Death of a Blueberry Tart Page 4

  Sheila glared at her.

  “Sorry, Mom, that just came out,” Hayley said sheepishly.

  Hayley touched her mother’s arm to show her that she was indeed sorry. No more sarcastic comments. The fact was, she had her fingers crossed, hoping that perhaps her mother would quickly find herself a new beau after being dumped by Lenny in Florida. Carl had always seemed to her to be a kind, thoughtful man. He had his own business, and the fact that he had bothered to dress up for this occasion spoke volumes. And she had always heard Carl was a loyal, loving husband to his wife, Bev, when she was alive. Bev had not been gone for very long, so Carl might need more time before opening himself up to find someone else, but perhaps that someone else eventually could be . . .

  “Caskie!”

  Hayley snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Sheila.

  “Caskie? What about her?” Hayley asked.

  “She’s doing it again!” Sheila cried.

  “Doing what?”

  “Look over there!”

  Hayley turned to see Caskie, who had just arrived in a colorful floral lace fit-and-flare dress, standing at the other end of the bar, her hand clutching Carl Flippen’s thick bicep, laughing uproariously over something charming he had just said.

  Liddy joined Hayley and her mother. “What’s going on?”

  Hayley glanced over at her distraught mother, whose eyes were glued to the opportunistic Caskie flirting shamelessly with the hapless Carl, who was fast succumbing to her bewitchery, then turned to Liddy. “I’m afraid history might be repeating itself.”

  Chapter 7

  At the sight of their dear friend Sheila in obvious distress, Celeste and Jane swooped in for support, buzzing around her like a pair of hummingbirds around a Brazilian verbena.

  “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?” Celeste asked, her face full of concern as she patted Sheila gently on the back.

  Sheila finally took a deep breath and exhaled and then shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m just being overly sensitive.”

  “About what?” Celeste demanded to know.

  “I was just having a conversation with Carl Flippen, I mean we haven’t seen each other in years, and there was a nice connection between us. But when he went to get us another drink at the bar . . .”

  Celeste and Jane whipped around to see Carl still chatting with Caskie.

  “That hussy decided she wanted him all for herself and is now trying to get her claws into him,” Jane grumbled. “I’ve had it with her!”

  “Jane, what are you going to do?” Sheila gasped.

  Hayley stepped forward, not wanting Mona’s mother to cause a scene in Randy’s bar. “Jane, everyone’s having such a nice time . . .”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m sick and tired of that woman getting away with her bad behavior for the last fifty years! Someone should finally stand up to her and give her a piece of their mind, and it might as well be me!”

  Mona had always complained that her mother tended to get confrontational after a few beers.

  Like mother like daughter.

  Hayley speedily stepped in front of Jane before she had a chance to march over to Caskie. “To be fair, Jane, Caskie just arrived and ran into Carl at the bar, so there is no way she could have known that he and Mom had been talking . . .”

  “Are you taking her side, Hayley?” Sheila asked in a rigid tone.

  Hayley groaned. “I’m not taking anyone’s side. I just think we should give the poor woman the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Poor woman?” Celeste cried. “It’s funny, Hayley, I don’t remember you being around in high school to witness firsthand Caskie Lemon’s shenanigans. Oh, that’s right. You weren’t even born yet so how could you?”

  “You’re right, Celeste, I wasn’t there, and you probably have every right to harbor resentment against her after all these years, but I just don’t see how now is the best time and place to confront her about it.”

  Liddy and Mona suddenly appeared at Hayley’s side to assist in defusing the situation.

  “Hayley’s right, Mother, there is no reason to ruin the reunion,” Liddy said.

  “Caskie already has just by showing up!” Celeste argued.

  “I really just want to punch her in the face and then I can go home happy!” Jane growled.

  Mona took her mother by the arm forcefully. “I’m not going to let you do that, Mom. You’ve already been arrested once in your life for starting a bar brawl.”

  “Only because that man cut in front of me in line while I was trying to order a cosmopolitan!” Jane bellowed.

  “It was Reverend Staples! You cold-cocked a man of the cloth!”

  “Just because he knows important people like God doesn’t give him the right to be rude!” Jane argued.

  “What are we talking about?”

  They all suddenly fell silent.

  Hayley instantly recognized the voice.

  It was Caskie Lemon-Hogg.

  Everyone slowly turned around to see Caskie in her brightly colored dress and with a big smile on her face. In the background, Carl Flippen was still at the bar waiting for his drinks from Randy.

  Hayley was the first to speak. “Nothing, really. We were just—”

  “You!” Sheila snapped.

  Caskie’s smile faded slightly. “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Sheila said. “How you acted back in high school and how it seems you haven’t changed a bit in all these years and—”

  “Mom, please . . .” Hayley begged.

  “Don’t interrupt your mother,” Jane barked. “She’s been waiting decades to get this off her chest.”

  “I’m sorry, did I do or say something to offend you?” Caskie asked warily, sensing something was seriously wrong.

  Sheila, Celeste, and Jane all laughed derisively, which made Caskie even more nervous.

  “Where do we start?” Celeste asked.

  “I know,” Sheila said, staring at Caskie. “How about we start with how Caskie cheated off our papers back in high school? You always pretended to be so smart, and you did your best to make the rest of us feel stupid, but you never bothered to study for any tests . . .”

  “I studied all the time . . .” Caskie whispered, humiliated.

  “I guess not enough, because you had to copy all our answers!” Sheila snarled.

  “I did study . . . day and night . . . my parents even hired a tutor to help me, but it didn’t do any good because I had undiagnosed dyslexia. I’ve had it my whole life and can deal with it now. But back then, nobody knew what it was and I felt like the dumbest person in the world. I was so desperate. I was afraid I would fail all my classes, and so yes, I sat next to you and Celeste during every test so I could get a passing grade.”

  “Like I said before, she never cheated off me,” Jane said.

  “I wanted to get into a good college,” Caskie whispered.

  Jane opened her mouth to protest, but realized in this instance, Caskie was right.

  Hayley felt terrible for Caskie in this moment. The woman had never expected to come to the reunion tonight and face the wrath of Hayley’s mother and her friends, who were so full of animosity and resentment.

  But Caskie’s admission of battling dyslexia did seem to stymie the women, at least for a minute, as they regrouped and considered this new revelation.

  “I went home and cried every day after school because I just couldn’t understand why I was such a dummy who couldn’t pass a simple math test,” Caskie said, choking back tears.

  Hayley could see Sheila softening, just a little, but Celeste was more hard-hearted and wasn’t about to let Caskie off the hook completely.

  “That doesn’t excuse all the other manipulative, mean things you did back in high school, like steal Sheila’s boyfriend so you had someone to take you to prom!”

  “Dimitri? I had no idea you were interested in him. I thought you were already dating Al, the man you married, Hayley’s father . . .” Caskie said.

  Ha
yley refrained from confirming Caskie’s version of events. Her mother was angry enough.

  “We weren’t exclusive at that time . . .” Sheila cried.

  Caskie was near tears. “I didn’t know that . . . I never would have . . .”

  Her voice trailed off. She could see that she wasn’t convincing any of them.

  “It wasn’t just Dimitri. You were constantly eyeing all the boys, especially the ones who were already taken! And apparently you haven’t changed one bit!” Celeste roared, gesturing toward the bar.

  Caskie turned around to see Carl paying for two drinks. She turned back around, mortified. “Carl? Sheila, are you and Carl . . . ?”

  Sheila sniffed but didn’t answer.

  “How long have you two been together?”

  Hayley couldn’t help herself. “Ten minutes.”

  Sheila threw Hayley an annoyed look.

  Celeste was quick to come to her friend’s defense. “It doesn’t matter how long. It’s like you have some kind of radar. If another woman is interested in a man, suddenly there you are ready to mess it all up. You’ve been doing it your whole life!”

  Jane was eager to jump in and join the fray. “It’s no wonder everyone in town calls you the Blueberry Tart!”

  “They what—?” Caskie gasped.

  The mothers realized they had probably gone too far.

  Hayley knew they had, and was about to demand they all apologize when a man’s voice stopped her.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  It was Carl Flippen, who had returned with Sheila’s martini, stopping short of handing it to her when he sensed the obvious friction.

  They all froze.

  There was a long uncomfortable silence until Sheila finally slapped on a smile and reached out to take her cocktail from him. “Thank you, Carl.”

  That’s when Caskie Lemon-Hogg raced out of the bar, sobbing.

  Island Food & Spirits BY HAYLEY POWELL

  Back when I was a rambunctious twelve-year-old palling around in the summer with my besties Liddy and Mona, our mothers, who also were tight friends, would sometimes force us to accompany them when they would go blueberry picking. It was usually in August when it was hot and humid, and so we never wanted to go, but that’s when the bushes were ripe and ready with big, bright, juicy, purple and blue berries just waiting to be picked.

  We would moan and groan about how sweaty we got and how the humidity frizzed our hair, and so our moms promised that if we spent a couple hours filling our buckets with blueberries, they would pack a picnic and take us to Lakewood to swim and cool off after we were done. Well, that was a sweet enough offer, so we grabbed our bathing suits and towels as our mothers loaded Jane’s van with the necessary supplies, and off we went.

  After what felt like twelve hours of hard labor picking blueberries, our mothers drove us to the lake as promised, and we dashed down the dirt path, jumping into the cool water, splashing and playing around. Meanwhile, our moms would set up a couple of blankets and put out a cold supper of my mom’s chicken salad sandwiches, Jane’s delicious blueberry scones made with fresh blueberries from a previous trip, and Celeste’s blueberry lemonade, which she kept cold in a big thermos filled with ice.

  I used to find it odd that our mothers brought a separate thermos for themselves, which they did not share with us. When we would run out of lemonade and ask for some of theirs, they would adamantly refuse, admonishing us that we needed to learn to make our lemonade last. Then they would look at each other and laugh. By the time we got to our dessert of scones, our mothers would be howling uproariously. Then they would take off down to the lake, and sit in the shallow water and laugh and chat, getting louder and louder as they polished off their “special” lemonade. Years later, we finally figured out that our moms had spiked theirs for an adult beverage, which would explain why Liddy and Mona’s fathers had to come together to the lake so one of them could drive us home in the van because our moms were too buzzed.

  Anyway, on this particular day, while our mothers splashed around giggling uncontrollably, Mona had an idea that if we found some good sticks we could make fishing poles before the next time we came so we could fish after our supper. We set off in search of sticks, spreading out in the woods right by a small beach. Liddy was about ten feet away from us when she waved us over in her direction. When we got close enough, she put a finger to her lips, signaling us to be quiet and then whispered, “I thought I heard a kitten crying.” We listened for a few moments, but didn’t hear anything. Mona was getting impatient and wanted to get back to finding our sticks, and we were about to leave, when suddenly we all heard a mewling sound coming from somewhere in front of us. We heard it again, and followed it, and when we seemed to be right on top of it, Liddy crouched down and parted the bushes and there was a litter of the most adorable black and white baby kittens. We barely had time to take in the adorable sight when Mona suddenly gasped and cried, “They’re not kittens!”

  That’s when our eyes fell upon the biggest, fattest, angriest momma skunk we had ever seen. Before any of us had a chance to move, she turned her back to us and raised her tail and sprayed all three of us. The next thing we knew, we all were running as fast as we could, screeching and crying, straight out of the woods back toward our mothers, who were now startled by our screams and worriedly calling our names.

  I wish I could say at this point that we all three ran into the loving open arms of our mothers, but unfortunately as soon as they got a whiff of us and the horrid skunk spray, they sidestepped us, waving and hollering at us to go jump into the lake while they stared helplessly at each other, trying to figure out how to get us home without being overcome by the rancid stench.

  When the lake did very little to wash off our horrible scent, the moms finally had us pile into the back of the van as they all crammed up front and rolled down the windows and drove as fast as the law would allow them, straight to the Shop ’n Save where they proceeded to fill their cart with every last can of tomato soup so they could take us home and give us tomato soup baths to try and get rid of the horrid odor.

  It ended up being a great story for our mothers to tell over and over again, much to the embarrassment of us three girls. But with the passage of time, even we found the humor in the story and nowadays it’s always a hit when we retell it at parties.

  Now I’m in the mood for some blueberry lemonade and blueberry scones, so I’m going to have to whip up both for when the girls drop by tonight for a visit. Oh, and I’ll be sure to add a little something to the blueberry lemonade to make it adult friendly.

  BLUEBERRY LEMONADE

  SIMPLE SYRUP

  INGREDIENTS

  2 cups sugar

  2 cups water

  1 cup blueberries

  ADDITIONAL INGREDIENTS

  2 cups fresh squeezed lemon juice

  6 cups water

  Blueberries for garnish (optional)

  Place simple syrup ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and puree with an immersion blender or food processor. Strain the mixture into a large pitcher.

  Add the 2 cups lemon juice, 6 cups water, and mix well.

  Fill glasses with ice and pour the blueberry lemonade into them, top with additional blueberries and enjoy.

  BLUEBERRY LEMON SCONES

  INGREDIENTS

  1¼ cup fresh or frozen blueberries

  Zest from one lemon

  1 egg

  2 cups flour

  ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoon sugar

  ½ teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  1 stick of butter, sliced and cold

  ½ cup heavy cream

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  GLAZE

  INGREDIENTS

  1 cup powdered sugar

  3 tablespoons lemon juice

  Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F. Line your baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

  In a large bowl, m
ix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and lemon zest.

  Add your cold butter and using a pastry cutter mix until you have the consistency of wet sand.

  In a small bowl, mix your egg, cream, and vanilla together.

  Pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture and mix together but do not overmix—just until it comes together. Now add your blueberries, quickly folding in and don’t overmix.

  Dump your mixed flour onto your parchment paper, add a little flour to the top, and begin patting your dough into an 8-inch circle. Slice it into 8 wedges.

  Arrange the wedges on the parchment so they are not touching.

  Bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

  Remove from oven and cool. Prepare your glaze for the cooled scones by mixing the powdered sugar and lemon juice and drizzling all over the scones.

  Serve and enjoy!

  Chapter 8

  Hayley popped open one eye. She took in the inviting smell of bacon wafting up to her bedroom from the kitchen. She reached out from underneath the covers to grab her phone, which sat on the nightstand next to the bed. She looked at the time. It was just past seven in the morning. The class reunion at the bar had not broken up until after midnight, and she and Bruce had stayed behind after everyone left, until almost one in the morning, to help Randy with the cleanup.

  Hayley turned over. Bruce was not in bed next to her. She knew why. He was already downstairs being spoiled by her mother with a full breakfast. Usually on a workday, it was every man for himself and that usually meant coffee and a plastic-wrapped pastry at the Big Apple convenience store on the way to the office. But with Sheila fully settled in at Hayley’s house, the routine had abruptly changed, and Bruce was on track to gain at least ten pounds during her visit.