Theater Nights Are Murder by Libby Klein

Author:Libby Klein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2019-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I had a nightmare that I cheated on my diet with marshmallow Peeps. I woke up in a cold sweat. Figaro was watching me calmly from the end of the bed. I sensed his thoughts were, Where are these Peeps you speak of?

“Fig, it was horrible.”

Figaro bit my foot. Fig had a different concept of comfort than the rest of us.

“Okay, that’s rude.”

My cell phone chimed, and I looked at the screen. It was a selfie of Sawyer with eight roses, a box of Godiva chocolates, and a gigantic smile.

I got out of bed and tried to shake off the dream. I took a deep breath and ran through my yoga workout and my morning routine. Fig led me down the backstairs to the kitchen as if I’d forgotten where it was and I sat at the table with a carton of sugar-free coconut yogurt while Aunt Ginny heated water for coffee.

“It’s silly to let it upset you this much. It didn’t happen.”

“It felt very real.”

“So, what if you did eat the Peeps? Life is too short to obsess over a few carbs.”

“I’m trying really hard right now. Don’t you think I need to lose some weight?”

Aunt Ginny gave me an appraising look. “You could stand to lose a few pounds in the middle there, but everything else is fine.”

“That’s a small comfort.”

“I just think you’re going overboard with it. How much kale can a person eat?”

I went to the oven and shook the Southwest breakfast casserole. It was just about set. I turned the oven off and left the door open a crack, so it would finish baking on carryover heat. “Well, nothing else is working.”

“You already walk three miles a day, do yoga, and eat practically nothing but vegetables. At some point you might just have to accept that this is you and be okay with that.”

Crazy woman, crazy talk.

The timer went off that the coffee was ready, so I plunged the press. “This is the happiest part of my day.”

A clicking sound thumping into the cabinets drew my attention and I had to extract Figaro from the empty yogurt cup he had lodged on his head. His pink tongue fought furiously to catch the last schmear.

Aunt Ginny peeked into the dining room. “The silver fox is early.”

Charles and Barbara Ainsworth had arrived from Cape Cod yesterday afternoon for a romantic Valentine’s week getaway. Charles had the chiseled features and a strong body used to hours on the StairMaster. His gray hair and tailored sport coat gave him a George Clooney/Richard Gere kinda vibe and I had to drag Aunt Ginny away from the door before she started drooling.

I took the carafe of coffee out to the sideboard with the cream and sugar. “Good morning, Mr. Ainsworth.”

He held up a finger. “Ah-ah. Remember, you’re to call me Chigsie. All my friends do.”

I smiled and handed him a china cup and saucer. “All right, Chigsie.”

As if on cue, his wife came through the sitting room. “And call me Bunny.

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