Death of a Bacon Heiress (5 page)

Never in her wildest dreams had Hayley ever believed she would finally have a better understanding of what poor Taylor Swift went through.

The plugged in pop star was world famous and dogged by adoring fans wherever she went. And now, after just swinging into the Shop 'n Save to buy a bag of frozen stir-fry vegetables she had planned on heating up in the wok with a handful of peanuts and some soy sauce for her dinner, Hayley was surrounded by a gaggle of excited high school girls who were jostling to get a selfie for their Insta-gram pages.

“Hayley, look this way!” one snaggletoothed, mop-topped girl squealed before shoving her phone in front of Hayley's face and blinding her with a sudden flash.

The girls actually knew her name.

She wasn't just “Dustin's mother.”

Shoppers had to take a detour around them with their carts because they were clogging the aisle.

“My mom's making your Bacon-Wrapped Jalapeño-Stuffed Chicken Thighs recipe for dinner tonight!” another girl said before hooking an arm around Hayley's neck and smiling brightly as she snapped a photo with her own phone.

Hayley was disoriented from all the flashes and felt as if she was being tossed around like a rag doll as the girls took turns snapping pictures. Finally, after one big group photo taken by a stock boy with a stupid grin on his face, who was willing to do just about anything the cute older high school girls asked of him, Hayley was allowed to continue her grocery shopping.

After hunting down the few items she needed, she made a beeline for the checkout line. She spent another ten minutes nodding and thanking locals who were checking out at the same time as they complimented her appearance on
The Chat.
She patiently answered their burning questions about the stars of the show, especially Rhonda Franklin, whom a few of them had spotted tooling around the island in recent years.

The cashier who began scanning Hayley's items had worked at the store for years and had barely managed a smile whenever Hayley checked out at her register. But today she was beaming from ear to ear, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at what Hayley was wearing, and was uncharacteristically warm and polite.

This was all too much.

Hayley just wanted to get to her car and finally have some peace.

She had never expected this kind of reaction when she and Liddy and Mona touched down at Bangor International Airport the night before. By then the episode had aired and it was now the only thing everyone in town could talk about.

Hayley would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the attention just a tiny bit, but enough was enough, and she was anxious for her life to get back to normal.

Her one previous brush with fame was appearing on a coupon-clipping game show a few years back, but that was on an obscure cable network that half the town didn't even have on their channel lineup. This was a major broadcast network, and not only that, Hayley's short clip from the show was all over the Internet. Her little stint as Rachael Ray for a day was everywhere.

Hayley mercifully made it to her car, dropped the recyclable bag with her groceries in the passenger seat, and returned to the office to put in her last few hours before she could go home for the day.

When she arrived, she stored her dinner in the refrigerator located in the back bull pen and returned to her desk to check her e-mails.

It was quiet. All of the paper's reporters were out in the field. The office was empty.

But then she heard a hissing sound.

She worried the refrigerator was on the fritz again and her frozen vegetables would thaw.

The hissing stopped and was followed by a groan and then steady wheezing.

Sal was napping at his desk.

A typical occurrence after he returned from a long bourbon-fueled lunch with his fishing buddies.

Good for Sal. He was having trouble sleeping at night lately, so it was important he get a little shut-eye during the day to make up for it.

Suddenly the door to the front office flew open and banged loudly as Bruce stormed in, a rolled up newspaper squeezed inside his fist.

She heard a loud grunt in the back. The noise had startled Sal awake.

So much for his much needed rest.

“Everything all right, Bruce?”

Bruce stopped and glared at Hayley. “I suppose you've seen the front page of today's paper.”

“Actually, it's been a little crazy around here today and I haven't had the chance.”

Bruce unfurled the paper to reveal a front page photo of Hayley next to Rhonda Franklin while she was stuffing one of Hayley's chicken thighs in her mouth on the set of
The Chat
. The picture took up half the front page and the headline plastered over the top read, LOCAL CHEF HEATS UP CHAT SHOW.

“Chef? Sal called me a chef?” Hayley asked, unable to suppress a smile.

Studying the picture, she was, surprisingly, quite pleased at what she saw.

She didn't look half bad.

Hayley had previously thought it was impossible for her to take a decent photo. Her eyes were usually closed or her hair was too frizzy or her smile was crooked.

But there she was on the front page of the
Island Times
looking, dare she say it, not unattractive.

“Yes, the shot is adorable and you look about as cute and lovable as a beagle chasing a tennis ball, but this whole issue is crap! Let me be the first one to tell you, Hayley! This paper is on a major downward spiral!”

Hayley thought it wise to warn Bruce that Sal was in the back, but he didn't give her a chance.

“It's been a slow decline! It started with Sal emphasizing human interest pieces to sell more papers! Maybe one or two a week. But now it's an epidemic! It's every day! You fly to New York to feed an overweight has-been actress trying to save her career with a morning talk show and you make the front page! I do an exhaustive, hard-hitting investigation on the disappearance of a major medical researcher, Dr. Alvin Foley, whose disappearance may have global implications, and I'm relegated to page four! Page four! Honestly, Hayley, I can't take it anymore! I'm ready to—”

“Quit?”

“No! Give Sal a piece of my mind!”

“Well, congratulations, Bruce, you can mark that off your check list.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

Her eyes moved behind Bruce to the open door to the bull pen where Sal stood, fuming, the blood vessels in his face ready to burst.

Bruce's own face suddenly went pale and his entire body sagged.

He slowly turned around and said in a meek, barely audible voice, “Sal, I thought you were still at lunch.”

“You listen to me, Brucie,” Sal said, his voice a low growl. “Maybe if you had come up with one shred of evidence, anything that might explain what happened to Dr. Foley, then I would slap it on page one. But you haven't written anything newsworthy since the guy just up and vanished. Nothing! So until you stop pontificating and indulging yourself like some armchair detective with ridiculous speculative theories about what
you think
may have happened to him and start focusing on hard facts, your column's going to remain in the back pages, are we clear?”

“Yes, Sal,” Bruce whispered, sweat pouring down his face.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I heard Sally Jenkins's Maine coon cat is about to have a litter of kittens, so I'm meeting a photographer over at her house to take some pictures and do a story for tomorrow's front page,” Sal said, barreling past Bruce for the door.

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm not serious, you imbecile! I'm going to Drinks Like A Fish for a bourbon! I'm too pissed to hang around here anymore!”

Sal charged out, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Bruce cleared his throat, pretended he wasn't dying inside, and slinked into the back bull pen.

Hayley sighed.

Just another day at the office.

Why hadn't Hayley listened to the little voice inside her head that was telling her to go straight home after work?

She would have saved herself a world of humiliation.

But no.

She had to drive over to Aaron's office on a whim just to check in and say hello. They hadn't spoken all week and she wanted to see for herself if he was upset with her or if his feelings for her had cooled.

Actually, deep down she was hoping she would be greeted by that warm, inviting smile and the ever present twinkle in his eye when he saw her in his waiting room.

Hopefully all of her concerns and fears that something had changed in their relationship would finally be put to rest for good.

No such luck.

He rushed out from the back after being summoned by his new receptionist, an older, dour woman with a severe tone whom he had hired after Gemma left for college. Her name was Edna and she was retired but enjoyed the part-time work. Or at least she said she enjoyed it. You couldn't tell from her expression because she never cracked a smile.

Aaron was in a blue dress shirt that was wrinkled. The sleeves were rolled up and his red tie was askew. He looked tired and haggard; his hair was mussed and his face drawn. “Hayley, what's wrong? Why are you here?”

Not the words she wanted to be greeted with, but it was too late to turn around and get the hell out of there. She had stepped in it and there was no turning back.

“I . . . I just was curious to see how you're doing. We haven't spoken in a while.”

Oh, God, why did she say that last part?

Now she was coming across as the needy girlfriend.

He gestured to the five pet owners seated quietly in chairs behind her, two with dogs, one with a cat, one with a caged parakeet, and then there was the young boy holding a glass case in his lap with what looked like a giant snake inside curled up and still.

“As you can see, it's kind of crazy around here today. I'm sorry. Can I call you later?”

“Of course. I didn't mean to bother you. . . . I'm so sorry.”

He smiled. “I miss you. Let me call you later and we'll plan something for this weekend, okay?”

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You've done nothing wrong. I'm glad you stopped by. I just have to get back to a cocker spaniel with an eye infection.”

“Yes, yes, go! We'll talk later.”

He nodded, taking one last look at her to make sure she wasn't upset, and then whipped around and raced back to his exam room.

Edna looked up from her computer, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, her face full of judgment. She glared at Hayley as if she was an unwanted intruder.

And in a way, she was.

Suddenly she felt a familiar wet nose snorting her pant leg.

She looked down to see Pork Chop, the potbellied pig, curiously smelling her. He was pulled back by a yank on that astoundingly expensive diamond-collared leash he wore around his neck by Olivia Redmond.

“Stop bothering the poor lady, Pork Chop.”

“Ms. Redmond, you're here early this year, aren't you? You usually don't arrive until the weather gets better in June,” Hayley said, bending down and petting Pork Chop on the head.

“I needed to get away, so I had the staff open the house early this year. I arrived this morning. Pork Chop is due for a couple of shots.”

“Do you have an appointment?” Edna asked, already knowing the answer since her eyes were glued to the calendar on her computer.

“No, I don't,” Olivia said, brushing past Hayley and staring down at the crotchety old woman who was throwing her attitude. “But I'm sure Dr. Palmer will see me first chance he gets. You're new here, so you probably don't realize I don't need to make an appointment. Olivia Redmond.”

Hayley dreamed of having the confidence of someone who is accustomed to getting whatever she damn well pleases.

Edna picked up the phone and punched in an extension, all the while never taking her eyes off Olivia. She raised a bony hand to cover her mouth as she whispered into the receiver, and after a few moments her angry face melted away and was replaced by a flicker of worry, and then a forced smile as she put the phone down.

“Please have a seat, Ms. Redmond. Dr. Palmer will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, turning her back on Edna and rolling her eyes at Hayley, who tried not to snicker.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Hayley?”

“No, I was just leaving,” Hayley said, copying Olivia by dramatically turning her back on Edna, but she just didn't have the gravitas or class to carry it off like Olivia had just done.

“It was so nice seeing you again,” Hayley said to Olivia, who had just plopped down on the last remaining chair and was holding Pork Chop in her lap while gently stroking his head.

“Yes, a pleasure. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

Hayley sputtered, “Tomorrow, why, yes, I'm sure I'm free.”

“Good. You can join me and my husband at the Blooming Rose. I've heard great things about the food and have been dying to try it. It would be a real treat for us to dine with a professional chef and get your honest opinion.”

“Oh, I'm not—” Hayley stopped herself. She had promised not to shy away from anyone calling her a chef anymore.

Why put herself down like that? She had a regular column with kitchen-tested recipes, so why not own it?

She was a chef.

And she wasn't about to correct a billion-dollar heiress who at this very moment was calling her one. “I would be honored to join you for dinner, Ms. Redmond.”

“Olivia, please. We're friends now. I'll make a reservation and e-mail you tomorrow with a time.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” Hayley said, glancing back at Edna, whose mouth was so far open Hayley resisted the temptation to warn her against catching flies.

Instead, she held her head high and breezed out the door.

She no longer felt humiliated for barging in on Aaron. She felt vindicated and in high spirits.

If only this elated feeling would last.

Little did she know it was all about to come crashing down in a big way.