A Batter of Life and Death by Ellie Alexander

wondering if I might borrow him for a minute.”
    “I was just about to convince these two beautiful ladies that we need to sit down and talk about a mother/daughter show. I can see it now— The Baker’s Daughter. The camera will fall in love with both of you.” Philip reached down and kissed Mom’s hand. “But I can tear myself away for a few minutes.”
    Linda’s face turned as pink as her shawl. “Thanks, sugar.”
    Philip started after Linda.
    “Hey, Philip,” I called. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”
    His cell phone buzzed. He slid it on without looking. “What’s that?”
    “You said you needed to talk to me?”
    He texted with one thumb as he left. “No, it can wait. See you bright and early.”
    Mom picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen. “That was interesting.”
    “Interesting?”
    “He’s a bit over the top.”
    “What do you expect, he’s friends with Lance.” I grabbed our wine glasses and rinsed them in the sink.
    “Can you imagine Ashland without Lance?” Mom secured lids on the sauces.
    “So true.” I dried the wine glasses and hung them on the wall. “Speaking of Lance, he stopped by this afternoon.”
    Mom wiped off the cutting board. “Did he want to go over details for his end-of-season party? We should probably finalize the menu with him soon.”
    “I sketched out some ideas. You should take a look and let me know what you think.” I pointed to the dry erase board that was mounted on the wall behind her. “That’s not the only reason that he came by, though. He said he had some news about Philip, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.”
    “Did you tell him to talk to Doug?”
    “Of course.” I didn’t mention anything about Lance wanting to partner up to try and help solve Marco’s murder. I didn’t think she’d approve.
    “Bolognese sauce—that sounds perfect.” Mom studied the whiteboard. “Hearty, rich, and easy to expand the recipe. Do we know how many people are coming yet?”
    I shook my head. “I’ll head up to the bricks. I’m sure Lance will be around. I can ask him about numbers and finalize the menu. If you think the Bolognese will work, I thought we could do bruschetta appetizers on his grill with a variety of toppings, and then for the main course serve the pasta, fresh baguettes, and Italian salads with a sun-dried tomato and basil vinaigrette.”
    “My mouth is watering. I think it’s time for dinner.” Mom grinned. “Any thoughts on dessert?”
    “I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Lance wants an Italian theme this year to celebrate all the critical acclaim OSF received for The Merchant of Venice .”
    “We could make your dad’s Italian cream cake, and maybe poach pears in a red wine for starters.”
    “Look at us. We’re so good.” I untied my apron and threw it in the hamper next to the sink. “I’ll run it by Lance and then I’ll start playing around with the sauce. I have a recipe from the ship that I want to tweak a little.”
    Cooking for me is a sensory experience. When I have time, I love to experiment with recipes, allowing the scent and flavor of a simmering sauce to direct my palate on what to add next. Carlos says cooking is a sensual experience. He sure made it look that way when he worked in the kitchen. He’d blast salsa music and move his hips to the beat while dicing vegetables or filleting beef. A bunch of the waitresses used to gather in the hallway to get a glimpse of him at work. I couldn’t blame them. I used to do the same.
    “Juliet, you’re a million miles away.” Mom’s voice shook me free from the memory.
    “Sorry. Just thinking about the party.” What I didn’t say aloud is that I was also thinking about Carlos, and Marco’s murder. I was surprised by how little disruption there had been with Marco’s death. Working on the menu for Lance’s party felt equally weird and reassuring. Maybe that was normal after such a traumatic event.
    Mom looked skeptical, but