Last Bite: A Novel of Culinary Romance by Nancy Verde Barr Read Free Book Online Page A

knockout. Somehow, she’d managed to gain weight exactly where you’d want it, and had me beat by a cup size. She can apply liquid eyeliner evenly while riding in a taxi on the way to a date, of which she has many. She is my romantic adviser as well as fashion and makeup consultant. She has lots to say on all those subjects.
    She led me directly to the sale rack and demonstrated the decision-making talent that had vaulted her to buyer in record time. She started at one end of the rack and began pushing hangers along it too fast for me to see what she was moving. “No. No. No. Yes. Maybe. No. No. Definitely not you. Yes. Yes. Yes.” She went right to the end of the rack, pulling out the yeses and maybes and piling them in my arms. “All right. Try them on.”
    My arms were wrapped around a very heavy assortment of color-coordinated pants, skirts, tops, and dresses. Mary followed me into the dressing room so I wouldn’t waste time wondering if something worked or not. She’d know immediately.
    While I started to undress, Mary said, “Okay, let’s
parle chiffon
.” That’s French for “have a girl talk.” Her work involvesnumerous trips to France, and Gallic expressions creep into her conversation, making her sound feminine and sophisticated. I should think of that the next time I resort to Neapolitan profanity. “You know that lawyer, Bill, I met a few weeks ago? He has a friend who sounds terrific and Bill’s looking to fix him up. I thought we could all go out together.” She shook her head no to the skirt I had just tried on and handed me another one.
    “You know I hate blind dates.”
    “But you’re not doing anything on your own to get back in the game, Casey! It’s been five weeks.”
    “Four and a half.”
    “Whatever. You have to get over it already! I’m begging you.” Mary had exhausted her sympathy for my situation about week after I discovered Richard in his office with Lexi. That was so her. When Mary says she’s leaving, Mary’s gone. I’m more like a dog with a bone. I couldn’t let go. She pretended she was strumming a guitar and sang a little George Strait: “If You Ain’t Lovin’ (You Ain’t Livin’).”
    I picked up my imaginary guitar and sang her some Mark Chesnutt, “I’m Not Getting Any Better at Goodbyes.” When we were growing up, we had a friend, Susie Jo Banks, whose father was from Nashville. If the stereo at her house wasn’t playing country songs, he was singing them. Mary and I could probably carry on an entire conversation using country-and-western song titles and lyrics.
    “I know, but I’m here to change that.”
    “I know you’re right. I’d just like to have some—”
    “
Please
don’t say ‘closure’!”
    “I was going to say ‘satisfaction.’”
    “Well, in this case ‘satisfaction’ may well be in the form of some Italian dish, and I don’t mean food. Try these.” I zipped up a pair of cropped pants and she stood back and said, “Iknew those would look great on you, and they travel well. I just bought the same pair for my trip.”
    “What trip?”
    “I didn’t tell you? Buying trip to Paris, in three weeks.”
    “So you’ll be in Paris when I’m in Italy.”
    “
Oui
. Aren’t we the sophisticated, continental family? Who would have thought?”
    “I wish I felt as sophisticated as you do. You should have seen the ass I made of myself this morning.” I told her about my encounter with Danny. She ignored the description of my bumbling behavior and zeroed in on his personality.
    “Bold’s not bad. Bold is where it’s at. And why do you care if he just wants to meet Sally? Everyone wants to meet her.”
    “That’s not the point. Going through me means he’s a user. A user is not sincere. You can’t trust them in business or in love.”
    “Is that the world according to Dr. Phil or according to cynic Casey Costello?”
    “It’s just a fact.”
    “So are you going to see this Danny again?”
    “I’m
not
interested,