A Catered Murder Read Online Free Page A

what? Let’s change the subject to something a bit less serious. Let’s talk about nail polish and whether you should get your hair streaked.”
    â€œIt’s just . . .”
    Bernie shook her head.
    â€œDrop it. If it’s that urgent, Tiffany will come back. She always does.”
    â€œI suppose you’re right,” Libby said doubtfully.
    â€œYou know I am.” Bernie paused for a second, then said, “Lionel’s last three books topped the New York Times best-seller list.” She picked up the metal bowl sitting next to her and swept the mound of chopped parsley into it with the edge of her knife. “Which just goes to prove that the masses have no taste. Did you know that the vampires we see in the movies are a strictly literary invention? That folklore vampires are usually bloated and ruddy, not thin and gaunt?”
    â€œSounds like Lionel to me,” Libby said getting into the spirit of the conversation. “Okay, he’s fat, not bloated, and he’s kinda pale. At least he was the last time I saw him.”
    â€œActually,” Bernie continued, warming up, “today’s vampires—the aristocratic vampire—hark back to the eighteenth century Gothic revival. Some people think Lord Rutherford is based on Byron . . .”
    â€œFascinating,” Libby interrupted, hurriedly changing the subject before her sister got going. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, “that I should start doing Moroccan salads in the store. They’d make a nice change for the summer. Like the carrot one with the lemon juice and cinnamon and the baby beets with cloves.”
    â€œHow about something with couscous?” Bernie suggested. “There was a salad they made out at Ahmed’s that everyone in Brentwood loved. It had raisins and almonds and slivers of orange and lemon rind and chopped coriander with just a little oil to moisten it all. I think I can recreate it if you’re interested.”
    â€œI’d love it,” Libby said. As she watched a smile creeping over Bernie’s face, she made a vow to herself that she’d work on being more patient with her younger sister.
    â€œGreat. What do you want me to do next?”
    Libby consulted her list. They still had to prepare garnishes for the aspic and finish cutting up the blood oranges for the salads and toast the almonds. The potatoes had to be sliced and peeled as did the asparagus. They also had to arrange the cheese and fruit platters, plate the olives, and peel the celery stirrers for the Bloody Marys. Fortunately, dessert was pretty much done. The devil’s food cakes were baked and sliced and the finger bone cookies were in their baskets.
    Three hours to count down and so far they were on schedule. Knock on wood. The one thing Libby had learned about catering was that Murphy’s Law absolutely held. Anything that could go wrong would.
    She glanced at the clock on the wall. Amber and Stan, two high school students who helped Libby out on her bigger jobs should be there any minute to help with the last-minute stuff. Seventeenth Annual Clarington High School Reunion, here we come, Libby thought as she touched the underside of the kitchen countertop three times.
    For some reason, doing this event was making her more nervous than the fancier parties she’d catered down in New York City. She’d once heard a famous author say that nothing made his stomach flip-flop like giving a reading in his hometown. Well, her stomach was certainly moving. For sure. She knew why she felt that way too. Because her old boyfriend, Orion Clemens, was coming.
    Orion. Her stomach had definitely clenched when she’d seen his name on the acceptance list. Thank God Bernie hadn’t seen it. Libby closed her eyes for a second. She wondered what Orion looked like now. She hoped he’d gotten fat and bald and lost all his teeth and smelled bad. Suddenly she was aware that Bernie was