A Catered Valentine's Day. Isis Crawford
up with interesting takes on things.” He gestured to the door. “You coming?” he asked Tim Conner.
“Might as well,” Conner replied. “If I need to I can come back and take measurements later.”
“So,” Libby heard Hager say to Conner as they both headed out of the kitchen, “I hear you had some trouble down at the shop.”
“Naw. Not really. Just the usual stuff. Someone borrowed one of our backhoes. We found it off Lakeland. Happens all the time.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Probably someone who worked for us. Did you hear what happened at the Smollet Restaurant? I about died…”
Then they were through the door and Libby couldn’t hear anything else.
“Who says men don’t gossip?” Bernie said. “I wonder what did happen at the Smollet Restaurant. When I go to R.J.’s I’ll have to ask Brandon.”
“You do that,” Libby told her sister. Personally she didn’t care. “You should have told me. I feel like a moron.”
Bernie hung her head. “I know. I kept meaning to, but the time never seemed right. Were you really thinking of getting a deck oven back in here?”
“Definitely.”
“But we’ll be able to bake so much more with the new one.”
“We would if it worked.”
“It does work. We just have to iron out a few kinks.”
“We’ve been ironing out the kinks for way too long in my humble opinion.” Libby was set to continue in that vein when she felt someone pull her sleeve.
She turned around. It was Googie.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
“I’m baking the lemon squares now.”
“That’s great.” On the way downstairs Amber had told her that they were nearly out of their best seller.
Googie tugged at his hair. Recently he’d grown it back again after shaving it off. “I thought you said you were going to give me more hours.”
“I did,” Libby said.
“I need more.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Libby thought for a moment. There was always something to do around the shop. The question was, could they afford to pay to get it done, especially now that they were going to be spending money on enlarging the venting system? On the other hand, Googie was usually a good worker and she didn’t want to lose him.
“Well,” Libby told him, “you can clean the mixer out tonight and inventory our supplies after we close.” That was one of those jobs that always needed to be done and no one ever had the time to do.
“I have to leave tonight,” Googie protested.
“Well, when do you want to put the hours in?” It was not, Libby thought, an unreasonable question, but judging from the expression on Googie’s face he thought it was.
Googie tugged at his hair again. “How about tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I could come in early tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine.”
His phone began to play some tune Libby didn’t recognize. Hip-hop? Or was it rap? Libby couldn’t tell them apart, although Googie had explained the difference numerous times. Bernie probably knew, Libby reflected. But then, Bernie was hip. Really, she defined the term. Libby watched Googie take the phone out of his pocket and move away from her.
Bernie turned toward her. “What was that all about?”
Instead of replying immediately Libby opened the cooler door, reached in, and took a bite of their classic chicken salad. The chicken was slightly dry. It had cooked too long in the oven. Mayo would help. Like butter, mayo helped practically everything.
“He has a new girlfriend,” Libby explained as she threw a few finely chopped walnuts into the salad. A little texture wouldn’t hurt either. Neither would some black pepper. She reached for the grinder and turned. Nothing.
“Googie,” she yelled.
“Yeah?” He moved the phone away from his ear.
“I thought you were going to fill up the pepper mills.”
He flushed. “Right. Yeah. I’ll get on it right away.”
Libby shook her head. He’d been with her for two years now. Usually he was pretty good, but every once in a while he just lost focus.
Bernie nodded for Libby to move away from Googie.
“He seems totally spaced out,” she said once they were standing near the sink.
“I told you. He’s got a new girlfriend.”
“He always has a girlfriend.”
“This one is different.”
“How so?”
“He’s in love.” Libby bracketed the word love with her fingers.
“I would think he’d want fewer hours, not more.”
“She’s got expensive taste.”
“How expensive?”
“She wants something from Prada.”
Bernie whistled. “That’s expensive. Even for me.”
“Do tell,” Libby answered. “And she wants it for Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s not very far away,” Bernie protested. “Maybe he should give her some nice chocolates.”
“Nope. Not good enough. I’ve already suggested that. And while we’re on the subject, Amber wants that day off.”
“Valentine’s Day? But we need her.”
“I know.” Libby took another nibble of the chicken salad. Much better. “Yeah. It’s going to be a real problem. Especially since we’ll be prepping for the benefit.” She shook her head. She wished she could do everything by herself. That way she wouldn’t need to deal with staff. “All I can say is that I’ll be glad when Valentine’s Day is over this year.”
“Hmm,” Bernie said. “Do you know the origin of Valentine’s Day?”
“No. And I don’t want to.”
“Rather grumpy, aren’t we?”
“I can’t imagine why,” Libby said. “First Ted Gorman and now Peter Hager. It has not been a good day.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Bernie agreed, “although I have to say there’s a big difference between dealing with a wayward corpse and a building inspector.”
“True.” Libby watched while her sister spun her silver and onyx ring around her finger.
“And let’s not forget that we missed the funeral on top of everything else.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear from Bree Nottingham.”
“I’m sure we will,” Bernie said. She smiled.
“What are you thinking?” Libby asked her.
“I’m thinking that we should go shopping.”
“We could go to Central Restaurant Supply and see about getting a meat slicer. They have a good one on sale there. “
“I was thinking more along the lines of buying shoes. Sexy shoes. How about a pair of red, sexy sling-backs? You could wear them on Valentine’s Day.”
“You just want to get my mind off the oven because you think I’ll forget