Stake & Eggs (18 page)

Suzanne tapped her toe.

“Like I already said,” said Petra, “he was hungry!”

“Starving,” said Colby, through a mouthful of food.

“Kid,” said Suzanne, focusing her energy back on Colby and realizing she was much
more relieved than she was letting on, “you not only owe me an explanation, you owe
me an apology.”

“Suzanne,” said Petra, ever the champion of stray dogs, homeless army veterans, and
even turtles that had wandered away from their ponds, “we
have
to help him out.”

“Oh really,” said Suzanne. “From the way he’s chowing down, it’s a good thing he hasn’t
eaten us out of house and home.”

“Hey,” said Colby, swallowing hard, “I’ll pay you back. I mean it, I really will.”

Now Suzanne was amused. “Sure you will. Even though you’re homeless and—I’m taking
a wild guess here—unemployed.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Colby. “I’ll
sing
for my supper.”

“What are you talking about?” said Suzanne. She gazed at Toni, who was still watching
the whole exchange with mostly stunned silence. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Toni shook her head. “Nope. But it’s interesting to say the least.”

Colby stood up, as if to add emphasis to his words. “I mean I’ll help out around here.”
He swept his arms wide. “You got stuff that needs doing, right? So, slap an apron
on me and put me to work. I’ll sweep floors, take out the trash, do whatever you guys
need.”

Suzanne considered this with some amazement. Was this really the same kid who’d slipped
out of Doogie’s grasp last night? That kid was surly and combative, while this kid
was offering to help. And actually seemed sincere. She was comfortable enough now
to let her guard down a bit.

“We
could
use some help with the tea this afternoon,” said Petra, in a hopeful, slightly wheedling
tone.

“There you go,” said Colby, sensing an in. “You’re having a fancy tea party. Which
means you’re probably gonna need a busboy or maybe even a waiter.”

“We do need help,” put in Toni.

Suzanne considered Colby’s offer. Should she risk it, or would he duck out again?
That remained to be seen. “Okay,” she said, finally. “But only because we’re going
to be ferociously busy this afternoon.”

“I’ll work my fingers to the bone,” Colby promised. “Believe me, you won’t regret
it.”

Suzanne held up a finger. “I better
not
regret it. And, kid…”

Three pairs of eyes stared at her.

“I still have a few questions that need answering,” said Suzanne. And to herself she
thought,
I really do have to call Doogie.

W
HILE
Petra worked in the kitchen, Suzanne, Toni, and Colby got to work on the decor. And
in a few minutes’ time instantly upgraded the casual café with winter white linen
tablecloths, sparkling crystal stemware, pink-and-cream-colored Spode plates, cups,
and saucers, and tea light candles in glass candleholders shaped like snowflakes.

“You want slipcovers on the backs of these chairs?” Toni asked.

“Absolutely,” said Suzanne. “The white ones, the ones we use for bridal showers.”

While Toni and Colby tied slipcovers over the wooden chairs, transforming them into
elegant seating, Suzanne frosted the windows with snow spray, adding yet another touch
of crystal-perfect winter wonderland.

“I love that stuff,” said Toni. “Except once I sprayed it in my hair, for a kind of
snow-maiden effect?” She wrinkled her nose. “Stuff wouldn’t come out for weeks!”

“What else?” asked Suzanne, gazing at the tables. They were almost perfect, except
for…“Ah, the flowers!”

“I’ll get ’em,” offered Colby.

“In the cooler,” said Suzanne. Buds & Blooms had delivered the flowers just this morning.
And stashing them in the walk-in cooler on top of the butter and cheese had seemed,
to Suzanne, the smart thing to do. She just hoped they hadn’t gotten smooshed.

Colby was back a few minutes later. “These are great!”
he exclaimed, hauling two heavy green plastic pots stuffed full of blooms. “What are
they exactly?”

Suzanne touched a hand to the white blooms. “Roses and lilies,” she told him. She
glanced over to where Toni was down on her hands and knees pulling a half dozen crystal
vases from a small wooden cupboard.

Which was when the door flew open and Carmen Copeland strolled in.

“Well, isn’t this a sight to behold?” she snickered.

Embarrassed, Toni whirled around. “Huh?”

Looking as exotic as ever with her long, dark hair swept off her neck in an artful
updo, Carmen had her fur coat thrown casually over the shoulders of her bright red
silk dress. A black handbag dangled from her slim wrist, her feet and legs were sheathed
in black patent-leather high-heeled boots. Carmen gazed about the newly decorated
café with an imperious air, not saying anything terrible, but not saying anything
particularly nice, either.

Finally, she announced to no one in particular, “We’re here to set up. I assume we
may commandeer your crafting room?” This time she deigned to direct her glance at
Suzanne.

“The Knitting Nest, yes,” said Suzanne, vowing to remain calm. “Let’s get you and
your models settled in and comfortable. We’ve been looking forward to your fashion
show for weeks! We’re sold out, you know.”

“I would expect nothing less,” said Carmen, spinning on her heels. Behind Carmen strolled
a gaggle of tall, leggy, and impossibly smooth-faced models, six in all. They clustered
after her, like chicks around a mother hen, wardrobe bags slung over their shoulders
and duffel bags filled with makeup, high heels, undies, and clip-on wiglets. Bringing
up the rear was the blond and blue-eyed Missy Langston, manager of Carmen’s Alchemy
Boutique. In her early thirties and, Suzanne thought, easily one of the sweetest people
in Kindred, Missy was struggling under another half dozen wardrobe bags, all crammed
to the point of bursting.

“Let me help you with those,” Suzanne offered quickly.

Missy willingly surrendered three bags from her narrow shoulders. “Thank you,” she
breathed. “I feel like a pack animal.”

Suzanne knew that Carmen treated Missy exactly like that, but she held her tongue.
This wasn’t the right time to give her a pep talk about finding a new job. Instead,
she steered the group to the Knitting Nest and helped them stow their things. Just
as she was offering water, tea, and whatever else they needed, Gregg from Root 66
rolled in to do hair and makeup. He was tall, blond, and ethereal, one of two gay
fellows who owned Kindred’s premier hair salon. Gregg had signed on a month ago to
help out as stylist.

“Suzanne, sweetie,” said Gregg, hugging her and administering elaborate air kisses.
“Don’t you think it’s high time we did something about those roots?” His gaze had
focused on her hair.

“You don’t like my two-tone look?” Suzanne asked. Really, were her roots
that
bad?

“Mmm,” said Gregg, “just a bit skunky for my taste. But who am I to judge? Only your
hairdresser, stylist, and all-around confidante!”

“You guys need any help?” asked Toni, pushing her way into the increasingly crowded
Knitting Nest. Then she looked around, noticed the elegant clothing and gorgeous models,
and said, “Wow.” In her Western shirt and jeans, she was a stark contrast to the sophisticated
clothing from Miu Miu, James Perse, and Stella McCartney.

“Fun, no?” said Gregg.

“Fun, yes,” said Toni. She reached tentative fingers out to touch a midnight blue
mohair jacket that looked as light and delicious as spun sugar.

“Please don’t touch the merchandise,” Carmen snapped.

Toni pulled her hand back. “Sorry.” She backed up, a little nervous now, and turned
to Gregg. “Could you,
would
you, take a look at my eyebrows? I’ve got these two squiggly little caterpillars,
and I really need an expert’s advice.”

“Let me take a look,” said Gregg, sweeping her bangs out of the way.

“I don’t know whether to fluff, buff, or pluck,” said Toni.

“Excuse
me,” said Carmen with attitude. “This really isn’t the time to start freeloading.”

All the models’ heads swiveled in Toni’s direction, their red, pouty-perfect lips
open a little at the sudden tension in the room.

“Take a chill pill,” said Toni. “I’m just asking for a quickie opinion, not a complete
spa day.”

“That’s right,” said Suzanne, jumping in to defend Toni. “She’s allowed. We’re all
friends here, right?”

“Please,” said Carmen, her voice coming out in a hiss. “Today is
not
the day.”

That did it for Toni. She threw up her hands and murmured to Gregg, “Never mind.”
But as Toni stomped out of the Knitting Nest, her back to everyone but Suzanne, she
rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

Suzanne had to work hard to stifle her laughter.

P
ETRA
’
S
elegant four-layer cake sat on the marble counter in the café. Like an artist putting
finishing touches on a canvas, Petra applied decorative swirls of white icing to the
top and sides of the cake. Then, using hot strands of glossy white sugar, Petra fashioned
three spectacular snowflakes for toppers.

“How do you like my winter whiteout?” she said proudly. “All made of sugar.”

“Sweet,” said Suzanne.

Colby clumped over to them. “Is this okay, ma’am?” He held up a crystal vase filled
with flowers for Suzanne to see. “If it is, I’ll do the rest just like it.”

“It’s perfect,” said Suzanne. She was impressed at how well Colby was doing. Joey
Ewald, their regular busboy, required constant prodding and positive reinforcement—kind
of like training a new puppy—but Colby seemed to be
able to take charge on his own. “When you’re finished with the centerpieces, let’s
put an apron on you and you can help serve.”

“You trust me that much?” asked Colby, his eyebrows raised.

“You’ve done very well so far,” said Suzanne. Then she lowered her voice and touched
his arm. “Colby, I need to ask you something.” She paused. There was no way to soft-pedal
this. “I heard a rumor that you might be dealing drugs on the side. Is that true?”

“No way!” blurted Colby. Then: “Who’d you hear that from?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Suzanne.

Colby’s dark eyes flashed. “It does to me.”

“Really,” said Suzanne. “If I hurt your feelings, I apologize.”

The boy stared at her. “Well, I guess,” he finally grunted.

SUZANNE
had just lit the white candles and stepped back to admire their handiwork when the
slam of a car door sounded outside. Then, like a friendly, happy tide, friends and
neighbors came spilling in from the cold. And within moments, the Cackleberry Club
was jammed with tea party guests alive with conversation, laughter, and excitement.
Coats were hung on a borrowed coatrack, women circled the tables excitedly looking
for place cards with their names on them, and everyone
ooh
ed and
aah
ed over the gorgeous transformation of the Cackleberry Club.

“It looks like a proper British tea shop in the Cotswolds!” exclaimed Lolly Herron,
one of their tea regulars. She was a fan of old BBC movies and always dressed in classic
Miss Marple style. That meant tweed skirt, sensible shoes, and small brooch pinned
at the neck of her ruffled blouse.

“Doesn’t it?” said Mrs. Minerva Bishop. She was an old dear who loved taking tea.
“And they’re even serving four courses today.”

“That’s right,” said Suzanne, stepping in. “Lemon scones, cheddar ricotta quiche,
an assortment of tea sandwiches, and Petra’s almond cake for dessert.”

“Sweets and savories,” said Lolly with delight. “Just like you read about in those
fancy tea magazines.”

Within minutes, everyone took their seats, and Suzanne and Toni were moving about
the tea room pouring cups of Darjeeling and Lapsang souchong tea.

“All but one chair filled,” whispered Toni. “We’re a hit!”

But Toni had spoken too soon. Suddenly, Carmen rushed out from the Knitting Nest and
wrested open the front door. “Claudia!” she exclaimed. “You came!”

Claudia Busacker, wrapped in her black mink coat, stepped shyly across the threshold.
Her blond hair was smoothed back, and she wore fresh lipstick, but the worry lines
etched in her forehead and the purple smudges under her eyes didn’t escape Suzanne’s
notice.

She probably just came from her husband’s gravesite
, Suzanne told herself,
which has to be really tough.
And no matter what lush fur Claudia has draped over her shoulders, she still looks
like she’s carrying the weight of the world.

Every woman in the place paused to stare at Claudia, some even stopped in midsip.
But as Carmen and Claudia clutched each other’s bejeweled hands in friendship, the
women began to smile. And conversation started up again on a very positive note.

“How brave,” said one woman.

“I’m so glad she came today,” murmured another.

As Carmen escorted Claudia to the one empty seat, everyone around them nodded and
smiled. Where many of the women in the room had once given Claudia the cold shoulder
around town, today they were warm and welcoming. They obviously felt badly that she’d
lost her husband, and they quickly moved their bags and wraps aside to make a special
place for Claudia in their little group.

Seeing their kindness warmed Suzanne’s heart. Of
course they’d be cordial and inclusive to Claudia. She was a wounded bird who desperately
needed help. And the women of Kindred always rallied, always set aside their petty
differences and closed ranks when they saw a need. When Walter had died, Suzanne had
been showered with loaves of banana bread, gallons of soup, jars of homemade jam,
and plates of home-cooked food. One woman had even left an enormous basket of chocolate-chip
cookies on her doorstep. Their tenderheartedness had been the only good thing in her
life for many days, Suzanne reflected. Just thinking about it still brought tears
to her eyes.