packed the olive oil, wine, and chocolate sauce in a grocery bag and handed it to me without saying anything more. “These are for you.”
I took the bag and followed her to the front of the shop.
She paused at the front door. “Are you sure you’re up for talking to Lance tonight? It’s been a tough day, honey. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. You know me, I need a distraction. If I can’t find Lance, I’ll come back and work on the pasta sauce for a while.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “Okay, but don’t work too hard. I’ve got to go get unpacked from the trip. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I waved as she walked down Main Street. I couldn’t tell her that my motivation to see Lance tonight had less to do with the menu and more to do with murder.
Chapter Fourteen
Dusky evening light greeted me outside after I sketched out our proposed menu for Lance and locked the shop up for the night. I crossed the plaza toward the Merry Windsor Inn. Richard stood on the sidewalk smoking a cigar. He was immersed in a conversation with two other older men, all smoking. I scooted past before he noticed me.
Walking is one of my favorite pastimes, especially when it’s quiet. Ashland was quiet tonight with only a handful of diners seated at patio tables outside as I passed restaurants on my way up the hill to the theater complex.
The bright red and yellow Shakespearean banners attached to lampposts blended in the with the brilliant fall foliage on the trees. The evening light cast a sepia glow on the trees and the empty sidewalks. I took a deep breath in through my nose and let out a little sigh.
Once I made it up the hill, the bricks sat empty. Everyone was inside for the show. I crossed the street to the box office and checked in with the girl at the counter.
“I’m here to see Lance. Is he in his office?” I asked.
She glanced at her watch. “Probably. The show’s already started, so he’s finished with his intro.”
As the artistic director, Lance introduces each show. The audience—theater groupies as we sometimes call them—loves to feel like they’re getting an insider’s glimpse into the show from his perspective.
“Do you want me to call down there?” the girl asked.
“No, that’s fine. I know the way. I’ll go check.”
The box office is next to the Black Swan and located across the street from the Bowmer and Elizabethan theaters. I crossed the street and entered the modern indoor theater. I knew my way around the complex from my time spent there as a kid and from delivering cakes and pastries to the theater. OSF is by far our biggest client.
Lance’s office door was slightly open. I knocked lightly and peeked my head in.
“Juliet!” Lance removed his black hipster glasses and motioned me in. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I sat on his black leather couch and handed him our proposed menu. “I wanted to get this to you for approval so we can order from our suppliers.”
Lance tapped his fingers on his goatee and ignored the paper I offered him. “And that’s the only reason you trekked up here, at what?” He paused and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Eight-Fifteen.”
“The party’s in a few days.” I pushed the menu closer.
He snatched it from my hand and turned it upside down on his desk. “This can wait.” He stood and came over and sat on the couch next to me. “Why don’t we talk about why you’re really here, first?”
I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. One of the major drawbacks of having fair skin is that I blush easily.
Lance noticed. “Aha! I see those fine cheekbones glowing.” He clapped his bony fingers together. “Enough with the act, Jules. You like the game of cat and mouse as much as I do. Admit it, and let’s have a little fun. Otherwise I’ll have to stalk you, and make your life positively miserable.” His eyes twinkled with devilish delight.
A smile broke on my face. Lance had me pegged.
I took the bag and followed her to the front of the shop.
She paused at the front door. “Are you sure you’re up for talking to Lance tonight? It’s been a tough day, honey. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. You know me, I need a distraction. If I can’t find Lance, I’ll come back and work on the pasta sauce for a while.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “Okay, but don’t work too hard. I’ve got to go get unpacked from the trip. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I waved as she walked down Main Street. I couldn’t tell her that my motivation to see Lance tonight had less to do with the menu and more to do with murder.
Chapter Fourteen
Dusky evening light greeted me outside after I sketched out our proposed menu for Lance and locked the shop up for the night. I crossed the plaza toward the Merry Windsor Inn. Richard stood on the sidewalk smoking a cigar. He was immersed in a conversation with two other older men, all smoking. I scooted past before he noticed me.
Walking is one of my favorite pastimes, especially when it’s quiet. Ashland was quiet tonight with only a handful of diners seated at patio tables outside as I passed restaurants on my way up the hill to the theater complex.
The bright red and yellow Shakespearean banners attached to lampposts blended in the with the brilliant fall foliage on the trees. The evening light cast a sepia glow on the trees and the empty sidewalks. I took a deep breath in through my nose and let out a little sigh.
Once I made it up the hill, the bricks sat empty. Everyone was inside for the show. I crossed the street to the box office and checked in with the girl at the counter.
“I’m here to see Lance. Is he in his office?” I asked.
She glanced at her watch. “Probably. The show’s already started, so he’s finished with his intro.”
As the artistic director, Lance introduces each show. The audience—theater groupies as we sometimes call them—loves to feel like they’re getting an insider’s glimpse into the show from his perspective.
“Do you want me to call down there?” the girl asked.
“No, that’s fine. I know the way. I’ll go check.”
The box office is next to the Black Swan and located across the street from the Bowmer and Elizabethan theaters. I crossed the street and entered the modern indoor theater. I knew my way around the complex from my time spent there as a kid and from delivering cakes and pastries to the theater. OSF is by far our biggest client.
Lance’s office door was slightly open. I knocked lightly and peeked my head in.
“Juliet!” Lance removed his black hipster glasses and motioned me in. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I sat on his black leather couch and handed him our proposed menu. “I wanted to get this to you for approval so we can order from our suppliers.”
Lance tapped his fingers on his goatee and ignored the paper I offered him. “And that’s the only reason you trekked up here, at what?” He paused and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Eight-Fifteen.”
“The party’s in a few days.” I pushed the menu closer.
He snatched it from my hand and turned it upside down on his desk. “This can wait.” He stood and came over and sat on the couch next to me. “Why don’t we talk about why you’re really here, first?”
I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. One of the major drawbacks of having fair skin is that I blush easily.
Lance noticed. “Aha! I see those fine cheekbones glowing.” He clapped his bony fingers together. “Enough with the act, Jules. You like the game of cat and mouse as much as I do. Admit it, and let’s have a little fun. Otherwise I’ll have to stalk you, and make your life positively miserable.” His eyes twinkled with devilish delight.
A smile broke on my face. Lance had me pegged.
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