Page 21 of The Princess and the Pizza Man

Pops and pings from boiling sauces on the stove filled the air as Winter walked from dish to dish, spoon in hand, ready to try everything before it was sent out for dinner.

“What a day,” she said, her smile big as she dunked her spoon into the crispy layer of cheese on the jalapeño dip. It was the perfect blend of crunchy and smooth, spicy and sweet. She held up an okay sign to her chef, Kasey, her eyes rolling back into her head as she went for another bite.

“Winter,” Mel said, eyeing the food as if it might jump out and stain her one-of-many suit jackets. “We need a firm yes or no on tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” she said, taking her spoon to the entrée. Edward had caught some nasty bug and had asked for his death scene to be moved up a day. Winter had been back and forth on the decision; two murders so close together would make a boring rest of the week, but then again, she wouldn’t want anyone else catching the sniffles. Poor Eddie looked like his nose had been dipped into a vat of red dye number five.

She took a sip of the taco soup and moaned, momentarily forgetting—again—that Mel was still waiting for an answer. “Kasey, let me bathe in this.”

Her chef laughed from inside the refrigerator, popping up with a large cake made out of…oh my, those were churros. Winter’s eyes grew three sizes, and she had her spoon in the sample before Kasey had even put the thing on the counter.

“Winter,” Mel said again, her voice exasperated. “I need a decision. Rewrites will take all night.”

“Well,” she said through a mouthful of cinnamon heaven, “what are you thinking?”

“I think we don’t want anyone sick.” Mel stuck her pen up into her fraying hair. “I think Edward might pass out in that soup.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” Winter said, much to Kasey’s delight—and embarrassment. “But you’re right. Let’s have him kick the bucket tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Mel pushed off the wall and hurried her way out of there. Winter frowned—well, as much as she could while eating the most wonderful dessert on earth. Matching up Mel had taken a backseat once Will had found her out as the real Cupid of the place. Maybe she could focus on her next round.

A light hand touched her shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you,” Kasey said with a warm smile that reminded Winter of her mother. “She acts irritated and stressed, but she thrives on the chaos.”

“You sure about that?” Winter laughed. “I think everything in her house is labeled and organized by color, size, and value.”

Kasey silently chuckled. “Well, now with Edward getting sick, she gets to organize the chaos. It’s a fantastic night ahead of her.”

Well, when she puts it that way…Winter took one more bite from the cake before getting shooed out of the kitchen. Probably a good idea; she wouldn’t want to get too full before she ate in just a few more minutes.

She bounced her shoulders at the excited buzz that filled the main level of the mansion. The voices of guests and actors mingling were like a drug she could never quit. A warm sense of pride swelled in her chest. “Mom and Dad would be so proud of me,” she lilted to herself, laughing when Michael caught her talking to herself. Again.

She made her way to the dining table where several of the servers were setting the plates and name cards. Her feet skipped a little bit as she jumped in to make sure Maybelle was right next to her. Will had given her plenty of stuff to go on, but nothing was better than conversation with the person herself.

An excited bubble ballooned in her stomach when she settled Maybelle’s card on the plate next to hers. She was mostly anxious to talk to someone who seemed just as happy-go-lucky as she was. So many people had excused Winter’s bouncy and bubbly personality as airheaded or naïve. She was neither, thank you very much, and she wondered if Maybelle ever felt the same.

That… and maybe she could get a little bit more information on Will. He was so frustrating, but at the same time, he could be very charming. She had a feeling that Will just wasn’t himself here; there was this distinct distaste for Frostville, or the mansion, or maybe even her that sat below the surface and would bubble up from time to time. Winter had this unexplained desire to prove to him that Frostville was amazing—everyone on Yelp thought so—and she would have him begging to stay by the time he had to leave.

She glanced up and saw Will’s name card only three places away. She leaned over, plucked it up, and walked all the way to the other end and swapped him out with Alexis—the cute, adorable, and also too clingy brunette she’d caught him flirting with earlier. If she was thinking straight, she’d put him next to Alexis so they could continue flirting, and she’ll have made two matches by the trip’s end, but a very selfish part of her had no trouble placing Alexis as far away from Will as possible.

Dinner number two was set up as a grieving meal, and so instead of her go-to color—blue—that she wore on every other occasion, Winter was draped in black. Her nose wrinkled when she caught her reflection in the mirrors across the room. Black made her look putrid; a sickly color no stage makeup could cover. But she supposed, for a murder mystery, maybe it fit.

When everyone was seated, she took her glass and rose it high in the air, choking back very believable tears. “For Joshua.”

Everyone followed suit, the actors using their best sullen faces—all except Michael, who looked as indifferent as could be—and the guests mixed between suspicion and excitement. There was always a good mix of those who were there to solve the mystery and those who just wanted to enjoy the show. Winter loved each and every one of them.

She took her seat, and the servers started dishing out the appetizers; Winter’s eyes searched for that jalapeño dip as she leaned to her side to talk to Maybelle.

“Mexican was Joshua’s favorite,” she said, which was a downright lie in real life. Josh, in fact, hated the stuff, so whenever his character was written out, Mexican night came right after.

“I don’t get it much,” Maybelle said and dipped a tortilla chip into the crusted cheese. “Back home it’s either pizza… or more pizza.”

Her laugh could be heard from a mile away, and Winter couldn’t help but giggle along with her. “Pizza? Not really what comes to mind when I hear southern food.”

Maybelle nodded toward the other end of the table where Will sat filling his plate with much enthusiasm. Winter’s lips pressed together, holding back an appreciative grin. So far the food seemed to be the star of the show for him, and she told herself once more that she was going to introduce him to her kitchen before he went back home.

“My brother, there… he owns the busiest pizza place in the history of Alabama. And who am I to pass up free food?”

Winter nodded with big eyes, knowing she really hadn’t paid for food a day in her life. Unless she counted paying a chef; in that case, she paid for it every day. “I only wish I had that talent.”

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