Chapter 16

Late that night, thunder rattled the windows. Quinn and Noah crawled into Alene’s bed and were still cuddled on either side of her when she woke up early on Tuesday. The storm had calmed to a drizzle. They slept as she got ready to go running and were still asleep when she tip-toed in forty-five minutes later.

Alene showered, dressed, and whipped her hair into a braid. She opened her father’s door and snuck a quick look. It was a relief to see him sprawled out, snoring lightly in his own bed. Then she made lunches, woke the kids, gave them breakfast, and got them off to camp.

It was nice to walk in at nine when the kitchen was in full swing and the cafe was humming with customers. Ruthie rushed over to give her a hug and they caught up on everything that had happened since they saw each other the day before. She wore an old-fashioned bib apron adorned with yellow snapdragons and a matching ribbon on her braid. Alene remembered finding the apron while scouring garage sales with Ruthie one long-ago Sunday morning.

Behind the counter, LaTonya was serving a man with snow-white hair and Jocelyn handed a box to the woman whose tattoo reminded Alene of wallpaper. Jocelyn wore a short black pencil skirt with a cute top, and her hair was pulled back in a low bun. How did she manage to look so chic at seven in the morning? Alene thanked Edith and Jocelyn for opening that morning, and turned to Jocelyn to say, “I’m so glad you’re back at work.” Alene wondered how Jocelyn had explained her absence to everyone.

Jocelyn smiled brightly and turned to greet two well-dressed young women who looked like they had an important meeting to attend. Several regulars grabbing coffee and muffins hailed her and said they’d missed her for the past few days. During the next hour or so, Alene watched as people popped by to visit Jocelyn, especially Olly, who was like a puppy barking in excited bursts now that his best friend had returned. After his third visit to the counter, LaTonya asked how he’d survived the two years Jocelyn had spent in Afghanistan.

Alene assumed that Olly responded with a sarcastic quip even though she’d walked away and wasn’t close enough to hear. The Tuesday knitting group had started trickling in. Alene was happy to sit with an almond mocha and work on the soft cotton baby blanket she hoped would turn out nice enough to donate to a refugee family. Everyone was using leftover yarns, and nobody was following a pattern, which sometimes led to lovely art and sometimes not.

She’d just said goodbye to the knitting group and put her project back in the office when Julian and Phyllie showed up at the cafe. Julian got in line at the counter while Phyllie got the boys busy with crayons and paper at the big table.

There was a constant flow in and out the café door. Jack was busy cleaning spills, tossing trash, restocking paper goods, and taking empty muffin trays back to the kitchen. Zuleyka joined Jocelyn and LaTonya behind the counter, creating or serving drinks as they took orders. Olly brought plates to the tables, and Alene filled in wherever she noticed a gap, ringing up credit cards or helping unload platters coming out of the kitchen.

Kofi arrived and sat on the other side of the café from Julian while Jack ran back to the kitchen to inform Kacey. Alene hoped Kofi and Julian would avoid each other. Alene kept an eye on customers coming and going and watched Miles Taylor hold the door open for Heather and her mother. So, she was home again. Alene was surprised to see her out and about so soon after getting released from the hospital.

Sylvie’s lipstick-colored hair was freshly dyed and styled, and she wore the big red eyeglasses that made her look like a bug. She hobbled unsteadily in a bright floral dress that reminded Alene of an old cereal commercial she’d watched as a child. The three of them sat at Julian and Phyllie’s table, and the little boys immediately climbed off their chairs. They tried to hug Sylvie’s legs, but she shrieked that being touched was painful. Phyllie pulled them away as Julian waited in line at the counter.

Toula and Royce entered and got in line three or four people behind Julian. They weren’t conversing, and Alene thought of the joke about a young couple watching an older couple at the next table. The young wife mentions how sad it is that the old folks have nothing to say to each other, while the older wife points out how sad it is when young couples feel the need to jabber constantly. Alene, passing carry-out boxes across the counter, hoped she and Frank would reach that comfortable, nonverbal stage in their relationship one day.

Ruthie hurried out of the kitchen, a splotch of flour on her cheek, cheerful as usual. She walked over to hug Sylvie, asked how she was feeling and made a fuss about how good she looked. Ruthie told her how sad her own mother would be to miss seeing the family since it was a weekday and she was at work. Sylvie announced that Lillian had called her last night and told her that Lawrence was doing better. He was probably getting out of the hospital on Friday, and the big news was that he was going to move in with Lillian. They were still discussing the financial pros and cons of getting married.

Sylvie added, “Obviously they should avoid marriage. Too many problems.”

Alene walked as Ruthie and Phyllie argued about marriage -- Ruthie waxing rhapsodic about finding someone who loves you best of all, Phyllie making cracks about some men never growing up. It wasn’t a subject Alene wanted to weigh in on at the moment.

As planned, Olly and another employee started strolling through the café giving out small samples of the Chocolate Peanut Butter Banana frozen pie Ruthie had created. Customers oohed and aahed, commented on the pie’s creaminess, marveled that it was low in sugar, and asked for the recipe. Alene trained employees to answer that Ruthie was happy they enjoyed her creations, but her Whipped and Sipped contract didn’t allow her to give away recipes. It wasn’t true. Alene thought a Whipped and Sipped cookbook would be a good idea, but Ruthie didn’t want to share her recipes and always argued that people preferred sitting in a café to eating in their own kitchens.

The samples were in small muffin cups served on cute paper coasters that advertised Whipped and Sipped as a party venue. Olly had designed them in the crimson color of the café’s art wall juxtaposed with a graphic of the barn-style door that connected to Tipped, Brianne’s bar. When those doors were open, they could comfortably host up to seventy-five people. They’d hosted occasional small parties over the years and had just scheduled a larger event for August. And Alene had just asked the server handing out samples with Olly to take the new job of catering manager.

Olly brought out a tray of warm rosemary-onion turnovers and crouched behind the counter to fill the case. LaTonya accidentally bumped into him and spilled a little of the drink she was carrying, but Jack swooped in with his mop. Alene watched customers rushing in after being caught in a sudden downpour. Some were dripping water on the floor with their umbrellas, so Alene signaled to Jack, who moved out from behind the counter to take care of it. The next two dripping people to enter set their umbrellas in the umbrella stand – thank goodness some customers understood its purpose.

When Jocelyn stiffened and slipped away from the counter, back into the kitchen, Alene realized it was Harrison and Rhea Huff, her brother and sister-in-law. They were coughing and sniffling. Alene quickly moved to take their orders, hoping they weren’t spreading germs all over the café. If they started arguing with Sylvie or anyone in that family, Alene was going to ask them all to leave. A shouting match would drive all the other customers out the door.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,” she whispered to LaTonya, who shrugged.

Rising from behind the counter, Olly said, “That’s two ingredients you should add to our offerings. I’m thinking we should do gin-inspired cookies and marijuana infused brownies. Everyone’s doing it these days.” LaTonya laughed, which had probably been Olly’s objective.

Alene just shook her head and greeted the Huffs. Harrison ordered the spinach turnover salad plate with coffee. Rhea asked for a veggie lunch burrito and herbal tea. As he inserted his credit card, Harrison said, “I’ve wanted to meet you, Alene. I’m Jocelyn’s brother, and this is my wife, Rhea.” It seemed like a good start that he’d called her by her name, but Alene felt a little nervous talking to them. She hadn’t heard anything more about Stanley’s will, but Harrison and/or his wife seemed to have more of a motive than anyone else Alene had thought about. On the other hand, prosecutors didn’t even have to bring up motive, as long as they showed intent. She was getting ahead of herself – if Harrison was guilty, Frank would figure it out.

“Thanks for coming in,” Alene said guardedly, with a small smile. “Of course, I know who you are.” He shared Jocelyn’s long face and beautifully arched eyebrows. Jocelyn was still hiding in the kitchen. If, as she’d told Alene, she wasn’t going to live in fear anymore, this would be the perfect time for her to face Harrison. It’s not like he was going to do something in the middle of the café.

“I’ve been trying to reach my sister,” Harrison said, looking for a moment at the crimson wall. Alene wished Jocelyn had heard him refer to her as his sister. Maybe he’d softened over the years and there was some possibility of a relationship. Unless he’d murdered their father.

Rhea Huff said, “Sylvie is always gushing about this place, so we all decided to meet here today.”

If they’d planned a family reunion, why hadn’t anyone told Jocelyn? “It’s because of Ruthie Rosin’s stellar baking,” said Alene.

Harrison and Rhea probably knew Ruthie because of her mother’s friendship with Sylvie. They seemed younger than Alene, probably early thirties, and neither looked like they’d spent much time in the sun. Alene knew they’d moved back to Chicago recently. Maybe it hadn’t been easy moving to the city just in time for the hot, sticky weather. And then they’d had to grapple with Stanley’s death. Maybe that’s why they seemed tense.

“I hope it’s not a bad time,” Harrison said, sounding congested and worn out. “As I mentioned, I’ve been trying to reach Jocelyn all week.” Hadn’t Jocelyn said that he wouldn’t talk to her? Families could be so complicated.

Olly popped up from behind the counter, where he was unloading another tray. “Jocelyn wasn’t reachable this week,” he announced cheerfully.

Harrison blinked. “I thought I glimpsed her when we first came in. Look, we just need to set up a time to go over some details regarding our father.”

Rhea added, “It won’t take long.” Alene couldn’t help taking another look at her broad shoulders while imagining murderers she’d seen depicted in television movies. They often seemed to be polite and normal looking. Why wouldn’t the meeting take long? Was it because they’d slip her some poison and be on their way?

Olly said, “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me, Harrison. I used to hang out at your house all the time with J. And this must be your wife. Pleased to meet you. I’m Olly Burns.”

“I remember you, Olly,” said Harrison, smiling in a friendly way. Alene couldn’t help thinking about the good-looking serial killer who kept fooling women into trusting him before he abducted them and shivered. “You and J always took up both couches and spent hours watching abysmal music videos.”

“Ah yes,” Olly responded good-naturedly, “I’d forgotten that you were an authority on high culture.” He elbowed Alene and added, “and you don’t need our permission to speak with Jocelyn. She’s an adult.”

They were either very sneaky or very professional criminals. Alene glanced at the umbrella stand, recalling the true story of a Bulgarian operative who used a poison-tipped umbrella to assassinate a Russian diplomat. Alene said, “Why don’t you choose a table and Jocelyn will bring your food when it’s ready.” Olly would keep a close eye on them, just in case.

Jocelyn must have reconsidered, because now she returned to the counter, holding onto Jack’s arm. She stood slightly behind him as if he were a bodyguard. Jack stood up straighter than usual, no longer slouching. His jaw jutted forward, and he acted like protecting a beautiful woman was one of the things he did all the time. Alene couldn’t help feeling a little proud to have helped bring out this side of Jack.

Holding her chin high, Jocelyn put a finely manicured hand on the counter and said, “If you’re trying to get me to sign my inheritance over to you, Harrison, I can give you some helpful advice about where to put important papers.”

Harrison responded with a loud coughing fit. Alene waited on the next customer, hoping it was just reflux or asthma and not contagious. Jocelyn tapped her fingernails and watched him warily. Finally, he said, “Can we talk?”

Jocelyn’s head fell forward, either to consider her response or to cry. Maybe that was the first time he’d addressed her by her chosen name. Alene’s customer stood holding her credit card watching the unfolding scene until Alene pointed to where the card needed to be inserted.

Jocelyn wavered, and Edith inched close enough to say, “You should be ashamed of the way you treated your sister all these years, Harrison.”

Olly, LaTonya, and Jocelyn all stopped in their tracks to stare. It was the first time Alene had ever admired Edith, who now patted Jocelyn on the back like a coach about to give a pep talk.

Harrison looked at his wife, who’d linked her arm through his. “What am I supposed to say now?” Harrison said with a defeated sigh. “I tried. Let’s just go.”

“No, we’re not going,” said Rhea, gripping her husband firmly, “not before you talk to your sister. You can’t expect her to welcome you with open arms after a lifetime of treating her like crap. You don’t need me to tell you what you have to do next.”

Alene liked the woman’s style. Rhea added, “Please, Jocelyn, give him a chance to apologize. He knows how your father treated you, and he feels bad for going along with it all these years.” Jocelyn, tears streaming, looked at Alene for permission to take a break.

Alene was plagued with a tiny bit of doubt as she watched Harrison and Rhea head to a table. What if they were trying to get Jocelyn to let down her guard by pretending to have had a change of heart? As soon as she trusted them, they could arrange for her to have an “accident.”

Jocelyn followed Harrison, who turned and touched her arm. The small gesture gave Alene a sense of hope. Maybe Harrison really was trying to make amends for the way he’d behaved. Then Jocelyn swatted Harrison’s hand away from her arm, and Alene delivered a veggie burger smothered with shredded, roasted carrots to another table. She needed to stop dreaming about everyone getting along with each other.

Moments later, Blanca arrived with Cal. Alene helped them to a table and took their order, hoping none of her other customers would assume they’d get that kind of personalized table service. The rest of the staff came out of the kitchen or from behind the counter to greet Cal, and Alene watched her father happily soak up the attention. She hoped he didn’t notice Sylvie, sitting on the other side of o the café. He’d been so glad to get out of the hospital and away from her.

Blanca should bring him to the café more often. Maybe they’d set up a few tables with chess sets, since her father loved to play. He’d taught Alene and Lydia when they were younger, but only Lydia had enjoyed the strategizing. The café could offer games in the afternoon, after the lunch rush. They could even host chess tournaments. She’d have to investigate buying relatively inexpensive chess sets along with the necessary timers.

There was a low murmur of people ordering or chatting at their tables. Then, Julian’s two-year-old, who’d been leaning against Phyllie’s leg eating half a grilled cheese sandwich, suddenly propelled himself to the next table, where Toula sat with her husband, not speaking, as usual. The child averted a tumble to the ground by grabbing Royce’s leg with his messy hands. Royce shook his leg to loosen Richie’s grasp, and spluttered, “Get this kid off me.”

The little boy fell hard on the floor and started wailing as if someone had stabbed him. Julian jumped from his seat to swoop him up. “He’s only two,” Julian said to Royce. Alene wished he’d yelled louder at the large adult who’d come close to hurting his child.

Royce stood and announced, “We’re done here. Let’s go.” There was still food on their plates.

But Sylvie had risen from her chair and now stood directly in front of Toula, who put her fork down. “Just one minute,” Sylvie demanded in her nasal voice as she pointed at Toula’s face. “Where did you get those earrings?”

Just a few feet away, Alene heard her father say, “no way,” and politely asked Sylvie to lower her voice. Sylvie grabbed Alene’s arm. Alene made a note to turn up the air-conditioning the second Sylvie let go of her arm, because of her sickly-sweet perfume. Sylvie said, “Those are my earrings. I already told you about how Stanley gave them to me, Alene, for our first anniversary.”

“You accused Blanca of stealing them, Sylvie,” said Alene. “Now you think one of my customers took your earrings?” Maybe Sylvie planned to accuse everyone in the café.

“I don’t take your ugly jewelry, Sylvie Huff!” Blanca said loudly.

Cal said, equally loudly, “Some people need more recovery time before they venture out in public.” Alene hoped that was all he was going to say about Sylvie.

Sylvie doubled down, paying no attention to Cal. “They’re half-carat diamonds on one side and sapphire on the other. Nobody else has earrings like these.” She slowly rose from her seat, leaning heavily on the table with her face scrunched in anger. Customers started staring and Alene tried to come up with a way to stop the drama. It looked like Sylvie had worked herself into a relatively quick frenzy, her pointer finger aimed at Toula. “Those are my earrings,” she shrieked. “Where did you get them?”

All conversation in the café stopped. A few customers had taken out their cameras. Alene stepped in front of Sylvie to address Toula. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “This is Sylvie Huff, who just lost her husband and got out of the hospital yesterday. She’s not completely back to herself.” As if that would explain Sylvie’s rudeness.

Toula, in a shaky voice, said, “I know who she is.”

Ruthie had come out of the kitchen by then and headed straight to Sylvie. “I’d hate to see your blood pressure go up again.” She reached for Sylvie’s hand. “Come sit down with me,” she said soothingly, “and we’ll figure this out.”

Sylvie flicked Ruthie’s hand away. “My husband gave her my earrings,” she said, oozing with scorn, “because she was sleeping with him.”

Edith called out, “You should never regift anything.” Alene pointed at the blenders, hoping Edith would remember that she had a job to do. Sylvie’s earrings were probably hidden in a sock at the back of her freezer.

“Toula always wears lovely jewelry,” said Alene, trying to diffuse the unpleasant situation. She herself wore small hoops that she could sleep in, and envied women who had the wherewithal to change their jewelry every morning. “These aren’t yours, Sylvie, so please sit down and don’t ruin lunch for everyone in my café.”

Alene was shocked when Sylvie pushed her out of the way. “Yes, they are mine,” Sylvie screeched, pointing just inches from Toula’s head. It looked like she meant to grab the earrings out of Toula’s ears.

“Please calm down, Sylvie,” said Alene. “If you can’t calm yourself, you’re going to have to leave immediately.” Only a few people continued to eat. Most were staring.

Toula reached her hands to her face and felt both of her earlobes. “I’ve had these earrings forever,” she said in a small voice.

Sylvie continued sputtering about the earrings, now directing her ire at Toula’s husband, who sat stiffly with his eyes darting to whoever was speaking. His face was the color of a tomato, and he clenched and unclenched his hands, cracking the joints and reminding Alene of a teapot about blow its top. Was he going to attack Sylvie for casting aspersions about his wife or would he add a few more bruises to Toula’s arms?

Jack, Olly, Kacey, and Kofi quickly surrounded Royce, even without being asked. Alene hoped they’d calm him down while she pulled Toula into the kitchen. Jocelyn had parted from Harrison and Rhea and Alene worried about how that conversation had gone. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Olly trying to lighten the mood by sending café coasters flying like frisbees. It wasn’t calming anyone down, but it was distracting them from the yelling match between Sylvie and Royce.