Island of Last Resorts Read online

  Aghast, she peered up at Eric for confirmation.

  ‘Worry not, my sweet.’ Eric slid his arm around her waist. ‘My cousin had already decided to move in with his girlfriend. A win-win, I’d say.’

  ‘Welcome back, Kate,’ greeted Bernadette, entering the kitchen from the back door. Eric’s sister usually went home to change clothes and pick up her husband and daughter, Danielle, before eating dinner. ‘My brother is never quite right in the head when you’re not around.’

  ‘Aunt Kate!’ Danielle pushed her uncle aside and locked both arms around Kate’s waist. ‘I’m so glad to see you. I need somebody on my side.’

  ‘If I even hear the words “spring break” once at this table, young lady, I’ll drag you to the car by your hair.’ Bernadette gritted out the words through clenched teeth.

  Everyone at the table except Danielle and her parents laughed.

  Kate hugged the seventeen-year-old fondly. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she whispered. ‘Good to see all three of you.’ She nodded at the parents over Danielle’s head.

  ‘Enough of the hellos already!’ Nonni approached the table with a steaming platter of food. ‘The veal parmesan is done, and the pasta with a Portobello mushroom sauce is getting cold. Everyone, sit down and eat!’

  Whenever Nonni speaks, everyone listens … and eventually abides by her wishes. Unlike American culinary customs, salad came after both the pasta course and the entrée. But because it was an ordinary Wednesday with family, Nonni served the pasta along with the entrée. A huge bowl of salad sat within easy reach for those who wished to partake early.

  ‘Did you miss the merry band of lunatics?’ Eric asked next to Kate’s ear.

  ‘You bet I did,’ she whispered. ‘You have no idea what family means to someone who’s lived without one for a long time.’ Kate passed her plate to Alfonzo for a piece of veal. He then passed her plate to Nonni who loaded it with pasta.

  Eric looked at her for a long moment. ‘I have taken my family for granted,’ he said in a clear voice. ‘Thank you for reminding me. Welcome back, Kate.’ He lifted his glass of red wine in salute.

  Everyone at the table did the same. ‘Welcome back,’ they chimed.

  Kate hadn’t meant for her true confession to go public. Speechlessly, she took a sip of Chianti, but couldn’t taste it. She stared at a burn mark in the table from when the family had allowed relatives to smoke inside the kitchen. Then everyone started eating and talking, and Kate’s embarrassing moment passed.

  That night before she fell asleep in a remarkably comfortable bed, Kate whispered a short prayer as sounds of the city drifted in on the breeze: ‘Thank you for bringing me back to Charleston. And please don’t let me mess things up with Eric again.’

  Friday p.m.

  Kate rechecked everything in her suitcase for the third time. She’d packed shorts, tank tops, T-shirts, jeans, long-sleeved sweatshirts, and three silky dresses in case they were expected to dress up for dinner, along with sneakers, hiking boots, flip-flops, and one pair of high-heeled sandals. She then added two bathing suits, cover-ups, sunblock, sunglasses, and bug spray, along with her regular toiletries, makeup, and hairdryer. Before she zipped the bulging bag closed, she tossed in several paperback mysteries and a magazine, just in case she couldn’t sleep. Kate debated whether or not she should take her handgun. Who in their right mind takes a weapon on vacation? But her mentor, Beth Preston, insists that anyone licensed to carry like they were should go nowhere unarmed. So into her purse went the gun with an extra clip of ammo. After all, the world had become an increasingly dangerous place.

  Unlike the other private investigators in the agency, Kate had no one to notify regarding her vacation destination. Her brother remained incarcerated in Santa Rosa Correctional in Florida, and her last foster mother had her hands full with the current group of kids. So after checking her email for any last-minute instructions, Kate set her bag by the door and stretched out for a few minutes of relaxation. Tomorrow she and Eric would head to St Simons for seven fun-filled days and nights. Since arriving back home, Eric had worked non-stop to make sure Bella Trattoria would run smoothly in his absence. Kate hadn’t been around when Eric told his family about the company retreat, which was probably a good thing. Alfonzo had insisted on helping Bernadette in the kitchen, despite his wife’s concern for his health. And tonight, after the last customer had been served, Eric promised her a quiet dinner for just the two of them. Kate didn’t care if they ate outside in the shaded courtyard or down the street at a burger joint, just as long as they had a few minutes by themselves.

  Just as Kate started to doze off, the jangle of her cell phone woke her up. ‘Hi, Eric,’ she greeted, spotting caller ID. ‘Why didn’t you just holler up the steps if you needed my help?’

  ‘Because I’m not down in the kitchen, sweet thing.’

  Hearing the forced calmness in his voice sent a shiver up Kate’s spine. She bolted upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Then where are you?’

  ‘I’m checking on my sister at Roper Hospital. Bernadette called me from the ambulance because Michael went to Columbia on business.’

  A rather selfish thought popped into Kate’s head, but she did her best to squash it. ‘How is she and what the heck happened?’

  ‘Right now I don’t know because the doctors are still examining her. Soon they will send her upstairs for a CAT scan or some X-rays.’ Eric exhaled a weary sigh. ‘Somebody mugged my sister in the church parking lot, of all places. Bernadette had been dropping off meals for the homeless when some … miscreant hit her on the head, pushed her to the ground, and took off with her purse.’ His voice rose in volume with each word.

  ‘Oh, Eric, that is just awful,’ Kate murmured. ‘Want me to sit and wait with you? Isn’t Roper Hospital over on Calhoun?’

  Eric thought for a moment before answering. ‘What I really need is for you to help my dad and Nonni in the kitchen. I already called Aunt Estelle, our pastry chef, to come in for tonight, but it’ll take time for her to get downtown.’

  The last of Kate’s fog vanished. ‘You really think I could help in a four-star restaurant? My repertoire of recipes consists of mac-and-cheese from a blue box and tomato soup from a can.’

  ‘Not to worry, my parents will probably just have you clean vegetables and fix salads. Uh-oh, one of the doctors just walked out of Bernadette’s exam room. I want to catch him before he heads into another room.’

  ‘Sure, Eric, you can count on me.’ Kate tried to sound convincing.

  ‘I know I can. Thanks, Kate. Tonight I’ll make your dinner extra special.’ Then he hung up without another word.

  Kate went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands and then headed downstairs. That evening as she scrubbed carrots and cucumbers, chopped celery, grated onions, and artistically arranged heirloom greens on chilled plates for Bella Trattoria customers, Kate had to force away thoughts of tomorrow so many times that she finally concluded she was hopelessly self-centered. Irena Manfredi showed up at six to take over grilling and sautéing duties. Alfonzo manned the five different saucepots, each made fresh every day. Nonni boiled each order of pasta to al dente perfection, while Aunt Estelle handled steamed vegetables and appetizers. All in all, dinner for tonight’s reservations was pulled off with only a few minor glitches.

  When Eric walked in around nine o’clock with his niece trailing behind him, everyone felt exhausted but proud of what they had accomplished. The last two hours had been so hectic without the head and sous chefs that everyone briefly forgot why those two weren’t there. But one glance at Eric’s tight and drawn face brought everyone back to reality.

  Irena Manfredi was the first to speak. ‘What is it, son? How is Bernadette?’

  ‘She’ll be fine, Ma.’ Eric slumped into a chair at the table next to his niece. ‘The CAT scan showed a small concussion, but no major head injury. She has cuts, scrapes, bruising, and one chipped tooth, but Bernadette will be discharged tomorrow and shoul
d make a complete recovery. Before I left the hospital, the police called to say they found her purse with credit cards and driver’s license in the church dumpster. Apparently the thief only wanted cash and her cell phone.’ Briefly, Eric let his gaze flicker over Kate, who’d had the sense to take off her stained white apron at the sink.

  ‘Thank God,’ said Nonni, Irena, and Aunt Estelle in unison, followed by a simultaneous sign of the cross.

  Danielle lifted her sleepy head off the table long enough to add, ‘Mom was mostly upset about her favorite casserole dish getting smashed and her dinner going to waste.’

  Irena wrapped her slender arms around her granddaughter and nuzzled the top of her blonde head. ‘Casserole dishes can be easily replaced, but people cannot be. After we eat, would you like to come home tonight with me and Papa?’

  ‘Thanks, Granny, but Uncle Eric already called my dad. He’s on his way back from Columbia. Dad plans to spend the night in the chair in Mom’s room. He’s coming to get me first thing in the morning, so I’d better stay here.’

  ‘As you wish, amour mio.’ Irena kissed the top of the girl’s head before she walked to the stove to check the simmering sauces. ‘It’s time for this family to eat and then get some rest. Al, would you pour the wine and iced tea? Estelle, please re-rinse the last batch of pasta that Nonni cooked.’ Irena spoke with dignity and a matriarch’s authority, now that Nonni had fixed a plate and retired to her room, exhausted.

  Eric pushed to his feet. ‘Thank you, Mama, but I promised Kate we would dine al fresco tonight.’ To her, he said, ‘Kate, would you carry the wine outdoors while I reheat our dinners?’

  Kate didn’t have to be asked twice. As her fatigue vanished, she picked up two full glasses and headed for the back door. Over her shoulder she heard one of the waiters say: ‘Go with Miss Weller, Mr Manfredi. I’ll deliver your dinners as soon as they are warm.’

  Eric also didn’t have to be told twice. Once outside on the flagstone patio, he slumped in a chair and downed half his glass of Pinot Grigio. ‘I’m so sorry, Kate,’ he whispered in the waning moonlight. A warm breeze stirred the trees, dropping leaves and spent flowers around their table.

  Kate took a tiny sip of wine. ‘Sorry for what, exactly?’

  ‘For sticking you with my family in the kitchen tonight when you’d expected a romantic evening before our big trip.’

  Kate took another sip and swallowed hard. ‘Do you think the retreat on St Simons is still possible?’ she asked in a barely audible voice.

  ‘It definitely is for you, sweet girl, and maybe even for me.’ Eric took another swallow of wine. ‘Bernadette insists she is fine and wants us to go. But even if she comes home tomorrow and rests on Sunday when the restaurant is closed, the earliest she can return to work is Monday. And that means only standing over her husband’s shoulder and directing everything he does. I spoke to Michael on the way home. He’s taking a week off to be with his family.’

  They both leaned back from the table as their dinners were delivered on a silver tray, including salads, slices of tiramisu, and another bottle of wine. The young waiter also brought a silver candlestick and then lit the taper with a flourish.

  ‘Thank you, Jason,’ said Eric. ‘Now get on home to your family.’

  ‘You got it. Goodnight, sir, ma’am.’ The young waiter pulled off his apron and headed for the parking lot.

  Eric and Kate leaned over their plates and breathed in the lemony aroma of chicken piccata over linguini.

  ‘Eat, Kate, before the food gets cold,’ he said. ‘You must be starving.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. For every baby carrot I washed, I popped one in my mouth.’ Kate’s reply was more truth than jest. ‘Finish telling me about the situation with your sister.’ Kate swirled some linguini around her fork.

  Eric cut into his tender chicken breast and sampled a bite. ‘I think you should join your cohorts tomorrow as planned. You can explain to everyone what happened here with my sister. Then tell them that I hope to join you on Sunday or Monday at the latest, once I’m certain the restaurant can manage without Bernadette being at one hundred percent.’ He forked up a larger piece of chicken. ‘This is quite good, don’t you think?’

  Kate set down her wine glass and swallowed a bite of her cutlet. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she declared, ‘like every dish served at Bella Trattoria. You might be able to leave as early as Sunday?’

  ‘Maybe. Everything depends on how my sister feels and if my mother will allow Dad another week in the kitchen.’

  ‘Your father loves to cook.’ Kate swirled another forkful of pasta.

  ‘I know he does, but Mom wants him to slow down. You know … smell the roses she grows instead of Portobello mushroom sauce all day long.’ Eric refilled their glasses from the new bottle.

  ‘This wine is really good,’ she said after one sip. ‘Is this from upstate New York or Napa Valley, California?’ she teased, knowing Eric drank only Italian wine.

  Eric grinned over the rim of his wine glass. ‘I adore your sense of humor, Kate. And I adore you. Go meet your friends and have a great time. I’ll be there before you have a chance to miss me.’

  She set down her fork and dabbed her mouth. ‘And I adore you, Mr Manfredi. If you can’t leave until Sunday, that’s when we’ll both go. If we must wait until Monday, so be it. I’m not abandoning you.’

  He laughed. ‘Bella Trattoria is not the Titanic.’

  ‘I know, but I’ve made up my mind, so don’t think about trying to change it.’ Kate picked up her knife and fork and attacked the chicken in earnest. ‘Goodness, Eric, who made this piccata? I believe it tastes even better than yours.’ She chewed slowly to savor the delicate blend of herbs and spices.

  Eric growled low in his throat. ‘You shall pay dearly for that comment, Miss Weller. You won’t know where or when, but you shall pay.’

  ‘Do I look worried?’ Kate leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine. ‘Let’s not finish dinner too quickly. We want the dishes already done and the kitchen clean when we carry our plates inside.’

  ‘Spoken like a true Bella Trattoria salad girl.’ He lifted his glass in salute. ‘I truly do want to attend this retreat with you. We’ll leave the moment I feel my responsibilities are covered.’

  Kate smiled, knowing that he meant what he said and that she’d made the right choice. After all, what’s a getaway without your significant other? Just another work meeting.

  TWO

  St Simons Island, Georgia. Saturday a.m.

  ‘Why on earth are you pacing back and forth?’ asked Isabelle Price. ‘You told people to be here between noon and one and it’s barely eleven thirty.’

  ‘I’m not worried about the time. I’m just plain … excited.’ Nate lowered himself to the arm of the sofa in his friend’s comfortable condo. ‘This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, not usually offered to ordinary folks like us.’

  Isabelle pushed to her feet. ‘I don’t understand why we can’t remain exactly where we are for the retreat. Your friend offered his condo for the week while he’s in Europe, and St Simons offers everything vacationers want – beaches, great restaurants, shopping, a historic lighthouse, and a bike trail all around the island. You can rent paddleboards and anything else here too.’

  ‘But the condo only has three bedrooms and two bathrooms for four couples.’

  ‘I don’t mind if we slept on the pullout couch.’ Izzy ran her fingers through his hair.

  ‘That means anyone who’s raiding the refrigerator or heading to the pool at midnight must walk by my snoring and you talking in your sleep.’

  ‘I do not talk in my sleep,’ Isabelle pulled on his earlobe.

  ‘OK, just my snoring then.’ Nate winked at his wife. ‘I agree there’s nothing wrong with St Simons and I’m very grateful to John for letting us come. But Mr Frazier invited us to his private island a couple of days ago. We’ll have the run of his mansion with private rooms, all meals and drinks, plus his butler, chef, and housekee
per at our disposal for five nights. Mr Frazier has skeet-shooting for his guests, bicycles and horses to ride on the trails, and a pristine beach. Then we’ll come back to St Simons for the last two days to recover from all that non-stop luxury.’ Nate decided to turn the argument around. ‘Why don’t you want to go to Elysian Island? On a clear day you can see Mr Frazier’s island from the top of the lighthouse.’

  Izzy took a turn at pacing the room. ‘Because I don’t like being inaccessible while our son is with a babysitter. St Simons is connected to the mainland by a causeway, but the only way to get to Elysian is on his private yacht. There’s no regular ferry boat going back and forth.’

  Nate held his ground. ‘I still don’t see the problem. Our babysitter is Maxine, my secretary, and someone we would both trust with our lives. Maxine can handle any emergency that comes up. And she already promised to check in regularly on our cell phones.’

  ‘You have never met this Mr Frazier or seen this Elysian Island.’ Izzy rested one hand on her hip.

  ‘I’ve never been to Monte Carlo either, but I’d bet a C-note the place is rather elegant.’

  She laughed. ‘Let’s see this C-note you would so recklessly wager.’

  Nate put his hands on her waist and smiled. ‘Mr Frazier is a friend of Mr and Mrs Baer, the couple we met on vacation in Mobile. Remember them?’

  ‘Oh, when you heroically chased down a purse-snatcher and returned the purse to the rightful owner?’ Izzy squeezed his upper arm. ‘Show me your muscle, Popeye.’

  ‘Joke all you want, but Mrs Baer has referred plenty of her rich friends to our agency. For that I’m grateful.’ Nate headed to the refrigerator for a Coke. ‘If Mrs Baer talked so highly of us that Mr Frazier invited the agency to his island, he can’t be some kind of nutcase.’

  ‘I’m sure he isn’t, but he must want something in return. Entertaining and feeding eight adults won’t be cheap.’

  ‘Money is less important to those who have tons than to folks like us.’ Nate gulped a mouthful of Coke and set down the can. ‘But there is one little thing he wants us to do,’ he added.