Chapter Eleven
Sarah picked up her sister’s jacket from the box where she had left it when she called Harlan. She tried to wipe a smudge off its sleeve with her hand.
“That’s not going to come off without bleach.”
Sarah jerked around to see who the speaker was. The young chef with the tattooed right arm stood there. Grace. Apparently, the dinner had successfully been delivered and set up at the Holts’.
Close up, Sarah could see the ink on the arm exposed below Grace’s T-shirt was comprised of several interwoven food and vegetable designs worked around what appeared to be Japanese or Chinese letters.
Following Sarah’s gaze, Grace said, “My way of advocating farm to table.”
“Oh.” Sarah fumbled for what to say next. It wouldn’t be polite to note that the artwork didn’t convey that idea. She imagined anything she said, besides coming across as an insult, would highlight the few years’ difference in their ages was a gaping crevice.
Grace apparently saw no problem with tattoos and piercings while Sarah had been brought up to think of them as something people in business hid. Although some of her contemporaries had little butterflies or miniature symbols tucked where the sun didn’t shine, Sarah knew none would fathom the idea of getting a full-arm sleeve.
The idea of getting even a small tattoo scared Sarah. She worried too much about the cleanliness of the needle, what it would look like if her skin shriveled with age and the wings sagged, or if she simply woke up one day and hated it.
Grace saved the moment. “Where’s Emily?”
“She had to leave for a little while, but she left me here to help. What’s left to do?” Sarah began to unbutton and roll up her sleeves.
“Plenty, but we need to go to a meeting first.”
Grace whistled to catch Jacob’s attention. When he looked up, she yelled, “Chef Marcus wants us all in the other room for a moment.”
He obediently trotted toward them.
“If you’re going to sub for Emily, you better come along, too.”
Take Emily’s place? No way. Hopefully, Chef Marcus had some tasks to be done, like setting a table or sweeping a floor. She couldn’t be expected to display Emily’s food or be part of the food competitions or exhibitions without any preparation. It wasn’t part of the bargain of being a twin or a quasi-detective. Besides, having Sarah cook would do little to preserve Emily’s career. It might even permanently finish it.
Everyone already in the Civic Center’s back room encircled Chef Marcus, who stood in the open area near the refrigerators and ovens. Although still looking paler than Sarah remembered him from past days, he seemed to be back in control. He acknowledged the arrival of the last three with a nod of his head but continued addressing the group.
“First, let me tell you how very pleased with our service Mrs. Holt was. I appreciate everyone’s help pulling the dinner off, but we’re not done yet. Our setup for the Expo is behind. We’ve got a lot to do here and at the restaurant before the Expo begins, but I know we can pull it off working together.”
Chef Marcus cleared his throat. “The fact is, Mr. Blair was our champion. With him gone, our role at the Civic Center and as a premier restaurant in this community rests on our next dinner services at Southwind and our Expo performance throughout the weekend. To say it more plainly, our jobs depend on making sure the Food Expo is a success and keeping the Civic Center powers happy.”
“How do those two differ?” Sarah whispered to Grace.
Chef Marcus’s next sentence made it seem like he had overheard her. “Southwind’s Civic Center contract was only for a year. With new leadership coming in, the board is bound to rebid the contract. Even if we don’t win it again, we want people to associate Southwind and our catering efforts with quality. That’s why it’s important the Southwind booth, displays, and samplings tied to the Food Expo go well, but we also have to keep the workers and board members satisfied behind the scenes.”
Jane nodded fiercely beside Chef Marcus.
He ignored her. “Unfortunately, I got a text from Emily that she’s tied up at the police station. Because we don’t know how long she’ll be, we’re going to have to divide up her responsibilities, too.”
Jane immediately stepped in front of Chef Marcus. “I can supervise the Civic Center staff table and take over supervision of the exhibition area.”
“Oh, no,” Grace said so softly only Sarah heard her.
From the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Grace relax when Marcus responded. “Thank you, but that’s too much to ask of one person. If you stick to making people happy at your Southwind exhibition table and doing a bang-up job during your food presentation and the contest, that will be more than enough.”
He consulted a piece of paper he was holding. “I’ve made a list of assignments for each of you in addition to the shifts you’ll be putting in at the booth and restaurant. Grace, I’d like you to oversee the backroom staff table. Jacob and Richard, I need you to keep track of the exhibitor and volunteer boxed lunches and make sure we have enough ice and drinks on hand. I’m going to meet and greet and try to massage a few egos. Okay, all?”
“What about me?” Sarah asked. “Hopefully, Emily will be back soon, but what can I do in her place in the meantime?”
“Thank you. It’s kind of you to offer to pitch in for her, Sarah. Normally, your sister would have overseen everything to do with the Civic Center food contract.”
Involuntarily, Sarah shrank into herself as her hand went to her neck.
For the first time, Chef Marcus smiled. She couldn’t help but note he had an engaging grin that made him appear downright boyish.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her stuff. Hopefully, she’ll be back by the time the Expo opens, so why don’t you just help Grace get Emily’s display area set up.”
Sarah wished Chef Marcus’s list could tell her how to help her sister. Now that Peter had matched Emily’s fingerprints to those on the fork, it was going to be harder than ever to make him look for another suspect. Her stomach was flip-flopping at the thought of investigating without her twin’s help, but she knew she had no other choice.
She missed the next direction Chef Marcus gave, but he caught her attention when he turned back to her. “It also would be great if you’d try to contact Emily and find out if there is any specific prep or shopping she needs done for her personal demonstration and contest entry.”
“Sure, but we might need a plan B.” Sarah carefully avoided hinting at Emily being arrested and unable to return, but it didn’t matter.
Chef Marcus had moved on to something else.
“Don’t worry about plan B yet,” Grace whispered. “You called Harlan. He’ll have her back in plenty of time for the exhibition. He’s fantastic. In the meantime, let’s see if we can figure out what’s still needed for Emily’s booth.”
Sarah nodded, but she didn’t feel Grace’s confidence.