Aroma With a View, page 18
She primped her dark chocolate-brown hair with caramel highlights around her face. “It’s always lovely to see you, Nora. Where’s that gorgeous young man of yours?”
My guy, Ezra Holden, was a detective with the Garden Cove Police Department, and he was nineteen years my junior. I tried not to dwell on our age difference, something I couldn’t change, and live in the moment where I was blissfully happy with a man I loved and who loved me back. Even so, I knew Claire didn’t mean anything ageist by her comment. Claire thought anyone under the age of sixty was young.
“He had some work to finish up,” I told her without going into a lot of detail. He was executing a time-sensitive warrant and, unfortunately, it had coincided with the going-away party. His son Mason was the same age as Gilly’s twins Marco and Ari, and they were all going into the big wide world. I shook off my thoughts and smiled at Claire. “He’ll be here when he wraps up his police business.”
“All work and no play,” she replied.
I smirked. “There’s nothing dull about Ezra.”
She waved her hand delicately. “Of that, my dear, I have no doubt.” Claire dipped her head and kissed my cheek. “Isn’t my grandson handsome?” She gestured toward the dance floor. Mason was dancing with a handful of friends. “I hope Ezra makes it. It’s good to see your children happy.” She glanced over at her son Roger and his wife Kati, Mason’s mother, as they visited with friends a few tables down from us. Both Kati and Roger were laughing and smiling.
I nodded. “It is good.”
She rewarded me with a smile that radiated pure joy. Then something caught her attention. I glanced over to where she was looking and saw a tall, thin, silver-haired woman wearing a beautifully draped ice-green dress. Next to her stood a blonde woman in a black silk tank top and cream dress slacks, and black pumps.
“There’s Marta LaMonte and her granddaughter,” she confided. After, she nodded to Pippa, Gilly, and me. “I have to go, darlings. Enjoy your night.” She touched my arm. “Nora, call me soon. I have a business proposition for you.”
Claire departed in a hurry before I could ask her what it might be about.
“Oh my gosh.” Pippa rubbed her hands together. “You better call her, Nora. We can use whatever business Claire wants to throw our way, especially with fall right around the corner.”
Pippa, who you couldn’t tell had a baby six months earlier, was chic in a pair of skinny crop jeans, a short-sleeved peach sweater, and a pair of strappy heels. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She ran the front of my shop, Scents & Scentsability, a boutique that specialized in organic skin and hair care, mostly crafted or acquired by me. She’d given up her job at one of the biggest beauty companies in the country to come work with me, and she’d picked up the slack for me when I’d had my hysterectomy, and by picked up, I mean she ran the place on her own for two months without any hesitation. As it was, Pippa handled our finances, all the licensing stuff, taxes, insurance, and so much more. In other words, she was irreplaceable.
“I’ll absolutely call her,” I assured Pippa. “Promise. Cross my heart.” I made an X over my chest with my finger.
A slow dance came on, and I watched Marco pull a cute brunette into his arms. Ari glanced over at our table and waved as she started dancing with Mason, Ezra’s son. The two of them had been thick as thieves since before their senior year. I’d asked Ari if the two of them were dating. She’d said no. I, admittedly, was relieved. I was Ari’s godmother, and I was in a relationship with Mason’s dad. I’d worried about sides if the two of them had gotten messy.
And now all three of them, Marco, Ari, and Mason, were technically adults and heading off on their next adventure. Which is why we were sitting in the ballroom at the resort where Gilly’s ex-husband worked. It was a sendoff party for the three of them hosted by Gilly, her ex, Giovanni Rossi, Kati Portman, who was Mason’s mother, and Ezra. It was taking place at Portman’s on the Lake because Kati and her husband managed the resort for Claire, and Gio was the head chef at Players, the resort’s fine dining restaurant. In other words, the price was right.
“I can’t believe my babies are going off to college,” Gilly said. “It seems like just yesterday I was bringing them home from the hospital.”
“I remember that day,” I told her. “They were so tiny, but I knew they’d never want or need for anything with you as a mom.”
Gilly’s brown eyes glistened with tears. She hugged me. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“We can’t have that,” I said, giving her a good squeeze. “Not when your makeup is this fabulous.”
Gilly had gone to the beauty shop that afternoon for a makeover, including hair and makeup. She always looked beautiful, but the ladies at Curl Up and Dye had done my girl right. She wore a black pair of wide-leg pants, low-heeled sandals, and an off-the-shoulder v-neck top that showed off all her glorious curves.
Gilly sniffled then dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “You’re right.” The side doors opened, and a handful of wait staff started wheeling in carts full of food. “Ugh,” Gilly muttered. “The great Gio is making his entrance.”
Dinner for the party was being catered by Players. Gio, a James Beard nominee and a Michelin Rising Star award-winning chef, and the absentee father of my godchildren. I wanted to punch him in his smug face every time I saw him. Right now was no exception.
The catered dinner, of course, had been Gio’s grand gesture for his mostly grown children, who he’d managed to ignore for over a decade when he left his family to pursue his dream of celebrity in Vegas. When he’d returned to Garden Cove, he’d given Gilly a whole song and dance about how he’d come back because he missed his family. Ari, however, had told me that Gio had gotten fired from his cushy gig because he’d been caught sleeping with his boss’ wife.
Currently, Gio wore a black and white chef’s coat with a black hat. For all his many, many flaws, the guy was still handsome. His hair was peppered gray now, and it somehow made him even more attractive. I used to worry that Gilly would fall back into his arms. He could be extremely charming when he wanted to be. Gilly, however, was no longer the same woman Gio had never been good enough for, and she’d instantly shut down any notion he had about getting back together.
Twyla Reynolds, Players’ hostess, directed the servers as if she were conductor. She looked in our direction, but when I waved, she quickly looked away.
“That’s weird,” I told Gilly.
“What?” she asked.
“I swear Twyla just actively avoided eye contact with me.”
“She probably didn’t see you, Nora,” Gilly said.
I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure she saw me.”
“Come to think of it, she hasn’t been in the shop for a long time.” Pippa frowned. “She’s one of our regulars. She’s even a member of the Scent of the Month club.”
Gilly shrugged. “As a wise man once said, paranoia will destroya.”
“If by a wise man, you mean The Kinks,” I countered. “Then yep.”
“I’m just saying, I’m sure there’s no big conspiracy,” Gilly said. “People get busy. They have lives. Let’s focus on the real issues tonight. Like the fact that my ex-husband gets to play hero at our kids’ farewell party, and,” she sighed, “he gets to look great doing it.”
“Aww.” I put my arm around Gilly’s shoulders. “I think someone is having a different kind of party. One of the pity variety.” I gave my bestie an assessing look. “Besides, you are way hotter than Gio.”
Gilly’s shoulders went back, and her head rose a little higher. “That helps. Let’s get in line for grub. I’m starving.”
While Twyla was directing diner traffic, a tall, slender man with white hair and wearing a gray suit put his hand on her shoulder. He leaned in to speak to her. She shook her head and darted her gaze somewhere over her shoulder before saying something I couldn’t make out from this distance, and then shook her head again.
The man moved around her and grabbed a plate.
“Who’s that guy?” I asked Gilly, pointing to the distinguished gentleman.
“Bridges.” When I gave her a blank stare, she added, “Charlie Bridges. You know, the new mayor of Garden Cove.” She frowned. “He beat Aaron Trident in a landslide.”
He looked back at Twyla, and I got a good look at his face. Sure enough, it was our town mayor. “Oh, duh.” I winced. “So who invited the mayor to the party?”
“Maybe Claire. I’ve been on a tour of graduation parties this summer,” Gilly said. “They are definitely more for the parents. There’s always a mix of family and friends.” She nodded at Claire. “And that woman has a lot of friends. The wealthier guests are from the Portmans. Including the mayor.”
Pippa scoffed. “He’s not going to miss an opportunity to rub elbows with big donors like Claire, Bob Grayson, the LaMontes, and I think I saw Bellmore Parker and his new trophy wife earlier.”
Bellmore owned Parker’s Landing and Lakeshore Resort. One of the big five resorts, along with Portman’s on the Lake, The Rose Palace, Gardenia Hollow Resort and Marina, and Hunter’s Hillside Getaway.
“I’m sure he’s looking to shake a lot of hands and kiss some babies,” Gilly said.
“Then I’m glad I left my baby at home,” Pippa commented. Since Tippi had moved in with Pippa and Jordy, she’d become a reliable babysitter when the occasion called for it. “A dirty diaper is cleaner than that asshole.”
“You really don’t like him,” I said.
“His office sent a letter to Jordy asking him to move his Narcotics Anonymous meetings to somewhere less centrally located.” Pippa balled her hands into fists. “Apparently, a bunch of ex-addicts showing up downtown on a weekly basis doesn’t fit with the mayor’s vision for Garden Cove.”
“He can’t force Jordy to stop having meetings, can he?” I asked.
Pippa shook her head. “Not legally. But he can make things hard for Jordy when it comes to business licenses. I can’t believe I voted for that jerk.”
I had voted for him as well. At the time, he’d seemed like the lesser of the two evils, but when election time rolled around again, I’d have a rethink. “That really sucks.”
Jordy, a tall man with hair past his shoulders, two arm sleeves of tattoos, and wearing black jeans and a pale green t-shirt, came up behind Pippa and draped his arm over her shoulders. “What’s up?”
Pippa’s whole body relaxed as she sagged against him. “Just telling Gilly and Nora about our illustrious mayor over there.” She pointed at Bridges. “I’d really love to junk-punch him. Hard.”
Jordy laughed, gave her a squeeze, and kissed her temple. “My lioness,” he said with a chuckle.
She crossed her arms over her small chest, her engagement ring catching the light, and gave him a curt nod. “Damn straight.”
The two of them, Jordy and Pippa, had been enjoying a long engagement. Pip had a strained relationship with her family, and I think on some level, she hoped her parents would come around to accepting the father of her child. She’d only talked to her mother once since J.J. had been born. Even so, I was a fan of a long engagement, and these two would seal the deal when they were ready, or they wouldn’t.
Jordy looked around. “Where’s Easy?”
“He had some work to finish up,” I said. “He’ll be here soon.” I looked at my fitness tracker for the time. “I hope, anyhow.”
The food, as I knew it would be, considering Gio’s caliber of cooking, was impeccable. There was lasagna, chicken alfredo, gourmet pizza, pesto salad, a slew of veggies, focaccia, garlic bread, and a house Italian salad. The dessert table had Ari’s favorite, tiramisu, along with cannolis, mini panna cottas, and ricotta cheese cookies.
“I think Gio is trying to fatten us all up,” Pippa complained.
“You don’t have to eat any of it,” I said. I snatched a cookie from her plate before she could smack my hand away and held it up. “More for the rest of us.”
“Hah.” She pulled her plate away before I could snag another. “Keep your hands off my cookies.”
Gilly snickered. “That’s what she said.”
I elbowed her. “You’re terrible.”
Ari came up behind us in time to hear Gilly’s joke. She blew the bangs of her bouncy bob up with a heavy sigh. “God, Mom. You’re so extra.”
“Thank you,” Gilly preened.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know.” Gilly booped her daughter’s nose. “But I’m going to choose to treat it as one.”
Ari shook her head, but she was smiling.
I glanced out to the dance floor where she and Mason had been. He was now talking to Ari’s friend Johnny. She’d introduced me to the kid at graduation. “You better tell Mason and Marco to get in line before all the food’s gone,” I told her.
Ari cast a suspicious gaze at the line of teenagers and adults lined up for the feast. She frowned. “Good plan.”
Gilly said, “Just grab them and go ahead of everyone else. The guests of honor should totally get cutsies.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ari waved off her mom as she walked away.
I put my arm around Gilly. “You okay?”
She sighed. “They grow up so fast.”
We both looked at the twins. “You did a great job, Mom.” I removed my arm as the line moved forward and patted her back. “You get all the credit.”
She nodded toward Gio, who was laughing it up with some guy in a suit. “I may get the credit, but he’s not above taking some of it.”
“Ignore him.”
“If only it were that easy.” She frowned. “Look at the way they fawn all over him.”
“He’s like gold-plated jewelry, Gils. Shiny on the outside but pure junk when you get down to his core.”
“That doesn’t stop people from buying his bullshit,” she grumbled. Twyla Reynolds stepped aside as we approached the first table with the stack of plates.
“Good evening,” Twyla said to the both of us. “Enjoy the meal.” She smiled at me, but I noticed she wouldn’t look at Gilly. What did she have against my BFF?
Gilly, who was oblivious to Twyla’s avoidance, gave the hostess a quick nod and grabbed a plate. “Thanks,”
“Hey, Twyla.” I took a plate after Gilly. The strong scent of garlic, red sauce, and browned meat stirred my hunger. “Man, that smells good.”
“I had some earlier,” Twyla confided with an unwarranted blush. “It’s delicious.”
“The secret,” a man says, “is dry-frying the fennel seeds before adding it to the ground pork.” I can’t see his face, because, well, in my smell-o-visions, faces are always a blur, but there’s no mistaking that bravado. Or that voice. It’s Gio, and he’s showing off for someone.
He grabs a sauté pan by the handle and gives it a shake. The seeds slide back and forth before he lifts the pan from the heat and dumps the fennel into a bowl.
“Now that the oils are released,” he dumps the bowl into a large container of ground meat, “it is one step closer to creating the perfect Italian sausage.”
“So that’s how you make sausage, huh?” a woman asks flirtatiously. She drapes a hand across Gio’s arm.
He pivots toward her and loops his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Would you like a demonstration on how I stuff the sausage?”
I make a mental note to buy twenty gallons of bleach, because that’s how much it’s going to take to clean my brain of this memory.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve showed me your technique before, but I’m a slow learner. I can always use a refresher.” She giggles. If I could gag in a smell-o-vision is would be happening now.
Luckily, I snapped out of the aroma-triggered memory before I had to witness more of Gio’s icky kitchen porn. My psychic nose was a fairly new, not always welcome, ability. One I’d had to die for. Literally. I’d had a near-death experience two years earlier during my hysterectomy. Ever since, I’d been experiencing memories related to scents. This wouldn’t normally be a big deal, but in my case, the memories I experienced weren’t my own.
I stared at Twyla. Same hair as the vision. Same clothes. Same voice. I had a sneaking suspicion that the memory had taken place earlier in the evening.
I shook my head. That’s why she couldn’t look Gilly in the eye. She was having sex with my bestie’s ex. “She’s one-hundred percent over him,” I told Twyla. “But, man, you could do a whole lot better.”
Twyla looked startled for a moment, then she narrowed a steely gaze on me. “Mind your own business.”
I gave her a nod. “That’s real good advice.”
At the time, I had no idea those were the final words I’d ever speak to Twyla Reynolds, because four months later, she was dead.
* * *
For more Nora Black go to www.norablackmysteries.com
About the Author
I am a USA Today Bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and romances because I love all things whodunit, Otherworldly, and weird. Also, I wish my pittie, the adorable Kona Princess Warrior, could talk. Or at least be more like Scooby-Doo and help me unmask villains at the haunted house up the street.
When I'm not writing about mystery-solving werecougars or the adventures of a hapless psychic living among shapeshifters, I am preyed upon by stray kittens who end up living in my house because I can't say no to those sweet, furry faces. (Someone stop telling them where I live!)
I live in Mid-Missouri with my family and I spend my non-writing time doing really cool stuff...like watching TV and cleaning up dog poop
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