Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,85
an arm around me and squeezed. “Another wonderful thing is that my mother has yet to speak to me today. I couldn’t be happier!”
Josh, having freed himself from the kitchen for long enough to sit down, took the chair next to Owen’s. “The food is coming out awesome, huh? Everything good for the happy couple?”
Adrianna and Owen both nodded enthusiastically.
Throughout dinner, people clinked their glasses with silverware, thus prompting Owen and Ade to kiss repeatedly. Naomi, her boyfriend, Eliot, and my sister, Heather, joined us at the table.
Heather happily dug into her plate of food. “Ben is chasing the kids around, so I get a few minutes to actually sit down and eat. Will wonders never cease?”
Heather and Naomi began a debate about natural childbirth. “Listen, Naomi, I know you are trying to help Adrianna, but I have two kids. Drugs are a godsend.”
“I’m sure Adrianna will do what’s best for her and the baby.” Naomi winked at Adrianna as though the two were pulling one over on Heather. “Speaking of which!” Naomi rose from her chair and, raising her glass, accidentally submerged one of her long braids in her champagne. “I’d like to make a toast. To Adrianna and Owen, on the impending arrival of the fruit of their union!” Naomi removed her hair from her glass and took a long drink.
My parents and Josh made loving toasts, as did Owen’s father and Nana Sally, both of whom welcomed Adrianna to the family. Kitty made the best toast of which she was capable: none at all. I watched to make sure that Nelson was filming all of the speeches, as he was, probably because Robin stayed right by his side and kept muttering directions and scolding him for not following all of her orders. At one point, their bickering began to escalate, but Robin had the sense to shoo Nelson out of the tent to finish the spat.
I went back to the buffet table to help myself to the lamb. Then I set my plate down and filled a small bowl with the incredible roasted pumpkin stew. I took a spoonful of the stew. Heaven! Rich, gooey, and cheesy. As I ate, I walked slowly along the edge of the tent to survey the scene and fix it in my memory. As I was wondering whether Robin and Nelson would be able to resolve their differences for long enough to finish filming the wedding, I heard Nelson’s voice and then Robin’s. The two were no distance from me; only the fabric of the tent separated us.
“You’re getting the angles all wrong, Nelson, and—”
“I swear on my mother’s life, Robin, if you don’t shut up and let me record this thing how I want, I’ll blow your dirty little secret. How’d you like that, huh?”
“What are you talking about? You don’t know anything.” Robin was seething.
“Oh, yeah? I know about you and Leo Loverboy. So, now what do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Director? I bet a lot of people would be interested in that. You two have been going at it for months. And having him be the chosen shopper for the show was no accident. You set that whole thing up. So shut your trap about what I film.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
WHOA! The conversation stopped me in my tracks.
Robin and Nelson reappeared in the wedding tent, but I lingered at periphery of the crowd. Robin had been having an affair with Leo. Even though she had no garden, she had bought foxglove, which was not a houseplant. Because of the gardening film she’d made with my parents, she’d known of the nursery where she’d bought the plants and known of their toxicity. It was she who’d chosen Leo as the featured shopper; she’d engineered his participation and thus, of course, Francie’s. Once in the house with Francie, she’d poisoned food that Francie but not Leo would eat. Robin must have prepared the plants in a way that made it easy to slip the poison into the food that Josh had served to Francie. According to what I’d read about foxglove, every part of the plant was so toxic that the preparation would have required no skill. And if others, too, were poisoned? Robin hadn’t cared. If others got sick, or even if they died, so much the better! Francie’s death, instead of appearing to be a deliberate murder with Francie as the victim, would pass as an accident—in other words, exactly what the police officer saw it as when