Chapter 2
Dear Sophie,
I’m planning a Midsummer Night party. I would like to serve dinner, but it starts at eight o’clock and I’m afraid people will eat before they come.
Host in Fairylawn, Idaho
Dear Host,
Let your guests know what to expect. Call it a Midsummer Night Dinner Party or a Midsummer Night Dessert Party. That will clear up any doubt!
Sophie
That afternoon, I pondered how I could help Worried in Old Town. I phoned my editor, who confirmed that we should not treat it like letters about recipes and entertaining. I decided to take it to Sergeant Wolf Fleishman of the Alexandria Police, and with his permission, in my next column we would ask Worried in Old Town to contact me, without printing the letter.
That straightened out, I headed to the police station.
Wolf came down to the modern lobby. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
Wolf liked to eat and usually carried a few extra pounds, but they did nothing to detract from his good looks. Silver glinted in his sideburns as the summer sun shone on them through a window. We had dated for a time and I was pleased that we continued to be friends. I handed him the letter.
He slid it out of the envelope and read it. Then he flipped the envelope, examining it, and read the note again. “Where did you get this?”
I told him about it mysteriously being in my purse after eating at Blackwell’s Tavern. “I’ve talked to my editor. We’re putting a request in my column tomorrow for her to get in touch with me.”
“You’re not going to print the letter, I hope?”
I tilted my head. “C’mon, Wolf. I’m not that stupid.”
“I can’t stop you from doing that, but I have concerns. Keep it very neutral. I don’t know of anything major going on in Old Town right now, but I don’t want you or Worried in Old Town getting tangled with a bunch of thugs. May I keep this?”
“Yes. I made a copy.”
He met my gaze. “I want to know when she contacts you.” He held up the letter. “This could be anything from a mistaken impression to some kind of retaliation or prank. But it could also mean something sinister is going on.”
* * *
The letter went out of my head again the next day as I tackled Bobbie Sue Bodoin’s Midsummer Night dinner party for her employees. Fortunately, she had decided to rent the outdoor terrace of a restaurant located on the Potomac River where her guests could enjoy Old Town’s Midsummer Night festivities on the water.
It was early evening when Bobbie Sue Bodoin examined the massive assortment of desserts and asked, “There’s no cheesecake, is there?”
I assured her there wasn’t.
Nina had come along on my job so she would get a premier seat for the fireworks on the Potomac. She blurted, “I love cheesecake! Why aren’t you serving it?”
Bobbie Sue, who was about five and a half feet tall with a voluptuous figure that she didn’t mind showing off, promoted her cheesecake business by calling herself the Queen of Cheesecake. “Those words are music to my ears,” she said. “But Nina, darlin’, this is for my employees and I want it to be very special. Cheesecake is what we eat every day. There’s always at least one in the lunchroom. You should come by sometime when we try out new flavors. On those days, when I go home, the last thing I want to see is cheesecake!”
“Maybe I should sign up as an official taster,” Nina suggested.
“Nina has a unique palate,” I said. “She can taste all kinds of subtle flavors that other people don’t even notice.”
Bobbie Sue smiled at Nina. “I’ll keep you in mind. We’re going to be testing cheesecakes like crazy. To celebrate our expansion, we’re having a cheesecake contest to find a new flavor. The prize is ten thousand dollars. You should think about entering.” She studied the Apple watch on her wrist for the fourth time in the last few minutes.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be ready for them,” I said. Most of her two hundred guests were on their way to see Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the park nearby. It would end at twilight, giving them just enough time to walk over to the riverfront restaurant where they would be seated outside to enjoy a late dinner followed by a dessert buffet, and watch the fireworks over the river.
“Hmm?” she murmured. She looked over at me. “It looks wonderful. I’m so glad you talked me into including cheeses and fruit for those who don’t feel like anything too sweet for dessert.” Her gaze fell to her watch again.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“There’s just so much going on. Months ago, when I scheduled this party, I stupidly thought Midsummer Night would be boring. Then someone decided to put on the play, and my daughter Jo’s ballet class agreed to be fairies.”
“Jo? I thought her name was Rebecca. Do you have two daughters?” Nina asked.
Bobbie Sue waved her hand. “She’s ten now and is in her Little Women phase. Her name is really Rebecca Josephine—”
Nina interrupted her. “That’s beautiful!”
“I think so! But I guess it’s a lot for a little girl. I told my husband that in a couple of years, she’s going to tell us to call her RJ. But for now, she’s Jo.”
She took a long sip of iced tea. Even though it wouldn’t officially be summer until tomorrow, the heat and humidity hadn’t gotten that memo.
“Anyway,” she continued, “then the merchants association decided all the stores and restaurants would be open until midnight, so my husband, Tate, is busy, and our son, Spencer, wants to run in the Midnight Madness 5K, and I feel like I’m going in circles keeping track of everyone. I’ve been trying to remind Tate to catch at least part of Jo’s performance, but I’m getting his voicemail. I hope he doesn’t forget. She would be devastated. After the performance, I’ll bring Jo and some of her friends back here with me. They’re going to a slumber party tonight, but I promised them dinner, dessert, and fireworks first.” She took a deep breath and threw her shoulders back. “All I need to know is that you have everything under control here.”
I shot her a smile. “Go take care of your family. Nina and I will make sure everything is ready for your guests on this end.”
“You’re an angel.” Bobbie Sue took off at a fast clip.
“Did you follow any of that?” Nina asked. “She’s a crazed micromanager! Do you think she ever sits down and relaxes?”
“I hope so.” I focused on the job at hand. Anyone who has spent time around water knows that breezes can waft through without warning. I had made sure the florist knew we needed weighted vases for our centerpieces. In addition, with the Fourth of July in two weeks, Bobbie Sue had asked that we stay away from traditional red, white, and blue, which unfortunately were also typical nautical colors. She had okayed my idea of a watermelon-pink theme with shades of green to cool it down. White tablecloths already hung on round tables. I carried a centerpiece to one. Seafoam-green sea glass pebbles weighed them down. Shiny dark green Monstera leaves and curling fronds of ivy provided the base for a mound of lush watermelon-pink peonies and softer pink peonies with fluffy brilliant golden centers. The arrangements were kept low so the guests could interact across the tables and the flowers wouldn’t block anyone’s view of the river and the fireworks.
When Nina and I had placed all the arrangements, we moved two heavy urns of tall flowers in the same color scheme to flank the ends of the dessert buffet. I made a quick check of the door inside the restaurant. As I had asked, they had posted a tasteful sign that read PRIVATE PARTY.
I glanced at my watch. Sunset would roll in around eight thirty-seven. Ten minutes to go.
The waitresses provided by the restaurant to take drink orders and serve dinner checked in with me. Everything was ready.
Nina shot me a sideways look. “If you would like to enter the contest, I would be happy to taste test for you.”
I laughed aloud. “I can see right through your feeble attempt to get me to bake cheesecakes for you to eat.”
“Aw, come on! You’re always baking something. Why not cheesecake? Ten thousand dollars isn’t chump change. We could take a nice vacation on that kind of money.”
“We?”
“Well, as your official taster, I think I would be entitled to something when you win.”
Five minutes later, people began to arrive. Drinks and dinner were served, and everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Bobbie Sue returned with Jo and a few other fairies in tow. Jo wore oversized translucent silver fairy wings and a sweet periwinkle-blue dance outfit with a gauzy tulle skirt. A floral wreath of ivy leaves, tiny fresh white roses, and purple statice sat on her head. She was adorable.
But Bobbie Sue looked out of sorts. Was she clenching her teeth? A muscle twitched in her jaw as she scanned her guests.
“What did Daddy say?” asked Jo. “Is he coming here?”
Bobbie Sue looked a little queasy. “Honey, he thought you were the best fairy of all!” she said enthusiastically.
Jo beamed.
“Jo, sweetie, would you get mommy an iced tea? Just ask that waitress for it. And then maybe you and your friends can eat dinner? I think that table over there is reserved for you.”
Jo nodded and the fairies flitted off. Guests stopped them to admire their outfits. The fairies added a magical touch to the party.
Bobbie Sue’s lips pulled tight. “Tate didn’t show up,” she whispered. “I could just kill him for letting her down. This meant so much to her.”
A woman approached us with a huge smile. “This was such a wonderful idea, Bobbie Sue. I love seeing everyone’s spouses and catching up on their families. And your Rebecca is darling in that fairy outfit!”
Bobbie Sue managed a smile. “Is Steve with you? I’ll come by your table to say hi.”
“Are you going to make a speech?” asked the woman. Bobbie Sue’s eyes widened in horror. “Good heavens, no. That’s so . . . plastic. I plan to stop by each table. It’s much more personal. I don’t want anyone to feel like they came to a meeting. This is supposed to be fun! Let’s go see Steve.” The two of them headed for the farthest table and Bobbie Sue engaged her guests.
“Look at her,” murmured Nina. “You’d never know Bobbie Sue was angry with her husband.”
Half an hour later, the soft sounds of a band playing Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream tinkled through the air, and fireworks began. The music morphed into the 1810 Overture as the fireworks grew bolder, bursting softly in the sky until the music reached a crescendo and the sky lit up with cascading sparkles.
“I didn’t hear any booming,” I said.
Nina grinned. “They were quiet fireworks. It’s easier on dogs, horses, and humans who are sensitive to loud bangs. There’s a town in Italy that forbids noisy fireworks. Old Town is so dog friendly that when some of the rescue groups proposed we follow suit, the town readily agreed.”
“I’m all for that. Poor Daisy gets hysterical about fireworks. I dressed Daisy in her Thunder Shirt before I left today.”
The party continued until after midnight. The fairies were picked up and like a proper host, Bobbie Sue remained until the last two couples straggled out.
“Any word from Tate?” asked Nina.
Bobbie Sue ran her fingers across her forehead. “He was supposed to stop by here, too.” She pulled out her phone and made a call. Shaking her head, she said with disgust, “Voicemail again.”
“When is the last time you saw Tate?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “This morning at breakfast. There was a problem at my cheesecake factory, Spencer overslept, and Jo’s sitter canceled because she was grounded.” Bobbie Sue shot me a sideways glance. “Honestly, I was so rattled that I barely paid Tate any attention. I’m such a bad mother. I left chocolate cheesecake for Spencer’s breakfast. Then I dropped off Jo at her best friend Esme’s house, and rushed to work.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t know if poor Tate or Spencer ever even left the house.” Her eyes widened. “Spencer! The run started at eleven thirty. If I hurry, maybe I can be at the finish line when they get there.” She started to leave and turned around. “Thank you for making tonight special. Everyone enjoyed it. And thanks for listening to me complain about Tate, too!”
She was off before I could respond.
Nina hissed, “I like Bobbie Sue, but she’s so rattled she probably doesn’t know what her husband is up to. That’s a woman who has a serious problem on her hands. Bet you a chocolate cheesecake that she’s at your door in the next seven days asking for our help.”
I am not a very picky eater. But chocolate cheesecake was quite high on my list of preferred indulgences and I hadn’t had any in a long time. It was better than a foot massage or a long soak in a bubble bath. If I lost, I would have to bake one for Nina, of course. But that was unlikely. Chances were that Tate’s phone died and he was at home, having forgotten all about his daughter’s performance, his wife’s party, and his son’s race.
“You’re on,” I said.