Fatal Feng Shui (25 page)

As a former ballerina, I’ve found that, as long as you’ve already mastered your own steps, it’s easy and fun to dance around the occasional obstacle that is invariably thrown in your path.

—Audrey Munroe

DOMESTIC BLISS

The day of the arrest, I’d come home feeling heartbroken and depressed. Later, I begged Audrey to cancel the cocktail party she was throwing in our honor. She’d insisted that we wait at least a week to reevaluate how I felt. By then, my psyche and my minor physical wounds had started to recuperate, and we all agreed to go ahead with everything as planned.

The afternoon of the party, I was feeling like myself again, and was looking forward to the enchanting evening that I knew Audrey was so very capable of putting together. The catering company Audrey had hired was located in Denver, and she’d offered up our kitchen as a staging area.

My workday ended at five
P.M
., and I rushed straight home. Tantalized by the aromas that greeted me the instant I opened the French doors to the parlor, I made a beeline into the kitchen to get a peek at the food. To my surprise, Audrey was there by herself, although I caught a glimpse of the caterer’s van parked in front of her one-car garage. She was pouring chocolate chips into a sandwich bag. In front of her was a huge tray of fortune cookies. She smiled at me as I approached.

“Audrey? Why are you cooking?” I did a double take out the window. “And why are the caterers on break outside? You told me they were handling all the food prep tonight.”

“They are. I’m simply seeing to some last-minute changes.”

“Changes?” I looked at the array in front of her. “These are fortune cookies. What’s going on? Did you change menus entirely? Aren’t we serving Mediterranean hors d’oeuvres and desserts?”

“Yes, but the caterer made a mistake. We got these instead of the kourabiedes.”

Still baffled, I hesitated for a moment, having to mentally page through the menu that Audrey and I had selected for the Sullivan and Gilbert kickoff party. “So they got brandy sugar cookies confused with fortune cookies? Isn’t that a major leap…from one continent to the next?”

“Yes, but we’re going with the flow.” She grinned and winked at me. “And I’m getting a big discount from the caterers as compensation for our flexibility.”

Suspicious, I studied her petite features. Audrey was known more for her perfectionism than for her flexibility. “And you don’t object to serving fortune cookies along with our cherry-almond focaccia, our crepes, our lemon-pistachio biscotti….”

“Oh, heavens, Erin. It’s not as if we’re going to throw all the cookies together onto a single tray and have our guests serve themselves, buffet style. We’d be thumbing our noses at the Chinese tradition and spoiling the fortune cookie’s very spirit!”

Sensing a story in the offing, I slipped onto a barstool in front of her, as she stood in front of me at her gorgeous black granite countertop. “The spirit of fortune cookies?”

“Absolutely. We did a Dom Bliss segment on that very subject. Fascinating history, really.”

“Do tell.”

“During the 1300s or so, China was occupied by the Mongols. Eventually, there was an uprising in Peking to oust the invaders. So, of course, the Chinese had to find a way to organize themselves without alerting the Mongols. The rebels knew that Mongolians typically didn’t like the taste of the Chinese moon cakes. One clever revolutionary disguised himself as a Taoist priest and entered Peking, handing out moon cakes. Inside each one, he and his cohorts had hidden instructions that helped coordinate their uprising.”

While talking, Audrey had sealed the plastic bag containing semisweet chocolate drops. She now placed it in the microwave and pressed a couple of buttons.

“So fortune cookies originated from a revolutionary overthrow in China? And the American Revolution started with dumping tea into Boston Harbor.” I watched as Hildi pranced toward the legs of my chair. I patted my lap in invitation, but she just flicked her tail at me and walked away. “I wonder if there’s a psychological link there…tea and cookies.”

“You’re interrupting.”

“Sorry.”

“Centuries later, the Chinese laborers building the American railways in California celebrated their all-important moon festival every year. But they were dirt poor. All that they had to exchange were biscuits, instead of moon cakes, with happy messages inside. Thus the fortune cookie was born.”

“Hooray! And so tonight we’ve been inspired to serve the little treats, instead of Greek-style butter cookies. Although the brandy in the latter might have left our guests feeling happy, too.”

“Rest assured, Erin. We’ll have plenty of brandy available at the bar. Grab another of those heavy-duty plastic bags and give me a hand.”

I rose and joked, “We’re filling our fortune cookies with melted chocolate? Won’t that make the fortunes difficult to read?”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “We’re going to drizzle chocolate over the cookies to dress them up a bit.” She grabbed her bag of now-melted chocolate, snipped off a small corner with scissors, and gently squeezed the bag, making perfect figure-eight loops on the cookies.

“Looks delicious,” I said.

“Indeed. The caterers will present one cookie to each guest at the end of the evening. Just like the traditional exchange of a happy message to one’s guests when parting company.”

I quickly filled my sandwich bag and started the microwave on a Defrost setting and watched Audrey work. “What about guests who leave early tonight?”

“The servers will have been instructed to coordinate the cookies with the cloak room. As the guests ask for their coats, the waiter will appear with their cookie.”

The microwave dinged, and I retrieved the chocolate. “Or we could simplify the departure process and surreptitiously drop a cookie in one pocket of each coat.”

“Except then nobody will know the cookies are there, and they’ll get crushed. In effect, we’d be giving our guests a pocketful of chocolate-covered crumbs.”

“Well, as they say, that’s—”

“The way the cookie crumbles,” she completed for me. She snatched my bag of melted chocolate out of my hands. “Never mind helping me with the chocolate, Erin. Go get dressed for the party. Then I’ll coordinate my outfit accordingly.” She grinned and winked at me. “Can’t have me upstaging the hostess, after all.”

chapter 30

T
he “Sullivan and Gilbert Kickoff Party” was a rousing
success. We’d gained well over a dozen solid leads for future jobs and, more importantly, our guests were all in high spirits by the time they left. Knowing that we’d given our guests such a pleasant experience made me feel as though I were walking on air. Well, that and the fact that I felt fantastic. Audrey had convinced me to pull out all the stops in terms of my wardrobe. I’d worn a shimmering mango sleeveless gown and silver stilettos. Perhaps she’d given Sullivan the same advice, because he was wearing a black tuxedo.

I spent a disproportionate amount of my time chatting with Sullivan’s parents. Although this was the first time we’d met, they were easy to talk to. His mother was hilarious, sharing many stories of “little Stevie’s” antics as the only boy in a family with four sisters. They had been among the last guests to leave; they’d come up to Crestview for the party and were staying in Sullivan’s guest room.

The oxygen bar had been great fun. The string quartet Audrey had hired was perfect. As both Sullivan and I had joked, they “classed up the joint.” The food had been amazing, and, as Audrey had predicted, the chocolate-drizzled fortune cookies had been a hit and had put just the right exclamation point on the evening.

Audrey had finally shed the staid, silver-haired gentleman who seemed to have eyes only for her, and we three hosts were standing by the door, thanking the last of our guests as they departed. Emily and Richard approached, Richard being her “significant other.” Earlier in the evening, Emily had pulled me aside to tell me that he had proposed to her last week. She had given him a “maybe,” but she had also decided to rent out her home and follow him to the Western slope, where he’d gotten an excellent job offer. He was a diffident man, clearly uncomfortable at our big party, and yet he’d lasted for two hours now at Emily’s side, for which I gave him enormous credit. He gave me an affable smile and said, “Looks like we’re the last to leave. It was a great party. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Thanks for coming, Richard. Take good care of my mom.”

“I will, I will,” he said with a chuckle. He gave Emily’s shoulders a squeeze. “Both of our fortunes said how we would reap great benefits from our journeys.”

Emily was beaming at me. “Happy travels, Mom,” I said. Calling her my mother was starting to feel more natural to me; I was certain that my adoptive mother would have approved.

“Thank you, Erin.” She and Richard hugged each of us. Emily gave Sullivan and me a beatific smile and said, “You’ll have to come visit us. Both of you. Soon.”

I merely smiled at her, but as she pushed out the door, I leaned toward Sullivan and said teasingly, “I think my mother must have gotten the wrong impression about us.”

He grinned at me. “Maybe she meant as Sullivan and Gilbert Designs. Their new home will only be some five hours away.”

“That’s not what she meant,” Audrey interjected. “Emily and I discussed the matter, and we both feel it’s high time you two rethink your relationship. As a matter of fact, the two of us took an opinion poll of your guests tonight, and nine out of every ten agreed that you two should hook up.”

“If I were less tipsy, I’d be mortified to hear that you did such a thing, Audrey,” I replied. “As it is, I can simply point out to you that nine out of every ten partiers were under the influence of alcohol tonight. They’d have voted for
everybody
to be paired up! But we’re doing just fine as business partners, thank you very much.”

“That’s right, we are,” Sullivan interjected. “Besides, what if I did something really stupid and made her mad?” He waggled his thumb at me and said in a joking stage whisper, “You should see what the woman can do to a bad guy in a fight!”

I chuckled, which sounded alarmingly like a giggle. I’d obviously consumed too much plum wine. Audrey laughed as well, but then narrowed her eyes at Sullivan. “You’re not still seeing that dreadful Rebecca Berringer, are you?”

“We were never really seeing each other in the first place,” Sullivan replied.

“Silly me. I meant to ask if the two of you were continuing to
not
really see each other. All the while as you shared the same table in fancy restaurants.”

“Audrey, I assure you. Rebecca and I are not an item. Nor are we ever going to become business partners. Couldn’t possibly work out for any of us.”

“True. Considering the woman’s evil,” I grumbled.

“She had nothing to do with Taylor’s or Shannon’s deaths, Erin,” Sullivan snapped.

“We’ll never know for sure how much she led Michael on. She might have convinced him that his marriage was the only thing keeping them apart. Furthermore, she merely told the police that he’d said Shannon was ‘as good as dead to me,’ but that he’d ‘clearly not meant that as a threat.’ And she didn’t even tell them he was stalking her!”

“She hadn’t fully grasped how dangerous he was till she came to our office! She went to the police right then!”

“Because you insisted! And it was too late for Shannon by then!”

“Wasn’t your friend Linda Delgardio the one who said they’d exonerated her?” His tone was both accusing and triumphant, as if he’d trounced me at the podium during an official debate.

“No, she just said they weren’t going to bring charges against her. That’s not the same thing.”

He glowered at me. “You’ve got that guilty-until-proven-innocent thing down pat, Gilbert.”

I stabbed my finger at him. “Rebecca made the last months of Shannon’s life miserable, and she’s tried to kick both Audrey and me out of our jobs in our chosen professions. But, yes. She’s innocent of murder. I still hate her guts, though. So sue me.”

A waiter standing behind me cleared his throat. I very much doubted
he
would say that Sullivan and I should be a couple. He shyly held out a small plate for us, which boasted three fortune cookies. Audrey ushered Sullivan and me closer to the waiter and his tray. “Now that it’s settled who hates whom and why, let’s have our fortune cookies. Shall we?” She snatched up the cookie that was closest to her. Sullivan and I grudgingly grabbed ours and thanked the man, who silently bowed, then left to help the other caterers with the last of the packing.

Audrey read aloud: “‘You must never carry your anger far. The weight will be heavy and the journey unsatisfying.” She wiggled her eyebrows at us and added, “So there.”

Neither of us replied.

She grinned at us. “Well? Go on. Read me
your
fortunes.”

I broke open my fortune cookie. Then I chuckled and read aloud: “
When searching for love, do not overlook the one who is already right beside you
.”

Sullivan snorted, but said nothing. He opened his cookie and looked at the slip of paper inside. Judging by the inordinately long period of time that he stared at his tiny slip of paper, he had to have read it multiple times.

“What does it say, Sullivan?”

“Same thing as yours.”

“You’re kidding me!” I cried, just as Audrey was saying, “Wow! What are the odds?”

Sullivan handed it to me. Indeed his fortune was identical to mine.

“Audrey,” I said, trying to read her eyes, “did you plan this?”

“Of course not!” Her face was already too flushed with alcohol and her actions too animated for me to tell for certain if she was lying, but I would bet good money on that likelihood.

Sullivan sighed, reclaiming his sliver of paper from me. “Jeez, Erin. I think we’re stuck.”

“Pardon?” I asked, utterly confused.

“We can’t simply
ignore
such an obvious sign from the Fates. I have to confess, I
am
finally ready to settle down and find the love of my life. So I guess there’s really only one thing to do, Gilbert.”

My heart started pounding so hard it felt as if my chest might explode. Sullivan seemed to be totally sincere, staring into my eyes as though mesmerized. He must have had much more to drink than I’d thought! I was just about to suggest as much when he turned, grabbed Audrey’s hand, and said, “Audrey? Will you be my first wife?”

Audrey laughed heartily. Then she straightened her shoulders and said, “No, Steve. Sorry. We don’t know each other well enough. Tell you what. You go ahead and marry our girl Erin here, and if things don’t work out, I’ll be your
second
wife.”

Steve sighed again and said, “What do you say, Erin?”

“About what? Being your first wife? With Audrey waiting in the wings?”

“Hmm. Doesn’t really sound like Sullivan and Gilbert’s usual impeccable style, does it?”

“No, it certainly doesn’t.”

“Then how ’bout we start small? Say…dinner and a movie?”

I couldn’t help but smile. After all, the man was wearing a tailored tuxedo. He looked incredible! “When?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t. We’ve got to appraise the lots at that estate sale.”

“Oh, right.” He frowned a little, grabbed his Black-Berry out of his jacket pocket, and pressed a couple of buttons. “Next week?”

I fetched my Day-Timer from my purse. “We’re jam-packed now with all our new prospective clients.”

“Right again.” He continued to press buttons. “Saturday night’s free. After eight-thirty. That sound okay to you?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see how things go Monday through Friday.”

“Does either of you have a tissue?” Audrey asked sniffing. “This is just so romantic, I think I’m going to cry.”

We laughed. I quietly stashed the small strip of paper from my fortune cookie into a zippered pocket in my purse for safekeeping. To my amazement, I caught sight of Sullivan carefully slipping his into his inner jacket pocket and giving his pocket a tender pat. He looked up. Our gazes locked.