Blackboards advertised “fresh-squeezed lemonade” and “Winslow’s Eggs.”
“Those are farm-fresh eggs, too,” he said. “From Winslow’s Farm out in Augusta. That’s where the restaurant gets its organic fruit, vegetables, herbs, and chickens.”
“Wow,” Josie said. “I guess I sound like a hick, but wow.”
“Hicks are supposed to go to general stores,” Ted said. “I think our table is ready.”
They studied the menu. “The cinnamon rolls are tempting,” Josie said, “but I want the brioche French toast. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”
“I want the same with an espresso,” Ted said. “We place our order at the counter.”
The waiter brought their caffeine. Josie inhaled it, took a sip, and said, “Strong but not harsh.”
Josie poured extra dollops of warm maple syrup on her thick slab of French toast. She was feeling virtuous since she’d ordered hers with bananas instead of bacon.
“Mm,”
she said. “This is heaven.”
“I didn’t have to coax you to bite into that French toast,” Ted said, and grinned.
“It doesn’t look as fearsome as pig ears,” Josie said.
“What name is Amelia going by today?” Ted asked.
“I think she’s still A,” Josie said. “Tomorrow, I expect her to adopt an Egyptian pictograph and I’ll have to call her the Person Formerly Known as Amelia. You’re awfully good-natured with her whims.”
Ted shrugged. “Kids all go through that phase. I did. One week I was Ed, then Eddie, then Edward. Teddy lasted the shortest time—once some dude called me Teddy Bear, I dumped that name. I drove Mom crazy. She was big on monogramming, and she couldn’t figure out if I was ES or TS.”
“I’m glad you settled on Ted,” Josie said.
“It was my grandfather’s name. I liked him and kept his name.” Ted checked his watch. “It’s nearly noon,” he said. “Ready for that walk in the park?”
Ted seemed distant and preoccupied on the twenty-minute drive to Tower Grove Park in the south part of St. Louis. Ted parked the Mustang and they walked hand in hand through the Grand Avenue entrance, which lived up to its name with pillars topped by lions and griffins. The afternoon sun set the trees ablaze.
“This is perfect,” Josie said.
“It’s a gift,” Ted said.
“It sure is,” Josie said.
“No, I mean it’s a real gift. To us. To the people of St. Louis. Henry Shaw gave the city this Victorian walking park. He made his pile by outfitting the pioneers, then retired young enough to enjoy his money. He commissioned all the statues and the crazy pavilions. I like the red Chinese pavilion with the dragons on the roof.”
“My favorite is that gaudy red-and-white striped Turkish pavilion.” A homemade banner between the pavilion supports said WELCOME HAYES FAMILY REUNION.
Boys screeched and chased one another through the grass. A blond man played Frisbee with his dog. A couple rode by on a bicycle built for two.
Josie and Ted took the short path to the Music Stand, a delicate domed pavilion surrounded by the stone busts of Shaw’s favorite composers on tall pillars. They heard a string quartet playing. The bandstand was garlanded in white and blue flowers. A bride and groom stood before a minister. A playful breeze caught the bride’s long veil and turned it into a silk sail. Her maid of honor held the unruly veil in place and tried to control her own blue chiffon gown. Seated on benches around the pavilion were guests in party clothes.
Ted and Josie watched until the minister pronounced the couple man and wife. She lingered a moment, hoping Ted would ask her now.
“Shall we walk toward the fountain?” he asked.
Josie nodded, too disappointed to say anything.
They strolled toward the tiered fountain in a pond. Alongside the pond were what looked like ruined palace walls.
“Why would your Mr. Shaw build fake ruins beside this pond?” she asked.
“It was the thing to do back then,” Ted said. “Besides, those aren’t fake ruins. They are the real ruins of the old Lindell Hotel. It burned down more than a hundred years ago and Shaw moved it here.”
Josie crunched through the fallen leaves toward the edge of the water. They watched the fat orange carp swim, then sat together on a stone bench.
Josie took Ted’s hand and said, “I love your hands.”
“What?” He raised one eyebrow.
“They’re strong, but gentle. I’ve seen you with Harry. When he turned skittish, you were firm with him, but you didn’t hurt him.”
“My technique needs some work,” Ted said. “I’ve still got the scratches from Dina’s ferocious feline.”
Josie kissed the healing wound on his cheek.
A horse and carriage clip-clopped to the edge of the pond and halted. White ribbons were woven in its mane and the carriage was decorated with bows and flowers. The groom helped the slender blond bride in a billowing white dress out of the carriage. She was laughing and trying to juggle her filmy skirt and a bouquet of white roses.
A white limousine pulled up behind the carriage, and a rainbow of bridesmaids spilled out, all bows and bouquets. The groomsmen, a photographer, and a videogra-pher followed in a third car.
“Look at the ring bearer in his little tux,” Josie said. “He’s adorable. He can’t be more than three. I think the bridesmaid in yellow is his mom.”
While the wedding party posed for photos by the ruins, the ring bearer broke away and dashed toward the fountain pond. “Fish!” he cried. “Big fish!”
He was about to dive in after the carp when Ted jumped up and caught the boy. He restored the squirming ring bearer to his grateful mother.
Josie rewarded Ted with a kiss when he returned to their stone bench. “Quick reflexes,” she said.
“Comes from years of catching puppies about to tumble off the exam tables,” Ted said.
“What a beautiful wedding,” Josie said. “I wonder how many St. Louis brides have had their wedding pictures taken here.”
“Want to be one?” Ted asked her.
“What?” Josie’s heart was beating fast. The breeze stopped. Ted seemed to move in slow motion. He pulled a dark blue velvet box out of his pocket.
“Josie, I love you. I’ll try to be a good father to Amelia. I can’t replace her real father, but I’ll love her like she’s my own daughter. Will you marry me?”
Josie was too stunned to answer.
Ted opened the ring box and said, “It’s two diamonds. Together. Like us.”
The ring sparkled, catching the orange and yellow fire of the fall leaves. Josie stared at it.
“Still no?” Ted said. “Okay, I’ll throw in free vet care for Harry.”
Josie had waited for so long for this moment. Now she couldn’t say anything.
“You drive a hard bargain,” Ted said. “I’ll give you lifetime care for your mother’s dog, too. I’m serious, Josie. I love you. Please marry me.”
Josie heard a chorus of “Marry him!” The wedding party was watching.
“Marry him! Marry him! Marry him!” they chanted.
“Yes,” Josie said. “Oh, yes.”
Ted kissed her—or she kissed him. Josie wasn’t sure. The wedding party cheered when Ted slipped the ring on Josie’s left hand.
The bride ran over and threw her white rose bouquet to Josie. “Catch!” she cried. “And live happily ever after.”
Epilogue
Missouri is a death penalty state. Henrietta and Jeff were both eager to avoid a rendezvous with the lethal injection table. Henrietta claimed that Jeff had plotted and committed both murders, but the River Bluff police had found enough evidence to prove Henrietta had willingly cooperated in the murders of her husband and Gemma. The insurance company pledged its considerable resources to help get Henrietta convicted. They didn’t want her to cash in that two-million-dollar life insurance policy.
When Tillie had threatened to kill the drunken Clay, Jeff decided it would be easy to make the police believe she’d poisoned him. Henrietta said Jeff went to Tillie’s prepared to kill her husband. Jeff heard Tillie call Henrietta, who had rushed over to the restaurant. Jeff had suggested that Clay order toasted ravioli. While Clay and Tillie traded insults, Jeff had slipped back to the kitchen. Mitchell was busy bringing in tubs of dirty dishes. Chef Nancy was cooking and plating the food as fast as she could make it. Lorena was racing back and forth delivering dishes. In the sweat, steam, and lunchtime confusion, no one noticed Jeff in his chef’s whites.
Jeff grabbed a platter of toasted ravioli that was up and ready to go. He’d brought finely chopped castor beans in a ziplock plastic bag, concealed in his cargo pants, along with a pair of gloves. He dipped Tillie’s own gloves into the poison, so they’d have traces of castor beans. Then Jeff made a small slit in the cooked raviolis and slipped in some six or seven poisonous beans. He waited until he heard Tillie barging through the door, and put the doctored ravioli back on the pass-through shelf by the stove. Then he slipped back into the restaurant and talked to the diners.
Tillie told Nancy, “I’m taking this ravioli here to get rid of Clay. I’ll fix more. You go out front.”
Nancy did. Tillie whipped up some sauce and served the ravioli. The bar was dark and Clay was too drunk to notice his ravioli had been doctored. He demanded extra hot sauce, and Tillie gave it to him. That’s when Clay started screaming and collapsed.
For her cooperation, Henrietta’s charges were reduced to second-degree murder and she was sentenced to thirty years in prison.
The court also accepted a plea bargain for Jeff. The one-time chef was sentenced to life without possibility of parole. He works in the prison kitchen. His restaurant was sold to pay his attorney.
Police found the remnants of the Mexican rosary that Clay Oreck gave his mother. Once Clay’s murder case was closed, the rosary was returned to Olive. She keeps it in a cedar chest, along with photos of Clay.
Olive Oreck kept Henrietta’s crystal rosary. She says she uses it to pray for her son’s soul and also for his killers. God knows if that is true.
After Tillie was released from the St. Louis County Jail, she went back to work at her restaurant. Her remarkable story was featured on every St. Louis channel and on a truTV show. The publicity brought back old customers and attracted new ones who wanted to get toasted at Tillie’s. The
New York Times
mentioned Tillie’s Off the Hill in an article called “Hearty Heartland Fare.”
Gourmet
did a color spread on Tillie’s toasted ravioli.
A month after her release, Tillie had to hire another chef, two more waitresses, and extra bus help to keep up with the demand. Diners waited more than two hours for a table at Tillie’s—all except Renzo Fischer. The lawyer was always given the best table when he showed up.
Desmond Twinings upped his offer for Tillie’s restaurant to five hundred thousand dollars. Tillie laughed. Desmond doubled the amount to one million dollars, his original offer. Tillie gave him a copy of the
New York Times
article. The next time he made an appointment to see her, Tillie said she was being interviewed by the Food Network.
Desmond no longer sat at his table in the shadows. Tillie said she didn’t have room for the developer’s scout, no matter how long he waited in line.
Desmond patched things up with Lorena and begged her to forgive him. He proposed to her and Lorena accepted. Her diamond ring was even bigger than Desmond’s. Tillie refused to see her future son-in-law, either at the restaurant or at her home. She didn’t believe Desmond wanted to marry her daughter.
“Mark my words,” Tillie told her daughter. “If I ever sell this place, he’ll drop you the minute I sign the papers.”
Lorena wept and told Tillie that she was ruining her last chance for marriage.
“If Desmond marries you within one year of your engagement, I’ll eat my words. I’ll not only get down on my creaky knees and beg his forgiveness, I’ll personally cater your wedding.”
But after six months of nonstop cooking and publicity, Tillie was tired. Her restaurant was now a local legend with a national reputation.
“I want to retire on a high note,” she told her friend Jane.
Tillie accepted Desmond’s offer, which was now up to four million dollars. She gave healthy retirement packages to Mitchell the table busser and Nancy the chef. The newer staff got six months’ severance pay and good references.
Jane, Josie, Amelia, and Ted were among the two hundred people who attended the final party. Then Tillie’s Off the Hill shut its doors forever.
Once the sale was final, Desmond broke off his engagement to Lorena and started dating a twenty-two-year-old exotic dancer. Lorena did not return her engagement ring. “It was the only genuine thing about him,” she told Josie at the party.
Josie noticed Lorena’s bare left hand was free of eczema. “That went away after Mom went back to our old soap brand.”
Even though Desmond put the land package together, the developer was unhappy that he’d had to pay more than four times the projected costs for the casino land. Desmond never again had a deal on that scale—or another good payday. The exotic dancer dropped him. Desmond is still seeing dermatologists for his stress-related skin condition.
Tillie treated her hard-working daughter to a complete makeover and manicure at a St. Louis salon. Before Lorena and Tillie retired to Fort Lauderdale, they went on a cruise on the
Queen Mary 2
. Tillie said it would help a rested and revitalized Lorena recover from her disappointment in love. She was right. At dinner, Lorena was seated next to a Fort Lauderdale accountant who was two years younger. By the end of the fourteen-day cruise they were good friends.
Richard proposed at Christmas and he and Lorena were married on Valentine’s Day. Tillie catered the meal for one hundred guests. For many, that was their first taste of toasted ravioli. One man was so smitten, he offered to back a restaurant, but Tillie said those days were over. Richard and Lorena’s wedding was the last time Tillie made toasted ravioli. Lorena loves her new home in Florida and visits her mother often.