Steamed to Death (3 page)

“We’ve planned a complete makeover,” Sienna confided, “new hairdo, new wardrobe, the works. Then we’re going to unveil the new Felicity Davenport at the Crystal Awards in Las Vegas. I’m confident that she’s going to make a smashing comeback.”

“I’ve got complete faith in you,” Gigi said.

A furrow creased Sienna’s brow.

“Don’t worry,” Gigi interjected. “I’ll be sure to keep her on track as far as her diet’s concerned.”

Sienna’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Thanks. That’s been a huge worry, but if anyone can do it, you can.”

Sienna disappeared around the corner to begin the long climb to the third floor.

Gigi scraped the bits and pieces of radish carvings into the sink and turned on the disposal. Her thoughts turned somber. She’d hoped that she and Ted would have been in the same position as Sienna and Oliver by now. But Ted had left her for another woman—an older woman; Gigi cringed every time she thought of it. Right now the only child in her future was Sienna’s baby, for whom she was going to be the godmother.

She caught sight of Reg under the table, his bright pink tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. She smiled. Right now, Reg was her baby, and she was more than happy to have him.

Gigi dumped a bunch of veggies from her bag into a colander and ran cold water over them. She realized, as she ran her fingers through the icy stream, that she’d spent her life taking water for granted. She gave the strainer a vigorous shake and set it on the counter. She was reaching for some paper towels when she heard a noise that sent her swiveling toward the door.

Raised voices echoed from one of the rooms overhead. Gigi paused momentarily trying to identify the two feminine voices. She was shocked when she realized that one of them sounded like it belonged to Sienna. And the other? She cocked her head to one side, straining as hard as possible to hear. She realized, with a start, that the other voice belonged to Felicity.

Gigi couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but anger clearly crackled from Sienna’s tone. Felicity? She sounded more amused.

Finally, silence descended, and Gigi breathed a sigh of relief. She put the freshly washed vegetables in a ziplock bag and tucked them into the produce drawer in the refrigerator. They were ready for the crudités platter she would put together tomorrow right before the party.

The silence was suddenly broken by a sound that Gigi identified as that of someone stamping their foot. That was followed by an outburst that clearly came from Sienna.

“I swear, someday I’m going to kill that woman!”

Chapter 2

Gigi had her hands full prepping for the upcoming party as well as preparing a light dinner for the guests already assembled at Felicity’s house. By the time she got upstairs to check on Sienna, her office was dark and empty.

The guest room Felicity had prepared for Gigi was on the third floor, down the hall from the room she’d turned into a working space for Sienna. Twin four-poster beds covered in fluffy comforters were nestled beneath two dormer windows, and there was a small bathroom en suite. While Gigi hated to be away from her own tidy little cottage, the room was certainly charming.

“Which bed do you want?” she asked Reggie as she hauled her suitcase onto the luggage rack and flung it open. Felicity had insisted Gigi join them for dinner, and she desperately needed to change from her flour-dusted jeans and T-shirt.

Reggie cocked his head and gave her a curious expression.

“I know, boy.” She bent down and scratched behind his ear. “We always share a bed, don’t we?” Gigi often awoke during the night to find herself curled into a tight ball while Reggie sprawled on his back, limbs spread wide.

Gigi scrounged through her suitcase, although she already knew exactly what was in it. She settled on a pair of black trousers and an emerald green silk blouse that set off the color of her auburn hair.

She gave her face a quick splash and scooted, with Reggie close on her heels, back down the stairs to the kitchen. Lights were on in the paneled library, and as Gigi got closer, she could hear the rise and fall of voices and the clink of ice against glasses. She glanced into the room as she passed and noticed the golden, whose name she’d been told was Tabitha, stretched out in the center of the Oriental carpet, surrounded by a small group of people.

Gigi didn’t linger but scurried into the kitchen, wrapped a clean chef’s apron around her waist and grabbed a silver tray from the cupboard. She’d created some light appetizers for Felicity and her dinner guests—stalks of endive tipped with a scant spoonful of goat cheese and bejeweled with several grains of caviar, a yogurt-based dip for ice cold crudités and shrimp salad on cucumber slices. She arranged everything on the tray, garnished it with a few of the radish flowers and headed toward the library.

Felicity met her at the door with outstretched arms. “Do put the tray down, dear Gigi, and join us.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the room.

Gigi felt herself shrinking inside. She wasn’t particularly shy, but she liked keeping a barrier between herself and her clients. Especially when her client was someone as famous as Felicity Davenport.

But Felicity insisted. Gigi perched on the edge of a leather-covered club chair and quickly untied her apron. She balled it up and stuffed it behind her.

“Name your poison.” Alex swept a hand over a drinks tray laden with top-shelf liquors and cut crystal decanters.

Gigi spied an open bottle of Merlot. “A glass of red wine, please.”

“Red wine it shall be.”

While Alex poured the ruby red liquid into a delicate stemmed wineglass, Gigi looked around the room.

Felicity must have noticed her glance. “So sorry. You don’t exactly know everyone, do you?” She smiled apologetically. “You’ve met Alex, of course. And Derek.” She scowled at the young man in jeans and a stretched-out sweater who was lounging in a velvet-covered wing chair with his legs slung over the arm. “Derek, please do not sit like that.”

Derek glanced toward a tall man with a head of thick gray hair who was nursing a cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid. He shrugged, and Derek reluctantly swung his legs off the chair’s arm and stuck them straight out, sliding down to sit on his tailbone.

“My husband, Jack Winchel.” Felicity blew a kiss toward the gray-haired man.

“My manager, Don Bartholomew.” She indicated a slightly plump, dark-haired man who was chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. He nodded briefly at Gigi.

“I’m Vanessa Huff.” A tall, curvy blonde leaned toward Gigi and tapped her on the knee. She had the face of an angel with large blue eyes and long, dark lashes, but Gigi suspected she was anything but.

Gigi took a few polite sips of her wine and glanced at her watch. According to Felicity, her Finnish housekeeper, Anja, would be back from her day off in time to serve the dinner, but Gigi wanted to be there to supervise. Besides, she still had to grill the salmon with teriyaki glaze that was the centerpiece of the main course.

When Felicity and Don became engaged in a heated argument over Felicity’s newest contract renewal with the television network, the others looked on with bored expressions.

Gigi sat quietly as the conversation flowed around her. Everyone seemed to have forgotten her, but she didn’t mind. It felt good to be off her feet. She sipped her wine and relaxed, leaning back with her head against the chair. A quick glance at her watch, however, told her that it was now time to return to the kitchen.

Gigi excused herself and hurried down the hall. A woman with white blond hair was in the kitchen putting dishes into the warming oven. Gigi supposed this was the housekeeper Felicity had mentioned. She was wearing black pants and a white shirt and had a clean apron wrapped around her waist.

She turned when she heard Gigi’s footsteps.

She was apple-cheeked with deep blue eyes. She smiled shyly at Gigi.

“Hi,” Gigi said, putting out a hand. “I’m Gigi.”

“Anja,” the woman replied, ducking her head. “I am sorry. My English is sometimes not so good. I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course.” Gigi smiled reassuringly.

“I will be serving the dinner so you can go sit if you would like.”

“I still need to cook the salmon,” Gigi said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the beautiful piece of coho salmon she’d scored at the fishmonger’s. Gigi always had a basic menu plan in mind when she went shopping, but she was flexible and willing to change it according to what was best and freshest in the market. When she saw the salmon, she knew it would be perfect for Felicity and her guests.

Anja pointed at the salmon. “Lovely. In my country we prepare it with fresh dill and a little cream.”

“I’ll have to try that someday,” Gigi said, and Anja looked pleased.

Gigi got to work spreading teriyaki glaze on the fish. She reheated the vegetables she’d prepared previously and arranged them in serving dishes. The timer on the oven pinged, and she removed the fish, placing it on a long, white platter with scalloped edges.

There wasn’t any more to be done at the moment. With a sense of relief she untied her apron, threw it across a chair and retreated to the dining room. There was an empty seat next to Alex, and Gigi slid into it. Vanessa and Don were across the table from her. Their chairs were pulled closer together than any of the others.

Anja placed the vegetable serving dishes on the table and went around to each guest with the platter of salmon. Gigi helped herself to a small piece, pleased to note that it was cooked to perfection. She glanced around the table and was relieved to see that everyone seemed to be enjoying their food.

The dozen white votives scattered around the dining table and on the sideboard flickered softly, sending shadows dancing on the walls. A low buzz of conversation floated about the room, punctuated by the gentle clink of silverware against china as the guests savored their meal.

Anja was serving the apple galette Gigi had prepared for dessert when Alex leaned toward her. “I noticed you glancing at our fellow guests earlier.” He nodded his head toward Vanessa and Don.

Gigi felt her face flame. Had it been that obvious?

“I’m sure you’re wondering, like the rest of us, what gives.” Alex stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee cup.

Gigi opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not one for gossip, but I think the beautiful Vanessa is trying to get a leg up, so to speak, in the television business. I think she’s tired of playing second fiddle to Felicity and wants to advance her career.” The way he said it put quote marks around the word
advance
.

Gigi still didn’t know what to say. Especially since she’d been thinking the exact same thing herself.

“And, although Vanessa has been staying at one end of the second-floor hallway, and Don the other, I’ve heard plenty of scurrying at night, and it’s not mice afoot.” Alex played with his teaspoon, turning it over and over. “It’s worse than one of those English drawing room comedies.” He scrunched the last bite of his galette between the tines of his fork and licked it off. “Don has been Felicity’s agent for years, and she wasn’t at all pleased when he signed Vanessa
and
got her a part on
For Better or For Worse
.”

Gigi made a vow to tune into the soap the next opportunity she got. She’d watched it once or twice when she was sick in bed, but she certainly hadn’t seen it since Vanessa joined the cast.

“And,” Alex said breathlessly, his eyes open wide, his gaze pinning Gigi’s, “Don used to be Felicity’s exclusive property,
if you know what I mean
. And you don’t take from Felicity what is Felicity’s. At least not without suffering the consequences.”

Gigi couldn’t help it. Her head swiveled toward Felicity’s husband, who was at the head of the table, his plate pushed to one side and his cell phone pressed to his ear.

Alex waved a hand. “Jack and Felicity have what could be called an
open
relationship. She doesn’t question him, and, in turn, he lets her go her own way.”

It was all too much for Gigi. She excused herself quickly and beat a retreat to the kitchen to help Anja with the dishes.

• • •

The next day, Gigi was already showered, dressed and up to her elbows in flour when Alice Slocum arrived to help. Alice worked part-time at the police station and was one of Gigi’s most successful clients. She’d started Gigi’s meal plan several months before the wedding of her daughter, Stacy, and by the time the big day rolled around, was fitting into a very nice size ten.

“It’s going to rain,” Alice said ominously as she shed her knitted jacket and ran a hand through her silver curls, removing a dried red leaf that had blown into her hair. “How is it going?”

Gigi looked up from the pastry crust she was rolling out. “So far, I’m on schedule.” She brushed at the flour that clung to her forearms.

“How is Woodstone’s very own diva?” Alice picked up the apron Gigi had set out for her and tied it around her now slim waist.

“Felicity? About what you’d expect. Half-nervous, half-excited. Fortunately she’s been staying out of the kitchen.” Gigi picked up her rolling pin and dusted off the excess flour. She glanced at Alice out of the corner of her eye and noticed that Alice’s normally cheerful face was anything but. Was something wrong?

“Okay, boss, what do you want me to do first?” Alice smiled, but Gigi noticed the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m going to need at least two cups of chopped onions, so maybe you can start on those.”

“Right-o.” Alice tore open the netted bag of yellow onions, took a handful to the sink and began peeling them. She flushed the peels down the disposal and began cutting the onions into quarters.

Gigi noticed her dash a hand across her eyes.

“They say if you run some cold water, it will keep your eyes from tearing.”

“Thanks.”

Alice’s voice sounded funny. As if she really
was
crying. Gigi turned around.

“Hey, what gives? I don’t think it’s that onion making you cry.”

Alice shook her head.