayley, put on the biggest, brightest smile he could muster, and bounded over and grabbed her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Hayley. Olivia has been singing your praises. I think it is an excellent idea to have you write recipes for our Web site, give it a personal touch. Welcome to the Redmond family.”

This one certainly was a charmer when he wanted to be.

He quickly looked her up and down, his smile dissolving into a wolfish grin, but then it was gone as fast as it came, and he turned back to Olivia.

“I would like to continue this conversation at dinner, if you do not mind, Olivia,” he said.

“But I do mind, Thorsten. That's what I've been trying to tell you. This discussion is over,” Olivia said, her back arched, her voice dripping with a haughty rage that Hayley had first seen at the Blooming Rose.

When Olivia Redmond had run out of patience, the best thing you could do was run for cover.

Thorsten nodded, too angry to speak, and marched out of the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

Olivia watched him go and then turned back to Hayley with a warm smile. “Now, sit down, Hayley. I want to hear all your ideas about what you're going to write about and—Oh, I almost forgot. . . .”

Olivia tore a check off a register and handed it to Hayley. “Here's your advance for the first month.”

Hayley glanced at the amount.

Sixteen hundred dollars.

She looked again.

The amount was still sixteen hundred dollars.

“We agreed on two hundred dollars a column twice a week. This is for the first month. I hope that's sufficient,” Olivia said.

Hayley guessed that if she said it was not sufficient, Olivia would be writing her an even larger check.

But at the moment, Hayley could barely speak. She was already spending the sixteen hundred dollars in her head.

She couldn't believe her luck.

She stayed well over an hour talking about her favorite bacon recipes. Olivia laughed and clapped her hands and was delighted with all her ideas. It was a great meeting of the minds. Olivia owned a company that sold bacon and Hayley loved any dish with bacon in it.

They were going to make an unbeatable team.

Olivia wrapped things up around six-thirty because she wanted to sit on her porch and have a cocktail before dinner.

Hayley took her cue and left.

The young maid held the front door open for her, glaring at her as she walked out of the house and to her car. As she slid into the driver's seat still under the watchful gaze of the suspicious maid, who was determined to make sure she actually left, Hayley noticed she had left her cell phone on the passenger's seat.

There were nine messages from Liddy.

She called her back as she drove off the Redmond Estate and Liddy picked up on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you for the last hour.”

“I had a meeting with Olivia Redmond. What is it? What's going on?”

“You are not going to believe this,” Liddy gasped.

“What? What?”

“You know my favorite earrings? The ones with the ladybugs that I bought in Paris, not the butterfly ones I picked up in London last summer?”

“Yes, what about them?

“Well, one of the clasps came loose so I took it into Dawson's Jewelry Store on Main Street to see if they could fix it, and guess who was there.”

“I really don't have time to guess, Liddy, it's been a long day. . . .”

She didn't even wait for Hayley to try. “Aaron!”

“My Aaron?”

“Yes! And he was looking at engagement rings! When he saw me come in, he pretended he wasn't, but I saw him standing right in front of the case pointing to one and talking to Mr. Dawson.”

“So you think . . . ?”

“We were right, Hayley! He's going to pop the question!”