Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (54 page)

Stanley
yipped his greetings from inside
Vito’s half of the townhouses.  Vito opened up his front door and Stanley bounced out at Jim.  Without looking up from his paper, Bauser threw a tennis ball
absentmindedly into the front yard.  Jim and Stanley barked after it.

“What’s
up?” I asked, sitting down on the stoop.

“Did
you read the paper? Do you know about Myron?” Bauser asked.

“Sort
of,” I said.

Norman
looked up from his copy of the
paper, shaking his head.  “Talk about the three stooges,” he said.

“Why?”
I asked.

Norman
held up the paper and read,
“…a trail of evidence found included an engraved wristwatch, address book and
a color copy of Myron Stumf’s driver’s license.”

“So
that’s what alerted the police to investigate Myron? But how did they find out
about the packet sniffers?”

“That
was easy,” Norman said.  “I just programmed the sniffer to send a confirmation
transmission to Myron’s work email,” he said.

“That
was pretty sneaky,” I said.

“And
unnecessary,” Bauser added.  Norman nodded.  “Myron was either dumb enough or
full of himself enough that he thought it was safe to use his work email
account to communicate with the hackers in Bangladesh.”

I
shook my head.  It was hard to imagine Myron and Howard in jail.

“Wonder
who’s going to take over for them both at EEJIT?” I mused aloud.

Norman
and Bauser looked at me.  “Didn’t you know?” Bauser asked.

“What?”

“EEJIT’s
parent company, Effhue, got bought out by Wurst Marketing,” Norman said.  “In
fact, they wasted no time.  Their ad’s on the same page as the article. ‘The
Wurst Group.  Because your business deserves The Wurst.’”

We
stared at each other.

“I
like it,” Vito said.

We
looked at him.  He shrugged.

Bauser
folded his paper.  “All this makes me hungry.  Want to go out for brunch?”

Jim
sat up, wagging his tail, and tilted over onto Norman’s lap.

“Actually
we just got back,” Vito said.

“You
went out to brunch?” Norman asked, crestfallen.

“Not
really; just brunch buffet at St. Bart’s,” I answered.

“Oh,
well that doesn’t count,” Norman said.  “Maybe you could whip us up a little
something?”

I
shrugged.  “Okay, but it’s gotta be quick.  Got another polo thingy with Auntie
and Ma,” I said.  “You guys wanna come?”

“Actually,
yes,” Bauser answered truthfully.

“You
want to borrow my bike helmet?” Norman asked.

I
cringed.  “No, I think I can handle it this time.”

Norman
shrugged.  “It’s your noggin.”

“You
think I can bring Stanley, Toots?” Vito asked.

“Sure;
it’s a family thing,” I answered.

After
some more polo Q&A, we went inside and I got Bauser to watch over a skillet
of sausages and scrambled eggs, while Vito and Norman rummaged through my
refrigerator to improvise a polo picnic.  Jim, Stanley and Vinnie sat hopefully
on the sidelines.  I rolled my eyes and went upstairs to change into something
that didn’t resemble restaurant service industry wear.  I didn’t want to risk
another case of mistaken identity again while amongst food servers.

My
answering machine light blinked hello at me.

“Hi,
Mina, this is James,” James’ voice said. I smiled.  Well, he was pretty
good-looking.  And had great hands.  And was reasonably calm.  And, I realized,
available.  And calling me! “I’ve been hired for a bridal massage party next
Saturday,” he said good-naturedly.  “The bride was asking me about finding a
low-key caterer, nothing too fancy, to cater for her and her girlfriends.  So,
umm… I thought of you.  It’s just a small party of 5 ladies.  Give me a call
if you think you’d like the job,” he said, and left his phone number.  “Oh, and
maybe afterward we can go out and get a bite to eat, too,” he added, and hung
up.

It
may have been several hundred years since my last boyfriend, but this sounded
vaguely familiar.  It sounded like an actual invitation to an actual date. 
Huh.  And gainful employment. Double huh!

I
hummed happily to myself, went into my closet and suddenly saw dozens of
wardrobe possibilities.  I opted for an upscale Bohemian look, to pull off the
comfy Crocs.  I even put on make-up and cologne, and trotted downstairs.

The
boys were standing about happily munching sausages and eggs, including Vinnie
and Stanley and Jim.  I looked on the counter, where several hundred deli items
had been lined up.  Vito shrugged.

“We
got confused,” he said.

I
went into the pantry, dug up a loaf of French bread, slit it in half and spread
one half lightly with mayonnaise, and the other half with jarred pesto sauce.  
I piled on the assorted lunchmeats and cheeses.  Then I grabbed my rolling pin
and pressed the sandwich until it was flattened into a mouth size height.  I
wrapped the whole thing up in plastic wrap, and grabbed some pickles and pasta
salad to round out the meal.  I looked in the freezer and dug out a chocolate
cream pie that only needed to be defrosted before being served.  Then, lastly,
I placed everything in both coolers, including Bauser’s Krumpthf’s, several
bottles of wine, Pelligrino and some doggie biscuits.

The
doorbell rang, and Vito let Ma and Aunt Muriel come in.  They stared aghast at
the stocked coolers, while Bauser and Norman explained.  Ma and Aunt Muriel
heaved collective sighs of relief.  I patted Vinnie on the head and locked the
door, as the boys carried the coolers out of the house.  Then I climbed into
Aunt Muriel’s Lexus, while the boys loaded the cooler into the trunk of Vito’s
Towncar.

“Wow,
that’s a really big trunk,” Bauser said.

Vito
nodded.  “Yeah.  You know, even with all that stuff, it can actually fit an
entire person, all rolled up like,” he said.  Bauser and Norman stared at him. 
“You wanna try it?”

“Maybe
some other time,” Norman said, closing the trunk.

Vito
shrugged, whistled for Jim and Stanley, and threw a doggie Frisbee into the
backseat.  Jim and Stanley leapt in after it.  Bauser and Stanley did a quick
‘Once! Twice! Three! SHOOT!’ behind the trunk of Vito’s car.  Bauser climbed
into the front seat.  Norman sat in back with the dogs.  I wasn’t sure who had
won.

We
wound our way back across town, and eventually onto the polo grounds.  The
pleasant lady we’d seen collecting entry fees last week was back at her post.

“Well,
welcome back, so nice to see you again,” she began, handing Aunt Muriel a large
packet of information.  Then she stared at me.  She backed way and reached into
a basket with more pre-printed information.  She returned, and knocked on the
window in the backseat.  I rolled the window down, and she handed me a
bumper-sticker size warning:  POLO BALLS SOMETIMES EXTEND BEYOND THE PLAYING
AREA.  WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY BODILY INJURIES.  ALSO, PATRONS ARE
REQUESTED TO EXTINGUISH ALL CIGARETTES, CIGARS, PIPES AND OTHER LIT SMOKING
TOBACCO PRIOR TO ENTERING THE CHUKKER TENT.

I
cringed, waved bye-bye and we set off to find a spot to park.  We found one
near the end of the field, very near a goal post.  Aunt Muriel and Ma looked at
each other nervously.

“It’s
okay,” I said.  “We’re going to be in the Chukker tent, right? That’s in the
middle.  It’s pretty far away from both goal posts.”

After
some discussion, Ma and Aunt Muriel agreed and said that I didn’t have to wear
the construction helmet or the fluorescent orange vest Aunt Muriel borrowed for
me, after all.

We
got the boys situated around Vito’s Towncar with their man stuff tailgate
picnic, complete with Krumpthf’s.  Norman and Bauser took Stanley and Jim onto
the empty pre-game polo field to play doggie Frisbee.  Vito lay stretched out
comfily in one of his recliners, reading the polo propaganda from the hundred
or so handouts we’d received at the entrance.   Aunt Muriel and Ma and I
strolled off toward the Chukker Tent.

It
was a beautiful day.  This time the tent was gleaming white, instead of the
dingy color it had been last week.  Then I realized: this tent was new.  I hung
my head.

Aunt
Muriel looked at me.  “They were due for a new tent, anyway,” she said.

Ma
rolled her eyes.  “Let’s get a beverage,” she said brightly.

We
walked into the tent and I entered the realm of extreme tailgating.  Conestoga
Cabana had not just provided a polo picnic, but a full scale outdoor catered
reception.  One side of the tent was filled by an enormously long buffet table. 
It was draped with linens and decorated with sculptures and flowers and huge
vases filled with lemons and sunflowers.   There were baskets of artisan rolls,
huge bowls of pasta, seafood salads, green salads, Waldorf salad, trays of
sandwich wraps, and dozens of other side dishes and appetizers.  This line-up
culminated in warming trays filled with Chicken Rossini, stuffed shells, a
stroganoff, and pans of stuffed shrimp.  At the very end, Armand stood at a
carving station, waiting to serve an impossibly large roast beef and a gigantic
turkey.  He saw me and nodded and glowered at me from beneath furrowed
eyebrows.  I waved back.  I hadn’t seen him this happy in a long time.  I
figured he must be ecstatic to be working weekends again.

Auntie
and Ma and I got something to nibble on.   Another table housed various metal
tubs filled with ice and bottles of wine and mini bottles of spring water.  We
each got a glass of white wine, with a spring water chaser.  We looked around
at the dozen or so bar height tables that were dotted around the tent area.  We
saw someone leaving what became a lone empty table, and claimed it quickly.

I
felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was Trixie.  She was wearing an electric blue
sundress, a large orange sun hat, electric blue retro bobble earrings, and a
big smile.

“You
look great!” I said, hugging her.  “What happened to Green?”

“Left
him at the train station,” she answered.

“And?”
I asked.  Trixie smiled brightly at me, and pointed her chin toward a polo
player, sitting on his horse and chatting to some patrons on the sidelines. 
“Married?  Separated?” I asked dubiously.

“Nope. 
Completely single and complete with uniform,” Trixie winked at me.  I opened my
mouth, and shut it.  Some things are better left unknown.

Trixie
needed a beverage, so I walked with her to get a glass of wine.

“White
wine, red wine, or a soft drink?” the waitress manning the beverage table
asked.

As
I reached to receive my white wine, I gazed directly into Lee’s face.  She was
clad in black and white service wear, complete with a bronze SNAP ID badge with
her name engraved on it.  It read ‘Lee’.   Yup, it was her alright.

“How’s
it going?” I faked, hoping an exit strategy would present itself immediately.

Lee
reached for my wine hand, I jolted, and sent six ounces of Pinot Grigio
straight up in the air.  The pitter-pat of wine droplets pinged off of Trixie’s
sun bonnet.

“Sorry!”
I cried, backing away and squeezing the wine out of my ponytail.

Lee
wiped her head, and her sleeves.  “It’s okay; here,” she said, pouring me
another glass of wine.  “I’m actually glad to see you,” she added, looking
somewhat chagrined.

Trixie
leaned in at her.  “Really?” she asked, a glint in her eye.  Lee winced.

She
looked around, then leaned in toward us.  We huddled.  “I’m really sorry about
Bauser and the Plan and everything.  And I’m really glad to see you’re
alright,” she said.  I shrugged.  “I got put on the Plan right after he did.”

“Really?
For what?”

Lee
shook her head.  “After they got rid of you, they made me responsible for office
supplies.” I nodded.  Being the Gatekeeper of Office Supplies kind of goes with
the territory.  You have no idea how many office workers have sticky fingers. 
“I know.  Except when it came to the checkpoint review, they faulted me for
failing to order backup tapes for the server,” she said.

I
looked at her.  “Corporate IT does that,” I said.

“I
know,” she said.

“So
they fired you for not ordering something that you weren’t supposed to order?”

“Precisely.”
Yeesh.  “Anyway, before all that I was kind of desperate.  Howard kept
threatening to fire me if I didn’t help him.  I’ve never been unemployed
before, or fired,” she admitted.

I
nodded understandingly and drank some wine.

“Guess
it’s all part of the human experience,” Trixie offered, and began wandering off
toward her polo player, who was sitting on his horse toward the far goal near
Vito, chatting up a petite blonde.

Lee
looked around again.  “Anyway, I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said.

“Huh?”
I replied brightly.

Lee
rolled her eyes.  “Look, please don’t make this any harder than it is.  We
haven’t exactly been buddies,” she said.  She had a point there.