Read Online Death of a Christmas Caterer by Lee Hollis - Free Book Online

crush on Mona when they were kids, was on call every year and ready to serve as their designated driver.
    â€œYes, Garth, I’ll be out with my friends tomorrow night and we look forward to stopping by your warehouse to taste a few of your scrumptious delicacies.”
    She turned away from him and began perusing the butter lettuce being sprayed with water from tiny hoses lining the bin.
    â€œForget your friends. You’re working for me tomorrow and tonight.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œDo you have any idea how much you’re blowing up on Twitter?”
    â€œI’m what?”
    â€œWell, not like ‘blowing up’ blowing up. I mean, not like some brainless twit of a pop star shagging a life-size stuffed animal on some music video awards show and now the whole world’s talking about it. More like blowing up locally. I’ve noticed a lot of tweets from my Maine followers about how you killed it last night at your little office Christmas party.”
    â€œReally? People are saying they liked my food?”
    â€œ Liked it? They’re fawning! Yes, fawning. And, frankly, I regret quitting on you because now I’m burning up inside with jealousy. Last night I sat at home watching my archrival, Gordon Ramsay, bitch-slap some incompetent sous chef while you totally caused a sensation with your jumbo lump crabmeat and Boursin dip!”
    Garth shoved his phone in front of Hayley’s face. She read the tweet on the screen: Totally dying for Hayley’s Crispy Ham & Cheese Balls. Check out pic of food table friend sent from Islander party. #yummy Sent by a foodie in Hulls Cove.
    â€œYou just can’t buy this kind of publicity. It’s all about the buzz, Hayley. Please don’t tell me you’re going to open up a catering business to compete with me or I’ll have a heart attack right here on the spot.”
    â€œNo, Garth. I can barely get my column in on time these days, let alone think about opening a business.”
    â€œBig sigh of relief. Although I may still have that heart attack, because my wife says I put too much butter in my dishes and that I am close to sharing type two diabetes stories with Paula Deen. Now, about you working for me—”
    â€œAs much as I need a second job, I just can’t right now—”
    â€œJust two days. That’s all I need you for. Two days.”
    â€œI really can’t—”
    â€œI’ll pay you a thousand bucks.”
    Hayley nearly choked. She grabbed her chest and sputtered and coughed until her throat finally cleared and she was able to speak. “A thousand bucks? For two days?”
    â€œYes.”
    That much money would certainly make up for her lackluster work bonus. It would also go a long way in paying off that maxed-out credit card she had used at the Bangor Mall to buy her kids the Christmas presents on their lists.
    â€œWhen were you thinking of having me start?”
    â€œToday. Like right now.”
    â€œAre you serious?”
    â€œI have three parties I’m catering this weekend and I’m way behind. I haven’t even been able to think about Midnight Madness, and suddenly this morning I realized I have nothing to serve people who stop by my warehouse tomorrow night. So after reading the deluge of tweets singing your praises this morning, I got the idea to hire you to handle it.”
    â€œBut I worked all day cooking for the Christmas party after you bailed on me yesterday, and I was there very late cleaning up after everybody, and I’m exhausted—”
    â€œTwelve hundred.”
    Hayley’s mouth dropped open.
    She had no idea she was even negotiating.
    And then there was Aaron.
    He finally texted her late last night, saying he wanted to see her, so she had invited him over for dinner tonight, which was why she was at the grocery store before work, picking up some veggies for a nice salad and some fresh tomatoes and garlic for a