Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 02 - Christmas Bizarre (4 page)

The owner nodded. “Yes, service like that is what puts a store like ours above the big box stores.”

I bit my lips and made
a note not to spill the beans about Chi-Chi’s.

Suddenly
, the girl with the glasses pointed at my tray and barked. “
What’s that?
”

“Why, it’s our holiday breakfast platter,
bagels and sides, like you girls asked for,” the owner answered.

“No! THAT!” the girl screamed, jumping up and pointing toward the address slip that Hilda had on top of the platter.
“TAPE!!”

I suddenly felt like I’d wandered into a room full of zombies and I was the only one with brains.

“Umm… well, here you go, Happy Holidays,” I said, setting the platter down in the midst of the wrapping mess and backing toward the door. I felt the owner’s hand on my back. Both girls stood up, directly in front of me.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she began.

After several misguided attempts to call Hilda on the cell phone, we got connected. Hilda insisted that we didn’t sell office supplies. But given the situation, they would make an exception – for an exorbitant fee. After what seemed like a couple hours later, I was finally released.

I rubbed my neck a bit.
“I have other deliveries to make before I can come back with your tape.”

“Don’t bother! I’m on it!” the girl with the glasses said, hurrying out with a
bagel in one hand, and her keys in the other.

“You’re a lifesaver!” the owner cried, pumping my hand up and down.

“Huh?” I replied brightly.

“Just wait until you see the traffic we get from this!” the dark-haired girl displayed a newly scribbled blackboard sign:
“GIFT WRAPPING with every purchase! WE HAVE TAPE!”

The owner jumped up and down.
“This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

After extending my congratulations, I made my way back to the
van, hoping that the winter sunlight pounding down on it hadn’t heated up the remaining trays. Luckily, it was still bitingly cold. I began to gather up the food, then stopped. I quickly removed the taped delivery notes and transcribed the address information with a Sharpie onto each platter’s lid. I was already late; I couldn’t afford the risk of becoming a hostage again.

I made my way across the street and into the lobby of an investment firm.
Instead of a large reception desk, there was an inlaid round wooden table, with an extravagantly-sized bouquet of fresh lilies and Christmas greens. I knew they were fresh because their scent filled the lobby. Heaven. Clearly, even in this economy, the investments of the rich don’t stink.

I looked around.
There were a few hallways leading into the lobby. I wandered down one, and called out. “Hello?” No answer.

I came back and repeated down another.
Nothing. The sandwich trays were starting to get heavy. I looked around and the only place to set them, other than the floor, was on an expensively upholstered pair of side chairs. I lay the trays down and hoped the hungry masses wouldn’t enter and depart with the largesse. Or more importantly, spill on the upholstery.

I wandered down another hallway and heard voices.
A door stood ajar.

“You’ll get fired for this!”

“Just try to stop me!”

“You can’t do this!”

“Get out of my way!”

Fools rush in.
Caterers deliver. “Excuse me…”

The door opened and two red-faced women peered out.
One of whom clutched a cardboard carton. “Who are you?” she asked.

I
parroted my automatic response: “I have your holiday delivery from Squirrel Run Acres.”

The red-head (who was really more magenta) smacked her hand to her forehead.
“Gosh, I completely forgot.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” the closely-cropped grey-haired woman responded, hugging her carton.

“Just a minute! No you don’t!” Magenta cried, shoving Grey back into the supply closet.
Scuffling ensued, with a lot of paper clips and paper hit the floor. And tape. Lots and lots of tape.

“Wow.
You sure are lucky with all this tape you’ve got. Hey, you could probably sell it for a profit. Ha, ha.” I hoped the joke would clear the air.

Magenta and Grey stopped mid-scuffle.
They stared at me. Then, at each other. “Just a minute,” Magenta instructed me, and closed the door.

A little while later, the door opened and Grey traipsed happily down the hallway hugging several cartons.
Magenta came out carrying a very large cardboard box. She locked the door. “I’m the Office Manager. I’m in charge of supplies.” She smiled weakly.

I looked at her box.

“Christmas, you know?”

After she’d hidden her stash under her desk, she helped me bring the sandwich platters back from the lobby. After all this time, I hoped the mayonnaise hadn’t gone bad. We carried them into another large area, complete with a receptionist’s desk and a designer Christmas tree. A small, unadorned fold-up table stood nearby.

“Just put these here.”

A few heads popped up from their cubicles. “Is it lunch?”

“Yes! Come and get it!” Magenta cried.
I was confused. It was still late morning. But hey, maybe they started their day early.

Dozens of workers and smiles
ambled forth, many of whom carried covered bowls and trays of homemade goodies. Someone turned on a boom box. Someone else brought in a case of beer.

“Wow, this is the nicest party I’ve delivered today,” I said honestly.

Magenta shrugged.
“The partners are all out of town. They take off the week before Christmas through New Year’s. We put our pennies together and put up a party.”

“Your office doesn’t pay for this?”

Magenta grunted. “Are you kidding? The only reason we get Christmas off is because the stock market’s closed.”

I made my way back to the
parking lot just as the sky opened up and another fine, powdery snow fell on the streets, like a giant salt cellar. You know what they say about the weather in Pee-Ay, if you don’t like it just wait five minutes and it will change. I brushed myself off and hopped in the van. I had a moment of panic when I couldn’t find the card pass (oh good Lord, please don’t make me go back to the bric-a-brac shop!) but finally found it and let myself out of the lot.

I came to the corner of Orange and Queen, and was about to turn right, when the traffic light turned red, of course.
I sat and waited, staring at the long line of people wrapped around the corner drugstore. Then I read the sign in the window, “WE HAVE TAPE!”

A tired, disheveled store manager appeared next to the sign, and whipped it off.
The crowd emitted a loud groan, and dispersed. The light turned green, and off I went.

I finished up the rest of the deliveries and pulled into the back of the lot, near the smoker. I hurried through the cold and into the kitchen and found Hilda sitting at her desk, grumbling at her calculator.
She looked up. “I was wondering if we’d ever see you again.”

“I’m really glad you had spare tape.”

“For a five hundred percent markup, I’d have a spare leg.”

I handed Hilda the parking pass.
“Anything else?”

She shook her head.
“Better check with Chef.”

I looked around the kitchen, and saw
him leaning over a steel counter, staring at a clipboard. I cleared my throat. He looked up.

“Hilda wanted me to check with you, to see if you need any more help.”

Chef checked another clipboard, then looked at the clock. “We’re good for today. But I was wondering what kept you. You hit a lot of traffic?”

“I
got kidnapped.”

“What?”

“Really.”

Chef looked at me oddly.
Then, he turned back toward his lists. “By the way, what are you doing about Christmas?”

“I’m using red and green duct tape.”

He stared at me again. “No, not what are you doing for wrapping. I mean, what are your plans for Christmas?”

I shrugged.
“I guess I’ll be a Sidekick up until the eleventh hour.”

He stared at me.
“Mina - are you spending Christmas with anyone?”

Part of me began to blush, while the other part of me told me to quit it.
Was he asking me out? For Christmas? I virtually pinched myself. Chef? Naw. He probably has a breakfast to deliver, and no one with family would be too keen on working Christmas morning.

“I’ve got Vinnie.
And I’ll probably wind up with Vito and Miriam, too.”

Chef shook his head and smiled
. “Sounds like fun.”

I nodded mutely.
Was he going to ask me to deliver something, or what?

“How about we go over next week’s schedule?”

My next shift got scheduled. By now, I completely understood the concept of living paycheck to paycheck. Luckily, I have several of them.

I headed off
, and pulled up to my garage with an abrupt stop. That was because I didn’t want to run over Vito and his new buddy, having a shoving contest in the middle of our driveways.

Vito, and a guy who looked
a lot like someone Vito might have gone to school with, took turns pushing each other. I parked at the bottom, hoping the van wouldn’t slide backward. I stared up the hill toward them.

“I know you
underbid them!” Vito’s pal screamed at him.

“No, I didn’t!” Vito poked back.

“Did too!”

“Did NOT!”

“You did! And it was my idea in the first place! You’re not beating me to the punch!”

Vito threw his hands up in the air and sighed, exhaling a Yiddish expletive.
The other guy got bug-eyed and purple. Then he grabbed Vito by the neck and tried to bite him.

“Hey, cut that out!”

“I’m gonna suck your blood!”

“You put your lips on me again, you’ll be sucking teeth.”

“Shut up! I’m a vampire and I’m gonna feed on you!”

“You ain’t no vampire! You’re out in broad daylight!”

“I’m in transition!”

The weird guy grabbed Vito by the neck again.
Vito shoved him down on the lawn. They rolled down the hill together and landed at my feet.

“Hey, you can’t do that!’ I screamed.

“Why not?”

“This is my driveway!”

The guy nodded, then
helped Vito up. They shook hands.

Then he
socked poor Vito in the bread basket. Vito fell over like a deflated lawn ornament.

The senior perp held up both hands and backed away,
slipping a bit. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, kid. This is family business. Nothing personal.”

“Who are you?”

“Umm… Buddy. Buddy Burgers.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“You own
Buddy Burgers
? The fast food chain?”

He shook his head.
“It’s an unfortunate coincidence.”

Vito stood up and waved him off.
“See you around, Bernie,” Vito said knowingly.

“Sorry.
Hey, no hard feelings, huh?”

“Next time,
pal.” Then Buddy – Bernie? took off.

“What was all that about?”

“Bernie is an old-time buddy of mine. Which umm… is why he calls hisself Buddy. But sometimes he gets wrong ideas in his head.”

“Great.
I hope he’s just visiting from out of town.”

“Actually, he relocated.”

I stared firmly at Vito. “Not like you, right?”

Vito shrugged.
“Truth is stranger than fiction.”

I gave myself a virtual spatula slap to my noggin.
I wanted to flip my brains over and start again.

“Are you okay?” I asked.
It looked like Vito really got the wind knocked out of him. It would have been hard on anyone, but especially for someone old enough to be my uncle.

“I could use a little sit down, actually.”

I got us inside my townhouse, and Vito comfy on the sofa. I handed him a glass of water, and the doorbell rang. It was Miriam.

“My sweetie isn’t at his home.
I waited
forever
out in the cold, waiting for him to answer his bell. Of course, I could have found out easier if I’d have my own key…” Miriam chastised Vito from the foyer, inspecting my living room while glaring at him, hands on hips.

Vito shrugged. “Sorry, Sweetie.
Keep meaning to get around to it.”

I looked at Vito.
Vito stared at his shoes. Miriam kept her hands on her hips.