“I’ve had a lot of practice lying lately.” They stood for a moment, then Valerie shook herself.
“Forget Penny,” she said. “We have other things to worry about, like Helena’s celebration of life. How do you feel about donating your incredible organizational abilities? Efficiency is going to be the name of the game, and I can’t think of anyone better.”
Nico blinked and a slow smile crossed his face. “I would love to help.”
Her mind was already formulating a to-do list. “Then let’s get to work.”
* * *
It was almost twilight when they took a break. Valerie was pleased, if exhausted. With Dalia’s help, she’d booked the Lakeview for the event, since Helena had gone there for dinner every Saturday night at four forty-five. Mickey promised to rope off her favorite seat so they could use the table to set up the memorial and to offer all of Helena’s favorite foods. “I’m serving better drinks, though,” he said. “She only drank tap water, Diet Coke, and Labatt Blue.”
After some quick conversations with friends and family, Valerie had a sense of who Helena had been. Gruff, and someone who liked animals more than people, especially the kittens she fostered. She had book club the last Thursday of the month, bridge club every Tuesday, enjoyed hiking well into her seventies, and boating until the week before her death.
“Dependable,” said one of her friends. “If Helena said she’d do it, by God it was getting done.”
Nico had come with Valerie for a quick visit to the Lakeview so she could refresh her mind about what the space was like. Despite her upset at Penny, it was nice to be needed and satisfying to do some real work. She hadn’t realized how uneasy she’d felt merely hanging around the cottage trying to uncover a thirty-year-old secret.
Nico appeared from the patio and stood beside her. He’d been doing that all day, as if he wasn’t sure what physical attention was allowed but wanted her to know that he was there. She made sure to touch his arm or lean close to rest against him whenever possible. She loved this stage of flirting, when it was already a done deal, but still exhilarating.
“You’re in good shape,” said Nico, looking around. “I don’t know how you figure out all the details the way you do.”
“I like to make things special,” Valerie said. “Important things should have a sense of event.” She thought. “Small things too.”
A server appeared. “There’s someone here to see you.” He pointed to the door and waved his arm. “Linda Peele.”
A minute later, a small round woman with curled white hair and wearing a polka-dot tunic and black leggings came up. “Are you the young woman setting this up for Helena?”
“With a lot of help, yes,” she said.
“Don’t be like that,” said Linda, lifting her hand from her walker to jab at the air in front of Valerie’s chest with a blue diamond-tipped nail. “If you do the work, that’s you doing the work. At least if people are having a good time. If they’re not,that’swhen you say you had help.”
Valerie laughed to hear a version of Ruth’s Rule 7 from this stranger. “Good advice.”
“I can’t attend, so I wanted to drop off those.” She pointed at a table near the entrance, which held a huge tray. “Chocolate-coveredhoneycomb toffee. I made them from Helena’s recipe. They’ll keep for two days.”
“Thank you,” said Valerie, itching to try one. “I know the family will be thrilled. Were you friends with Helena?”
She guided Linda to a seat, glad to have a chance to take a break and chat. Nico brought them both some water and sat next to Valerie.
“I was, although she was older than me. Once you hit fifty, age doesn’t seem to matter anymore.” She looked around. “I worked here at the Lakeview when I moved here thirty years ago, if you can believe it.”
Valerie did her best to stay cool at this revelation, although she tapped Nico’s leg so hard under the table that he winced. “You must have seen a lot of changes.”
“My word, yes. The portions were much more reasonable, and the cost!” She lowered her voice. “I paid ten dollars for french fries last week. Ten! I could have made them myself at home for a fraction of the price. You wouldn’t believe how the tourists have driven up costs.”
“You must have had a fun time,” said Valerie, to move the conversation off food inflation. “Are you still friends with the people you met?”
“They’re all dead.”
“Oh.” Valerie didn’t have a ready answer for this.
Luckily, Nico did. “All of them?”
“Dead or gone. There were a lot of people who came in to work the summers, you know, and not all of them were dependable. I worked with a lovely Chinese lady and her family, but they up and left one day with hardly any warning. Shame, that. Kathy—she was the mother—made the best dumplings. Oh, they were yummy! Better than pierogi, even. My husband was a meat-and-taters man, but he’d eat her food. She wanted to turn it into a business with her daughter but her husband said no.”
“Do know where they went?” asked Valerie, trying to sound like she was only making conversation.
“Sorry.”
