Meatballs mistletoe and.., p.1
Meatballs, Mistletoe and Murder, page 1
part #5 of Beachside Books Magical Cozy Mystery Series
Meatballs, Mistletoe and Murder
Beachside Books Magical Cozy Mysteries, Volume 5
Paula Lester and Lisa B. Thomas
Published by Paula Lester and Lisa B. Thomas, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
MEATBALLS, MISTLETOE AND MURDER
First edition. November 7, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Paula Lester and Lisa B. Thomas.
Written by Paula Lester and Lisa B. Thomas.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Works by Lisa B. Thomas
About Paula Lester
Chapter 1
“Something different for the holidays,” Paige said, studying herself in the mirror. Her gaze moved upward to land on her sister-in-law’s reflection. “Highlights and a sassy cut, maybe. I want Marco to be impressed.”
Sarah pursed her lips and raked manicured fingertips through Paige’s hair. “Highlights would be nice,” she agreed. “How about a nice layered bob? And you know Marco doesn’t care that much about your hair. I think you could shave it off and he would barely notice. He’s smitten with you, no matter what.”
Paige grinned. She knew Sarah was right. Marco, Paige’s handsome Italian boyfriend, seemed to think the moon rose and set at her feet. The feeling was mutual—she enjoyed spending time with him, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. Most of their dates lately had consisted of working on Paige’s new house, which was Aunt Nora’s old house. They’d been having fun cranking up the music and dancing while they painted, hammered, and scrubbed.
“Go ahead, chop it off.” Paige patted the ends of her hair in farewell. She knew her hair was in good hands with her sister-in-law.
Sarah pulled a crinkly black apron out of a drawer at her station, laid it over Paige, and fastened the Velcro behind her neck. “So, Marco has to leave after Christmas?” She guided Paige across the room to a sink station and helped her adjust the apron as she sank into the chair.
“Yeah, he’s supposed to leave in January.” At the thought, Paige’s stomach dropped like she was on a roller coaster ride. “If he can’t figure out some way to extend his visa.”
Sarah gathered Paige’s hair in her hands. “Lean back.” She started the water, made sure it was the right temperature, and then sprayed down Paige’s hair. “Does he have any ideas about how to stay in Comfort Cove? He doesn’t want to go back to Portofino, right?”
Paige squeezed her eyes shut to avoid water splashing into them. She had the distinct feeling that Sarah wasn’t as careful when she shampooed her as when she did other customers. “Nope. He wants to stay here.”
Sarah tsked and started scrubbing shampoo into Paige’s scalp. “You’ll both be crushed if he has to go.”
Paige didn’t answer, glad her eyes were already screwed tight so Sarah couldn’t see the tears that had jumped into them. She decided it was time to change the subject before she became a blubbery mess. Terrific Tresses hair salon was one of the gossip hubs of Comfort Cove, and if the other hairdressers and clients saw Paige cry, the whole town would know about it in ten minutes flat. “How’s my brother?”
Having finished rinsing, Sarah wrapped a towel around Paige’s wet head and had her sit up. “Fine. He really loves being a detective—that promotion was the best thing to happen to his career. Come on back to my station.”
Paige walked carefully, keeping her head straight so the towel wouldn’t fall off. The place looked nice, all decorated festively for Christmas. Twinkling lights bordered the mirror at each station, and a tree sat in the corner of the waiting area up front with gorgeously wrapped boxes underneath. She told herself she’d get the bookshop decorated that day or the next. It would be fun. She’d seen boxes of decorations in Beachside Books’ basement where Aunt Nora must have put them for safekeeping.
“Can I borrow your detangler?” A woman who looked no older than twenty bounced up to Sarah’s station. She was the height of fashion, with a modern pixie cut dyed platinum blond, a miniskirt, and heels so high Paige wondered how she could work all day in them. She wore a lei made out of silver tinsel. “I used mine up, and I need to make a payment on my account before I can charge more to it.”
“Sure, Karen. Here you go. Just bring it back, okay? I hate it when I have to go looking everywhere for my stuff when I need it.” Sarah handed her a blue and purple spray bottle.
Karen nodded and flitted across the room to her own station. Paige watched her in Sarah’s mirror as she sprayed detangler into a woman’s waist-length, curly hair. Another stylist, Peggy, approached Karen, who handed over the bottle. The second woman, an older, statuesque brunette wearing sensible shoes and a calf-length gray skirt, took it to her own station and spritzed her client’s hair with it.
“You’re going to have to track that detangler down, I think,” Paige said and then chuckled.
Sarah paused in combing out Paige’s hair to look in the mirror. She shook her head. “Yep. Peggy’s station is where I find a lot of my stuff.” She set the scissors down. “I’m going to go mix your highlight color. Be right back.”
Paige nodded and, after Sarah left, slowly spun her chair around so she could better see the goings-on in the salon. Peggy was chattering away to her client, an elderly, dark-haired woman with frosted tips. She wore a red pantsuit with a lighter red dress shirt under the blazer and full, heavy makeup behind cat-eye glasses decorated with red rhinestones.
Several other stylists were also working on clients, and one was at the front desk on the phone. Beulah Hoffman, who used to work at the high school as a library assistant before she retired, sat in the waiting area reading a magazine. Paige bounced her knee and hummed along to “Deck the Halls,” which played softly through the shop’s speaker system.
“Here we are.” Sarah rolled a stand over to her station. It held a bowl of coloring and strips of foil. “Turn around. I’ll get your highlights in.”
A voice rose above the music. “I just lost another one! Why are you doing this to me?”
Sarah stopped in her tracks, paintbrush full of hair color hovering over Paige’s locks. Both women swiveled their necks to see who was screeching. The woman who had been on the phone a moment before was next to Peggy’s station, fists balled at her sides and face red. She was at least four inches shorter than Peggy and probably about ten years younger—Paige judged her to be in her early forties. The less stylish, angry woman wore her chestnut-brown hair in ringlets to her shoulders and was dressed in a too-large maxi dress with a frumpy beige cardigan over it.
“Doing what to you, Donna? Lost another what?” Peggy blinked at her furious co-worker, a baffled look on her softly wrinkled features.
“Another client.” Donna forced the words out through gritted teeth. She gestured toward the front desk. “I just got off the phone with Adeline Thompson. She canceled her appointment with me and said she’s going to start seeing you instead.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and pressed, as though fighting nausea. “That’s the third one in the past two weeks.”
The woman in Peggy’s chair slouched lower, and Paige wondered if she was thinking about slinking off to get away from the uncomfortable confrontation going on above her curlers.
But the movement drew Donna’s attention. “Bonnie, you used to be my client. Why did you switch to Peggy?”
Bonnie Klein’s eyes widened behind the over-the-top glasses. She licked heavily painted lips as her eyes darted between the two stylists. “Um.” She used the arms of the chair to push herself up straight again. “It was nothing to do with you, Donna, really.” She spoke softly, and her tone was noncommittal.
Peggy stepped between her shell-shocked client and angry co-worker, facing Donna head-on. “I’m sorry you’ve been losing clients.” She tipped her head slightly. “Maybe you should try and think of ways you can make the ones you still have happier.” She turned toward Bonnie, holding out a hand. “Let’s get you under the dryer.”
The two women edged past Donna, who appeared to be doing everything she could to contain herself. She glared at the backs of the departing women as they crossed to the bank of hairdryers on the other side of the room. Then her eyes flitted around the salon. Her cheeks grew redder as she seemed to realize for the first time that all eyes were on her. She ducked her head and shuffled across the room to Sarah’s station. “Sorry about the scene,” Donna mumbled to Paige.
Paige waved a hand. “No problem. Sorry to hear you’ve lost some clients.”
Sarah separated some of Paige’s hair, slapped dye on it, and then grabbed a piece of foil. “So, you don’t have any idea why people are leaving you to see Peggy?”
Donna groaned. “I can’t figure it out. But it’s my . . . dist
“I’m so sorry.” Sarah’s voice was full of empathy. She spoke more softly. “Clients really do love Peggy. It’s almost like she puts a spell on them or something.” She let out a thin laugh, but the gaze that met Paige’s in the mirror was pointed.
Paige returned the look. “I had no idea the hairstyling business had so much drama.”
Donna winced and wandered away, drifting into the back room.
“Have you lost any clients to Peggy?” Paige asked, keeping her voice low.
Sarah shook her head. “Not that I’ve noticed or been made aware of.” She plastered dye on another chunk of hair. “I can see why people like her, though. She’s a real sweetheart. In fact, I consider her a mentor. She helped me out a ton when I was getting started in the biz.” She wrapped the dyed hair in foil. “She has a lot of friends.”
Paige nodded, giggling at her image in the mirror. She looked like an old set of rabbit-ear antenna, both ends wrapped in foil.
Sarah leaned over Paige’s shoulder and spoke in her ear. “I have to say, though, I wasn’t really joking about the spell thing. As much as I like Peggy, I always felt there was something . . . interesting about her.” Sarah glanced both ways to make sure no one was paying attention to her. “There have been times when I’ve wondered if she might be . . . special. You know, like us.”
Paige’s eyebrows shot up. Was what Sarah suggested possible? She used the mirror to look at Peggy again. She was sitting in the chair at her own station, scrolling on a cell phone. The woman looked normal enough, but then so did Paige and Sarah, and they were both witches. Could Peggy be one too?
Paige gave it some thought as Sarah performed another kind of magic on her hair.
Chapter 2
The Christmas music at Terrific Tresses had been so nice that Paige decided to play some at home while she cooked dinner. As she chopped lettuce at the kitchen counter, she thought about how much Aunt Nora had loved Christmastime. When Paige was a child, Santa had always left extra presents at Aunt Nora’s house for Paige and Scott and Nora’s other nieces, Taffy and Patty. She’d always decorated the house to the gills with holiday décor. Paige couldn’t wait to get the place looking festive with her own style.
She answered the knock at the door to find Marco on the front stoop. She gave him a quick hug and hurried back to the stove to stir the onions and tomatoes sautéing in butter. “Smells good, bella.” Marco closed the door behind him and crossed the floor to give her a quick hug around the waist.
“You’ve been a good teacher.” She smiled and glanced back at him.
He returned the smile, but she noticed it didn’t really reach his eyes and make them crinkle at the corners. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes. All is well. I am meant to be working this evening, but I told Uncle Frank I’ll be late.” He sank into a wooden chair next to the dining room table.
She grabbed the bowl of shrimp she’d cleaned and deveined earlier and tipped them into the pan, turned down the heat, and then walked toward Marco. “How’s he going to handle the dinner crowd if you’re late?” Paige had assumed he had the evening off when they’d made plans.
Marco shrugged. “The new head chef will handle it.” He frowned and kept his eyes on the tabletop, which he drummed with the fingers of his left hand.
Paige thought he seemed a bit nervous. She was shocked at the news that Frank Maretti had demoted his nephew and hired a new chef. But she didn’t want to act like it and upset Marco further. She reached out and touched his arm. “Why did he hire someone?”
Marco finally met her gaze. “To replace me when I have to go back to Italy.” He winced. “It doesn’t seem like there will be any answer for my question of how to stay here, bella.”
Paige squeezed his arm and then returned to the stove to give the shrimp a stir. His statement made her stomach flutter with nerves again, but she wasn’t ready to accept his pessimistic conclusion. There had to be some way to keep Marco in Comfort Cove.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Marco’s shoulders slump further. He appeared completely bummed out. Though she wanted to brainstorm ideas for extending his visa, she sensed it wasn’t the right time. Instead, it might be better to try cheering him up. “Do you notice anything different about me?” She twirled in a circle, holding the wooden spoon in her hand.
He raised his eyebrows and studied her. “Did you get new kitchen spoons?”
She looked at the utensil in her hand. “Well, yes. But that isn’t what I meant.” Leave it to a chef to notice kitchen tools instead of his girlfriend’s hairstyle.
Marco’s face cracked into a wide grin. “I love your hair, bella. It’s very bouncy and has interesting stripes.”
Paige shook her head and went back to stirring. “Thank you. I wanted something different for Christmastime. That reminds me. I can’t wait to get a Christmas tree and decorate it together.”
He crossed to lean on the counter next to the stove and looked into her face. “I want to get you something wondrous for Christmas. Can you give me a few ideas to get me started on the right hand?”
“Foot,” she said with a chuckle.
“You want me to get you a new foot? I don’t understand.”
Paige loved Marco’s little word jumbles. “No, sweetie, the expression is ‘get started on the right foot,’ not hand.”
“It’s all too confusing for me. Hand, foot, up, down. You Americans have such funny speakings.”
“That we do. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to figure that out on your own.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I already got your present.”
He straightened up, pushing off the counter. “You did? What is it?”
She shook her head, pulling the pan off the burner and shutting off the heat. “I’m not telling you.” She grabbed a bag off the end table by the front door and started digging around inside. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”
“Bah. I dislike surprises. Is it a sweater?”
Paige gave him a fake annoyed look and shook her head again. “I’m really not telling you. Ah, here it is!” She pulled out a sprig of live foliage she’d gotten at Bickle’s Nursery after her haircut, leaving the garland for the staircase railing in the bag. Bouncing across the floor, she held the greenery in the air over Marco’s head.
He tipped his head back and studied it, brow crinkling. “What are you doing? Is that holly?”
“It’s mistletoe. Didn’t you use it in Italy at Christmastime?”
Marco gave her a blank look. “What does it do? Freshen the air?”
“No, silly. It’s a tradition. If two people find themselves standing under mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.” She held up the sprig again and gave Marco an expectant look.
“Ah. That’s nice.” He gave her a quick peck and then retreated to the table.
Paige narrowed her eyes. Marco’s kisses usually had more feeling behind them. She dropped the mistletoe on the table. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. No problems.” He glanced at the pan on the stove. “Is it ready?”
“Yeah, grab the salad for me, will you?”
Moments later, they were seated at the table, plates filled with food. Paige had eaten half of hers before she noticed Marco was only picking at his portion, mainly shoving bits from one side of his plate to the other. “Did I make it wrong?” She’d thought it tasted pretty good, but he was a professional and bound to have a more developed palate.
“What? Oh!” He took a big bite of shrimp and nodded enthusiastically. “It’s delicious. You did great.” But when he was done with that mouthful, Marco didn’t get another. He set the fork down and studied Paige.
She began to feel self-conscious and put a hand over her mouth to hide her chewing. “What?” she said through the food.
“I was just thinking about how special you are to me.”
