Death of a Christmas Caterer Read online

  “Okay. Let’s go upstairs to your room and lock the door and we’ll be as quiet as little mice. Although I’m not sure how capable you are of not making noise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you forgetting what happened on top of my office desk last week when you forgot yourself and started moaning and got all of those poor dogs in their cages out back barking like crazy?”

  Aaron was the local veterinarian.

  Hayley had been dating him for months.

  Her kids loved him. In fact, her daughter Gemma worked part-time at his office as a receptionist a few days a week after school to learn the ropes, since she was planning on going to veterinarian school one day.

  But the fact that Gemma and her youngest child, Dustin, were both fans of the handsome vet, with the rock-hard abs, still did not make her anywhere near comfortable hosting him at her house overnight. It certainly was not because she was a prude. Far from it. However, her ex-husband Danny’s accusations that she was guilt-ridden over the divorce might have held a kernel of truth. She didn’t want her kids getting attached to another father figure until she was absolutely sure. Her last relationship, with Lex Bansfield, a caretaker at one of the opulent seaside estates, had dissolved after his boss passed away and he moved out of town to find work. But right around the time she met Aaron, Lex showed up on her doorstep with plans to open his own contracting business in their hometown of Bar Harbor. He had expected just to pick up right where they left off. Hayley had to break the news that she had met someone else. So ever since that tough conversation, the two of them had kept a respectful distance. Mindful of the fact her kids had fallen in love with Lex and were heartbroken when they split up, Hayley wasn’t willing to put them through that again. Not until she was 100 percent certain that Aaron was the one.

  Gemma was already a goner. Working for Aaron had cemented her opinion of him. She adored him. Dustin, though, was a tougher nut to crack. He was never one to be effusive; but after a night on the couch with Aaron, laughing at a Cartoon Network Adult Swim show he shouldn’t have been watching, he shrugged and told his mother, “I guess he’s all right.” Which, when translated from Dustin-speak, meant, “The man is a god!”

  The toilet upstairs flushed and Hayley heard feet padding across the hardwood floor and then a bedroom door closed.

  She waited another few seconds and then patted Aaron’s chest with the palm of her hand. “Okay, the coast is clear. Kiss me.”

  Aaron grinned as he reached for his shirt. “Sorry. You’ve already got me all worked up, and if we keep kissing, then I’m not going to be able to stop myself. I know you’re still not cool with me staying over, so before I drink too much spiked eggnog and can’t drive myself home, I better hit the road.”

  “Aaron, I’m sorry—”

  “No need to apologize. I totally get it. I know you’re just being protective of your kids, and that’s one of the reasons I love you. So until you feel they’re ready for me to stay overnight, we’ll just have to keep driving my doggie patients crazy at my office.”

  Hayley smiled and then leaned in and kissed him.

  He cupped her face with his hands and returned the kiss.

  She sighed.

  God, he is sexy.

  Aaron climbed to his feet and threw on his t-shirt. He draped his plaid shirt over his arm and walked to the front door. Hayley followed him until he stopped and turned around.

  “You never told me what you want for Christmas.”

  “Santa already brought me the only thing on my list.”

  “Now you’re just playing with me,” he said, kissing her one more time before heading out the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Hayley slowly shut the door behind him.

  She wasn’t playing with him. She meant it.

  This guy could be the one.

  If she didn’t screw it up.

  Hayley decided she would finish wrapping the rest of the presents she and Aaron were supposed to be wrapping before they had gotten sidetracked. Then she’d haul them upstairs to the closet where she stored all of the kids’ gifts she had bought.

  She picked up a ribbon and had barely gotten it around the first box when she heard someone rummaging around upstairs.

  It was coming from the closet at the end of the hall adjacent to Gemma’s room, but she knew it wasn’t Gemma.

  It was Dustin.

  Trying to get a sneak peek at his Christmas gifts.

  She had warned both her kids that she had memorized the return policy on all of the gifts she had bought for them in the very likely event that one of them, mostly Dustin, didn’t have the patience to wait until Christmas morning to examine his booty.

  Hayley chucked her shoes and soundlessly ascended the stairs in her stocking feet until she reached the top step and had a clear-eyed view of her son on his hands and knees, foraging through the closet.

  Hayley cleared her throat.

  Dustin yelped and jumped up, knocking over a few boxes stacked in the corner. He whipped his head around to face his mother. “What are you doing up here? Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Dr. Aaron?”

  “He just left.”

  “I thought you two would be so busy sucking face right now that—”

  “I wouldn’t hear you up here breaking my rule of not going into that closet?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. I didn’t see anything. I swear.”

  “That’s not the point. You tried to. I caught you red-handed.”

  “Okay, you can return anything you want. Except the new Batman game. If you were like the best mother in the world and already bought me the new Batman game, please, please, please don’t take it back to the store.”

  “Only if you’re back in your room and in bed in the next twenty seconds.”

  Dustin hurled himself out of the closet, slamming the door behind him, and raced down the hall to his room. He jumped into his bed, wrenched the comforter up over himself, and closed his eyes.

  Hayley couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she went to close his door. But then something dawned on her. “What do you mean ‘sucking face’ with Dr. Aaron?”

  Dustin opened his eyes.

  “Oh, come on, Mom. It’s not like Gemma and I don’t know what goes on between you two after we’ve gone to bed.”

  “What do you think goes on?”

  Dustin puckered his lips and made kissing sounds. “A little of this. A little of that.”

  “Okay, maybe some of that, but nothing else. Do you hear me?”

  “Are you serious? That’s all you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seriously? Come on, Mom, you’ve been dating for months.”

  “I mean here. In this house. That’s all we do.”

  “So you do the rest somewhere else?”

  “I really don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you started it.”

  He was right.

  Why on earth did she call him on the kissing comment?

  “The dude is a good guy. Gemma and I have no problem with him staying over, if you want him to.”

  “You two have discussed this?”

  “Yeah. Duh. We’re totally cool with it. And you better do it soon, or otherwise he may think you’re not serious and move on. Let’s face it, Mom, there are a lot of younger, prettier women in town just waiting for the two of you to break up so they can pounce on him.”

  Hayley glared at her son, who quickly caught on to his faux pas.

  “The ‘younger, prettier’ part didn’t come out right. Please don’t take it out on me Christmas morning.”

  I’m taking relationship advice from my teenage son? How awkward is that!

  However, Dustin was a smart kid, and maybe he did have a point.

  Definitely not about the younger and prettier women in town, though. No, the part about letting Aaron know I’m serious about him.

  After all, Aaron had been so patient with her. So lovi
ng.

  Maybe the nine months of keeping it casual was enough.

  She had just gotten the green light from her kids.

  Perhaps it was finally time to take it to the next level.

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Lord, where does the time go? It seems like just yesterday when I took down our Christmas tree. I blinked and now Christmas is looming right around the corner again. Every year after the holidays I swear to myself that I am going to be more organized when Christmas comes around again. But here it is December already and I am totally unprepared.

  I was finishing up a little late-night present wrapping the other evening and I thought back to a Christmas Eve many years ago. The kids were very small and just beginning to understand that Santa Claus, a fat man in a red suit, with a white beard, would be swinging by the house in a red sleigh with a team of reindeer to bring them a present or two if they behaved well and went to bed before Mommy’s prime-time TV shows came on. Okay, I may have made that part up. But you get the idea. Once the kids were sound asleep, my husband at that time and I were able to relax and enjoy his mother’s famous Christmas Eve eggnog cocktails!

  We must have made a few strong batches that night because I remember my ex being very sweet and charming. I was actually enjoying his company. That is, until the moment he jumped up and announced that he was going to dig out his old Santa Claus costume that he bought for our first Christmas together and dress up and surprise the kids. You’re probably asking yourself, Why did he buy a Santa outfit before you had kids? Let’s just say that’s a whole other story! And no, I don’t have a “thing” for older men with white beards! (But I do get a thrill whenever I see a man in uniform, even a Santa suit!)

  My gut told me to stop the madness. The kids were already asleep. It was late. But Danny was so excited about his brainstorm. Unfortunately, he never had the best judgment, especially after a few rum-spiked mugs of eggnog. There was no stopping him as he raced out of the room. I just sat in my favorite recliner, turned up the Christmas music, and poured myself another eggnog.

  I must have nodded off. The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by loud sirens and someone shouting my name and banging on the front door. Disoriented, I wandered to the door and threw it open. I found myself staring into the concerned face of the Bar Harbor fire chief as he was shouting about how some “dumb-ass” was climbing up on my roof!

  At first, I just stared at him, not comprehending anything, but then I stepped outside and spotted the ladder leaning against the side of the house. Hearing “dumb-ass” should have been my first clue. It was Danny. The fire chief grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the driveway in the freezing night air as the two parked fire engines continued blaring their sirens and flashing their lights. This, of course, led to half the town showing up in their pajamas to get a front-row seat for the drama. Everyone was staring up at the roof. I hated to look, but didn’t have much of a choice. There was Danny in his Santa suit hanging onto the chimney for dear life and crying like a baby while a fire truck ladder was being raised to reach him. Note to self: Next year, don’t put so much rum in Danny’s eggnog.

  I just wanted the frozen snowy ground to open up and swallow me whole as a brave fireman climbed the ladder and wrapped a rope around Danny’s waist so he wouldn’t slip. Then the fireman led him safely to the ladder and down to the ground, which Danny promptly kissed while saying a silent prayer.

  Seriously, the idea of Danny Powell praying? The man hadn’t stepped foot inside a church as far back as I could remember, not even on our wedding day, since he insisted we should be married by a justice of the peace. Then, to make matters even more humiliating, the gathered townspeople began clapping and cheering for our brave firefighters. A photographer from our local newspaper at the time snapped pictures and Danny smiled and waved like a fool, bowing so low his fake beard fell off.

  I slipped back inside my house as fast as I could, hoping no one would notice me. I ran upstairs to check on the children, who were shockingly still sound asleep, having completely missed the circus outside caused by their father.

  Danny swaggered through the front door like he was a rock star, looking back, loudly thanking everyone, and wishing them all “Merry Christmas.”

  Sure enough, Danny’s Christmas Eve rescue picture was front-page news the following week. The kids were thrilled their father was so famous and he regaled them with the tale of his Christmas Eve rooftop adventure. I was furious he had embarrassed me in front of the whole town, but he made it up to me. He put on the Santa suit once more and we re-created that first Christmas together as newlyweds. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

  This week I’m sharing my ex-mother-in-law’s Christmas Eve Eggnog Cocktail recipe. Now remember, the amount of rum you use is entirely up to you. However, if you have a husband who might like his eggnog a little too much and comes up with a few crazy ideas, feel free to pull back on the rum or leave it out altogether!

  Christmas Eve Eggnog Cocktail

  Ingredients

  4 cups milk

  5 whole cloves

  ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  12 egg yolks

  1½ cups sugar

  2½ cups light rum

  4 cups light cream

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

  Combine your milk, cloves, ½ teaspoon vanilla, and cinnamon in a saucepan, and heat over low for 5 minutes. Slowly bring the milk mixture to a boil. In a large bowl combine your egg yolks and sugar. Whisk until fluffy. Whisk the hot milk slowly into the egg mixture, then pour back into the saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly for 3 minutes or until thick. Do not allow to boil. Strain and remove the cloves, and let cool for about an hour. Stir in the rum, 2 teaspoons vanilla extract, and refrigerate overnight before serving. When ready, grab some mugs and throw on some Christmas carols and let the holidays begin!

  I remember that Christmas money was especially tight that year, but as luck would have it, the grocery store had a sale on Turkey drumsticks! You can be sure this particular recipe will satisfy the turkey lover in your household!

  Roasted Turkey Drumsticks

  Ingredients

  4 turkey legs

  ¼ cup margarine or butter, softened

  1 teaspoon salt

  ¼ teaspoon pepper

  1 teaspoon poultry seasoning

  1 teaspoon dried thyme

  ½ cup turkey or chicken broth

  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Rinse and pat dry your turkey legs and place in a roasting pan. In a bowl combine all of the ingredients, except the turkey/chicken broth, and rub all over the legs, coating nicely. Pour the broth in the roasting pan and cook in the preheated oven for 1 hour 30 minutes to 1 hour 45 minutes, or when a meat thermometer reaches 175 degrees. Remove from oven, cover, and let rest for 10 minutes. Then let the feasting begin!

  Chapter 3

  Sal charged out of the back bull pen at the Island Times newspaper into the front office, where Hayley was at her desk and on the phone with an advertiser.

  “Hayley, what day is this?”

  “Monday, Sal,” Hayley said before returning to her call. “So you’d like to buy a full half-page in ad space?”

  “When’s the office Christmas party?”

  “Hold on just one moment, please,” Hayley said, cupping the phone receiver with her hand. “Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday, as in next week?”

  “No, Tuesday as in tomorrow night.”

  “Damn!”

  “Sal, please! I’m on with the Congregational Church. They want to buy an ad for their upcoming Nativity pageant.”

  “Sorry for my language, Reverend Staples!” Sal bellowed into the phone.

  “It’s not Reverend Staples. It’s his secretary.”

  “Oh, well, then who the hell cares? It’s not like she has the authority to get me in trouble with God.”
<
br />   “Can I call you back in about five minutes, Denise?” Hayley asked. “Thanks.”

  Sal waited for her to hang up the phone before he offered Hayley his biggest, widest smile. “I’ve got some good news for you, Hayley.”

  Hayley looked at him skeptically. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m giving you a promotion.”

  Hayley could hardly believe her ears. “A promotion? Really?”

  “That’s right,” Sal said, crossing to the coffeepot and pouring himself a cup. “I am making you senior office manager.”

  “Senior office manager? But, Sal, I’m the only office manager. Wait. Does this mean you’re going to hire someone to help me? Like a junior office manager? Oh, Sal, that would be fantastic!”

  “No, there’s a hiring freeze. There’s no junior anything. I just want to recognize the bang-up job you’ve done around here and give you a fancier title and some more responsibilities.”

  “And more money,” Hayley added emphatically.

  “Yeah, we can talk about all of that after New Year’s. But in the meantime, I just want to bring you up to speed on the senior office manager’s duties. Answering phones, handling the classified ads, press releases, obituaries, stuff like that.”

  “I already do all of that, Sal.”

  “Oh, and, of course, the senior office manager is in charge of the annual Christmas party.”

  “Hold on, Sal—”

  “Congratulations, Hayley!”

  “Now, wait just a minute—”

  “I don’t expect anything too elaborate, given the fact the party’s tomorrow night.”

  “Your wife always plans the Christmas party. What’s changed?”

  “Nothing. I just feel that it should be up to you as senior office manager to decide what we do for the party. I’m giving you free rein. Anything you want to do.”

  “Sal . . .”

  “Okay, we’ve been fighting a lot lately. She let her lazy college dropout nephew move in with us for a few days to, in his words, ‘get his head together. ’ Well, that was six weeks ago and it’s put a real strain on our marriage. We’ve barely been speaking to each other. Last week, when I asked her how the party preparations were going, she told me to go straight to hell. So I figured I would handle it, because—let’s face it—how hard can it be? But then it just kind of slipped my mind and I was just checking my calendar and realized—”