Hot Summer Nights. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
pocket and pulled out the bill. “For the kitty.”
“Thanks,” Marie said, closing Leslie’s hand over the money and pushing it away, “but you needn’t do that. The hotel takes care of you. We ask the residents to chip in a little so they don’t feel like freeloaders. Making donations seems to make folks more willing to come since they think they’re paying their way. This meal is practically free anyway. It’s salads left over from the market and we often try out new things to get people’s reactions. The hotel chips in for whichever of their guests, like you and Brad, eat here,” she said, winking, “and then Joe deducts it all on his taxes. The hotel also supplies the beverages. There will be soft drinks, beer, and wine arriving in just a few minutes.”
“It sounds like you’ve got this down to a science,” Leslie said, putting the bill back into the pocket of her slacks. “If you don’t need me here I’ll just go and see whether I can give Joe a hand.”
As she walked up the Martinellis’ driveway, several young people bustled past, carrying chairs, paper plates, plastic glasses and utensils, and bowls of salads and chips. “Hi,” a boy in his late teens said, his eyes roaming her body. “You must be Leslie.”
“That’s me,” she said, a bit suspicious of the high school aged boy’s obvious interest in her body. “How come you know who I am?”
“You’re new around here and Suze, my mom, said you were a knockout. I’m KJ Murdock.”
So this was KJ. She quickly connected him with the racket the previous afternoon. “Right. You must be the one with the motorcycle.”
“That Honda’s mine all right. Isn’t she a beauty?” He gave her body another long, assessing look, his intent all too obvious. “I’d love to take you for a ride sometime.”
He was quite a piece of work, Leslie thought, at least a dozen years younger than she was and hitting on her. Ye Gods. She schooled her face to be cool, yet charming. She didn’t want to make waves. “Thanks for the offer but I think I prefer a little more metal around me when I move at more than ten miles an hour.”
“Your loss,” he said, then took off with a large bowl of tortilla chips in his hands.
Leslie stared after him, then shook her head in disbelief. Several young people pushed past her as she approached the back door, some going in, others heading for the beach. She climbed the rear stairs and saw Joe through the screen door in the midst of a group of teens bustling around the kitchen. He was standing in front of an almost industrial-sized refrigerator pulling out bowls and plastic bags. “Hi there,” she said through the door. “This seems like quite an operation. You’ve got everyone regimented.”
“Hi, Leslie. I’m glad to see you decided to join us, and yes, everything is very well organized. I spent several years in the army. Learned the fine art of getting things done, and delegating.”
He handed a large platter of hot dog and hamburger rolls to a middle-sized, not unattractive teen wearing form-fitting cotton jeans and a tight T-shirt that said If I were humble I’d be perfect on the front. “Take this out to Marie,” he said, then pushed her toward the door. “Leslie, have you met Eliza, Suze’s daughter?”
With a sour expression and a muttered “Hi,” the girl pounded out the door and let it slam behind her. Leslie gazed after her, watching her strut like a stripper.
Turning back to Joe, she asked, “Were you an officer in the service?” He certainly gave orders like one, she thought as he handed people things to bring outside.
“Nope, but I saw how they got me to do stuff I didn’t want to do so I just copied their approach.” As she laughed, he ushered her into the large kitchen, efficient, clean, and shiny despite all the activity. At that instant it was also silent.
“What can I do to help?”
“Carl made deviled eggs today and we only sold about half, so they’re up for grabs.” He pointed to a tray on the counter. “Taste one, and if they pass muster, you can take the platter outside.”
Leslie picked up the hard-boiled egg and remembered that, as a kid, she’d always hated eggs in any form, along with lamb, Mexican food, and all vegetables. Then she flashed back to one of her first clients. He had taken her to a sushi restaurant, and when he found out she’d never had raw fish—nor did she want to—he spent an hour introducing her to different kinds of raw fish and fish eggs and showing her how to eat them. She remembered being really squeamish at first, but she’d quickly decided that she’d have to change her picky-eater ways if she was going to dine with clients. Now she loved almost every kind of food, from Korean to Peruvian.
She looked at Joe, then took a bite of the yellow and white treat and was delighted. “This is wonderful. There’s something just a little hot in the filling. It’s surprising.”
“Cayenne. Just a touch adds a little kick.”
“It certainly does. Do you have the recipe?” She’d probably never cook them, but she might, and anyway it was a compliment to him to ask.
“Sure. I’ll get Carl to write it out for you. There are quite a few ingredients but they’re pretty easy to make.”
As she chewed, she asked, “How many people usually show up at this shindig?”
“Quite a few of the hotel guests come, like you and Brad, and all the neighbors on this stretch of Atlantic Beach Road. It usually adds up to a couple of dozen adults.” He contemplated. “We’ve had as many as thirty. Someone usually brings a CD player so there’s music and dancing and occasionally someone brings fireworks. It’s become quite the thing.”
“Does Marie do all the cooking?” My God, thirty people. She was already feeling sorry for Joe’s wife.
“Carl, my assistant at the market, does quite a bit. He’s studying to be a chef. Kevin Murdock, Suze’s husband, does most of the actual barbecuing and Suze and Abby bring casseroles and stuff. Then there’s Vicki. Have you met her?”
“Not yet,” Leslie answered, “but I’ve heard a lot about her.”
“Yeah, she’s quite a character. Anyway, she doesn’t cook a lick so she usually goes to a wonderful little bakery in Saybrook and brings cake. Oh, and Steve Carpone, the local ice cream man, stops by and does quite a business while he snarfs down hot dogs and barbecued sausages.” He gazed at her and must have seen a slight frown.
“Don’t get that look, Leslie,” Joe added. “Marie loves to do this and if I took it away from her she’d bitch loud and long. Talk to her, and if you get any hint of negative feelings, let me know and I’ll put an end to it in a heartbeat. You’ll tell me?”
Her heart lighter, Leslie said, “Sure, Joe. No problem. And these eggs are terrific. Maybe you should give out the recipe when folks buy them. That way, they’ll like the eggs, decide they’re too complicated to make themselves, and buy more.”
Joe looked thoughtful. “I love a woman with a creative mind. That’s actually an interesting idea. Let me give it some thought. Give out recipes that are too complicated. Hmm. I could do that with some of Carl’s sausages, too. He’s my store’s secret weapon and you have to taste some of his creations tonight.”
“Have you ever thought of going into the catering business? If you can pull off a dinner like this, catering a wedding would be a piece of cake.”
“I’ve thought about it but I wouldn’t want to get Marie involved in something like that. It’s a tremendous amount of work and she’s happy taking care of the kids.”
“They’re getting older.” She snapped her mouth shut and tamped down her inherent buttinskyness. In her business she often gave advice to men about their sex lives and other personal issues. Sometimes she was the only one they could talk to.
Leslie popped the remainder of the egg into her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, “Well I, for one, am impressed with the food and the organization.”