Authors: Chris Cavender

Rest in Pizza (2 page)

BOOK: Rest in Pizza

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My sister didn’t answer as quickly as I expected her to. “I’m not sure, to be honest with you.”

That was an odd reply, even for her. “What do you mean?”

Maddy frowned, and then said, “I thought we were in a good place, but he’s been acting kind of odd lately. Eleanor, we both know that I’ve been married more than a few times before, but I still can’t figure that man out. You’d think I’d getter better with practice being around them.”

“More than a few times? Did you just say that?” I asked with a grin.

“Okay, so it’s four times, but who’s counting?” Maddy asked.

“Not me,” I said. “All I can think about right now is lunch.”

“I’m right behind you.”

As we walked down the promenade toward the shortcut together, I glanced back at A Slice of Delight. The previous occupant had painted the building mostly blue, and Joe and I had learned early on that it would have been prohibitively expensive to get rid of, so we’d kept it as is. I’d grown fond of it over the years, and doubted I would change it even if I could afford to now. We stood out among a cluster of shops and businesses, and really, what more could I ask for? The other buildings, normally sharing sidewalls and standing shoulder to shoulder, allowed a single break from the walls that otherwise touched on either side. Maddy and I used the bricked shortcut every time we came or left the pizzeria. In order to get there from the Slice, though, we had to pass several other shops along the way. One of buildings, a now-defunct exclusive wine and cheese shop that had lasted just six months, had lost its previous sign of The Winey Husband and was now going to reopen as a bookstore, something the square sorely needed, in my opinion. Adding even more to our excitement, the new owner was a friend of ours named Cindy Rankin. Her husband had died unexpectedly, and she’d come into some money from an insurance policy that she hadn’t even known he had. After a year spent mostly in mourning, Cindy had decided it was time to get on with her life. It had been her dream to own a bookstore someday, and despite a generally gloomy financial outlook, Cindy had gone for it.

I was about to comment on how brave she was to Maddy when the door of the bookshop opened, and Cindy herself came out.

“I’m so glad I ran into you two,” she said. “I was just coming down to the Slice. I’m in trouble, and I desperately need your help.”

“What’s going on?” I asked Cindy as Maddy and I walked inside. Visions of our lunch out dissipated like morning mist. “It looks like you could open today.”

The new bookstore was in great shape as far as I could tell, with row upon row of shelves made of polished cherry wood and filled with books. There were clever signs above each section, with categories written in script on large bookmarks hanging from the ceiling. One corner of the place was devoted exclusively to reading, with big comfy chairs and a fireplace giving the entire space a warm glow, and another nook housed a coffee counter and pastry display area. Soft music played in the background, and the only thing out of place was a stack of boxes near the register.

Cindy frowned as she looked around. “I wish. We’re seven days away from opening, whether we’re ready or not.”

I couldn’t imagine what else she might be hoping to do in that brief amount of time, but I remembered when Joe and I had first opened A Slice of Delight how I found myself constantly wishing that we had one more week. Joe had assured me that no matter how prepared we thought we were, that extra week would never come. The only way we’d managed to get everything right was actually opening our pizzeria for business. “What can we do to help?”

“I just got a call from a publicist from one of the big publishers. They want to feature one of their A-list writers for my grand opening.”

“Is that actually a problem? It sounds like a wonderful opportunity,” Maddy said as she picked up a mystery and started flipping through it. My sister was a nut for mysteries, and despite her brash and bold outward appearance, she favored cozies, especially craft-based and culinary mysteries, above all else.

“You’d think so,” Cindy said with a worried expression on her face, “but I don’t know anything about cooking, especially Italian fare.”

“Why should you have to?” I asked. “Leave that to the celebrity author. No one expects you to know how to cook or bake. After all, you’re not making your own pastries, are you?”

“Of course not. Paul is supplying them.”

“Good choice,” I said. Paul was a good friend of ours, and he happened to run the best bakery, Paul’s Pastries, in our part of North Carolina. “He makes our sandwich rolls for us. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she said. “The problem is, they’re sending Antonio Benet, and I understand he can be difficult at times.”

“The guy from the Food for Thought Network?” Maddy asked.

Cindy nodded. “Have you seen his show?”

“I’ve watched it a few times,” Maddy admitted. I knew she was addicted to all of the food-related channels on television.

“Then you’ll be perfect,” Cindy said with delight.

“For what?” Maddy asked, the suspicion clear in her voice.

“To help me,” Cindy said after taking a lungful of air,. “Ladies, I hate to ask, but I need you both.”

The poor girl looked as though she were about to collapse.

“What’s your concern?” I asked.

“This,” Cindy said as she thrust a sheaf of papers toward me. “The whole thing just came today.”

I took the offered sheets of paper from her and scanned through them as Maddy read over my shoulder.

It appeared that Chef Benet was going to be promoting his new cookbook,
A Taste of Italian Heaven, Benet Style
, and he had a very specific list of expectations of any venue he’d be visiting.

“It looks pretty clear to me,” I said as I scanned the list. He wanted cooking equipment, including a portable oven and other kitchen tools, to enable him to host a demonstration. I had a feeling Cindy could round up what she needed in town without much trouble at all.

“Flip the page,” Cindy said ominously.

I did, and saw that the chef was more particular than any diva I’d ever imagined. The next page contained his list of personal demands, and they sounded as though they’d come from a madman holding hostages instead of a cook preparing a meal. I stopped after reading the first one. “He expects you to have a full kitchen mock-up for his demonstration? Where are you going to put it all?”

“I’m moving the middle of the store into storage for now, but that’s not all. Keep reading.”

I did, and soon saw the reason she’d probably wanted to talk to us. “You want us to be his assistants, don’t you?” The contract stipulated that two trained cooks had to be at his disposal to do his prep and clean up, and to basically keep him happy the entire time he was in Timber Ridge. He also required a greenroom before his “performance,” and another kitchen, one with an electric pizza oven, at his disposal off-site to test some new recipes.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Cindy said. “You can say no if you want to. I’ll manage somehow.”

“You can do it. We have faith in you,” Maddy said, and I shushed my sister.

“Don’t worry. We’ll help,” I said. I’d had Joe to fall back on when we’d opened our place, but Cindy had no one but her mother, Janet. If I could, I was going to be that rock for her. Cindy had lost her husband, but that didn’t mean she had to lose her dream. If I couldn’t help out another widow when she needed me, I wasn’t sure I could justify occupying space in this world.

Maddy touched my arm and whispered, “Eleanor, can we talk about this first?”

“I’m sorry,” I said to Cindy. “I should correct that. I’ll help, but I really can’t speak for Maddy.”

“I’m in, too,” my sister said, though in my mind she still sounded a little reluctant.

Cindy didn’t hear it in her voice, though, or chose to ignore it. “You two are lifesavers,” she said with a broad grin.

“When do you need us?” I asked.

“The day before the signing would be great. Not all day, but just to make sure I’ve got everything I need. Chef Benet is coming in later in the day, but his front person will be here early. I feel bad about having you shut down your restaurant for two days.”

“We can’t afford to do that,” I said. “But we shouldn’t have to. Maddy and Greg can run the Slice while I’m over here, and we can shut down during the few hours he needs for his demonstration the next day. At most we’ll lose three or four hours, and we can afford that to help a friend.”

Cindy hugged me and then Maddy in turn. “I can’t thank you both enough.”

“We’re happy to help,” I said.

Maddy and I left, and once we were out of sight of the bookstore, I turned to her and said, “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

“What are you talking about? I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“Madeline Spencer, I know you better than that. What’s wrong?”

My sister shook her head. “I just hate to see you lose sales you can’t afford to give up. I don’t have to remind you how close we balance between red and black ink every month, do I?”

“There are more important things in this world than money,” I said.

Maddy grinned. “In that case, how about a raise?”

I wasn’t entirely sure she was serious, so I chose to treat it as a joke. “You know what I mean. Is that really it?”

Maddy frowned, and then stared at the brick pavers under her feet as she finally admitted, “Sis, I know how you feel about widows. Why shouldn’t you help her? I admit that I’m a little worried about Benet, though.”

“Why is that?” I asked. I’d have to catch one of his television shows before he came to town, but weren’t all of those TV chefs perky and happy all of the time?

“From what I’ve read on the Internet, he’s a bigger prima donna than seven divas in the same room.”

“He can’t be that bad, can he?” I asked.

“Trust me, if what I’ve read on-line is even close to the truth, he’s worse. Much worse. That’s what I was trying to warn you about. I’m thrilled to give Cindy a hand. I just wish she’d asked us to help stock shelves or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, wishing that I could believe it. After all, how bad could it really be?

Chapter 2

“E
leanor, do you have a minute?” Art Young asked me as Maddy and I finished our abbreviated lunch at Brian’s Diner. Art had a reputation for being on the shady side of Timber Ridge society, but I’d never seen any evidence of unlawful behavior myself, though I honestly hadn’t looked that hard for it. Art and I had formed an odd friendship over the past few years that even Maddy didn’t understand, but that was okay with me. I certainly didn’t agree with every choice my sister had ever made, so there was no reason to believe that she had to approve of mine. Art was a thin and dapper man, always dressed impeccably, and no one would ever suspect he could be labeled a criminal based on his outward appearance alone, nor by the way he communicated.

“Go ahead. I’ve got to call Bob anyway,” Maddy said as she got up and made a quick exit.

“Your sister still isn’t all that fond of me, is she?” Art asked.

“I’m not concerned one way or the other what she thinks, so you certainly shouldn’t be. How are you?”

He looked weary as he answered, “I’m honestly not quite sure.”

“What is it?” I’d never seen the man worried for a moment since I’d known him, so I was more than a little alarmed by his statement.

“May I join you for a moment?” Art asked, and then looked around the dining room at the folks who were trying their best not to be seen watching us. “Or would you be more comfortable meeting me somewhere more discreet?”

I shoved Maddy’s dishes out of the way and said, “They can all bark at the moon, as far as I’m concerned,” I said. “Go on. Sit.”

Art smiled at that. “There aren’t many folks who would dream of ordering me around with impunity the way you do.”

“What can I say? I’ve always known I’m special.” I looked closer at him, and saw new worry lines in his face. “Now tell me. What’s wrong, and how can I help?”

“I’m going away,” he said, his voice lowered to a softer tone.

“For good?” I asked. For some reason I couldn’t fathom, Art’s friendship was important to me, and I’d truly miss him if he were gone.

“No, nothing that dramatic,” he said with a small smile. “I’m touched that you would miss me, though.”

“Surely I’m not the only one,” I said.

He shrugged slightly. “Let’s just say the list is small.”

I didn’t want to add to the morose tone the conversation had taken. “So, how long will you be gone?”

“I’m afraid that’s still undetermined as of yet,” Art said.

“Longer than a day, but shorter than a month? How about a year?” I asked, trying to make him smile. My friend had a problem, and it pained me to see it in his eyes.

“Let’s just hope for the best, shall we?” he asked.

“I was serious about the offer I just made, so don’t take it so lightly. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He patted my hand briefly, and then quickly withdrew it. “I’m afraid not. At this point, I’m not all that certain that there’s anything I can do myself.”

“Well, I do appreciate you warning me that you won’t be around for awhile,” I said.

Art looked at me oddly for a moment, and then said, “Funny, but it was important to me that you knew I’d return someday.” He reached into the vest pocket of his suit and withdrew a business card. As he slid it across the table to me, Art said, “If you need me, call that number. Ask whoever answers if it is the button factory, and then hang up. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“The button factory?” I asked as I picked up the card and studied the number embossed on it in gold. “What kind of code is that?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say that you might not want your name overheard on that particular call. The button factory. Remember it, Eleanor. It’s the only way you can reach me if it’s urgent.”

“I won’t forget,” I said. It was certainly cryptic, but I knew better than to ask him any more questions about it. “Art, no matter what your troubles are, I hope everything works out for you,” I said as I tucked the card into the front pocket of my jeans.

He stood and picked up our check before I could stop him. “Hey, you don’t have to buy my lunch every time you see me out, you know. Our friendship isn’t conditional on you treating me to free meals.”

“I understand that I don’t have to do it, but it pleases me,” he said with a smile. “Why not indulge me and just enjoy it?”

“Thanks so much,” I said.

After Art was gone, Maddy came back. I had to wonder if she’d even called Bob at all, or if she’d been spying on us from afar.

“That was quick,” she said.

“I was about to say the same thing to you. How’s Bob?”

“In court,” Maddy said. “I couldn’t get through to him. What did Art want?”

I thought about retelling the conversation to Maddy, but I really didn’t want to get into my friendship with Art with her, especially with everyone around still staring at me. It wasn’t easy being Art’s friend, and I may have lost some business at the pizzeria over the past several months because of it, but I wasn’t about to let Timber Ridge dictate my friendships any more than I’d let Maddy do it. They could live with it, or stop coming by the Slice; either way, I was fine with it. “It’s not that important.”

She shrugged, and then looked around the tabletop. “Did you already grab the check? I wanted some pie. Hand it over.”

I had to laugh. “You’ll just have to live without it. Art picked up the tab this time before I could stop him.”

“He bought us both lunch?” Maddy asked, and I wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about the prospect.

I nodded. “Sis, if you have a problem with that, tip your waitress the cost of your meal. It doesn’t matter to me.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t want to start any dangerous precedents,” Maddy said. “They might start expecting me to be a big tipper, and you know how much I hate disappointing people.” She glanced at her watch, and then added, “I hate to break up our little party, but it’s time to get back to the Slice.”

“That hour flew by, didn’t it?” I asked as we approached the register.

Maddy just shrugged. “We didn’t have an hour to start with, so yeah, it was quick. And don’t forget, we get the pleasure of helping keep an egomaniac in line for the trouble. Maybe next time we’ll stay at the Slice and eat.”

“And miss all of this atmosphere?” I said, doing my best to smile. I’d backed my sister into a corner, and I knew it. She was helping Cindy out because of me, and I’d try to find a way to make it up to her.

Mark Deacon, the owner of Brian’s and a longtime friend of ours, said as we approached the front register, “If you two left a tip on the table, you should go get it. Art covered it, too.”

There was no judgment in his voice as he said it.

Maybe I’d found someone else who took the man at face value, and did not base their feelings on rumor and innuendo. “Is Art a friend of yours, too?”

Mark smiled at me. “Hey, everyone who comes through that door and pays for his food is a friend of mine,” he said. “How was lunch, by the way?”

“Excellent, as always,” I said.

“And it’s not pizza, right?” he asked with a grin.

“You could come get a slice yourself sometime,” I said with a smile.

“You know what? I just might take you up on that sometime,” he said. “As much as I love the food we serve here, there are times where I’d kill for something else to eat. Save a slice for me someday. I’m going to visit you both soon.”

We all knew better than that. Mark was devoted to his restaurant, and if his doors were open to the public, he was there, too.

“You, sir, are a big fat liar,” I said as I grinned at him.

“Hey, I just might surprise you both one of these days.”

“I’ll believe it when I see you walk into my pizzeria and order a slice,” I said. I lowered my voice as I added, “Tell you what. If you ever do make it over to our corner of town, the pizza’s on me.”

When Maddy and I got back to the Slice, Greg had already gotten there and was patiently waiting for us. He was sitting at a table out front watching people and enjoying the day, but I still apologized as I unlocked the door. “Sorry we kept you waiting outside,” I said.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad it wasn’t raining. You know, you could trust me with a key,” Greg said. “I’m a dependable kind of guy.”

“You’re absolutely right.” I turned to Maddy and said, “Do me a favor. Give him your key.”

“Hey, when I did I get demoted?” she asked in protest.

“You didn’t. I’ll have another one made for you later.”

Maddy handed me her key, and I saw that she was really reluctant to do it. Did she honestly think that I’d ever cut her out of my pizzeria? “Take it easy.” I handed the key to Greg and then said, “Do me a favor and run this over to Slick’s. He’s got a key machine. Have him make a copy for you, and then give the original back to Maddy.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said.

“Greg, I trust you.” I thought about it a second, and then said, “Don’t let anyone know you have it though, okay? I don’t want to have to start handing them out.”

“Are you worried about Josh wanting one?” Greg asked. “You don’t have to. Trust me, he doesn’t want the responsibility.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Maddy asked him as we all stepped inside the pizzeria.

“On quiet nights here, we talk about the strangest things,” Greg said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right back.”

Greg took off, and I locked the door behind him. When I turned back to Maddy, I saw that she was watching me. “What’s that look for? Don’t you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I’m just wondering what took you so long. Eleanor, I’m glad you’re trusting Greg. It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” I said with a sigh. “You know how hard it is for me to give up control of anything.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “Remember when you got your first car? It took you years before you’d let me drive it.”

“Maddy, you didn’t have your license,” I said.

“Details, details,” she said as there was a knock at the front door.

It was Greg.

“That was fast, even for Slick,” I said.

He handed the key back to Maddy and then said, “Thanks anyway, but I changed my mind.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You honestly don’t want a key of your own?”

Greg shook his head. “Josh is right. The responsibility of having it isn’t worth the inconvenience of waiting out here for you two now and then.” He added a big grin as he said, “I do appreciate the offer, though.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as I walked back into my kitchen to prepare for our afternoon and evening crowd. I had five minutes to get ready for our second opening, and I planned to take advantage of every second of it. I wasn’t quite sure I understood what had just happened, but Greg was happy, Maddy was pleased, and I was satisfied. I couldn’t remember the last time I could say that about the three of us, so I decided to take it as a victory and leave it at that.

We’d been open about an hour when I heard noises coming from the dining room. Ordinarily I couldn’t hear much through the closed kitchen door, but there was a group out there that was making it too easy for me to hear them.

I opened the door to see what all of the ruckus was about, and saw that twelve people had taken the liberty to shove three tables together in the middle of the pizzeria. I looked at Maddy, who just shrugged. She walked over to me, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me we booked a party today?”

“Mainly because I didn’t,” I said. “What’s it all about?”

“I figured you’d want to ask yourself.”

“Okay, I will.” I approached the group, and they began applauding.

“Hey, look, it’s the owner herself,” one of the young men said.

An older woman with hair the most startling shade of blue said, “I need to speak with you, young lady.” She said it in a voice that exactly matched my high school principal, in tone if not in timbre.

“That sounds good to me,” I said, “but would you mind keeping it down to a dull roar? We have other diners.”

One of the other boys took that moment to yell, “Ashley Fox is a rock star.”

One of the women at the table, a young lady in her early twenties, looked embarrassed by the attention, and I had to believe she was the Ashley in question. “Would you guys keep it down?” she asked, to no avail.

But then the older lady spoke up. “Family, I know we have a great deal to celebrate, but there’s no excuse for rudeness. Jason, Phil, do you both understand what I’m saying?”

The two young men nodded, and each had the decency to look chastened.

Once they were quiet, the matriarch said, “As you’ve already deduced, we are the Foxes, here to celebrate my granddaughter’s college graduation.”

BOOK: Rest in Pizza

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