Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) by Avery Aames Read Free Book Online Page B

too.”
    Amy scurried to join the group hug and then whipped off her Indian headdress and said, “Clair, I saw Daddy and Meredith by the food table. They’ve brought ice cream for everyone.”
    “Yay!” Clair clapped her hands.
    “Dinner first.” I wagged a finger as if I had control over them.
    They scampered away, giggling, and Delilah joined me. Her skin glistened with perspiration; her eyes sparkled with delight. A former Broadway actress, Delilah had returned home to Providence when New York proved too tough. She took over her father’s diner and found great pleasure there, but she yearned for a creative outlet. Directing, acting, and writing local plays had turned out to be just what she had needed.
    “Your houseguest stopped in to the diner at lunchtime,” Delilah said. “Nice gal. Good little journal writer. I enticed her with a grilled Swiss, bacon, fig jam, and scallions sandwich.”
    “You could entice me with that,” I joked.
    “Like you would come in on your own.” Her mouth turned down in a frown. “You never call, you never write. With Jordan out of town, you’ve turned into a hermit.”
    I gave her the evil eye. “I work for a living. I’m tired at night. And I made it to girls’ night out this week while you didn’t. What were you doing on Monday anyway?”
    “Taking a class.”
    “In what? Anatomy?” I teased.
    “As if. I attended a writing workshop in Columbus. A four-week course. My love life is dormant.”
    “What about—”
    “We broke up.”
    Was something in the air? First Rebecca and her beau, and now Delilah and hers? I vowed to be extra vigilant of my relationship with Jordan, except I was certain that absence made the heart grow fonder. I missed him so much.
    “We weren’t in sync,” Delilah went on. “The age difference was a little weird. You were right.”
    “Me?” I gulped. “You didn’t end it because of something I said, did you?” I would hate it if I were responsible for inserting a wedge into the relationship.
    “No. It’s . . .” She ran her fingers down her long neck. “Another time, okay?” She tilted her head. “Have you heard from Jordan?”
    “Briefly.”
    “I’m worried about you.”
    And I was worried about her, but Delilah was one of those people that kept a tight rein on her emotions. I wouldn’t pry. Not tonight, anyway. “Speaking of worried, Pépère was concerned about my grandmother flying across the stage.”
    “She begged me.” Delilah held her palms out. “What was I to do? You know your grandmother. As stubborn as an ox. It wasn’t like she was on a zip line sailing across a canyon.”
    “Hello-o-o.” Meredith, my best-best friend, a sun-kissed beauty who appeared even younger since her honeymoon with my cousin, joined us. “You two are gossiping, aren’t you? Don’t leave me out.” The three of us had been buddies since grade school. More often than not, Meredith had been the instigator in our wild childhood escapades, though no one would suspect that now. A schoolteacher and advocate for higher education, she followed rules to the letter.
    I hugged her. “We were talking about Grandmère’s flying turkey demonstration.”
    “Duck,” Delilah corrected. “Flying duck. The first Thanksgiving—”
    “Didn’t serve turkey,” the twins proclaimed as they walked past us carrying paper plates filled with dinner. The Thanksgiving Extravaganza, if nothing else, was teaching basic history points to the students involved.
    “Charlotte,
chérie
.” Pépère shuffled up. “I am so sorry to bother you. I am in need of my old drill. I lent it to you for your renovation project, remember? All of the drills at the theater have run out of power.”
    “Run out?”
    “Do not get me started on the theater’s paltry funds.” He scruffed his thinning white hair in frustration. “We must finish tonight. When it comes to schedules, your grandmother is a little general.” He did an imitation, nailing Grandmère and her