Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (53 page)

“Why,
this is marvelous,” Evelyn congratulated Auntie, waving both eyebrows.

Auntie
gazed at her.  “Thank you, Evelyn.  So glad you recovered,” she said evenly.

Evelyn
held up a manicured right hand wrapped in mummy-like gauze bandages.  “Yes, I’m
so sorry I couldn’t be of any help to you.”

 “You
could pour the juice.” Evelyn started to open her mouth to protest, but Auntie
finished, “I know you’re a south paw.”

And
that was how Evelyn was roped into pouring.

I
was about to leave when I ran into Ed.  Who’d shaved his head.

“So
what do you think?” he asked, eyes akimbo.

I
looked around and saw I was the only one within conversational range, so I
figured he was talking to me.

“Very
urban,” I said, and hoped it sounded like something he wanted to hear.

Ed
nodded enthusiastically. He chirped the mayor’s downtown slogan at me: “Lovin’
Lancaster! Lucky for me my hair burned off, or I wouldn’t be the fashion
statement you see before you!”

Burnt
hair?

“Hey,
quit stealing my girl,” eyebrowless Ernie joked, joining us.

Henry
came up from behind.  “So who’s going to seed the kitty?” he asked. I know it
sounds dirty, but he meant who would throw some dollar bills into the donation
basket to encourage real donations for the coffee.

After
a mini-version of ‘Once! Twice! Three! SHOOT! between Ernie and Ed, Ernie
ponied up $1.58 and a cough drop.  I shook my head, patted backs and went for a
stiff cup of Joe.

I
was behind Henry in line.  He turned around.  His nose was bandaged.  He looked
like Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.  I stared at him.  I didn’t mean to, but
I did.  I mean, it was as plain as the nose on his face.

“Accident!”
he said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Sorry,”
I replied.

Henry
nodded up and down some more in agreement.  He got his coffee, and I dawdled
behind, trying to leave a good, large space between us.  This was getting
weird.

I
got my coffee, turned around, and bumped right into Mrs. Miller’s walker.

“Watch
it!” she snapped kindly.

Her
wrist was bandaged. Huh.

Then
I backed up into a man with a sliding toupee and a Band-Aid on his forehead.  I
apologized, extricated myself and stood in line at the brunch buffet while
contemplating running vs. walking away.   I looked and saw a lone remaining
profiterole.  I sighed gratefully, took a napkin and reached for it when a
wheelchair rolled over my foot.

“OUCH!”

“Sorry,”
the wheelchair driver said.

“Really
is crowded here today, isn’t it?” I tried politely, rubbing my dead foot.

The
wheelchair maven peered around.  “Yes.  This church could use a few good
funerals,” she said, grabbing the profiterole with her gauze bandaged hand, and
rolled away.

I
looked at the buffet table, and quickly slid a donut and some grapes on my
plate.  I exited the line and took a seat at an empty round dining table.  I
sipped my coffee and looked around.  The line of seniors waiting at the brunch
buffet looked like the parade of the walking wounded.  A bunch of kids ran
around, their moms chasing after them.  Some teenage boys conspired in a
corner.  Near them sat Mike Green and four other suits.  Gack.

I
turned around quick.  I pretended to sip my coffee, thankful I was on church
grounds so my prayer about not putting my family or friends in jail hopefully
went on the express lane.  I looked straight ahead, keeping my eyes averted
from the U.S. Marshal table, and saw Ma and Mu and Tina Phang in a huddle in
the kitchen.  Oh boy.

Just
then, Vito and Miriam ambled over and sat down next to me.

“Hiya,
Toots,” Vito said.

“Good
morning!” Miriam added, bobbing her head up and down excitedly.  Her plastic
red and yellow polka dot drop earrings swung wildly with her head.  Which was
okay, because they matched her red and yellow polka dot sundress, red and
yellow polka dot head band, and an equally matching polka dot neck scarf and
sandals.  It was impressive.

Miriam
sipped her coffee, and tucked into her slice of seven-layer chocolate cake. 
Vito speared a piece of his cantaloupe.

“Good
morning,” I said, shifting my eyeballs repeatedly to the right, toward Mike
Green’s table.

“Whatsa
matter, Toots, you gotta somethin’ in your eye?” Vito asked.

I
sighed.  “Not exactly,” I replied, leadingly.

“Huh?”
Vito asked.

I
rolled my eyes and threw my napkin on the ground.  Vito shrugged and bent over
to pick it up.  I bent over quick and grabbed the napkin with him.

“Green’s
here,” I hissed, doubled over, shifting my eyes to the right again.

Vito
sat up and handed me my napkin.  “Yeah, I know,” he said and shrugged, and ate
some more cantaloupe.  I shook my head.

Just
then, Trixie and K. joined us.

“Morning!”
K. gushed, looking around at us all, then waved to Mike Green.  I sighed and
looked over.  Mike Green nodded from behind his sunglasses.  The others suits
copied.  Yeesh.

“Well,
isn’t this nice!” K. went on.

I
looked at him.  “Since when do you go to church?” I asked.

“Oh,
I just thought it would be a nice change,” K. lied, and bit into his apple
turnover.

Trixie
leaned in.  “Since your Aunt Muriel gave us all marching orders last night,”
she whispered.  K. choked.

“How
did Aunt Muriel get you to come to church?” I asked.

“She
traded invitations to the Conestoga Cabana Cup,” Trixie said, smiling.

K.
nodded.  “I understand there’s quite a diverse crowd,” he beamed.

“Yeah,
with uniforms,” Trixie sighed.

Well,
their social lives were looking up.

Just
then, Mike Green sat down at the table with us, along with a Junior suit.  He
took off his sunglasses, and looked directly at Vito.

“Good
morning, Vito,” Green said.

“Vlad,”
Vito answered.

Green
blanched.    “I’m sorry, I think…” Green began.

“My
name is Vladimir Pryzchntchynzski,” Vito said.

“Gezundheit,”
a man at the table next to us answered.  Vito nodded thanks.

“Otherwise
known as, here in Lancaster, Vito Spaghetti,” Vito – Vlad – finished.

Mike
Green hung his head.  “You know what this means, right?” he asked.

Vito
nodded.  “It’s time I come out, Mike,” Vito answered.

“Oh,
you go, girlfriend!” K. cried.  We all stared at K.  “Well, coming out of the
closet needs support!” K. said.

“Wrong
closet,” Vito answered.

K.
looked at Mike hopefully.

“Sorry,
no closet,” Mike said.

“Oh
well.” K. shrugged and finished his apple turnover.

“Really?”
Trixie asked, looking all hopeful at Mike.

“Really,”
Mike answered, looking back at her just as hopefully.

I
rubbed my neck, because I couldn’t rub the pain in my butt.

“So,
where do we go from here, Mike?” Vito asked.

“Dunno,”
Mike answered truthfully.

Trixie
pushed her untouched slice of lemon meringue pie at him.  “Here, you’ll feel
better. Really; Mina always says so,” Trixie said.  I kicked her under the
table.  She kicked me back.

“Thanks,”
Mike Green answered simply, and had some pie.

After
chewing for what seemed a millennium, Mike turned to Vito.  Vlad.  Whoever.

“This
means you’re not in the Witness Protection Program anymore,” he said.  “It’s
out of my hands.”

Vito
nodded.  “No problemo.”

Mike
Green sighed.  “It was nice knowing you, Vito.  Vlad.”

“Same
here,” Vito answered.

“Shame
about your niece’s boyfriend and all,” Green added.

“Fiancé.”

“Really?”
Vito nodded.  “Well, I wish them both luck once he’s out,” Green said.

“They’ve
got good heads on their shoulders, mostly,” Vito said.

Green
nodded.  “They’re pretty much just kids.  Hopefully this was just a good scare
to set them straight.”

“What’s
wrong with not being straight?” K. asked.

I
looked up and perceived Jr. Suit standing up straighter with what appeared to
be righteous indignation.  This was going to be a bit of a change for Green. 
Then I looked down and saw Trixie’s hand on Green’s knee.  Green was going to
be in for a lot of changes, too.  Costume changes, that is. 

“Well,
gotta be going,” Green said, extracting his knee from Trixie’s clutches.

“What
about the Burning Buy-A-Lots?”  Trixie pouted, upset at the abrupt departure.

Mike
shrugged.  “Who doesn’t want to burn a Buy-A-Lot?” he asked.  We all nodded. 
Mike looked at Vito.  “By the way, I thought you were Jewish?”

“We’re
converting!” Miriam piped up, standing up at Green in full polka-dots and
non-moonbeams.

Green
rubbed his forehead.  “Let me see here.  I just want to make sure I’ve got this
straight, okay?”

“I
wish there was a lot less emphasis on straight,” K. muttered.  Jr. Suit
sniffed.

“Okay,
Vito – Vlad – is out of the closet; no more witness protection policies,” Green
said.  Vito nodded.  “Next, no one here in this room has anything to do with
any of the burning Buy-A-Lots, right?”

“Agreed!”
sang the chorus of burnt onlookers.

“Last,”
Green added speculatively, “does anyone here have any kind of prescription
sample boxes they’ve actually bought in the last month or so? You know that
buying and selling prescription samples is illegal, right?” Blank looks abounded. 
“I thought so,” Green said.  “Just to be clear, selling prescription samples –
for whatever reason – is punishable by law.”

We
hung our heads.

Trixie
bounded up and grabbed Green’s elbow in hers.  “So what are you up to while
you’re here in Lancaster? Care to see the sights?” she asked.

“Of
course!” K. added.  “We’ve got extra tickets to Polo!”

Trixie
glowed at him.

“Actually,
I don’t know…” Green began.

“I
do,” Trixie answered, and led him out of the door under minimal false protest. 
The other Suits followed.

Jr.
Suit handed K. his card.  “Call me,” he mouthed.  K. nodded happily.

I
stood up from the table and hoped to beat a hasty retreat.  I figured I had
done my Sunday morning’s work for God and catering.  Then Ma appeared.

“What’s
the matter?” she asked.

“Kind
of a headache,” I said.

Evelyn,
Henry, Ed, Ernie and Mrs. Phang immediately offered up sample size boxes of
pain relievers, anti-inflammatories and diuretics.  I looked at their
outstretched, gauze wrapped hands.  Either they were all severely accident
prone or they were pretending to be extras in a Curse of the Mummy remake.

“Or
you could have some of these,” Miriam said brightly, standing next to me,
holding her beach bag pocketbook wide open.  I looked inside.  It was a
pharmaceutical tricks or treats bag.  I reached in and grabbed a packet.

“Oh,
those are really good.  They work just like a charm,” Miriam said from one side
of me.

“Yeah,
they come in real handy,” Vito said from the other side.  I looked at him.  He
leaned in.  “They can be a real blessing sometimes.  Just like a banana in the
desert,” he said.

“Don’t
you mean manna in the desert?”

“Hey,
that’s pretty good, too,” he said.

I
pocketed the packet, and walked over to a trash bin to toss out my empty coffee
cup and any leftover logical thought.  I saw Aunt Muriel, Ma and Mrs. Phang in
full post brunch deconstruction mode.  I pitched in, and we planned how they
would pick me for the special Conestoga Cabana Cup polo match later that
afternoon.   When all that was arranged, I wandered off, wondering what social
outfit I had on hand that would work with my Herman Munster Crocs.

Vito
came up next to me.  “Can I hitch a ride?” he asked.  I nodded and handed him
his keys.

“What
happened to Miriam?” I asked.

“She’s
got a community theater audition,” he answered.  “Besides, we’ve been seeing a
lot of each other.  I need some time off for good behavior,” he said, rubbing
his forehead.  I handed him my sample packet of pain relievers.

We
headed out and Vito drove us back up Orange Street.  A few traffic lights
later, we were back on Clover Nook Court and parked in Mt. Driveway just behind Bauser’s car.  We got out and found Bauser, Jim and Norman camped out on
my front porch, reading the Sunday paper and drinking Krumpthf’s.  Bauser and
Norman, not Jim.