Raspberry Crush Read online

Oh, no...

  * * *

  "My girls!"

  "Hi, Mom," Billy said brightly, and met Adrienne for a tight hug in the open doorway.

  Corryn trailed two paces back. "Hey, Mom," she said, entering their parents' house and shutting the door behind her. Adrienne hugged her next.

  "Oh, this is wonderful, dinner with my girls—" She stopped midsentence, sniffed Corryn's shoulder, and grimaced. "You smell like smoke."

  "Gee, I wonder how that happened," Corryn said sarcastically.

  Adrienne brushed off the comment. "Anyway, I hope you girls are hungry. Billy, I hope you're not too full from the bakery."

  "Mom, I work at the bakery, not test the merchandise." Unless you counted the plate of brownies Georgette had set in the back today—but then, Billy had only sampled four of those.

  "What's that?" Adrienne said, motioning to the small white box in Billy's hand tied up with pink string. Incidentally, this wasn't going to do much to help demonstrate Billy's point.

  "Coconut cupcakes," Billy replied, then held up her hand in her own defense. "Georgette was just going to throw them out, and I know you probably don't want to eat them, Mom, but I thought Corryn and Dad might like them."

  Adrienne flashed her quintessential pursed look of disapproval and said, "Because I love my family, I can assure you those are going right in the garbage."

  "Love me a little less, Mom—thanks," Corryn said, taking the box from Billy and shrugging out of her coat.

  Then Adrienne spun around. "Nobody's said anything yet."

  "About what?" Corryn asked.

  "How I look." She spun again. "I've lost four pounds; didn't you notice?" Honestly, their mom was always so petite, it was hard to tell. "God, I just feel so healthy and alive!"

  "That's great, Mom," Billy said.

  "Thank you, honey. Anyone can do it, you know. With a little discipline, some exercise, a proper diet."

  Billy shot her sister a knowing look before they headed into the dining room. As Adrienne carried in a covered dish from the kitchen, Corryn made raspberry crushes at the minibar next to the china cabinet.

  "Hey, where's Dad?" Billy asked after her sister handed her a drink.

  "He's out looking for a new fishing pole," Adrienne said. "He'll be back soon." She lifted the cover off of the serving dish and revealed a red, watery casserole that lurked underneath. "It's vegetable lasagna," she explained. "I found the recipe in a tofu cookbook."

  Already off to an inauspicious start. But Billy made the best of the meal, forking through layers of thinly sliced tofu and wet, chunky vegetables.

  "Too bad Dad missed dinner," Corryn remarked, pushing a hunk of parsnip around on her plate.

  "No, he already ate," Adrienne said with a wave of her hand. "A sausage-and-pepper sub from that deli down the street." Hmm, suddenly a trip to the mob-front hoagie shop around the corner sounded pretty good. "He's being so difficult. He keeps refusing to eat a healthy diet—even though anyone can do it," she finished, looking straight at Billy.

  When Billy got up to clear the dishes, Corryn said, "Let's break out the dessert."

  Adrienne shook her head, lips twisted in disapproval. This from the woman who used to buy Entenmann's cookies and eat half the box at the blinking light on the way home. A little too excitedly, Corryn snatched a coconut cupcake from the box on the bar and announced that she was going outside for a smoke. After she left, Adrienne lamented to Billy about what the tar and saturated fat were doing to her sister's innards at that very moment.

  Forty minutes later everyone was in the family room. Their dad was home, tinkering with his guilty pleasure, the ancient slide projector, while Billy slouched comfortably in a cream-colored recliner, Corryn lay on the sofa, and Adrienne sat in a green, high-backed chair that resembled a throne. While they waited for the cruise slide show to begin, Adrienne moved in for the kill. "So what's new with Mark?"

  "Nothing. I saw him last night," Billy said.

  "Mark," Billy's dad echoed. "Mark... Do I know him?"

  Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Get with it, David. Billy's been dating him for over a month now."

  David just shrugged. "Doesn't sound familiar."

  "Have you found out what he makes yet?"

  "No, and I don't plan to," Billy said, thoroughly bored by the question.

  "Nobody ever tells me anything," Adrienne said huffily. "At least tell me you called Gladys Belding's son, Kip."

  "Um..."

  "Belinda. If you don't call him, I'll be humiliated. I promised Gladys you'd call."

  And you did that because...?

  "Slide show's all set up," David said. "Anytime you're ready, Addy."

  The first twenty slides were pictures of David boarding the boat, walking to the cabin, opening the cabin door, and unzipping his suitcase. Obviously Adrienne had been holding the camera. Next she showed slides of all the people she'd met on the cruise, even if only for a minute, and narrated their myriad ailments and dysfunctions.

  "See the one with the chubby knees and loud vacation prints?" she said. "That's Louise Moonie. A sweet woman, but no tolerance for dairy. We played pinochle together on day three." She clicked to the next slide. "Oh, now that's Maeve Byrnes. She has a son who sounds very interesting—Corryn, are you paying attention?"

  When her sister didn't answer, Billy glanced over and noticed that Corryn's eyes were closed, and her mouth was curved softly and sleepily against the throw pillow.

  "Corryn?" Adrienne said again, and Billy discreetly shook her sister's foot.

  "Oh, um, what?" Corryn said, her eyes fluttering open.

  "I think I found an interesting man for you."

  "Oh..." she said, stretching, and slowly sitting up. "Sorry, Mom, but I'm giving up interesting men for Lent this year."

  "Don't be smart. I'm serious; Maeve Byrnes has a son around your age who is single and looking."

  "Desperate, in other words."

  "He's not desperate. In fact, he's tall, dark, and handsome."

  "What, according to his mother?" Corryn said with an incredulous laugh, sending a look around the room that said, Is it just me, or does our mom need an intervention?

  "Look, Corryn, I know you're not crazy about setups—"

  "No, I love them, really. They're right up there with getting my period in white pants."

  "Can we please change the topic?" Billy said, glaring at her mother. "If Corryn doesn't want to be set up, then that's it—end of discussion."

  Adrienne heaved a frustrated sigh. "Fine, I'm done trying to care. I'm gonna stay completely out of your life from now on."

  "Thank you," Corryn said.

  "If you want to end up alone like Aunt Penelope—"

  "Addy, please..." David implored, rubbing his temple.

  "Mom, can't we all just enjoy the slide show?" Billy asked, realizing that "enjoy" was pushing it, but at least they could avoid controversial topics like Corryn's love life, and the fact that Adrienne's older sister had never married.

  In fact, Billy was particularly short on patience when it came to criticism of her favorite aunt. So she had never married, so she was almost sixty and still lived in the house she'd grown up in. Why did Adrienne have to obsess about it? Why did she always have to panic that Corryn and Billy would end up miserable, lonely spinsters just like Aunt Pen—who didn't seem the least bit lonely or miserable?

  Aunt Pen had started her own interior design business over twenty years ago, and since then it had flourished into an undeniable success. She could afford to live almost anywhere, yet she chose to stay in the house she'd inherited from her parents, which Billy considered a gesture of pure heart, and just another indication of Pen's warmth and sincerity.

  "Fine, I guess I'm always wrong," Adrienne mumbled now, still sulking because no one was supporting her attempts to set up Corryn. "I just want the best for my girls because I love them, and I'm wrong again."

  Calmly, Billy said, "Mom, you're not always wrong. You just have a compulsive
need to criticize. No matter what Corryn or I do, you'll always find something else we should be working on. Face it: You're never satisfied."

  Defensively, Adrienne yelped, "That's not true! How can you say that to me? And what about all the good I do? Do you ever remember that?"

  "Okay, okay," David said quickly, in his most pacifist tone. "I think everyone's getting a little too worked up here. Addy, I know you want to help, but Billy and Corryn are both adults now. They have to make their own choices."

  Adrienne's face scrunched in bafflement.

  "Anyone for espresso?" he asked affably, and went into the kitchen. Corryn slipped outside for another cigarette. After she returned there was a silence in the air—one that seemed to echo things that had just been said and magnify how absurd they really were.

  "So... are we all still good friends?" Billy asked, smiling coaxingly at her mom and her sister. Corryn smirked at her mom, who responded by sticking her tongue out. Billy let out an exasperated laugh; they were both so damn alike.

  Adrienne switched the lights back on and shut off the slide projector. "I had something else I wanted to talk to you girls about. But now I see how you really feel about me..."

  "Oh, Mom, come on," Billy said lightly. "What is it?"

  "Well, I had an idea for something fun that the three of us could do together."

  "Uh-oh..." Corryn said.

  "I have two words for you," Adrienne continued, sitting back down in her chair. "Adult. Ed."

  "What about it?" Billy asked.

  "How about we all take a class together? One of those fun night courses. Ever since I lost weight and changed my lifestyle, I've wanted to take a cooking class, and I was thinking it would be a good excuse for some mother-daughter bonding. It'll be my treat; I'll take care of everything," she finished with her hands perched together, prayer style. "What do you say?"

  She just looked so excited about the idea that Billy couldn't bear to say no. "Okay, I'll do it," she said, and looked over at Corryn, who she was pretty sure would go along, too... though she might make Adrienne sweat it out a little.

  After a pause, Corryn shrugged. "Fine, as long as it's only one or two nights a week."

  "Oh, great!" Adrienne enthused. "I'll just go get the course book."

  After she left the room to fetch that, David returned bearing espresso and Sausalito cookies. "Don't let your mother see these," he whispered, grinning, and offered them to Billy and Corryn. Corryn took one, but Billy passed, despite the sensory receptors in her brain that always buzzed for chocolate.

  "Dad, I brought cupcakes," she said.

  He shook his head and said quietly, "No—too messy. I'll sneak one later." After he bit into his cookie, he said, "By the way, I like this adult school idea. It'll be good for you to spend time with your mother. She misses you when you're not here."

  Corryn scoffed, obviously not buying it.

  "It's true," David insisted, absently spilling pieces of cookie on his shirt and the hassock. (Not exactly a master of subterfuge.)

  Corryn sighed. "If she misses us, why does she antagonize us the minute we walk through the door?"

  "Her heart's in the right place," he said tritely but sincerely. "She just wants you to be happy—and she doesn't want you to smoke. None of us do."

  "It's true," Billy agreed softly.

  Just then Adrienne bounded back into the room with the adult school course guide, but quickly got sidetracked by all the cookie crumbs. She bickered with David about using a plate—or how about giving up junk food altogether?—while Billy rolled her eyes, and Corryn fell back on the sofa, mumbling, "I need a cigarette."

  Chapter 9

  The next day Billy got to the Copley Mall early—stopping at Doubleday's to buy that new Renoir book—before heading to Bella Donna to check on her cakes for the jubilee. She'd finished them yesterday, and wanted to make sure they were safe and sound, their decoration pristinely intact. She also wanted to place candy leaves around all the edges, which she couldn't do until now, because if she had put the candy pieces on too early, moisture from the icing would have broken them up.

  When she got to Bella Donna, she said hi to Des, who was cleaning the rotating pie case. "Is Donna here?" she asked.

  "Yeah, up in her office, making the schedule for next week."

  Nodding, Billy went to the back and crossed the pink tile to the walk-in freezer. She lifted the cover off the first cake, but the freezer was too dark to make anything out clearly, so she propped the door wider to let some light in. And then her jaw dropped.

  Oh, no...

  What happened?

  Smeared icing—waves and sunset swirled together into a tye-dyed blob of pastels. Her stomach knotted as she scanned the cake in disbelief. This one was her favorite of the three, too. Sudden panic seized her chest, and she raced to the freezer to check on the others.

  Damn it all! The other two cakes were also a mess; the trim was mashed and the images distorted. What the hell had happened? And what if she hadn't decided to come in and check on the cakes before the jubilee tonight?

  Holding back frustrated tears, Billy sucked in a breath and tried to figure out what to do. First of all, it was suddenly clear what had happened: Someone must have been ambling around in the dark freezer, accidentally knocked over the stack of cakes, and not had the guts to own up to it. She was really disappointed at the thought, because she considered her coworkers friends. To give them the slight benefit of the doubt, whoever had done it surely hadn't realized the extent of the damage. A lot of good that did her—Jesus, what now?

  Time to get it together and solve this mess. Of course, she could simply show Donna, who would undoubtedly suggest that Billy wipe off the frosting, recoat the cakes with white icing, and forget it. The defeatist in her might be tempted, but ultimately that wasn't how Billy wanted to handle this. She'd been excited about the sheet cakes; she'd spent the past few days slaving over them, and she wanted to present something special tonight. She didn't want to cop out with something generic.

  At the same time, there was something about having to redo something you'd labored over that was more daunting and awful than simply starting a whole new project. Hmm...

  Looking around the room, she caught sight of her little plastic Doubleday's bag, inside which was her new book on Renoir.

  And suddenly she had an idea.

  * * *

  By the time Billy got to Churchill that night, she was wiped out and exhausted—not exactly an ideal feeling when you were about to cater a party. She definitely needed a cup of coffee before the Dessert Jubilee got under way. After spending hours slaving and redecorating, she'd managed a simplified but pretty re-creation of Les Grands Boulevards, which spread panoramic style across all three cakes. Obviously she was no threat to the art-forging world, but she still thought it was pretty impressive for cake.

  As she walked down Main Street with a café mocha, she took in her surroundings, noting that Churchill was one of the cutest, coziest places she'd ever been. It had storybook charm, with cobblestone streets, wrought-iron street lamps, and sidewalks lined with maple trees. People strolled past the quaint boutiques, an old-fashioned bookshop, and a string of elegant little restaurants and bistros.

  The plush expanse of green lawn that served as the town square was surrounded with thick foliage and benches, and right in the center was a statue of Mort Churchill—town father and famed dessert connoisseur. From what Billy understood, the annual Dessert Jubilee was a kind of founder's-day event, existing as both a fund-raising affair and a tribute to Mort Churchill's memory. Right now the town square was festive, filled with tables and chairs, and crepe-paper party lights strung along utility poles.

  This was Billy's first catering gig since she'd begun work at Bella Donna a few months ago, but Katie had told her it was a snap. Basically they were supposed to keep the coffee brewing, consolidate half-empty trays, replenish napkins, plates, and utensils, and make rounds with virgin cocktails. The sheet cakes wer
en't being wheeled out until later in the evening, as a finale. It all sounded manageable, but it would have been even better if Billy weren't about to drop from exhaustion.

  Donna had come earlier, but when she saw that Melissa had everything under control, she'd left. Now Georgette was in Marie's Café—the restaurant that annually volunteered its kitchen—and Des and Katie were on the lawn, setting up the last of the chairs.

  Billy and Melissa were spreading out tablecloths when Billy suddenly remembered something. "Oh, Melissa, I saw you at the Rack the other night. But I don't think you realized it was me."

  Melissa regarded her with a blank expression.

  "You know, on Wednesday night?" Billy said by way of clarification. "I waved to you, but I guess you didn't recognize me."

  Furrowing her eyebrows, Melissa shrugged. "Wasn't me."

  It wasn't? Billy had thought for sure...

  Then again, the bar had been dark, the woman had been far away, and Billy had been drinking raspberry crushes. She must've been mistaken.

  Just then Mrs. Tailor passed by with two trays wobbling in her hands. "Oh, here, let me help you," Billy said, coming quickly to her side.

  "Oh, thanks so much," she said, smiling, as Billy set the trays down on the buffet table.

  "Sure, no problem. Listen, if Melissa asks, would you tell her I went to the bathroom?" She knew she could use the bathroom inside Marie's Café, but she preferred to go across the street to the pavilion on the fringes of the beach. It would give her an excuse to amble around a little more before getting back to work.

  Once she'd left the brightness of the town square, Billy realized how dark it really was outside. It was only seven o'clock, but there was an eerie blue-black sky hovering over the coast. She spotted a wide stone building that looked like a little house, with two doors. The one on the right had an engraved sign that read, "Ladies."

  As she reached for the handle, a cold wind blew across her face. Trees rocked from side to side, and leaves fluttered wildly through the sky. Then she heard voices.

  She looked around, and through a stream of fog she saw two men arguing down by the water. One was big and burly, with a dark gray beard. He wore a long black coat and a cap. The other had dark, slicked-back hair and a flaming-red neckerchief flapping crazily in the wind. Both men jabbed angry fingers at each other and motioned toward the water.