Death is Semisweet Read Free Page A

wanly. “Here’s the short version. The long version we don’t have time for until Christmas is over. When the firstsnow falls in January, we’ll get drunk and I’ll have a ball feeling sorry for myself, telling you not only how my mother was swindled out of a fortune, but how my husband hid his assets in the Cayman Islands. I’m a second-generation patsy. The short version of my mother’s disaster is, there were five children in my mother’s family, the Foster family.”
    “Did your mom grow up here in Kansas City?”
    “Oh, yes. Foster’s Chocolate is a hometown company. It was started by my grandfather after the war. At first their products were sold exclusively in a department store downtown. I’m not sure which one. In those days I think the company did little more than feed my grandfather’s five kids, who were mostly already teenagers. Ten years passed and my mother’s oldest brother, Harold Foster, Jr., got involved with his dad’s company; it turned out he really had a head for business. The company was doing better. But none of the other kids knew that. Now here it comes, Heaven, pay attention.”
    “Someone is going to get screwed,” Heaven said, as she polished off the last bite of Stephanie’s bread pudding.
    “My grandfather died of a heart attack. My mother’s two older brothers, who are both working in the business by now, go to the two girls and the youngest child, my uncle David, and say, look, you two girls are married; David, you’re in college. We want to buy your shares of the company because that’s the only way we can see anyone will make a living out of this place, if the pie is divided only two ways. We’ll buy Mom’s shares too, and of course, make sure if her money runs out that she has a house and everything she needs, and David, we’ll also pay your college expenses. So they bought the three younger kids out for a pittance and then took the companypublic and made a fortune for themselves.”
    “Wow, they were ahead of their time with the corporate greed thing,” Heaven observed. “That’s a very 1990s kind of a story. Was your mom pissed?”
    “Well, as you can guess, it has divided the family. We don’t go over to Junior’s big old mansion for a festive evening of Christmas carols and eggnog, I can tell you that. My dad blames himself, of course, for not seeing it coming. But my dad is a kindly family doctor and doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.”
    “Did your grandmother get evicted from the family home by the two evil brothers? That would really give this story a nice little kick,” Heaven said, cynical as always.
    “Oh, the family home was too small for Junior and Claude to bother with, although my grandmother has a perfectly good fake Tudor near Ward Parkway, similar to mine. The brothers moved over to Mission Hills as fast as they could. No, Nana is in her late eighties and going strong in her own home, with help of course. But it has made a difference in her relationship with my mother and Aunt Carol and Uncle David. They think she should have stuck up for them more. I think she didn’t understand a thing about the business but now knows what side her bread is buttered on and doesn’t want to die in the poor house. Not that she would. My mother would always make sure she was taken care of. So would my aunt and uncle. But the brothers have power over her, financially. I think that would be scary at her age.”
    Heaven put up her hand to get the waiter’s attention. “I’m buying brunch because you’re going to let me tag around and watch you with the chocolates. We haven’t even gotten around to why I need your expertise. Thiswhole Foster’s drama is fascinating. I have two more questions, then I know you want to go back around the corner to your shop.”
    Stephanie grinned at her friend and started applying lipstick and other beauty aids she’d pulled out of a huge purse. She hadn’t changed completely. “Oh, the Foster family is just