Later that morning…
“I need to sit down for a minute,” Lauren said, grasping the back of a kitchen chair. “Could you watch the bacon for me, Charlie?”
“Sure thing.” I took my place in front of the stovetop and did exactly what she’d asked of me. I watched the bacon. I didn’t touch it or even breathe too heavily near the pan. As experience had shown, whenever I did anything that wasn’t under Lauren’s direction, the breakfast, lunch or dinner would flop.
And it wasn’t like I’d been trying to sabotage anything either. It just… happened. Cooking wasn’t my forte. But I had a certain je nais se quois when it came to dusting.
The bacon sizzled in the pan, releasing its delicious salty flavor. It was nearly time to serve the guests, most of whom had arrived grumpy after the night’s interruption. Lauren was in good spirits, however, and that was all that mattered to me.
“All right,” the chef said, pushing up from her chair. “Let’s finish this breakfast.”
“Are you feeling OK? Remember, Georgina said you shouldn’t strain yourself.” I referred to my grandmother as Georgina in front of Lauren, even though she was the only person in Gossip who knew the truth about our familial relationship.
“I’m fine.” Lauren flapped her hands then picked up her spatula and started flipping the bacon slices in the pan. “Y’all have got to stop worrying about me so much.”
“Forgive me, Laur, but you did see a werewolf this morning.” I tacked a silent “allegedly” at the end of that sentence.
“I know, but as long as we keep the doors locked today we’ll be fine,” she said, not hearing the sarcasm in my tone or choosing to ignore it. “Besides, werewolves only come out at night under a full moon. There’s only a couple of days before the new moon anyway. And there’s plenty of silverware in the kitchen too.”
“Silverware?”
“To ward off the werewolf. Aw, come on, Charlie, surely you know that werewolves can’t stand silver?”
“Right. Sure. Good thing we’re stocked up on garlic for the cannelloni too.”
“That’s for vampires,” Lauren said, waving her spatula at me. “Really, Charlie, I know you’re, uh, experienced when it comes to looking after yourself, but you’ve got to pay attention to details like that. Imagine. Thrusting a clove of garlic at a werewolf…” She tittered as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Yeah. Crazy.” I didn’t mind Lauren’s eccentricities. She was a lovely person and a good friend. Besides, I was pretty sure the crazy fog would lift after she had her second child.
Lauren was huge in that bountiful, “my ribs hurt, get this thing out of me” way, and due any day.
“Just take it easy.” I pressed the point. “We don’t want you doing anything that could harm—”
My grandmother entered the kitchen, slapping a rolled up copy of The Gossip Rag, our least favorite local newspaper, against her palm. “She’s done it again.”
“What, Jacinta?” The editor of the magazine had a penchant for picking on The Gossip Inn and my grandmother.
“No, the other one.”
“Belle-Blue?” I asked.
Gamma hissed at the mention of her arch enemy’s last name. “Precisely,” she said, once she’d regained control. “Just look at this. Can you believe it?” She slapped the newspaper down on the kitchen table.
Lauren and I walked over to check it out.
Meet the judges of the Tri-State Baking Competition! Including one of Gossip’s finest!
“Gossip’s finest?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Do not get me started,” Gamma replied, though, technically she’d started moments ago. “That idiot Belle-Blue is going to be judging the competition. Why in the world would they want her to judge a baking competition? The woman couldn’t bake a trifle!”
“Do you bake trifles?” I wrinkled my nose.
“No. That’s the point,” Gamma said.
“Oh no.” Lauren lifted the paper, her eyes darting back and forth as she read the article. “It says she was chosen out of a host of nominees to be a local judge. They’re saying she’s known for being the owner of a successful inn.”
Gamma’s complexion went from its usual porcelain to boiled beetroot. “Successful?”
“Well, shoot, if they were looking for a successful business owner, they should’ve just come to you, Georgina,” Lauren said.
That, of course, didn’t help my grandmother’s demeanor. “I’m sorry,” I said. “This is not ideal.”
“Not ideal! It’s a mockery, is what it is. Why on earth would they choose that troglodyte to judge the competition? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe she paid her way in,” I replied. “You never know.”
“No. That pashmina-wearing fool doesn’t have enough money for that. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Her husband,” Gamma sighed. “Belle-Blue’s new husband has money. You might be right, Charlotte. But that doesn’t make me feel any better. This will only go to her head. And she’ll use every bit of attention she gets to discredit me.”
Lauren chewed on her bottom lip. “I hope this doesn’t mean what I think it does.” Tears welled in her eyes—her emotions were hormonally heightened. “She’s going to judge my entry harshly. She’ll make it so the other judges give me low scores and then I’ll be out. Oh, I just knew something like this would happen. I knew it.”
“I’ll strangle her,” Gamma growled.
“Now, now, everyone relax,” I said.
It wasn’t like my grandmother to get this angry, but Belle-Blue had a gift for getting under her skin.
“Don’t give Belle-Blue room in your head.” I put my arm around Lauren’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s finish up breakfast.”
“Thanks, Charlie, you’re too sweet.” Lauren wiped her tears with her apron then returned to the stove.
Gamma marched over to the countertop where warm dishes awaited, and I followed her. I couldn’t help wondering how Belle-Blue had done it. Interesting. That brought the count of mysteries for the week up to two.
First, the werewolf, and now—
A yell, throaty and full of rage, sounded from the dining room.