A Catered St. Patrick's Day (24 page)

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Authors: Isis Crawford

BOOK: A Catered St. Patrick's Day
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“A fact that Bree is sure to bring up,” Bernie threw in as the clincher.
Which Libby knew to be true since they’d been getting calls from Bree for the last four days demanding to know what progress they’d made on the case. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much to report. Libby sighed while she tried to think of an argument to get out of going to the gym, but she couldn’t, especially since on top of everything else the whole thing had been her idea in the first place. Which totally rankled. And that is how she found herself at the gym at 8:45 that morning. In Libby’s mind it wasn’t a fate worse than death, but it was coming pretty darn close.
Chapter 27
 
L
ibby had taken Bernie’s advice about being in the last row to heart, actually going her one better by skulking around in the room’s back corner. She’d gotten there fifteen minutes early but there’d been no Katrina in sight, leaving Libby nothing to do but try to avoid catching glimpses of herself in the mirror and fight down a rising tide of irritation. Finally, just as Libby was beginning to give up hope and the class was about to start, Katrina sashayed in.
Katrina was tall and thin and blond. Statuesque was the word Marvin had used, much to Libby’s chagrin, when he’d seen her at RJ’s. She had no bulges anywhere, as the T-shirt and leggings she was wearing made abundantly clear. Her hair was always perfect and her makeup skillfully applied. Actually, she was a little like Bree in that regard. Both women spent way too much time and money on their appearance for Libby’s taste, but then her sister would say she didn’t put enough time in in that area. And like Bree, Katrina definitely thought she was entitled to first-rate treatment. At least that’s what it seemed like to Libby whenever Katrina came into the store to buy anything. Amber and Googie both referred toly on> her as She Who Would Like to Be Obeyed, as opposed to Bree, whom they called She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Libby had just finished counting the number of women in the class waiting for it to begin. There’d been fifteen the first time she’d counted and there were fifteen the second time. Just then Katrina made her entrance. Unlike Libby, who had positioned herself as far out of everyone’s line of sight as possible, Katrina went over to the side, where she picked up her mat and her weights and her step and carried them off to the front row, greeting everyone as she went.
Naturally, Libby thought as she watched her progress. She should have realized Katrina would pick the front row. So much for the whole being in the same row and leaning over and exchanging casual comments while doing the bicep curls thing. Libby would have to move up if she wanted to talk to Katrina. But then Libby realized that even if she were in the front row, the scenario she’d been imagining wasn’t going to happen anyway. The truth was she and Bernie hadn’t really thought this whole thing through. At all.
How was she going to talk to Katrina? When was she going to talk to Katrina? She certainly couldn’t do it in class. At least not the kinds of questions she wanted to. Now that she thought about it, she’d be better off cornering her in the locker room. No. This was definitely going to be one of those “seemed like a good idea at the time” kind of deals.
In fact, Libby decided maybe she could just wait for Katrina in the locker room and not even take the class. That would be even better. But that would be wasting the fifteen dollars she’d paid to take the dratted class and she hated wasting money. She hated wasting money even more than she hated being in the gym.
And talking about waste, it was definitely a waste of time for her to be taking a strength and power class. It really was totally ridiculous. This was the last kind of class she needed, given what she did for a living. If anyone wanted to bulk up, let them try lifting fifty-pound boxes of supplies in and out of the van, like she and Bernie had to do every day. Or let them empty forty pounds of dough out of the mixer once or twice a day. Hey, maybe people could pay them to do that. Maybe they could start a new fitness craze called Cooking Your Pounds Off. Now that was an idea.
Libby laughed out loud at the thought. No. Her being here really was absurd. She’d just decided she was going to wait for Katrina in the locker room, fifteen dollars be damned, when the class instructor strode in and took her position in the front. Everyone stopped talking and snapped to.
Libby was still thinking it wasn’t too late to quietly sneak out of class when the instructor spotted her in the corner. First she welcomed her, which in Libby’s mind was bad enough, and then she made her introduce herself, which was even worse. In truth, Libby hated the idea of being the center of attention. She always had. That’s why she’d made sure she sat in the last row in class in school.
And it was especially true in this situation since all the other women in the room had on cute little matching outfits and she was wearing a T-shirt that was three sizes too big and a pair of sweats that even she admitted should be torn up for rags. And on top of that she needed to wash her hair. She should have listened to Bernie and worn something halfway decent—not that she would ever tell her that.
As the class started doing their warm-up exercises, Libby found herself staring at Katrina’s hands. In fact, she couldn’t take her eyes off them. After about five minutes, when the class had graduated to squats, Libby’s personal bête noir, Libby realized why she’d been staring at Katrina’s hanatrt tds. Her fingers were bare. She wasn’t wearing her wedding band or engagement ring.
Libby remembered hearing from Bree that they’d been expensive. According to her—and Bree was never wrong in matters like this—the engagement ring was a perfect two-carat pear-shaped number, while the wedding band had been platinum, studded with small diamonds.
There might be a benign explanation for the rings not being on Katrina’s hand, Libby thought. For example, they could be at the jeweler being resized, but in Libby’s experience that usually wasn’t the case. Like practically never. So maybe coming here wasn’t going to be such a waste of time after all.
 
Between the weights and the bands and the running in place and the hopping on and off her step and the jumping jacks and the sit-ups, Libby was ready to collapse by the time the class came to an end. Clearly she had made a mistake in her assessment of this class, she thought as she gulped down air. She was hot and sweaty and she had a headache and her arms and legs ached and her stomach felt as if someone had punched her in it. In short, she felt as if she was going to die. Or at least throw up.
At the moment, the only thing she wanted to do was take a long, hot shower and then eat half a pint of chocolate-chip ice cream and take a four-hour nap. The one thing she did not want to do was talk to Katrina. Actually she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t have the energy. But after all, she reminded herself, that’s why she’d come. So she’d better. Otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from her sister and her dad. And, in addition, if there was one thing she knew, it was that she wasn’t going to do this again. Ever. For any reason.
Libby told herself that she’d just have to dig deep and find the reserves to carry on, although she was convinced that as far as reserves went she was pretty clearly running on empty. Especially since she didn’t have any chocolate with her. While Libby was waiting for Katrina to come out of class, she pictured herself slogging across the desert under the burning sun, dragging a suitcase behind her, her lips parched, her body burning up. Maybe Bernie was right, Libby decided as Katrina came out and Libby fell in step beside her. Maybe she did have a tendency to overdramatize things.
“This was my first class,” she said to Katrina, trying to make conversation as they both walked down the hallway toward the women’s locker room.
Katrina didn’t say anything.
“It’s a hard class,” Libby continued.
Katrina gave a slight nod of agreement.
“So how do you do it?” Libby asked her.
“Do what?” Katrina inquired, looking at Libby for the first time.
Libby decided Katrina didn’t like what she saw because she wrinkled her nose ever so slightly. “Keep from sweating,” Libby said.
Katrina flashed her teeth and laughed as she reached up and gave her ponytail a tweak. “I never sweat. It’s just not something I do.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. Not even when I was a child.”
Libby wished that she could say that. Right now she was positive she could wring out her T-shirt and leave a puddle on the carpet—a disgusting thought if there ever was one.
“Lucky you,” she said to Katrina.
Katrina nodded to show she’d heard and started pulling away from Libby.
Libby picked up her pace.d uv w “Listen,” she said to her. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“You already are,” Katrina pointed out.
“About something else.”
Katrina arched a well-plucked eyebrow and looked down at her. “If you want to talk to me about catering, this is not a good time. In any event, I’m not in charge of the Junior League lunch anymore. You’ll have to call the president and get the name of the person who is. I’m sure she’ll be happy to speak to you. Although, frankly, I should tell you that I found your prices to be a little on the high side.”
“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Libby told her as she resisted the temptation to discuss the shop’s price points. In truth, they were not high. If anything they were too low.
“Then what do you want to discuss?” And Katrina cocked her head and waited for Libby to speak.
“I want to talk to you about Liam.”
Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “I have nothing to say,” she growled, and with that she started walking again.
Undeterred, Libby continued tagging along beside her. She pointed to Katrina’s bare hands. “I can’t help but notice that your rings are gone.”
Katrina stopped again. “What’s your point?” she snapped.
“I just wondered if you and Liam were still together, that’s all.”
“And that would be your business why?” Katrina asked.
Libby got the word “because” out before Katrina held up her hand and stopped her. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I know. This is about the Mike Sweeney thing.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact it is,” Libby said.
Katrina leaned in toward Libby and put her hands on her hips. “Well, you can leave me out of it. As far as I’m concerned Sweeney got exactly what was coming to him. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it myself.”
“Did you?” Libby asked.
Katrina snorted and moved back. “Don’t be even more idiotic than you already are. Do I look like someone who could hold Mike Sweeney’s head under water ... ?”
“Beer,” said Libby. “Not that it really matters. Liquid is liquid.”
Katrina’s nostrils flared. “Well, do I?” she demanded of Libby.
“No,” Libby admitted. “But maybe your husband did.”
“First of all, Liam is no longer my husband, and second of all, he wouldn’t have the guts to do something like that.”
“Are you divorced?” Libby asked.
“Go to hell,” Katrina told her. And with that statement, Katrina swept off to the locker room.
“Wow,” Libby said out loud to no one in particular as she started walking again. “That was intense.”
“You’ll have to forgive Katrina. She’s a little on edge these days,” a voice behind her said.
Libby spun around. Her friend Misha was standing in back of her.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Libby said.
“Well, I would be too in her position,” Misha said.
“And that is?”
Misha wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Of course you should,” Libby said.
“But she told me in confidd m”
ence,” Misha answered.
“You mean about what Liam did?” Libby turned to see that the speaker was the instructor of the class she’d just taken. Libby had been so wrapped up in talking first to Katrina and then to Misha that she hadn’t heard her come up. “She told everyone in confidence,” the instructor continued. “It’s no big secret. Liam borrowed a lot of money from Katrina’s parents to invest in a business. At least that’s what he told her parents. But instead he invested with Sweeney, who lost it all. And now things are a total mess.”
“That’s awful,” Libby said.
“Well, it’s certainly not good,” the instructor agreed before she walked off, leaving Libby and Misha standing in the middle of the hallway.
“Why did she tell me that?” Libby asked Misha.
Misha shrugged. “Because Katrina made a move on her boyfriend. I guess she figured tit for tat.”
“I guess so,” Libby agreed. “So what happened to Katrina’s rings?” she asked Misha.
“Katrina told me her dad demanded them to help repay some of the money Liam had lost.”
“And she gave them to him?” Libby asked.
“I don’t think she had any choice. He threatened to sue her if she didn’t.”
“That’s really hard core,” Libby said.
“Hard core is right,” Misha replied. “I don’t think her dad is a very nice guy. I think he has ties.”
“Ties?” asked Libby. “Like lots of ties?”
Misha giggled. “Not those kind of ties. The other kind of ties.”
“Oh,” Libby said, feeling like a fool. “I get it.”
“I thought you might,” Misha said.
“I’ll say one thing for Sweeney,” Libby commented.
“Yeah?”
“He sure made a lot of enemies.”
“Hey,” Misha said. “For once I have to agree with Katrina. Sweeney definitely got what was coming to him. I think someone should pin a medal on Duncan for doing what he did.”

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