It's a Wonderful Knife Read online

  Max took a sip of kielbasa-flavored coffee and grinned. “Good stuff.”

  Antoinette Chloe Brown was one of a kind.

  Juanita Holgado tapped a fork on the side of her coffee cup and everyone became silent.

  “Boss Trixie, I speak for everyone here. Sí. All your friends. We wish to help you with the catering. And we’ll decorate for Christmas at the diner and here at the Big House. We all know how much you love Christmas. And whatever you need, we will do.”

  Sentimental tears filled my eyes. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it, but you all have so much to do already. And I’m not completely helpless. I can do most everything—except drive, and carry things to the van, and stand for long periods of time, and walk for any length, and put things in the oven and take them out, and—”

  Ty cleared his throat. “You can keep on top of the ordering from your food distributor and you can list every morning what needs to be done. We’ll put a duplicate calendar in the Silver Bullet’s kitchen. Max, Clyde, Ray, and I will be your loaders, unloaders, and drivers.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in!” ACB yelled.

  Gee, I hoped it wasn’t an ax murderer that Antoinette Chloe was letting in, but we did have Deputy Brisco on the scene.

  Nancy and Bettylou walked in and kicked off their boots. “What a busy day already!” Nancy said.

  “You aren’t kidding!” Juanita added. “I have to hurry back and help Cindy, so let’s plan.”

  Nancy and Bettylou didn’t want anything but coffee, and ACB motioned for them to help themselves.

  We all kept talking, mostly about the catering and delivery to the Christmas pageant rehearsals at the Sandy Harbor Community Church.

  My notebook appeared in front of me, courtesy of ACB. “I was thinking mostly about winter comfort food. Things like soups and chili and sandwiches. Pot roast. Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes.”

  “And gravy,” Clyde added.

  “Of course,” I said. “And spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread.”

  “And a chef salad,” said Juanita.

  “And baked macaroni and cheese,” I said, remembering our recent contest for the best mac-and-cheese dish.

  “Cream of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” said ACB. “I always loved it when my mother made that on a cold, winter day.”

  I nodded. “So did I.”

  I noticed that Ray Meyerson was awfully silent. “Anything you’d like to add, Ray?”

  “I was just thinking. Do you think there would be time for me to try out for the pageant?” he asked.

  “Well, of course!” I said. “I hope to be in it, too.”

  Clyde laughed. “You could always play Tiny Tim.”

  There was laughter all around, and I joined in. “What a great idea!” I said. “I’ll have to tell Liz Fellows that I’m trying out for Tiny Tim. I come with my own crutches, too.”

  More talking and joking ensued. I didn’t want it to end, but little by little everyone started to take their dishes to the dishwasher. ACB rinsed and loaded them in.

  “Antoinette Chloe, what are you going to try out for?” Clyde asked.

  “The Ghost of Christmas Presents,” she replied. “I’m going to help Santa pass out the presents, just like I did last year. I had a ball.”

  “It’s the Ghost of Christmas Present,” Ty said. “As in the present day, and not like gifts.”

  “You think of it your way, and I’ll think of it my way. I’m going to be the Ghost of Christmas Presents, and I’ll be helping Santa distribute gifts after the pageant,” she said stubbornly.

  “Do we even know what the pageant is going to be about?” I asked. “I mean, Antoinette Chloe, you’re planning on a scene from A Christmas Carol. What if Liz Fellows has something else in mind? Maybe she’s going to do some version of A Charlie Brown Christmas or It’s a Wonderful Life. Or maybe the one with Ralphie and Randy—A Christmas Story.”

  “I love that movie!” Nancy said.

  “I laugh and laugh,” added Bettylou.

  “Humpf.” ACB crossed her arms. “We’ll see about my part tonight, and I’d better be the Ghost of Christmas Presents—that’s p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s.”

  Clyde sniffed. “A theatrical diva is right here in our p-r-e-s-e-n-c-e,” he spelled, imitating ACB. “As for me, I don’t like the limelight. I’m going to volunteer to take tickets at the door.”

  “And I’ll take care of parking everyone,” Max said. “As usual.”

  There was more banter like this, and I sat back and enjoyed it. All catering talk was over, and I knew that my friends would fill in as needed.

  There was another knock on the door. I didn’t miss the raised eyebrows and the clearing of throats around the table.

  Juanita stood and walked over to the door. “I wonder who that could be.”

  I had a feeling that she already knew.

  She opened the door and there stood . . .

  Santa Claus?

  The man had—I kid you not—a round face with rosy cheeks, a big belly, a shock of white hair, and a beard. He wore a red parka and red and black checked pants tucked into shiny black rubber boots, and he was smoking (you won’t believe this) a corncob pipe.

  And he carried a poinsettia plant.

  “This lovely lady must be Trixie,” he said. “My dear, it’s a delight to see you after all these years. I remember you as a young lady. You’ve grown into a fine woman.”

  “Yes. I’m Trixie Matkowski. Pardon me for not getting up.”

  He handed me the plant. “For you, lovely Trixie. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  I looked over at Juanita. Her brown eyes were as wide as saucers. It was the same look she had when she worried about snow, the bread rising, a big take-out order, and giving me bad or shocking news.

  Then it hit me. “Bob?”

  He nodded. “One and the same.”

  “Where’ve you been, Bob?”

  Legend had it that Bob, one of the primary chefs at the Silver Bullet, had disappeared after my uncle Porky’s funeral service at the cemetery. Apparently Bob had kissed and hugged Aunt Stella, gotten into his car, and driven away.

  He’d called in “sick” a month later to Juanita. And since I’d taken over three years or so ago, he’d still been calling in sick from various casinos across North America.

  He’d never asked for me. He only talked to Juanita, probably because he was afraid I’d tell him to return to the Silver Bullet and get back to work.

  “I’ve been traveling, but I heard you needed me. So I’m here,” he said. “I’m ready to help out.”

  I needed him desperately, especially with Linda not being able to cover for me, but I wasn’t going to let Bob off that easily.

  “Traveling?” I raised an eyebrow. “I know exactly where you’ve been traveling.”

  Looking around the table, I saw the amusement on everyone’s face. They all knew him from the old days when he’d worked alongside Porky. They were cooks in the army together. They both had the same stature and the same twinkle in their eyes. And they were both from Brooklyn.

  “Ho-ho-ho.” He laughed. “I’m going to try out for Santa Claus tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve played Santa, and I miss the kids.” He cleverly changed the subject of his disappearance.

  “Speaking of tonight,” Antoinette Chloe said, “I hate to cut this reunion short, but we all have things to do to get ready.”

  “What do you want me to do, Trixie?” Bob asked. “I’m ready to do whatever you need me to.”

  “Why don’t you let Juanita help you get reacquainted with the kitchen? I’m going to need you working the third shift.” Then I remembered my manners. “Do you need to get settled in first?”

  Juanita nodded. “He drove nonst
op from Connecticut to be here this morning.”

  “Foxwoods Casino or Mohegan Sun Casino?” I asked.

  “Foxwoods.”

  “Where are you staying?” I asked, thinking that I should offer him a guest room here at the Big House.

  “He’s staying at my house,” Juanita answered.

  “What?” Clyde sat up straighter in his chair. “At your house?”

  Juanita raised an eyebrow at Clyde. “Yes. I am all alone, and Bob can keep me company.”

  “Bob could stay with me. I’m all alone, too,” Clyde said sharply.

  “Well, whose fault is that?” Juanita snapped, then glared at Clyde.

  I looked at ACB, who was hiding a smile. We both knew that Clyde had a crush on Juanita but was too shy to do anything about it. Juanita had just sent him a little tweak to make him jealous.

  Wow! Nice move, Juanita.

  Bob chuckled. “I feel so wanted, but I’ll stay with Clyde, Juanita. I don’t want to start tongues wagging in Sandy Harbor.”

  Everyone carried their dishes on the counter, helped ACB clean up, and left. Only Ty, ACB, and I remained.

  Ty poured himself another cup of coffee. “So that’s the infamous Bob.”

  I laughed. “You know, it’s hard to yell at Santa for being missing in action.”

  Ty stretched out his legs. “Yeah. There’s the whole coal-in-the-stocking thing to worry about.”

  “Bob’s here, so that’s going to help out a lot,” ACB said. “I guess we should get to work. Right, Trixie? Ty, you’re excused. You have to go to your real job. Trixie and I will make the salads here. Everything we need is on Trixie’s back porch: pots, pans, big boxes of macaroni, bags of potatoes, mayonnaise, veggies, and two huge hams. I figure that we can get everything ready for four o’clock and you can drive the van to auditions tonight.”

  Ty stood. “I’d better get it all inside before everything freezes.”

  “Oh, yes!” ACB said. Sometimes she overlooks the big picture.

  Ty brought in everything, then headed to work.

  I looked at my stove. It was much smaller than the industrial ones at the Silver Bullet and would only accommodate one of the bigger pots at a time, and I wondered whether ACB could lift it by herself.

  When cooked, the macaroni and potatoes could cool quickly outside on the porch. I’d keep an eye on it. In the winter, everyone up north here used their porches or garages as additional fridge space.

  A few hours later, we were done with the three salads—mac, potato, and chef—and were wondering why we still hadn’t run out of conversation.

  Ty arrived with Ray and Bob and the three of them loaded everything into the van.

  “Uh . . . Trixie, you have two whole hams still on the porch,” he said.

  I looked at Antoinette Chloe. “I put them there. I figured that we could bake them in the community room kitchen at the church since it’s much bigger than yours.”

  “Juanita could have baked them at the Silver Bullet while we were making the salads,” I pointed out. “They would have been ready to load in the van.”

  She shrugged. “Or we could have done that.”

  “Actually, Juanita could have cut them up on the slicer and we could have just heated them up in the steam pans. The hams are already cooked. No sense turning them into jerky with a lot of baking.”

  “We could have done that, too,” ACB said.

  “We have to get on the road,” I said, checking the time.

  The men rode in my van while ACB and I went in my car. It was easier for me to plop into the passenger’s seat than to be hoisted into a van.

  As we entered through the back door, the sounds of children running and shouting bounced off the walls. I peeked through the door and saw kids were running everywhere while Liz Fellows stood in the front surrounded by parents—mostly mothers.

  I heard angry talking and whining. The parents were doing both.

  “Liz, Johnny has always been the butt end of the donkey. Can’t he be the head for once?”

  “Liz, my Cortney wants to lip-sync to ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift. Cortney can do all the choreography, too, and has her own costume. I know that this is a Christmas pageant, but Taylor Swift is a year-round personality.”

  “I want my twins, Tiffany and Tommy, to have a speaking part this year. They only spit a little with their new braces. I don’t know why the children in their class complain so much.”

  “Liz, my Ralphie can play Ralphie from A Christmas Story. They look just alike even though my Ralphie is fourteen.”

  Ty was at my side. “Looks like a three-ring circus in there. Maybe I should help Liz defuse the situation so she can get to work.”

  He walked into the room, put his fingers to his lips, and let out a loud, shrill whistle.

  The room became silent.

  “Everyone take a seat and keep quiet, please. I don’t know how Ms. Fellows can even think, let alone do her job.”

  “I would never put up with such noise and confusion.” That haughty proclamation came from Margie Grace. Yes, the same Margie Grace who gave us the Christmas pageant with the tangoing shepherds and salmon. Oh, and let’s not forget the spawning salmon dance at last year’s Miss Salmon Contest.

  “Margie, I need to start the auditions. Please take a seat along with everyone else,” Liz said, flipping pages on her clipboard.

  “How dare you! I ran this pageant long before you became Pastor Fritz’s secretary!”

  There was a gasp from the spectators, and Liz looked like she was going to faint.

  Margie held her cell phone in her right hand and was just winding up to throw it at Liz as if it were a baseball and she was a pitcher for the Yankees. Thankfully, Ty grabbed her wrist and held it.

  “Knock it off, Margie. The kids are watching. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

  But as long as Ty still had a grip on Margie, it was Liz’s turn.

  “How dare you, you old has-been! I am not a secretary. I am an administrative assistant.”

  “I don’t care what you call yourself; you do not have any experience in putting on plays.” Margie paused for dramatic effect and looked out at the spectators, who were now silent and riveted in their pews. “Unlike me.”

  I heard breathing in my ear. It was ACB glued to my side. “This is like a production of As the Stomach Turns.”

  “I know. Liz would have been really hurt if Ty hadn’t stepped in and grabbed Margie’s wrist.” I shuddered, thinking of what might have happened to Liz’s face.

  Ty held his hands up like a prisoner surrendering. “Ladies and gentlemen, in the spirit of the Christmas season, can you put your differences aside? Let’s move these auditions along so we can start rehearsing. Trixie is here with dinner and dessert for everyone. She’s setting up now.”

  He gave me a pointed glance, and I hurried as fast as I could to the kitchen on my one good leg with one plastered leg, two taped ribs, one uncapped tooth, and two wooden crutches.

  “Trixie,” Bob said. “I have some bad news. The meat slicer we were going to use for the ham is broken. Apparently the maintenance man used it to cut wood to fix the banister on the front stairs.”

  ACB shook her head. “The maintenance man should know better than that.”

  “I guess we’ll have to slice the ham by hand,” I said, glad that I remembered to bring my favorite knife. “I can sit and slice it.”

  ACB walked in. “Speaking of bad news, you should see what’s happening out in the church. It’s mayhem. Apparently there’s a rumor going around that a Hollywood talent scout might attend the pageant.”

  “So that’s it.” I shook my head. “No wonder the usually lovely people of Sandy Harbor are turning into gargoyles.”

  Ray was out of breath when he ran in. “Mr. Constelli said that his daughter Daphne w
ould definitely be singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’ But she can’t remember the lines and sounds like a squeaky mouse. When Liz told Daphne to learn the lyrics of the song and try again, her mother threw the sheet music at Liz. Ty had to ask the whole family to leave. He kicked out Margie Grace, too. Daphne started crying and Mr. Constelli says he is going to sue.”

  “For Pete’s sake.” Ty walked into the kitchen, and I could swear that steam was coming out of his ears. “I put Vern McCoy in charge of keeping the peace at the auditions. What’s gotten into these people?”

  “There may be a Hollywood talent scout coming to the pageant,” ACB said.

  “Seriously?” Ty asked.

  “That’s the rumor,” ACB replied. “I wonder who started it.”

  “Probably Margie Grace,” Ty said. “She seemed the craziest.”

  “Maybe she figured that the rumor would cause problems for Liz,” I suggested. “If so, she was absolutely correct.”

  “You know, it’s hard to believe that Margie and Liz used to be good friends way back. In fact, Margie knew how much Liz loved flowers, and got her involved in the Garden Club.” ACB adjusted her fascinator just before it hit the ground. “If I remember correctly, they had words over their rose entries at the state fair. They fought, and I don’t know who did what first, but both of their rose entries ended up on the floor of the horticulture building, decapitated. That put an end to their relationship.”

  “Decapitated roses, huh?” Ty grunted. “On that note, let’s get to work.”

  I put Ty, Ray, and Bob to work positioning buffet tables, putting on tablecloths, and setting up the buffet with plates and utensils. Whereas Ty and Ray might be rookies, I was happy to see that Bob took charge. In the end, everything looked fabulous.

  Ray and Ty put bread and rolls on trays. Then Bob fancied it up. They put out mayonnaise, butter, mustard, ketchup, and horseradish in front of the rolls and salad dressings in front of the salad, then set up the steam pan for the ham. Bob even found some candy canes to put on the tables for decoration. Cold drinks, ice, and cups were set up on a round table. A big urn of coffee was perking on another table set with milk, sugar, spoons, and cups.

  “Trixie, where are the napkins?” Bob asked.