“And she got away with that?” I asked.
“Of course. Everybody wanted a Lacy Cake,” Eve said. “Too bad she’s dead, but good riddance.”
Priscilla kept talking, but everything turned into blah, blah, blah. I kept thinking about Lacy Hobbs. Somehow she’d come from a little town near San Francisco right out of high school and built what appeared to be the most successful, highly sought after bakery in Los Angeles. But she sure as heck hadn’t made any friends along the way—including people here at L.A. Affairs.
Hmm. Maybe I could find a way to blame her murder on Vanessa.
Kayla tapped me with her elbow, bringing me back to reality, and muttered, “Here we go.”
I spotted Vanessa moving to the front of the room carrying a stack of postcards. She shoved them at Priscilla and took over the podium.
“I feel compelled to share these with you,” Vanessa announced, as Priscilla moved down the rows passing out the postcards. “These are just another little trick I came up with to bring in more business.”
I took one of the postcards as they were passed down our row. On the front was a picture of Vanessa.
“She does this at every meeting,” Kayla whispered. “She’s always finding some excuse to give us something with her picture on it.”
“So many of you have asked me about how the Parkers’ fiftieth anniversary party turned out,” Vanessa said.
“Nobody has to ask her anything because she’s always talking about herself,” Kayla said.
“I’m pleased to report that after I took over the event when Suzanne wasn’t about to complete it—” Vanessa said.
“Suzanne went into labor,” Kayla told me.
“—everything was spectacular,” Vanessa told us. “The Parkers were so thankful that I could step in and tie up all those loose ends so beautifully.”
“It was the day before their party,” Kayla said. “Vanessa did a walk-on and took credit for the entire event. She’s always pulling something like that.”
“The clients absolutely loved everything I did,” Vanessa said, giving us all a look-at-me-aren’t-I-fabulous-don’t-you-wish-you-were-me smile.
She stood at the podium as if she expected to follow this up with a Q&A session, or at least get a round of applause, but thankfully Priscilla spoke up, though she didn’t dare try to reclaim the podium.
“Thank you, Vanessa. You continue to inspire us all,” she said.
I wasn’t inspired, and I doubted anyone else in the room was. I figured we were all lucky that we kept down our coffee, juice, and pastries.
“Let’s all have a good day,” Priscilla announced, and we rose from our chairs and headed out of the conference room.
I was halfway to my office when I heard Vanessa call my name. My Holt’s training kicked in immediately and I kept walking.
“Haley!” she screamed.
I heard her coming up fast behind me. I swung around, forcing her to stop. Since I was a good four inches taller than her, plus today I had on my really cool Jimmy Choos, which gave me yet another few inches, I towered over her.
The women in the hallway swerved around us and exchanged troubled looks, like they thought a bitch fight might break out or something.
I noticed Kayla standing nearby, my backup. Eve was a little farther away but taking it all in, ready to spread the word about what was going down.
Are they great BFFs or what?
Vanessa apparently didn’t like the odds, because she took a half step back.
“Haley, please, you have to let me help you with the Sheridan Adams event,” she said, sounding all concerned and worried.
Oh my God, she had done a one-eighty and completely changed tactics on me.
“You told me not to ask you—”
“Please, I’m begging you,” Vanessa said.
The women in the hallway had stopped and were listening.
“I’m handling the Adams’ party just fine,” I told her.
Vanessa pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Oh, Haley, I admire you so. You’re new here and you’re so inexperienced. You really have no idea what you’re doing. But you’re hanging in there, muddling through as best you can.”
“I am not muddling!”
“Just please, promise me that you won’t let your pride get the best of you,” Vanessa said. “Come to me. Let me save this event while there’s still time.”
“What you can save, Vanessa, is your breath, because I know what you’re doing,” I told her.
She glared at me. I glared back. We progressed from stink-eye to double-stink-eye, to triple-stink-eye in a heartbeat.
Vanessa blinked first. She leaned in and hissed, “Quit now. Or else.” Then she whipped around and marched off down the hall screaming, “Edie! Where are you? Edie!”