The Diva Goes Overboard

Use thinly sliced smoked salmon. You may need to cut the slices into long strips. Take a small piece and roll it. That is the center. Stand it on end. Add seven to nine more slices around it. Bend the tops of the slices outward to resemble a rose.

Sophie

“How about tomorrow at my store?” asked Orson.

“Certainly. What time?”

“Is eight thirty too early? The employees arrive at nine forty-five to open the store.”

“That would be fine. Do you want to set up an event for a charity?”

Orson looked at me with earnest eyes. “Nothing like that.” He lowered his voice. “It’s a personal matter.” He glanced around. “I’d rather not discuss it in public.”

Natasha swept toward us like a goose protecting its nest. “Sophie! We can’t have you hogging the groom. I’m going to steal him away from you.” She latched onto Orson’s arm. “Have you had a chance to try Stella’s marvelous charcuterie?”

I watched them walk away, wondering what personal matter I could possibly help Orson with. He was probably mistaken about my job. Many people thought I arranged small, private parties and birthday celebrations. Maybe he hoped to set up something special for Wanda. No matter, Daisy and I would be out walking around that time in the morning anyway. We could easily stop by his store.

I drifted over to Mars, Bernie, and Nina, who were checking out Stella’s charcuterie boards.

She had loaded the table with a variety of boards, not only charcuterie. “There’s something for everyone!” I exclaimed.

Mars laughed. “A little different for an engagement party.” He picked up a slice of salami and nibbled on it. “Mmm. I like this. You can choose what you want. Salami isn’t something I eat often. I’d forgotten how delicious it is.”

“Not all boards have charcuterie on them. There are butter boards, doughnut boards, dessert boards, cookie boards, breakfast boards, just about everything you can imagine. I’m looking forward to pancake boards in the winter.”

“Nice selection, but there’s no cake,” Nina grumbled.

“It’s an engagement,” Mars pointed out. “Not a wedding.”

“We host a lot of engagement parties and you’d be surprised how many people want a cake,” said Bernie. “Sort of a pre-wedding cake with multiple tiers and the works.”

“Whatever makes them happy,” I said. “There aren’t really any rules, you know. I think it’s fun.”

A shrill scream pierced the murmur of voices, followed by a loud thud. The quartet stopped playing.

We rushed up a path to see Orson writhing on the ground in pain. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead.

A hush fell over the guests, which made Wanda’s next scream seem all the louder. She fell to her knees next to him. “Orson, what is it? A heart attack?”

I pulled out my cell phone and punched in 911.

When the dispatcher answered, I said, “We’re at Mosby’s Gardens. A man has collapsed. Please send an ambulance right away.”

“Is he breathing?”

“It appears so. But he’s clearly in distress. He’s sweating profusely!”

“An ambulance is on the way.”

“Thank you.” I disconnected the call and knelt next to Wanda, thinking Orson might need CPR, but he was conscious and breathing. I forced a smile at him. “Orson, how can we help? Do you need to sit up?”

Orson raised one hand and pointed at me. “Tell Stella . . .” His voice faded and his body jerked.

Wanda tapped his cheeks gently. “Stay with us, Orson. Help is on the way.”

He looked at me and very softly uttered, “Tell Stella . . .”

“Orson!” screamed Wanda. “Talk to me. Talk to me!”

Orson’s eyes were open, but his hands shook as if he couldn’t control them.

Stella rushed toward us. I moved over to make room for her beside Wanda.

“Dad! Dad! What happened?” Stella cried.

Another woman rushed to the opposite side of Orson. “Orson, no!” She checked his pulse. “It’s his heart. I can feel it. Tachycardia.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“His heartbeat is very fast,” she said. “Too fast.”

“No! No, no, no.” Wanda clutched Orson’s hand. “You’ll be all right, Orson. But you have to hang in there. Help will be here any moment. Can you hear me? Orson?”

“Dad!” wailed Stella. “You’re going to be fine. An ambulance is coming.”

“All this was too much for his heart,” said the other woman, who looked very worried.

“What?” Wanda blanched. She stroked his cheek. Then she lay her head on his chest, as if listening for a heartbeat. “I don’t hear his heart anymore! Orson, please. It’s not your time, honey. Please don’t leave me.”

The sound of clanking caused me to look up. Emergency medical technicians hurried toward us. But behind them, several people rushed out the gate as if they were trying to make a hasty escape.

I helped Wanda get to her feet and make room for the EMTs. Two of them attended to Orson, while a third asked Stella questions about Orson’s health.

One of the EMTs on the ground uttered, “What on earth?”

He had opened Orson’s mouth. From my vantage point, I could see the EMT remove something bright yellow.

Stella clutched one hand to her chest. “It’s a daffodil! He must have choked on it.”

The other woman stared at Stella as if she had said something incredulously stupid. She stood up and straightened her skirt, answering the questions about Orson, apparently more informed about his health.

“Who is that?” I whispered to Bernie.

“Audrey Evans. She was a nurse,” he murmured close to my ear. “And she was Orson’s girlfriend before Wanda. I was surprised to see her here.”

Audrey was the opposite of downhome Wanda. About the same age, she was slightly pudgy with enviable thick hair in waves of carefully shaped loose curls the color of light-brown sugar. She wore a chunky gold necklace that had either been very expensive or was an excellent piece of costume jewelry. Two rows of golden buttons accented her dressy, cream-colored suit jacket. In all, she was dressed simply, but refined. A woman of taste. The sort of woman Natasha wished Wanda were.

Mars frowned at another group of people. “Do you see that? Clusters of people are hurrying out the gate.”

After a few minutes, the EMTs lifted Orson onto a gurney and rolled him out to the ambulance. Wanda stayed by his side, holding his hand. Stella followed along with us behind her.

“We can only take one person in the ambulance,” said an EMT.

Stella nodded. “You go, Wanda. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” She ran toward the kitchen.

When the doors closed, it was eerily silent. Voices slowly built up a din again. Within five minutes, more than half the guests had left.

I wandered over to the charcuterie and butter boards Stella had made. They were lovely, despite the fact that a good bit of the food had been consumed. I picked up a smoked salmon rose, unrolled it onto a slice of rustic bread, and bit into it. I eyed a butter board with slices of rustic toasted bread around the edges. The butter in the center had been disturbed, but one could tell that it had been smeared on in delicate swirls. Something had been drizzled across the top. I broke off a piece of the bread and swept it through the lush butter. Yum! Stella had mixed thyme and sage into the butter, drizzled it with honey, and topped it with a sprinkling of flaked salt.

Natasha joined me, looking pale and troubled. “What a nightmare!”

I swallowed, feeling guilty for eating. “Wanda must be worried sick.”

“I hosted the party. Everyone will remember that. For years people will be saying, ‘Remember Orson, who died at the engagement party Natasha threw?’ ”

I was horrified. Speaking softly, I said, “He’s not dead yet, Natasha. I hope he’s just ill and will recover.” Not to mention that even if the worst came to pass, I doubted that Natasha’s name would come up at all. People would remember that Orson collapsed at his engagement party, but it was highly unlikely that anyone would remember it was Natasha who had made the arrangements.

“Are you kidding? At his age? It’s like I’m cursed. I almost had a father again.”

Nothing about Wanda and Orson’s engagement or pending marriage was about Natasha. Not a single thing. I, who had a wonderful father, hadn’t realized how much this meant to Natasha, even though she was an adult. It never occurred to me that she would see this like a child who was getting a new dad. As self-centered as she was, my heart broke for her.

“As soon as someone wonderful or special comes along, some mystical force pulls out a magic wand and says, ‘We can’t have this. Natasha can’t be happy.’ ”

Griselda overheard her. “Honey, we’ll burn some salt and sage tonight. I have a lovely Eye of Horus at the store that you can wear. You’ll see. Your luck will improve.”

Natasha forced a smile. “It’s too late now. The harm has been done. It’s the third bad thing.”

Griselda patted Natasha’s back and plucked something from the board. I caught a glimpse of the orange corona of a daffodil as she bit into it.

“Griselda!” I held out a napkin to her. “Spit that out this instant. Don’t swallow it.”