Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

chosen a sympathetic woman attorney who was planning to plead temporary insanity—a defense that probably could have been applied to just about everyone who’d gotten involved in the Chow Down contest. I got that news from Bertie, who had delivered ten Yorkies to Lisa’s doorstep as soon as the woman was released on bail. I don’t think the board bill’s been paid yet. I doubt that Bertie’s holding her breath.
    After all the commotion finally died down, Ginger was named winner of the contest and the new spokesdog for Chow Down. Coming on the heels of a murderer’s confession, the announcement seemed rather anticlimactic. But the Reddings were thrilled and I was delighted for them. Mostly I think I was just relieved that Faith’s and my part in the whole circus was finally over.
    A few days after the press conference, Terry threw a birthday party for Crawford. He wouldn’t tell any of us which birthday we were celebrating, but Davey pointed out that there were enough candles on the triple-layer chocolate cake to send up smoke signals.
    Crawford was looking well. He was delighted to be the man of the hour, surrounded by family and friends. Shortly after we arrived, he sought me out. Davey had gone off to toss a ball with some other kids his age; Sam was helping Terry at the grill.
    Crawford pulled me aside and said, “I hear you’ve been asking about me.”
    I knew how much he valued his privacy. I hoped he hadn’t been offended by my snooping. “I was worried about you,” I said. “I wanted to help.”
    “You always want to help. Trouble is, sometimes people would rather handle things on their own.” The words sounded harsh, but his smile softened them. Crawford reached out and patted my arm awkwardly. “I appreciate the concern.”
    “Is everything okay?”
    “Getting better all the time, now that the doctors know what to treat.” He shook his head. “Lyme Disease. Living in Connecticut, you’d think they’d have come up with that idea sooner. But at my age they test for everything else in the book first. And the symptoms can seem pretty dire when you don’t have any idea what’s causing them.”
    Amen to that, I thought. Just about everyone I knew had had a bout with Lyme Disease. The diagnosis came as a relief. With proper treatment, chances were that Crawford would be back to normal shortly.
    “The medication’s helping?” I asked.
    “Doing its job, just like it’s supposed to, so you can stop worrying now.”
    “I’m a mother. We never stop worrying.”
    “Speaking of which”—Crawford drew back and looked me up and down—“rumor has it, you might be about ready to share some news on that front.”
    He’d caught me by surprise. “What rumor? Who have you been talking to?”
    “Never you mind,” Crawford said with a chuckle. “But now you know what it feels like to have other people messing around in your business for a change.”
    I wondered who’d let the cat out of the bag. Sam and I had found out for sure only the day before. We’d told Davey, who’d leaped and yelled and twirled around the kitchen.
    Davey was supposed to be keeping the news a secret for the time being. We didn’t want to make an announcement until the pregnancy was further along. But now I was betting that Davey had emailed Aunt Peg. No wonder she’d been casting me such fond looks all afternoon.
    “I hope it’s true, Melanie,” Crawford said. “You look happy.”
    “I am happy. Sometimes I think I must have landed in the middle of a fairy tale. I look around and realize I have everything I ever wanted.”
    “Not too many people can say that.”
    “Only the really lucky ones,” I said.
    I looped an arm around Crawford’s shoulders and we strolled back to join the party.

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    Copyright © 2006 by Laurien Berenson

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    Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2005924293
    ISBN: 978-0-7582-0816-3