On Thin Icing (19 page)

“Julieta, will you marry me?” He locked his eyes on mine.

The intensity of his gaze took my breath away. I laughed it off at first. “Stop teasing.”

“I do not tease,
querida
. You are so beautiful tonight. The candlelight shimmers like gold in your hair.”

I remember his gentle caresses and the look of longing in his eyes. “You’re serious?”

A huge smile spread across his face. “Tomorrow you will marry me, yes?”

“Tomorrow?”

“
Sí,
tomorrow.” He waited for my response with bright eager eyes.

“I will,” I replied without even thinking. “Yes! I will.”

He stood and pulled my face to his across the table. The waiter and chef applauded as we kissed. A celebratory bottle of champagne was delivered to the table. We shared a toast with the staff. The combination of wine and bubbly champagne went to my head. Carlos had to steady me as we stumbled back to the ship.

The next morning when I woke, I had a pulsing headache from the champagne. Carlos was gone. A note sat propped on my bedside table with a single red rose in a vase.

“Today is the first day of the rest of our lives together, Julieta. You are so beautiful when you sleep. I will return soon. Love, Carlos.” He’d arranged coffee and breakfast to be delivered to our room.

We both had a stretch of three days off together. I felt like a queen, sipping coffee in our tiny bedroom. As promised, Carlos returned late in the morning with an armful of packages.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?” He kissed my forehead. His eyes twinkled with delight as he placed the packages on the foot of the bed. “I have some surprises for you.”

“What have you been up to?” I said, sitting up.

“It is your wedding day. I must make it special for my bride.” He riffled through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for. I knew immediately from the size of the jewelry box what must be inside.

Was this really happening? I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, but I was worried that if I did I might wake up.

Carlos came to the side of the bed, and dropped to his knee. He extended the small gold box. “Julieta, will you marry me?”

I gulped back tears, as I opened the box. Inside was the most breathtaking ring that I’d ever seen. A cushion-cut brilliant diamond was framed in a delicate halo of dainty diamonds on a vintage band.

“Carlos—how did you?” I couldn’t form words.

He smiled broadly. “I have been saving up for this moment. Do you like it?”

I removed it from the box and held it in front of me. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. I love it.”

Placing his hand over mine, he turned the ring so that it reflected the light. “I had it engraved, look.”

Inside the band it read, “J and C. Love at Sea.”

I couldn’t contain my joy. Tears spilled from my eyes, as Carlos slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

He held my hand in his as he kissed my tears of joy away. “It is perfect on you, yes?”

“Yes.” I grinned.

Leaning in, he kissed me soft and slow. I could taste my salty tears mixed in. This was the happiest day of my life. After a moment, he released me and jumped to his feet. He clapped his hands together. “Wait, I have more surprises for you.”

I wondered how long I’d slept in. Carlos must have perused every shop in Marseilles. He lavished me with gifts. There were a pair of strappy satin sandals, shimmering brushed-gold earrings and a matching necklace, and a knee-length ivory halter dress.

“How did you do all this?”

“Do you like it?” He looked unsure. “I think the dress will look perfect with your skin and hair.”

“I love it. I love all of it.” I kissed him again. “I just can’t believe you did all this so fast.”

“No, not so fast. I have been planning for a while, you see.”

Carlos was a romantic at heart. He often surprised me with a chocolate on my pillow or a special meal that he’d bring to our room after all the guests on the ship were fast asleep, but nothing compared to our wedding day. He had worked out every detail. We were married in the afternoon by the ship’s captain. Our friends gathered on the deck to watch us exchange vows.

The ceremony was simple and sweet. I held a bouquet of ivory roses. Carlos wore a matching suit. I remember looking out onto the vibrant blue Mediterranean sea and thinking how his eyes reflected the color. The city of Marseilles with its white sand beaches and red rooftops sat in the background. Our friends joined us at a hillside café for dinner and dancing. It was a magical, surreal evening. I’d never felt more beautiful or alive. The only thing missing was Mom.

Everything happened so quickly, I didn’t even have a chance to call her to tell her the news until the next day. She sounded slightly nostalgic when I said, “Can you believe it, Mom? I’m married!”

“I’m so happy for you, darling,” she said, an ocean away. I knew that she was, but I couldn’t tell if she was holding back tears. I was so consumed with my own happiness. We didn’t have a chance to talk very long. Carlos had planned a quick honeymoon. The ship was due to depart in two days. He rented a cottage on the cliffside overlooking the sea. I promised Mom I would call her when we set sail again.

Carlos and I spent two blissful days listening to the sound of waves crashing on shore and watching fishing boats bob along the sea. The world looked completely different and so much more beautiful in his arms. He pampered me for two languid days. I sipped strong espresso under the French sun while he ran to the patisserie for chocolate croissants. We swam in the salty surf and blended in with tourists in the busy open-air markets. After filling canvas bags with bread, wine, cheese, fish, and handpicked farm vegetables, we would walk back to our cottage wrapped in each other’s arms.

I never wanted to leave. We daydreamed about buying a rundown shop in the village and turning it into our own restaurant. Carlos could cook, I would bake, and we’d spend our free time with our feet in the Mediterranean Sea. Alas, our real lives beckoned. Our ship was setting sail, so we waved au revoir to our little cottage on the cliff and promised we’d find our way back someday soon.

*   *   *

“Jules, did you hear me?” Sterling’s voice shook me from the happy memory.

“What’s that? Sorry.” I realized my hand was still turning the crank. The pasta machine was empty.

“I asked what you want me to do next,” he said, staring at me. “Are you okay, Jules?”

“Yeah. This day is getting to me, that’s all. I’m ready to be done.”

“Tell me what you need me to do, I’ve got this. If you need to go take a break, it’s cool.”

I smiled. How had Mom and I gotten so lucky with our staff at Torte? “I appreciate it. I really do, but we’re almost done. I can hang in a little longer.” Time for me to get into chef mode. “How’s the sauce coming?”

“Pretty good. You should taste it, though.” Sterling opened a drawer and took out a spoon. He scooped sauce on the spoon and walked it over to me. The acidic tomatoes had a nice bite. We had added a trio of meats—beef, lamb, and Italian sausage. I like the density of using more than one meat. The combination gave the sauce a rich, hearty flavor. “It’s good,” I said to Sterling. “Hit it with a pinch more basil and then go ahead and spread a thin layer on the bottom of the pans.”

He added chopped basil and gave the sauce one final stir. Then he brought the pans to the island. While I rolled out noodles he gently layered them in the pans, alternating with the meat sauce, a blend of eggs, ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. I showed him how to grate Parmesan and mozzarella over the top.

When we were finished we had two gorgeous pans of lasagna that could grace the cover of any gourmet magazine.

“Should I stick them in?” Sterling asked.

“Go ahead, and say a prayer to the cooking gods while you’re at it. We need these beauties to bake.”

The sound of heavy footsteps thudded toward us. Gavin Allen pushed open the kitchen door. “You got power?”

I clasped my hands together. “We do. Thank you.”

His grease-coated hand went to the hammer looped on his tool belt. “One good smack finally did the trick.” He shook his head. “Everything in this damn place needs fixin’.”

“Can we get you some coffee, something to eat?”

He stared at the coffeepot. “Can you make it to go? I’ve got work to do at the marina. The place is a mess, thanks to Tony.”

I found a paper cup in the cupboard and poured Gavin a coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

“Black.” He took off his fishing cap.

“How about a sandwich or a cookie?” I asked.

He brushed snow off his cap and then put it back on his head. “Nah. Coffee is good.”

I handed him the cup. “How’s the investigation going at the marina?”

“No idea. I’ve been banging away on that stupid rundown generator. I told Mercury she needed a new one, but she didn’t listen.” He gave Sterling and me a nod. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be on my way.”

After he was out of earshot Sterling whispered, “He’s cranky.”

“Can you blame him? I wouldn’t want to be working outside right now, either.” I picked up a bottle of olive oil and walked to the stove. “Let’s get started on the veggie option.” I added a healthy glug of oil to a nonstick sauté pan. Sautéing the vegetables would preserve their moisture and crispness.

Sterling watched as I cranked the burner on high and began to brown the veggies. “Can you babysit these?” I asked, handing him the pan. “Don’t turn your back—these will burn like a wildfire if you don’t watch them.”

“I’ll guard them with my life,” Sterling teased.

“Make sure you grip the pan firmly and use your elbow to jerk it over the heat,” I directed. The smell of leeks, onions, and mushrooms sizzled in the hot pan. “That’s it. Nice work.” I returned to the island and rolled out another round of noodles for the lasagna. Then I whisked a white cheese sauce and began layering the delicate noodles with Sterling’s sautéed veggies, fresh herbs, and a blend of Italian cheeses.

“These are good to go.” I slid a pan into the wood-fired oven. “Now we wait!”

“Knock, knock,” Lance sang, as he stepped into the kitchen. A gold paper crown adorned the top of his head. “What are we waiting for? Dinner? I’m assuming things are progressing now that your kitchen is illuminated.”

“What’s with the crown?” I asked.

Lance reached to his head and touched the paper crown. “Oh, this silly thing? It was from a bonding exercise we were doing earlier. They named me king. I’d forgotten I still had it on.”

He didn’t take it off. I had a feeling that Lance enjoyed being king of this cold castle.

“Do tell,” he whispered, coming closer. “What’s the word on this
murder
business?” He emphasized the word by clutching his throat and sticking out his tongue.

“How would I know?” I brushed flour from my hands. My pores felt like they were clogged with flour, oil, and soot from the fire. I wondered if I looked as disheveled as I felt.

“Juliet, don’t play coy with me. We’ve been friends for far too long.”

Actually Lance and I had met this summer when I returned to Ashland. Six months wasn’t “far too long” in my opinion.

“If anyone is in the know, it’s you,” he continued. “And since this is my party, darling, I want in on the action. Murder is good for business in the theater.”

“Lance, stop. Murder is not good for business in real life and you know that as well as anyone else.” I knew that Lance was simply playing his part. It was his style and, I had come to realize, his way to deal with stress.

“Kidding, darling.” He raised his hands in a fake protest then he pulled up a bar stool. “Do tell, though. What do you know?” His eyes gleamed with excitement.

I twisted my ponytail tighter. “Lance, you hired us to cook. If you want dinner served at a reasonable hour tonight, then you better let us work.”

“She’s no fun when she gets like this, is she?” Lance said to Sterling.

Sterling laughed. “Nope. She’s all business. She likes to run a tight kitchen.”

Lance shook his head. “Tsk-tsk. It’s probably from all that time on the ship.”

“It’s called being a professional,” I bantered back.

“Speaking of ships, let’s chat about some of the sailors on board. I bet they were tight, if you catch my drift?” Lance winked.

I rolled my eyes.

“Better yet, let’s discuss that delicious Spaniard of yours.” Lance clapped twice. “The ladies are certainly enjoying having a Latin lover behind the bar. Such an improvement from backwoods Tony.”

“Lance, I’m serious. We have to work. Things are taking so much longer at this high elevation. I swear I don’t know anything about the case. Ask Thomas. He seems convinced that my Latin lover had something to do with it.”

Lance gasped and threw his hand over his mouth. “What? Now this is a juicy development. Carlos a suspect? Please, darling, that man could charm his way into the heart of a mass murderer, but a killer himself? I think not.”

“That’s exactly what I told Thomas, but he doesn’t believe me. If you want to help, go find Thomas and back me up.”

“Juliet, I always have your back, darling.” Lance tapped his fingers on the butcher block. “I suspect we have a love triangle in the works here, don’t we?”

“I don’t know what Thomas’s problem is. All I know is that Carlos is high on his list, and he won’t listen to me—at all.”

Lance winked at Sterling. “Darling, I think we all know what’s going on here. Old flame meets new flame. Watch out—it’s about to get hot in here.” He stood up and blew air kisses at me. He turned and pranced out of the room. I knew that Lance would eat up the idea of a love triangle, but I also hoped he would follow through on my advice and talk to Thomas. If Thomas wouldn’t listen to me, maybe he’d listen to another voice of reason. Jules, you are in way over your head if you think Lance is a voice of reason, I thought as I watched Lance make his exit.

Chapter Twenty-two

Both Carlos and Thomas checked in on me multiple times while Sterling and I finished dinner prep.

“Wow, I don’t envy you, Jules. No wonder you’re kind of spacey,” Sterling said after Thomas left for the second time. “He knows that you’re married, right?”