Authors: Chris Cavender

Rest in Pizza (7 page)

BOOK: Rest in Pizza

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Oliver looked crushed by her ruthless assessment of his chances to have a show of his own in the future, and as he walked out of the bookshop with shoulders slumped, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy again.

“Wow, you are a real toad, aren’t you? You didn’t have to be so hard on him, you know,” I said.

Jessie appeared not to have heard me at first. She examined me as though I was something on the bottom of one of her shoes, and then asked, “Excuse me, but were you talking to me?”

“You’re the only one trying to be a bigger jerk than Benet is, and if I hadn’t just seen it for myself, I never would have believed it,” I said, not caring what the producer thought of me at this point. I doubted we were even going to have a signing and a cooking demonstration anymore, and if we did, it was clear that Benet would do it, or not, because of the way he felt, not based on someone else’s input.

She frowned as she said, “Perhaps you should just worry about your own little corner of the world, no matter how small and insignificant it might be, and leave me to mine.”

“Was anything served by being so mean to Oliver just now?” I asked. “That was just plain cruel.”

Jessie shook her head, and with more sadness than anger, she explained, “Listen, I’ve tried to let him down easy a dozen times over the past two years, but he keeps asking. It sounds to me like he’s been crying on your shoulder. Did he tell you that I gave him a screen test when he came up with a really good idea?”

“No,” I admitted. “He didn’t say a word about that.”

Jessie just shook her head. “And why should he? The man couldn’t have been any stiffer if he’d been carved out of wood. He has so little stage presence that I almost lost him in the shot a time or two.” Jessie waved a hand in the air then, as though she were shooing away a cluster of gnats. “Listen, I’m really upset about what’s going on with Chef Benet, but you’re right, I shouldn’t have taken it out on Oliver. When he comes back, I’ll apologize and do my best to smooth things over, but in the meantime, we need to find Benet.”

“Was Oliver really that bad?” Maddy asked. “He seems fine to me when he’s talking about cooking.”

Jessie grimaced. “He nearly set the kitchen on fire during his audition, which would have been bad, but not as bad as his personality on tape. It’s never going to work, and the sooner he gives up that particular dream, the better off he’ll be. You may not believe me, but at first, I was just trying to help him.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Honestly? I’ve done everything I can to discourage him. It may sound cruel to you people, but stringing him along is a lot harsher, at least in my opinion.”

She started for the door, and then turned back and looked at the rest of us. “Why are you all standing around just looking at each other? We need to find Benet.”

I’m not sure why we all obeyed, but we did. There was something in the executive producer’s voice that eliminated all consideration of defiance.

“Where should we look first?” Maddy asked as we hit the sidewalk together.

“I think the first place we should check is the Slice. After all, he just took a key from me.”

“You want to make sure he doesn’t trash the place, don’t you?”

That was exactly what I was trying to prevent. Who knew how Benet might react if he felt as though he were being thwarted. “Maddy, if he so much as breaks a toothpick, the man’s going to have a world of problems that he hasn’t even dreamed about yet.”

As I’d said the last bit, Jessie walked past us, glancing at my fiery promise with one eyebrow raised. I didn’t care if she thought I was capable of violence or not. I’d meant every word I’d said. The Slice was so much a part of me that I swore if someone wrecked it, I believed I’d feel the pain myself, like some kind of psychic connection between my mind and the business I ran.

We hurried to the pizzeria, and I peeked in the window as Maddy handed me her key. I should have had Slick make an extra one for me after all. Not having my own key to the pizzeria was disturbing on a level I hadn’t even contemplated before.

Was someone there?

I used the key and unlocked the door. When I looked around the dining room, I didn’t see any evidence that anyone had been there since Maddy, Mark, and I had left earlier, and I had to wonder if the sun coming through the window had cast a shadow of something that had looked like a man.

“Hello?” I called out as we went back to the kitchen.

Nothing in the kitchen had been touched since we’d left it.

“At the risk of being Captain Obvious, he’s not here,” Maddy said.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t show up here eventually. We can check back later,” I said. “In the meantime, we can start hitting other places on the promenade.”

“Why just around here?” Maddy asked as we started back toward the front door.

“Come on, Sis. You saw him searching for a way off the square. He was clearly confused. How far do you think he’d get on his own? Let’s go.”

Maddy smiled at me. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just stay here and stand guard over the place?”

“It’s tempting,” I said, “But I can’t let Cindy down. We need to do everything in our power to salvage her grand opening. Come on.”

We left the pizzeria together, locked up, and then stared up and down the promenade.

I tried to hand Maddy her key back, but she refused. “You keep it. I know it’s more than just a key to you.”

“Just take it, okay?” I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her.

My sister did as I asked and took the key back, albeit reluctantly, and then said, “Thanks.”

I just nodded. As I looked around, I said, “You take one way, and I’ll take the other.”

Maddy glanced up and down the broad expanse, and then said, “That’s fine by me. I’ll head this way, and you go the other.”

“Call if you find him,” I said.

“You do the same.”

I headed in the other direction, and decided that while I was out anyway, I might as well stop in at Paul’s Pastries and see if the owner had seen the wayward chef since he’d stormed out of the bookstore. Paul was a good friend of ours, and besides supplying us with buns for our sandwiches, he also catered to our sweet tooths.

What I didn’t expect was to find Chef Benet himself inside, arguing about beignets, of all things.

“These are dull and lifeless,” Benet snapped as I walked in. He tore one of the donut treats between two hands and looked disgusted by what he saw. “Look at this. They should be light, fluffy, and full of air, not little brick missiles to hurl through windows.”

“If you want to see a brick, I’ll show you one,” Paul said as he started to step out from behind the counter. Paul was an accomplished baker, something he was rightfully proud of and passionate about, and I knew that he’d defend his pastries to any extent he felt necessary.

“Take it easy, guys,” I said as I stepped between them. “It’s okay to have a difference of opinion.”

“Do you actually know this joker, Eleanor?” Paul asked as he stared Benet down.

“Of course she knows me, you fool. Ask anyone. I am Chef Benet, king of the kitchen.”

“What you are is delusional,” Paul said.

I interjected. “He’s doing a signing and a demonstration for Cindy at the Bookmark for her grand opening today,” I said. In a lower voice, I added, “She really needs this, Paul. Can you back down just a little?”

I was counting on my friend’s support of a fellow shop owner on the promenade to trump his indignation.

At least I was hoping it would.

“Just get him out of here,” Paul said in a softer voice as he retreated to the other side of the counter.

Benet must have overheard him, though. He said, “I would be delighted to leave. In fact, it will be the most pleasant part of my experience meeting you as far as I’m concerned.”

Paul grinned wickedly at the man as he said, “Right back at you, chief.”

“It’s Chef,” Benet corrected.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Chef.”

I could see Benet bristle at Paul’s comment, so I decided to get the chef out of there before more than a beignet was destroyed.

Once I got Benet on the sidewalk, I asked, “Do you
have
to alienate everyone you meet?”

I doubted the chef even knew that I was displeased with him, and even if he did, I knew in my heart that he didn’t care. “If that man can’t deal with the truth about his inferior products, he shouldn’t try to push them on unsuspecting customers.”

“I
like
Paul’s confections,” I said, defending my friend.

“Then again, you run a pizza stand,” he said, his feelings about my livelihood coming out strong and clear. “Your opinion hardly matters.”

I felt my blood pressure spiking, but I couldn’t let this pompous blowhard bother me, at least not until after the signing. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you go to the Slice and wait until it’s time for your presentation. No one will bother you there, and you can compose yourself before you’re due to go on.”

“I don’t need to isolate myself for that,” he said. “I am always willing to share my knowledge with those less fortunate. But I’m still not at all certain that I’m even giving my presentation today.”

Where did this guy get such a grand opinion of himself? And then I looked down the promenade toward the bookstore. To my shock and amazement, at a little more than an hour away from his talk, I saw that a line was already forming. As much as I hated to do it, it was time to make a plea to the man’s vanity. “Think of your fans,” I said, trying to stroke this man’s sizable ego a little harder. “They deserve the best you’ve got, don’t you agree?”

Wow, to my surprise, his head actually could get bigger. He waved a hand in the air as he said, “My least effort is more than most people are capable of at full capacity.”

I honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, so I kept quiet, though I continued to herd him back to the Slice.

“Then we don’t want to cause a riot if folks see you walking out on the promenade without a bodyguard,” I said, the sarcasm oozing from my voice.

“You have a point there,” Benet said. “Perhaps I could use a little time for myself before I begin.”

We got to the pizzeria, and the chef stood there waiting for me to open the door for him.

“I’d love to help you out, but you have my key, remember?” I said

“Yes, of course,” he said.

I waited until he had the door unlocked and was stepping inside, but I didn’t go in with him. As a matter of fact, as soon as he locked the place up from the inside, I started toward the bookstore to tell Cindy that I’d found her wayward chef, and that from how it seemed at the moment, her store’s grand opening was back on schedule.

If she wanted to walk down and babysit Benet herself, she was welcome to the job.

As for me, I’d had my fill of the iron-mouthed chef.

Chapter 6

“D
id you find him?” Cindy asked me as I walked into the bookstore. The expression she gave me for just a moment was really strange. For a second, I wasn’t sure if she was hoping that I’d tracked the chef down or wishing that he was gone for good.

“He’s at the Slice even as we speak. That reminds me,” I said as I grabbed my cell phone. “I’ve got to call Maddy and tell her that she can come back.”

“You don’t need to. She’s already here,” Cindy said, pointing to the mystery section, where my sister had her nose in what I saw was the latest brand-new Death on Demand book from Carolyn Hart. I knew that Mrs. Hart was one of her favorites, and every time she published a new book, Maddy was there.

I walked up behind my sister and said, “Okay, there is no way that you knew I found Benet, and yet here you are ahead of me.”

Nothing. No reaction at all from her.

I touched her shoulder lightly. “Maddy, did you hear me?” What?” she asked, looking up from the book and putting her finger on a line to hold her place. At least she was making eye contact now. While I had her attention, I asked, “What happened to you?”

It was clear that my sister barely registered my presence, and I had a feeling that nothing I said could break through Mrs. Hart’s spell. Maddy waved me away as though I were a gnat. “Hey, I tried, but I couldn’t find him, so I came back here to see if he’d turned up on his own,” she said, barely acknowledging my presence. “Why are you here?” She glanced around the room, and then added, “I don’t see Benet around. You should keep looking.” And then she went back to her book, forgetting that I was even in the room, let alone that we’d just been talking.

I knew she wasn’t listening to me. “He was on the cannon, trying to do a jig. The poor man fell off three times before he managed to stay up on it for more than ten seconds.”

“That’s nice,” she said as she continued to read.

“He wants to buy me out and run the pizzeria himself, so we have to be out of the Slice by five.”

“Sure, yes, I get it.” Three seconds later, she nearly dropped the book in her hands. “What did you just say?”

“I was just trying to get your attention,” I said with a smile.

Maddy frowned at me. “That’s not very nice, Eleanor.” She took the book up to Cindy, and I decided to follow her.

“I’d like to buy this, please,” Maddy said.

“We’re not ready for sales yet,” Cindy said, and then turned to her mother. “Mom? Can we go ahead and make a sale?”

Janet, Cindy’s mom, was working on the register with a tech of some sort. “Not yet. We need a few minutes before we’ll be able to do that.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Maddy said, clutching the novel as though it contained the secrets of the universe.

“Probably all week,” I added. “I have a feeling that my sister isn’t leaving this bookstore until she owns that book.”

“It’s not just that. I want the privilege of being the first customer,” Maddy said.

“How sweet of you,” Cindy said.

“We’ve got it,” her mother said as the technician stood. “We’re ready now.”

Maddy smiled, pushed the book across the wooden counter, and said, “I’d like this, please.”

My sister put two twenties down alongside the novel, and as Cindy’s mom made change, she took a single from the register and handed it her daughter.

“What’s this for?”

“This is a big moment in any small business person’s life. It’s the first dollar you earned here,” her mother said. “You should frame it and put it in your office.”

“I just hope this isn’t all I make,” Cindy said, though she pocketed the bill nonetheless.

Her mother smiled softly at her. “You’ll be fine, Cynthia. This town has needed a good bookstore for years. You’re filling a real need around here.”

Cindy just shrugged. “Let’s hope you’re right.” After Maddy got her book, her change, a receipt, and a bag with the Bookmark’s logo on it, she was happy as could be.

“Hey, Sis, don’t forget. We’re here to work, too, remember?”

“Of course I do,” Maddy said. “Let me just tuck this under my jacket and put it somewhere, and I’ll be ready to help.” She did as she promised, and then looked around the store. “Where is Prince Charming, anyway? You did find him, didn’t you?”

“The last time I saw him, he was at the Slice grumbling about the world,” I said. I glanced at my watch and saw that we were fifteen minutes away from the presentation. As I did, Cindy said loudly to the folks there working, “If I could have your attention, please. First, I want to thank you all for your help this past week. I couldn’t have done it without you, so give yourselves a round of applause.”

Everyone did as they were asked, though I thought Maddy’s applause were a little too boisterous. Once everyone settled down, Cindy said, “In one minute, I’m going to let them in. We need to finish putting the chairs out, and get rid of the last box. Thanks again.”

She looked as though she might be starting to cry, and I could sympathize with her. It was an emotional time, and if she couldn’t let a tear out now, her heart would have had to be made of stone.

Cindy walked to the door, opened it, and then said to the crowd gathered outside, “Welcome to the Bookmark. The demonstration with world renowned Chef Benet will begin in ten minutes, so come in, find a seat, and get ready to have some fun.”

A crowd of over three dozen was waiting, three-quarters women and a quarter men. They came in one rush, taking the seats they thought would offer the best view of the chef’s demonstration. Say what you will about the man, but it was clear that he had a legion of his very own fans. Maddy and I stood in back, not to get a particularly good view, but to get as far away from Benet as we could and still be in the building.

To my great surprise, Chief Hurley walked into the bookshop and headed straight to me.

Oh, no. What had I done, or neglected to do, this time?

I decided a preemptive strike might be in order. “Hey, Chief, I didn’t know you were a fan of cooking shows.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re the best thing on television these days,” he said.

“Really? I never would have figured you for a foodie. Why’s that?”

“They put me to sleep every night,” he said with a slight smile.

What an odd thing to say if he truly were a fan. “If you really feel that way, then why are you here?” I asked.

“Truth be told, I’m looking for my son,” he said. As one of my employees, Josh Hurley had been a bone of contention between the two of us ever since he’d come to work for me at the Slice. Kevin had never been particularly happy about it, and when I found myself in trouble time and time again, the chief of police did everything he could to distance his boy from me.

I looked around the room, knowing that I’d seen Josh slip in with the crowd just a few minutes earlier. “He’s over there,” I said as I pointed to him where he was hanging out with Greg and talking to a pretty young woman who was working behind the coffee counter.

“Good,” he said, but before he could join Josh, I touched his sleeve lightly and asked, “You’re not going to embarrass him, are you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Kevin. He’s clearly enjoying talking to that girl. I thought you might want to give him a little space.”

The police chief shook his head. “Eleanor, you don’t need to protect my son from me. I won’t give him a hard time. I just need to ask him something.”

I just shook my head, but it was all I needed.

The chief’s good mood was quickly dissipating. “What is it? If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

“Remember when your dad came to school to give you your lunch money when we were in high school?” Kevin and I had been dating then, and the whole school had spent two weeks waving five dollar bills at him and laughing.

Kevin frowned. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Listen, why don’t you do it for me, then? Ask him if he ever found his car keys. The last time I saw him, he was tearing up the house searching for them.”

“He must have found them, because I saw him driving today,” I said. “When did he lose them?”

“Last night,” the chief said.

“There you go. Case solved.” I looked over and saw that Josh spotted us talking. His face reddened slightly, and he quickly turned away from us. Kevin must have caught it, too.

“When did I become my old man?” he asked wistfully.

“You haven’t, and you won’t,” I said sympathetically. “We both know that you’re nothing like him.”

“Thanks for that,” Kevin said, clearly meaning it. His father hadn’t been the best dad in the world, but he hadn’t been the worst, either. I guess we all see things from our own perspective, and in Kevin’s mind, his dad had not been someone he wanted to emulate. George was still around town, and still giving his son a hard time every time he saw him, despite the fact that Kevin had a serious job with grave responsibilities. I would have loved to have my own father alive. We’d had a bond that had been unbreakable, and I missed him most days, but not as much as I missed Joe, though both men had been cut from the same cloth. While David Quinton wasn’t like either one of them physically, he had shared the two most important traits they’d had, the two that mattered the most to me: they had both possessed truly kind hearts, and they’d both had a funny, if skewed, sense of humor.

Kevin looked around the shop at the crowd of people waiting for the demonstration, and then said, “Cindy’s getting close to an occupancy violation here.”

Leave it to the cop to look for trouble where there wasn’t any. “You’re not going to shut her down, are you?”

“What?” he asked, clearly startled by my question. “No, of course not. I know what this means to her. I’ll say something to her if too many more people try to jam in here, but it’s going to take a whole lot more than this to make me do anything to stand between her and her dream.”

“Thanks,” I said, touching his arm lightly. “It’s nice to know that there’s still a heart beating under that uniform.”

He shook his head a little sadly. “Eleanor, it’s my job to uphold the law, but there’s a difference between arresting an armed robber and breaking up someone’s grand opening party. I’m not a complete ogre, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “Sometimes I forget, though.”

Kevin just shrugged. “It’s a tough job, I’m the first one to admit that. Sometimes I let it get to me, no matter how much I try not to let it.”

Wow, that was the most emotionally revealing thing I’d ever heard Kevin say since he’d told me that he loved me. Of course, that was after I caught him cheating on me, but still. It was nice to know that there was still a part of that boy in this man today. Maddy drifted over to us, and Kevin took the opportunity to leave us, no doubt in search of Cindy to let her know that the crowd was getting a little too large.

“Was it something I said?” Maddy asked with a grin as she watched him retreat into the store.

“No, why do you ask?”

“If it was, I want to remember what it was the next time I need it,” she replied with a grin. “He took off like a shot, didn’t he?”

“It wasn’t you. He had to talk to Cindy.”

Maddy nodded, and then looked around the room. “This is some grand opening party, isn’t it?”

“Cindy could have done a lot worse.” I glanced at my watch, and saw that Benet was now four minutes late. “Where is the chef, anyway?”

“He’s probably waiting to make a grand entrance, no doubt,” Maddy said. “The man is a born diva if ever there was one.”

Cindy came over to us a few seconds later, a worried expression on her face. I had a pretty good idea what that was about.

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to shut you down,” I said, trying to offer her a little comfort. It was hard to imagine how Kevin had couched his warning to her, and clearly it had upset her.

It only served to confuse her, though. “What? Why would he do that? I don’t get it.”

“Neither one of you is making the slightest bit of sense,” Maddy said. She looked at Cindy and asked, “Who exactly are you talking about?”

“Who else? Chef Benet, of course,” Cindy said. “He should have been here by now. Why, what were you talking about, Eleanor?” she asked as she looked at me.

“The police chief was worried about your occupancy rate,” I admitted. “Didn’t he say something to you about that?”

Cindy nodded, still clearly distracted by the chef’s absence. “Yes, and we’re going to open the doors so folks can still hear him from in front of the shop. It’s not going to be a problem, though. There’s not going to be anything to hear unless we get him over here.”

“Send his assistant over to the pizzeria to fetch him,” I said, as I pointed to Oliver, who was in a deep conversation with Jessie Taylor.

“He’s tied up,” Cindy said as she looked toward them.

“Then send his wife,” I said as I looked around for Patrice. “I don’t see her, but she can’t be far off.”

BOOK: Rest in Pizza

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