Expiration Date Page 4

  “P.U., I smell like spoiled meat drenched in sour milk.” Marla nudged Sherry aside to observe her appearance in the front hall mirror. “Yikes, I don’t look too great either.”

  Marla tiptoed over to the stairs where Sherry’s dog was curled up.

  “I would be very quiet, Mar. You know what they say about letting sleeping dogs lie.” Sherry put her finger up to her lips.

  Marla passed the dog without incident. Sherry followed behind. She kneeled down and gave her Jack Russell terrier a pat on the head. The dog thumped his stubby tail, even before opening his eyes.

  “He’s so sweet!” Amber squatted to pet the dog. “I bet he’s happy to have you home. What a solid sleeper.”

  As if on cue, Chutney rose and began snarling. Amber and her gift basket toppled over like a four-tier cake assembled by a novice baker.

  “Chutney, no!” Sherry restrained her furry bundle of security by his collar. No longer growling, the dog’s nose began twitching as he sniffed the alluring aromas wafting from the women’s clothes.

  “I’ve known her dog for years, and he still wants to nip my ankles when I first come in the door.” Marla tipped forward, pulled up a pant leg, and showcased her bare ankle. “Training would probably help.”

  “Sorry. I guess you really should let sleeping dogs lie.” Sherry curled up her lips. “He’ll relax in a minute. His protective instinct is strong because I’m usually here alone.”

  “Chutney is Sherry’s child, basically, and he gets away with murder.”

  “Marla, again!” Sherry slapped her forehead.

  “Ugh, sorry. Bad choice of words.” Marla threw up her hands.

  “I feel so bad about the judge losing his life at the cook-off.” Sherry lowered her eyes. “The police told us the medics never revived him. But I still don’t see why they had to detain us all after the event. I just wanted to get out of there. It was a death, not a crime. The general questions they asked could’ve been answered by reading the contest brochure. I’m not sure my answers made too much sense, anyway. Police make me nervous, and I’ve never even broken the law. Not even gotten a traffic ticket.”

  “It was awful,” agreed Amber. “Just think how the morning started compared to how it ended. I was so excited to be in my first recipe contest. It was pretty thrilling to come in with no idea what to expect. Now, thinking back, the block of time between arriving at the high school and the police questioning seems kind of hazy. In my mind, the whole experience has a terrible dark shadow hanging over it. I’m having a hard time processing what happened.”

  The ladies continued on to the kitchen, where they set down their baskets on the counter.

  As soon as the baskets were out of her guests’ hands, Sherry headed out of the kitchen. “Let me show you where to put your suitcases.”

  Amber and Marla returned to the front hall to gather up their suitcases. The floor vibrated with a dull hum as Amber rolled hers toward Sherry. “I’m really relieved you invited me to stay over tonight, Sherry. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of riding the train back to Maine and going to my empty house. I know I’m going to have nightmares about seeing Chef Birns sprawled out, covered in my seafood sauce.” Amber parked her luggage by the stairs and studied her forearms. “Gives me goose bumps.”

  Marla rolled up behind Amber. “It wasn’t a great ending to the morning.”

  “The chef seemed in good health up until his last breath, as far as I could tell.” Sherry put one foot on a step before noticing a dog hair. She collected it in her hand. “What do you guys think killed him?”

  “I didn’t hear anyone say anything definitive about the cause. I’m no doctor, but my guess is years of rich food can’t be great for you if you don’t balance it with healthier stuff.” Marla extended her belly and ran her hands up and down it.

  Sherry wrinkled her brow and picked up another dog hair off the first step. “I agree. I guess it was just his time. Amber, I was relieved you took me up on my invite.”

  “Yep, you rescued me for sure.” Amber drummed her fingers on the handle of her suitcase.

  “Happy to have you.” Sherry grabbed her sister’s arm. “Usually I never let Marla go home without a two-night minimum stay, but this time she just can’t.”

  “Are we going upstairs or are we just watching you clean them?” Marla took a half step forward.

  “Sorry. Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.” Sherry led the way up the stairs.

  “Amber, I’ll put you in the blue room. You just have to pardon the mountain of clothes. The last time Charlie, my almost ex-husband, was here, he promised to finish removing the last of his stuff.”

  Sherry caught a glimpse of Marla’s furrowed eyebrows. “He promised he’d do it soon.”

  “I didn’t say a word.” Marla winked at her sister.

  When the ladies entered the blue bedroom, Marla let out a gasp. Amber laughed. The sight before her mimicked an end-of-season blowout sale at the Mother Lode of Men’s Attire Warehouse store. Stacks of men’s shirts, pants, blazers, shorts, dress shoes, and sneakers in varying styles and colors lay around the room.

  “Are you sure he’s moved out?” Marla sat down on the queen-size bed.

  “It’s none of my business and I don’t need to know any details of your private life, but maybe it isn’t a good time for you to put me up.” Amber’s gaze jumped from pile to pile.

  Sherry’s face flushed. She sat down next to her sister. “It’s the best time. I’ll give you a quick recap of my situation. I met Charlie Frazzelle when I was finishing college and he was a senior in high school. Scandalous at the time, as we had a five-year age difference, but it was all very innocent at first. I was his organization tutor. He was the top of his graduating class, but his parents felt he had very poor organizational skills and would have trouble with time management in college. After the summer tutoring session, which was all business I might add, we kept in touch. Fast forward to his law-school graduation party where he extended me an invitation. We were inseparable after that until we married. Unfortunately, he pretty quickly realized he wanted to be single again and only married to his career. Our marriage was like a steak cooked on low temperature. It didn’t sizzle. We tried to make it work for five years, and by ‘we’ I mean ‘I,’ but as they say, it takes two people to make a marriage work and only one for a divorce.”

  “A new life phase can be a tough thing, especially if it chose you and not the other way around.” Amber patted a stack of shirts. “You can’t just shut off feelings you’ve had for a long time in an instant.”

  Marla put her arm around Sherry.

  Sherry fell silent for a moment before wriggling out from under Marla’s arm. “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re staying. You may be just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Okay, thank you so much. Maybe you could consider seeing this phase of your life as an opportunity to try something new.” Amber raised her hands, palm side up. “Your competitive cooking is certainly a great place to start. Keep your options open, and you’ll be shocked at what comes your way.”

  Sherry smiled. “I’m trying.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to change out of my dirty things.” Amber unzipped her suitcase and began searching through it. “I think this shirt I cooked in has a representative from all categories of the food pyramid on it, and it’s beginning to ferment.”

  “All right. Come down when you’re done.” Sherry shut the bedroom door. “This way, Mar.” Sherry led the way down the short hallway to a second guest bedroom. “I’m putting you in the green room.”

  “Best room in the house,” said Marla.

  When they entered, Marla wrapped her sister in an impressive bear hug.

  Sherry’s arms fell limp from the force of the embrace. “What’s that for?”

  “Just because I’m not always the best at letting you know I appreciate you.”

  Sherry left her sister and proceeded to her bedroom, where she changed out of h
er soiled clothes. She rummaged through her neatly organized drawers, found the light-green section, and grabbed a comfortable and bright summer outfit. Sherry caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. She saw a tall woman in her early thirties—thirty-five is “early,” some would say—who still managed to wear shorts and a T-shirt with dignity. She liked the way summer colors drew out the otherwise muted highlights in her mousy brown bob-cut hair.

  “Not bad. Could use a shower, but maybe later.” Sherry twisted her torso to see the front then back of her arms. “I’ll never have arm muscles like Marla’s. She got all the good genes.”

  As she left her bedroom, Sherry straightened the photo of herself, Marla, their brother Pep, her mother, and her father taken on her fourteenth birthday. It captured one of their last group shots as an unbroken family. She picked up the photo next to it. It was a photo of her pretty mother, forever frozen in time. The matriarch of the family was flexing her impressive bicep in mock triumph after completing a mini-marathon. It was less than a year after that photo that Sherry’s mother, who was so full of vitality and always in constant motion, passed away from an undetected heart ailment. That event put the brakes on Sherry’s carefree childhood and catapulted it in to one overburdened with responsibility. As the eldest child it was up to her to fill the void left by her mother’s premature death. Her father was busy earning a living, so she managed all other aspects of family life to ensure her younger siblings were happy and fulfilled.

  “I’ll be downstairs.” Sherry descended the steps to the kitchen.

  After she’d changed her clothes, Marla came downstairs. “I feel so much more comfortable.” Marla’s wheat-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore blue jeans fitted one size too small, causing her stomach to bulge over the top of her pants, like proofing bread dough overflowing its container. Her short-sleeve chambray shirt with shiny snap closures completed the country ensemble. Her bare feet were calloused and as white as cauliflower from years of sneaker and boot coverage. One of her toenails was black from a lingering injury.

  Amber joined them soon, dressed in a beige linen skirt and a short-sleeved cotton polo shirt. Her spotless white sandals framed her fresh pedicure. Amber’s hair was well managed, its neatness reinforced with a recent application of styling mousse. Amber and Marla joined Sherry at the round kitchen table. Sherry was refolding cloth napkins she had brought out of storage.

  “You girls clean up so nice!” said Amber. “How do you stay so trim with all the cooking you do? Isn’t there a saying about ‘never trust a skinny cook’?”

  “Yep, Sherry is a stalk of asparagus personified. Comes from constantly burning calories. One hint about Sherry’s daily routine, she never sits idle. For example, do you really think those napkins needed refolding?”

  “Thanks for sharing.” Sherry’s tone was crisp. “This is how I relax after a tough morning.”

  “Don’t worry about those napkins. We’re not going to notice if they have a wrinkle. As for me, I’m not in the shape I used to be in.” Marla grabbed her protruding belly and jiggled it. “I’m more like an eggplant personified. But I’m as strong as Limburger cheese.” She reenacted the pose Sherry had just seen in the photo of her mother upstairs by flexing her bicep.

  Sherry shivered. “Ugh. Stinky. I think you should come up with a better metaphor.” She shook her head, trying to rid the memory of the cheese’s unpleasant aroma from her nose.

  “I was a soccer player growing up, and now I coach high school soccer,” added Marla. “I think my body remembers my muscles from years ago and hasn’t given up hope I’ll start working out again. They’re just hidden under a layer or two of insulation.”

  Sherry tucked her hair behind her ears. It was barely long enough to stay put and soon rebellious strands sprang free. “You can’t believe how many soccer games I watched growing up.”

  “You didn’t come to many games. Don’t even try to say you did! You just dropped me off and picked me up most of the time.” Marla softened her tone. “Sherry did a lot of mom duty after we lost our mother. She walked me to nearly all soccer practices before she could drive, then when she got her license, she was basically my captive chauffeur until I could drive.”

  “You’re in great shape, Amber,” said Sherry. “Have any secret workout tips you’d like to share?”

  “Thanks! I did recently lose one hundred and ninety pounds.” Amber cocked her head to the side.

  “Really? Amazing!” Sherry raised her hands and spread her fingers wide.

  “Wow, how’d you accomplish that?” asked Marla.

  “Bad joke. My husband left me. I signed my divorce decree about ten months ago! I do feel a lot lighter though.”

  “I’m sorry.” Marla’s voice softened. “By the way, is ‘sorry’ the right thing to say? You don’t sound sorry. You sound relieved but a little sad.”

  “It was a sour ending to a sweet beginning,” explained Amber. “We were two young professionals in Boston. We started out with a lot in common, but after seven years of marriage, it was becoming clear we made better business partners than spouses. His after-hours playtime with his gorgeous secretary definitely sealed the deal. Luckily, we were too busy to have kids, so there wasn’t much to bicker about during the settlement.”

  Marla’s eyes widened. “Let me tell you one of our dad’s pearls of wisdom. ‘Sometimes life is like a loaded diaper. If it begins to stink, change it.’”

  “Thanks for the visual.” Sherry laughed before turning her attention back to Amber. “Why did you move to Maine? Boston’s a great town.”

  “Boston had too many associations with my old life.” Amber shifted in her seat. “As I mentioned before, I was, actually—technically, still am—a marriage and family counselor. I noticed a severe drop-off in clientele when my divorce was finalized, so I left town embarrassed. I’d failed at the one thing I was supposed to be an expert at. Moving to Maine felt like an adventurous move to parts unknown. I wanted to go somewhere where no one knew me. I wanted to regroup, renew, refresh.”

  “I’d call that very adventurous,” remarked Marla. “I can relate because when I made the move with my new husband to wild Oklahoma, after spending most of my life here in Augustin, it was quite a shock. I didn’t know one single person except my new husband. He had to drag me there kicking and screaming.”

  “Come on.” Sherry curled up the edge of her mouth. “You love kicking and screaming in one way or another. She was the rowdy one in the family.”

  “You two have quite a dynamic.” Amber wrinkled her forehead. “Very interesting. Did you know birth order is a reliable way to predict future successes and failures?”

  “I’m the oldest. There’s a brother Pep, short for Joseppi, between us, so Marla is the baby. I hope you’re going to say the oldest is destined for greater things.”

  Amber laughed. “I can’t make any guarantees, but you’re well on your way. How often do you two see one another?”

  “I’ll take this one.” Marla tapped her fingers on the table. “Maybe only three or four times a year, but we talk on the phone, e-mail, and text a lot. I’ll be the first to say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. I think Sherry needed a good long break from my brother and me after having us forced down her throat for years and years. Besides, she had to get her own life kick-started.”

  Sherry released a huff. “Let’s get the spotlight off of me. I was thinking, Amber. You were a marriage counselor while your own marriage was crumbling.” Sherry fiddled with her spot on her left ring finger where she used to wear a gold and diamond wedding band. “I mean, listening to your clients’ problems all day long then, after work, facing your own. That’s reason enough to want to run away. Did it help to relocate?”

  “For a split second, but fast forward six months from when I had the bright idea to unpack my bags in a cabin in Maine. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the frozen tundra! I mean the winters there are barbaric! I got so sick of my own company, I put
a towel over the bathroom mirror so I’d stop talking to my reflection.”

  “Makes sense because all the crazy psychos in the news live alone in a cabin in the woods.” Marla twirled her index finger around her temple. “Man is not a solitary creature. Being your own best friend comes with a price.”

  “I used to go to the grocery store just so I could hold a conversation with the check-out lady. Once, I swear, she saw me coming, switched off her ‘this line’s open’ light, and ducked under her cash register. When I saw an ad in a magazine for the OrgaNicks Cook-Off, with its promise of human interaction and the incentive of traveling south, I couldn’t get cooking fast enough. I willed those judges to make me a finalist!”

  “I wish it had had a better outcome. Such an awful ending!” Sherry shook her head.

  “Really tragic,” agreed Amber.

  “Poor guy,” added Marla.

  Sherry sat in silence for a moment before pushing her chair back and heading toward a cabinet. “Can I offer anyone some relaxing tea?”

  “Just what we need because it’s too early for happy hour.” Marla stood up and joined her sister. “Why were you so nervous today during the competition? You need to relax a little and enjoy the moment.”

  “I just wanted to do a good job. My adrenaline starts raging, and I get a little wired. Not everyone can be as chill as you!”

  “You had a really good chance of winning, I think. Your recipe was great.” Marla handed a mug to Amber. “Sherry gets anxious easily. Instead of hoping for the best she has a tendency to prepare for the worst. Have any advice for her?”

  “Amber’s not here to fix our family.” Sherry wagged her finger at Marla. “And by the way, that’s exactly what did happen today. How much worse could it have gotten?” Sherry’s question was left unanswered, interrupted by the teakettle whistle. She filled each mug with boiling water and a tea bag.

  While the tea steeped, Sherry gave Amber a quick tour of the rest of the house.

  “Such a charming house.” Amber said.

  “Thanks. When Charlie and I moved to this house, we started full throttle on building this into our dream home. We got pretty far before we agreed we couldn’t make a lifetime together work, so he moved out and my dad moved in for a short time. Dad owns a local hooked-rug store, Oliveri’s Ruggery, and I work there part-time. He helped finish the house before moving to his own townhouse. I may have driven him out, too, but he’s too polite to admit it. I might be a bit particular in my ways.”