Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (20 page)

“They’re
from New York City. I’m sure they’re used to tiny portions.” Vivienne smiled at
Samantha and decided to class it up for her. “Miss Clara is offering a fabulous
and comforting potato gratin.”

Samantha
nodded. “Oh, that sounds lovely.”

“I
could have Harold and Stephanie put together some deli spirals. They’re quick,
easy, and best of all no cooking.” Clara continued.

Vivienne
nodded in agreement. “A classic no frills canapé just like the catering company
was going to do.”

“Yes,
that would be perfect.” Samantha agreed.

“What
do you think about four of my famous pecan pies for dessert?” Clara finished.

“They’ve
taken the blue ribbon at the state fair for five years in a row.” Vivienne
added. “You won’t find a better one in all of the state.”

“Will
five hundred dollars cover it all?” Samantha asked.

Clara’s
eyes widened. “I’ll say it will.”

Vivienne
nodded. “Given the super rush, I think that’s more than fair.”

Samantha
reached into her purse and pulled out a designer wallet that looked like it was
worth more than the diner. She peeled off five crisp hundred dollar bills and
handed them to Clara. “Thank you so much.”

Clara
gladly accepted the money and then dashed into the kitchen. “Harold, drop
everything we’ve got a rush order.” She shouted above the sound of clinking
plates and metal flatware. “Stephanie, I’m taking over your tables. I need you
to start making deli spirals.”

Stephanie’s
eyes twinkled and she quickly removed her server’s apron. “I’d love to.” She
hurried off into the kitchen.

Samantha
then peeled another crisp hundred dollar bill and handed it to Vivienne. “This
is for helping me.”

“Oh,
I couldn’t take your money.” Vivienne protested. “I’m just trying to honor
Mona’s life.”

Samantha
blinked back a few tears. “I’m not used to people being so nice to me and not
wanting something in return.”

“Well,
I’m sorry to hear that.” Vivienne put her arm around Samantha’s shoulder. “But
we’ll have everything in place and no one will be the wiser. That’s how we do
things in a small town like Cayuga Cove.”

“I
hope so.” Samantha’s mood seemed to brighten and she looked around at the
diner’s décor in wonder. “So this is what a greasy spoon looks like. I always
wondered.”

About
thirty minutes later, Stephanie brought over a tray of deli spirals and placed
them on the counter. “I tried to make these look real special to honor Mrs.
Clarke.” Stephanie gestured to the food. “I even made some veggie ones in case
anyone doesn’t eat meat.”

Vivienne
and Samantha looked down at the delicate spirals that Stephanie had handcrafted
with impressive skill. They were elegant and full of colorful fillings of
meats, cheeses, and vegetables rolled into kaleidoscope patterns. “They look
amazing, Stephanie. I didn’t know you liked to work with food design.”

“I
enjoy it.” She beamed with pride. “Waiting tables here, I don’t get a chance to
do creative things often. But what can you do?”

Vivienne
leaned forward and whispered something to Samantha outside of Stephanie’s
earshot.

Samantha
took the hundred dollar bill she had tried to give Vivienne and tucked it into
the billfold Stephanie had left for the cups of coffee they enjoyed while they
waited.

Ten
minutes later, they had all the food carefully packed into cardboard boxes
Harold had found in the stockroom of the diner. Cramming them into the trunk
space of Samantha’s Mercedes, they flew back to the Clarke residence with only
mere minutes to spare.

Vivienne
helped Samantha set everything up buffet style in the formal dining room and
then made a quiet exit as the first cars began to pull in to the driveway from
the memorial service.

As
she walked along the sidewalk back toward Main Street, the black limousine
chauffeuring Richard Clarke drove past. The little purple flags that said
‘Funeral’ fluttered in the breeze as a line of luxury cars followed slowly
behind with their headlights illuminated.

She
lowered her head for a moment and took in the tragedy of it all. It was so
senseless. But then again, most murders were. When it came down to the fine
details, people killed other people over the most trivial of things. Those who
tried to find a purpose or logic walked away in frustration. Logic, Vivienne
thought sadly, failed miserably in the heat of anger.

That
evening, as she settled into her living room for some quality time with her
television, she flipped the channels over and over in frustration. There wasn’t
anything all that interesting on and she rarely followed any dramatic shows
anymore. All too often they were cancelled just as she was getting hooked on
the story. Instead, she purchased them when they were released on DVD and only
after the show made it past the third season. That way, she was less
disappointed when it all came to a sudden end.

Somehow,
Suzette Powell’s arrest for the murder of Mona Clarke hardly seemed like an
appropriate ending to the story of just what had transpired behind her store
that awful morning. She wanted to call Joshua and press him for details, but
that was simply not a viable option. She knew him well enough that he would
never compromise the investigation by spilling details to a civilian. He was
too honest for that and she quickly realized it was that very quality that drew
her to him.

Then
there was the business with the
grimoire
and her
being a witch. Just like Mona’s murder, it defied logic and she found herself
frustrated with the lack of information surrounding her involvement. If she was
indeed a hereditary witch as Nana Mary claimed, why did she still feel so
powerless with everything going on?

 
Her business still hadn’t launched. Her last
date with Joshua had ended with the police searching for her as a missing
person. The magic Nana Mary spoke so fondly of seemed more like a curse than
anything beneficial.

From
his perch on the sofa arm, Tom Cat stared at her. He had returned at sunset to
her front door and pawed it as if he were offended she dared to close it. With
his tail held high, he had marched his gray and white body into the kitchen and
gave the dry food a test nibble. He pawed at the sparkling new litter box in
the corner that was filled with special odor control crystals and decided to
demonstrate how pleased he was by tossing some out onto the floor as he dug a
little hole and peed.

There
was no denying that he was at home and she was powerless to say no to his
demands. She would have to make an appointment at the veterinary office to have
his vaccinations given and a general checkup to clear him of any unknown
diseases. He purred loudly as she ran her hand along his head and scratched
behind his ears.

She
turned the television off and wandered over to the computer. It had been some
time since she had logged onto
Social
Butterfly
. As she clicked on the internet icon and entered her password she
found several more people from town wanting to join her friend garden. Some she
knew from town, some from childhood, and a few that she thought were complete
strangers. She approved those she knew and proceeded to scroll down the status
page.

As
she expected, there were all sorts of postings about Mona Clarke’s service and
the arrest of Suzette Powell. Nora was particularly vocal with her thoughts
about the situation and she seemed obsessed with forwarding little pictures of
candles, rainbows, and weeping angels with messages of condolences on loss.

She
grew tired of reading most people’s guesses about what had happened and was
about to log off when she recognized the face behind one of the friend requests
she had earlier dismissed. It was Samantha Charles. She looked more glamorous
in her profile photo which was lit softly and posed quite expertly. Intrigued,
she approved the request and went back to look for anything she had posted.

Sadly,
there wasn’t a thing on her personal page except messages of condolences from
friends and colleagues. Once more she moved the mouse pointer over to close the
program when a little ding erupted from the computer’s speakers. Another window
opened on the screen and notified her that Samantha wished to chat with her and
asked if she was available. Vivienne clicked ‘yes’ and the window doubled in
size.

Thanks
for helping me out today
.
Samantha’s message appeared on the screen.

“You’re
welcome.” Vivienne spoke back and then chuckled. She proceeded to type the same
response in the chat box and click send.

You
were right. No one was the wiser about the food issue.
Samantha replied.

I
told you it would work out
.
Vivienne typed back, her
fingers unused to working the keyboard.

I
don’t know why, but Victoria seemed a little upset with me.
Samantha’s response came fast
and furious.

Was
the food not up to her standards?
Vivienne typed back.

I
don’t know.
Samantha replied.
She didn’t
say a cross word or throw a nasty look. It was just a feeling.

Vivienne
didn’t know how on earth she typed so fast. It was all she could do to keep up
with the conversation.
It was
probably the stress of saying goodbye to Mona.
She typed.

You
think so?
Samantha’s reply appeared quickly.
I
hope you’re right.

Vivienne
found herself warming to Samantha. True, they came from completely different
worlds but she felt a kinship to this woman and her worries. She meant well,
despite her lack of knowledge of how normal people lived without multi-million
dollar apartments and personal assistants. Much like Vivienne, she seemed
frustrated at the whole situation. Her fingers hen pecked across the keyboard.
Were you and Mona close friends?

For
the first time in the chat, there was nearly a minute pause before the answer
appeared.
Not really.

Oh,
I see.
Vivienne
typed back.
Did you come
along for moral support?

How
about we meet for coffee at that diner and talk in person?
Samantha asked.

Vivienne
was stunned. She would have thought the Bistro Parisian would be more her
style. A quick glance at the clock told her it was twenty past eight. She would
have rather stayed in her cozy home with Tom Cat, changed into one of her
flannel nightgowns, and had a bowl of microwave popcorn, but there was a chance
to find out more about the world of Mona Clark and Victoria Clemens and she
couldn’t resist the offer.
Meet
you there at nine?

It’s
a date.
Samantha
answered back and the chat window disappeared off the screen.

Vivienne
closed out
Social Butterfly
and put
the computer on standby mode. “Well, Mister Tom Cat, looks like you’ve got the
place to yourself again.”

He
opened one eye from his nap and meowed in response.

“But
tonight I’ll be back. I promise.” She went into the bathroom to fix up her hair
and put on a little makeup.

When
she arrived at
Clara’s Diner
,
Samantha was seated in one of the booths near the rotating dessert case. She
waved to Vivienne.

“Good
evening
Viv
.” Harold smiled as he swept a broom along
the floor near the back.

“Hello
Harold.” She replied and sat down with Samantha. Harold was one of the few
people that shortened her name and got away with it. She figured that anyone
who worked with Clara
Bunton
, and her finicky
standards for twenty-five years, deserved a little slack now and then. As
usual, Clara had counted down the daily take and went home leaving Harold in
charge for the last hour of business.

“I’m
starting to like this place.” Samantha looked around the empty diner.

“It
has its charm.” Vivienne agreed.

Stephanie
stopped her work filling the salt and pepper shakers and brought a fresh carafe
of coffee over to the two women. “Here you go.”

“Where
do you keep the coffee mugs?” Samantha asked.

Stephanie
slapped her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll go get some.”

Vivienne
laughed. “As I said, it’s the charm of living in a small town.”

Samantha
nodded in agreement. “When we first checked in at the Brass Cricket, I have to
tell you that I couldn’t wait to head back to Manhattan.”

“Why
is that?” Vivienne wondered aloud.

“Well,
that’s just home to me,” Samantha confided, “Skyscrapers, four star
restaurants, and a social calendar filled with fundraisers and special events.”

“I’ve
never been.” Vivienne confessed. “But I think it’d be fun day trip. Window shop
on Fifth Avenue, maybe take in a show on Broadway?”