A Catered Fourth of July (27 page)

Gail held out her arms. “I know baby, I know,” she crooned.

“No,” Rick said. “It's way too late for that.”

“It's not,” Gail pleaded. “We can go back to the way it was.”

“You bitch,” Rick yelled.

Before Bernie knew what was happening, he yanked the musket out of her hands. “Wait,” she cried. But it was too late.

Rick raised the musket, released the safety, and fired at his wife.

She screamed and fell down, but there was no blood.

Bernie grabbed the musket from Rick. “Did you really think it was loaded with real shot? It's a prop gun. How stupid do you think I am?”

Juno sighed. “Evidently not as stupid as we are.”

T
hree days later, after all the hubbub had died down, Bernie, Libby, Marvin, and Hilda were eating a late lunch in the Deitrich Rose Garden. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. Aside from the five volunteer gardeners from the Longely Garden Association, the quartet had the place to themselves. Bernie and Libby had packed Brie and Black Forest ham sandwiches on multigrain baguettes, spicy fennel slaw, apricots, plums, peaches, and a selection of cookies for everyone.

“Should she be eating that?” Marvin asked, indicating Hilda who was consuming her sandwich with a great deal of pleasure.

“Sure why not? Pigs eat everything.” Bernie stroked Hilda's back. “I wish we could keep her.”

“Where?” Libby demanded.

“In the house,” Bernie said.

Libby rolled her eyes. “There's barely enough room for us.”

Bernie ate a spoonful of slaw. “You can housebreak them, you know.”

“That is not the issue,” Libby replied.

Marvin broke in. “What is going to happen to her?”

Libby answered. “We found a sanctuary for her, so she'll go there.”

“But she's used to people,” Marvin objected.

Libby shrugged. “It's the best we can do.”

Marvin scratched under Hilda's chin. She oinked her approval. “She is very sweet.”

“You have room. You should take her,” Libby said.

“My dad would kill me.” Marvin broke off a piece of his sandwich and fed it to Hilda who had already finished her own.

“Maybe you should get your own place,” Libby suggested. “Then it wouldn't be a problem.”

Hilda leaned into Marvin.

“What about Juno's husband? Can't he keep her?” Marvin asked, conspicuously ignoring Libby's suggestion.

Bernie laughed. “Chuck? Are you kidding? He'd just as soon send Hilda to the slaughterhouse. Seriously, I think you should get a place. I know one that's coming up soon on Apple Street. It would be perfect. They even have a backyard.”

“They probably won't take a pig,” Marvin said.

“The guy moving out has two Burmese pythons, an anaconda, and a monitor lizard. I don't think Hilda is going to be a problem,” Bernie informed him

Marvin finished the last bite of his sandwich. “I'll think about it.”

Libby snorted.

“What does that mean?” Marvin asked.

“It means you won't,” Libby answered. “You keep saying you'll move out, but you don't.”

Bernie sighed and took a bite of her sandwich. “Poor Hilda. All alone with just other pigs for company. She'll waste away from loneliness. They'll probably give her slop to eat.”

Marvin fidgeted with his collar. “I'm sorry I brought Hilda up.”

Libby frowned. “Okay.”

The silence that followed lasted longer than it should have.

“Are you mad at me?” Marvin finally asked Libby.

“Why should I be?” she asked in a voice that would freeze ice.

There was another moment of silence. Then Marvin said, “This isn't about the pig, is it?”

“Not totally,” Libby allowed.

“It's just . . .”

“Just what, Marvin?” Libby snapped.

“Nothing.” He reached over, grabbed a plum, and began to eat it. “You really are angry, aren't you?”

“What I am is no concern of yours,” Libby told him.

Another moment of silence went by.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Libby asked him.

“You know.”

“No, I don't.”

“I'll do it.”

“Do what?”

“I'll get a place.”

“Don't do it on my account,” Libby said.

“No no. It's time.”

“Seriously?” Libby asked.

Marvin nodded. “Seriously.”

She beamed and gave him a great big hug and kiss. “That's great.”

Bernie looked down at Hilda. “See. You're getting a new home.”

Hilda oinked and went back to eating a cookie she'd managed to weasel out of the hamper.

The trio finished their sandwiches and drank the iced Sumatra blend coffee that Libby had brewed earlier in the day.

“It's a good thing that musket wasn't loaded,” Marvin said as he wiped his hands on a napkin.

“It certainly was,” Bernie replied.

“Did you know it wasn't?” Marvin asked.

“Of course I did,” Bernie lied. She'd assumed that it wouldn't be.

Marvin snagged a peach. “So what's happening to everyone?”

“According Clyde, Juno and Gail are going to be tried for Devlin's death. Rick Evans agreed to testify against them so he's copped a plea for obstruction of justice. If he gets six months, it will be a lot.”

“Even though he shot at me?” Marvin asked.

“He didn't hit you,” Libby pointed out.

“But he could have,” Marvin said.

“But he didn't,” Bernie replied.

Marvin leaned over, took two French macaroons, gave one to Hilda, and took a bite of the other one. “What I don't understand, is why Rick implicated me in the first place? What did I ever do to him?”

“Nothing,” Libby told him. “Absolutely nothing. But when he saw Devlin, he realized what his wife had done, and he panicked. At that point, he thought she still loved him.”

“So he didn't have a clue?” Marvin asked.

Libby shook her head. “Nope. Not an inkling. You were the nearest person so he tried to throw the blame on you. Then he felt guilty and tried to undo what he'd done by shooting at you, but that backfired and had the opposite effect.”

“Whose idea was all this?” Marvin asked.

Bernie took a nibble of one of the brownies. “Juno says it was Gail's and Gail says it was Juno's. It doesn't really matter because they're both equally guilty.”

Libby took another sip of coffee and watched a beetle alight on the pink petal of Sweetheart Rose. The beetle's shell, green and blue, shimmered in the summer sun.

“I guess there aren't going to be any more reenactments in Longely for a while,” Bernie said.

“I wouldn't suppose so.” Libby reached for the last remaining French macaroon.

For the next half an hour, they sat there enjoying the peace and quiet, while Hilda dozed under the bench.

M
ost of the recipes seem to fall into two distinct groups—salads and desserts, although there's one for chicken marinade, as well.

 

These first two recipes are from Walter Tono. He's part Bolivian, part Japanese, and a great cook. These recipes don't have exact measurements but they are very forgiving and always seem to come out well no matter what proportions are used.

 

Bolivian Potato Salad

Peel the potatoes and boil until done. Then dice.

Peel the carrots and boil until done. Then dice.

Shell the peas. Boil until done. Then strain.

Hard-boil the eggs. Allow to cool and dice.

Finely chop the parsley.

Make sure everything has cooled down. Mix all ingredients and add enough mayonnaise to bind. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Try it. In this case, the whole is definitely better than its parts.

 

Walter Tono's Chicken Marinade

 

 

This makes a great grilled chicken. I should know because I've had it repeatedly.

Combine ingredients and marinate chicken for at least two hours. Can be marinated longer if desired.

 

Maybe My Mother's Carrot Raisin Salad

 

 

This salad is from my daughter-in-law Betsy Baum Block, an ex-Texan who now resides in California.

 

I grew up with a mother who didn't love cooking, who cooked because she was supposed to, and left behind a legacy of stories of her kitchen failures and unusual and fabulous moments of her kitchen glories (like homemade bread). I've managed to thieve most of my mother's cookbooks from my dad's house since she passed away many years ago, but the carrot-raisin salad that was ubiquitous at my family summer holiday gatherings was nowhere to be found. My dad searched her card catalogue of recipes; then I spoke to my first aunt, who claimed she actually hated carrots; and my other aunt, who reminisced over how she loved the salad and counted on my mother to always make it . . . but no one had the recipe. It couldn't be that difficult—shredded carrots, mayo, and raisins. And it wouldn't take that long, as my mom rarely made things that required more than five minutes of preparation.

Lucky for me, the Internet provided me with Luby's Cafeteria version of the recipe (with crushed pineapple) as well as an updated version (with ginger and cinnamon) by one of my favorite bloggers, The Homesick Texan. I've tested these and offer up my version here. Experiment and enjoy: The only critical ingredients are the three I most remember, combined to your liking and sweetened a bit.

 

Ingredients

Variation 1: Add 1 8-ounce can crushed or diced pineapple, drained well.

Variation 2: Add juice from one orange (or 2 tablespoons orange juice), ½ teaspoon cinnamon, ¼ teaspoon ginger.

 

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Serve.

 

 

Now we come to the desserts.

 

Jim Burtless's Strawberry Sparkle Cake

 

 

Jim comes from Aurelius, New York. This recipe has been in his family for seventy years. It's always made on the Fourth of July.

 

Ingredients

Bake angel food cake as directed on back of package and cool.

Dissolve gelatin in water and add frozen block of strawberries. Stir to break up and mix berries.

Place cake, widest side down, on a serving board. Cut one-inch layer from the top and set aside. Cut around cake one inch from inner edge to one inch from bottom. Gently remove the section of cake between cuts, tearing it into small pieces. Fold pieces into strawberry mixture and pour it into cake shell. Place the set-aside cake on top.

Whip cream until thick, stir in sugar, and add a few drops of red food coloring until the whipped cream is pink. Spread sweetened whipped cream over top and sides of cake. Decorate with whole strawberries, if desired.

Refrigerate at least one hour before serving.

 

Best Blueberry Pie

 

 

This recipe is from Barbara Beckos, an excellent cook and good friend.

 

Crust

Filling and Streusel topping

To prepare crust

 

Place flour, sugar, salt, and butter pieces in food processor. Process, pulsing on and off until the mixture resembles flakes.

With machine running add 2 tablespoons ice water through feed tube and process until ball of dough forms. If mixture seems dry, add remaining tablespoon ice water.

Form dough into flat round disk approximately 6 inches wide and wrap in plastic. Refrigerate for 30 minutes or longer.

Roll out dough on floured board into 11-inch circle.

Ease dough into 9-inch tart pan or pie plate. If using tart pan, press dough firmly into fluted sides. If using pie plate, crimp folded dough at top of sides.

Pastry crust can be prepared ahead and refrigerated for one day or frozen. Cover tightly with plastic wrap. If dough is frozen, defrost in refrigerator before using.

 

To prepare filling and pecan streusel topping

 

Combine sour cream, 2 tablespoons flour, sugar, vanilla extract, salt, and egg in mixing bowl. When batter is smooth, carefully stir in blueberries.

Spoon filling into pastry shell and smooth top with spatula.

Place 4 tablespoons flour, pecans, and butter in cleaned food processor and pulse into small bits. Set aside.

Place pie in center of oven and bake at 400 degrees for 25 minutes.

Remove from oven and sprinkle topping evenly over top of pie.

Continue baking pie at 400 degrees for another 10 minutes until topping is slightly browned.

Cool pie to room temperature. Chill for 6-8 hours. Remove from fridge a few hours before serving.