Death of a Bacon Heiress by Lee Hollis

anything else I can help you with, Hayley?”
    â€œNo, I was just leaving,” Hayley said, copying Olivia by dramatically turning her back on Edna, but she just didn’t have the gravitas or class to carry it off like Olivia had just done.
    â€œIt was so nice seeing you again,” Hayley said to Olivia, who had just plopped down on the last remaining chair and was holding Pork Chop in her lap while gently stroking his head.
    â€œYes, a pleasure. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”
    Hayley sputtered, “Tomorrow, why, yes, I’m sure I’m free.”
    â€œGood. You can join me and my husband at the Blooming Rose. I’ve heard great things about the food and have been dying to try it. It would be a real treat for us to dine with a professional chef and get your honest opinion.”
    â€œOh, I’m not—” Hayley stopped herself. She had promised not to shy away from anyone calling her a chef anymore.
    Why put herself down like that? She had a regular column with kitchen-tested recipes, so why not own it?
    She was a chef.
    And she wasn’t about to correct a billion-dollar heiress who at this very moment was calling her one. “I would be honored to join you for dinner, Ms. Redmond.”
    â€œOlivia, please. We’re friends now. I’ll make a reservation and e-mail you tomorrow with a time.”
    â€œI’m looking forward to it,” Hayley said, glancing back at Edna, whose mouth was so far open Hayley resisted the temptation to warn her against catching flies.
    Instead, she held her head high and breezed out the door.
    She no longer felt humiliated for barging in on Aaron. She felt vindicated and in high spirits.
    If only this elated feeling would last.
    Little did she know it was all about to come crashing down in a big way.

Chapter 8
    â€œThe seafood tastes funny,” Olivia said, practically gagging as she spit out what was in her mouth into a yellow cloth napkin and rolled it up into a ball.
    She had ordered the Salmon-Stuffed Maine Crab Cakes with a spicy wasabi sauce off the menu, and when it arrived Hayley thought it looked absolutely delicious.
    Olivia’s handsome, suave husband, Nacho, kept his eyes glued to his plate and picked at his pan-seared halibut, fearing what was about to come.
    Hayley simply tried to diffuse the situation by popping a gnocchi slathered in a brown-butter-sage sauce into her own mouth and moaning. “Mine is so good. The sauce is just bursting with flavor. And those fried raviolis with the basil and tomato marinara dipping sauce I had for an appetizer were incredible.”
    It wasn’t enough to stop Olivia from cranking her head around in search of the willowy young hostess in the pink sundress. “Excuse me, young lady, I’d like to speak to the owner.”
    The girl nodded, her face a frozen mask of dread, and then she disappeared into the kitchen.
    â€œI expected more of this place,” Olivia said, slamming her fork down and then picking up a glass of ice water and gulping it.
    A restaurant with an impeccable reputation, the Blooming Rose was situated on the outskirts of the tiny hamlet of Town Hill in a small New England cottage nestled in a wooded area. It was a fifteen-minute drive from the center of Bar Harbor but always worth it for its culinary treats for the taste buds.
    Hayley was thrilled because she had been dying to try it ever since they opened early for the season, a full six weeks ahead of their usual date, which was around Memorial Day.
    The meal started out innocently enough with an array of appetizers, including the fried raviolis along with a local artisan cheese plate and a chilled lobster salad with a tarragon vinaigrette.
    In fact, Hayley was in absolute heaven.
    She made a note to write about this flawless meal in a future column, not only to praise the delicious food but also because she was fond of the owner, Felicity Flynn-Chan, who was always so kind to Hayley