Murder with Macaroni and Cheese Read Online Free PDF Page A

the daughter of a single mother who served as a live-in housekeeper for a more fortunate family. The rumor around school was that Alvetta actually shared a room with her mother in the employer’s home.
    My high school was largely made up of students from working-class and middle-class families. There were certainly poor kids at my school, but many parts of Prince George’s County were more affluent in the eighties than they are now. Being so close to D.C., many of us, including Raynell, had parents who made healthy incomes as government employees or by working for government contractors. Andrews Air Force Base (now Joint Base Andrews) in Camp Springs, not far up the road from my school, was also a big employer.
    It had to be hard for Alvetta to be the daughter of a maid who didn’t even have her own home. But two things kept Alvetta from being derided—her good looks and her friendship with Raynell. At some point, while Raynell was assembling her little empire of fashion conscious she-devils during the early part of our freshman year, the two of them became inseparable. Raynell’s cronies consisted of a whole gaggle of girls, but Alvetta was her closest friend—Raynell’s most loyal and trusted subject. Raynell protected Alvetta from jeering based on her upbringing (no one dared cross Raynell Spector—she was known by her maiden name in high school), but, at the same time, she made a hobby out of criticizing Alvetta herself in a constant effort to remind Alvetta who was in charge.
    â€œYou look lovely, Alvetta,” I say before she has a chance to respond to Raynell’s rude question. “You haven’t aged a day.” Raynell looks momentarily annoyed with me for complimenting Alvetta. “I can say the same about you, Raynell,” I offer, trying to make a quick save. And Raynell really hasn’t changed that much, either, but, in her case, that’s not necessarily a good thing—in high school her features, and really her whole demeanor, reminded me of a bulldog, and they still do.
    â€œThis menu is killer,” Alvetta says. “I want to try everything.”
    â€œIt’s nice,” Raynell chimes in. “You know, for a casual dining establishment. I had so wanted to hold the event at a different . . . a different type of restaurant . . . some place high-end with white tablecloths and palette-cleansing sorbet between courses. But, considering many of our classmates may be . . . how shall I put it . . . ‘financially challenged,’ we booked the Cotillion Ballroom at that raggedy little motel in Clinton. And then they go and let a pipe burst, leaving us in quite a lurch.”
    I’m familiar with the venue she’s referring to, and, while Colony South may not be the Four Seasons, it is a quaint little hotel (not motel) with a small conference center and nice amenities. To hear Raynell talk, you’d think it was Red Roof Inn with bedbugs.
    â€œDo you think you can accommodate us here, Halia?” Alvetta asks.
    â€œI did give it some thought, but I don’t think I can shut down Sweet Tea for the evening; however, I spoke with a friend of mine who books the ballrooms at that Marriott in Greenbelt. They have availability and can accommodate up to two hundred guests . . . and I’d be happy to give the reunion committee a deal on catering.”
    â€œThat sounds like a viable plan,” Alvetta says.
    â€œI don’t know,” Raynell groans. “Marriotts are so . . . so ordinary .”
    â€œThe space may be ordinary, but I can assure you the food will not be. I can put together a stellar menu for the event and work with your budget.”
    â€œAnd I’ll help with all the arrangements. I can keep an eye on the buffet while Halia’s busy minglin’ with all her old classmates,” says Wavonne.
    Raynell just glares at Wavonne as if she is not keen on her involvement. “I suppose we don’t have