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When can you start?"
     

Chapter Four
     
     
    "The contractor changed the architect's plans? Are you sure that's wise?" David asked as he sat across the table from her in the intimate French bistro, another restaurant run by one of her cooking school friends.
    "I'm not an expert, but what he's proposing seems reasonable and the sketches look great," Bianca replied.
    The waiter brought over their appetizers at that moment. David had ordered the escargot, as he always did. She had never been a fan of the slimy-looking snails, convinced they had little taste besides that of the sauce they were prepared in. She had chosen a pate de champagne for her appetizer .
    She took a bite, enjoying the blended flavors of the liver, chicken, pork, and onions. To make it his own, her friend Robert had folded roughly chopped pistachio nuts into the meat mixture and then layered everything in Canadian bacon. All along the exterior of the pate there was a thin glistening layer of aspic flavored with some kind of liquor. Cognac, she suspected.
    "This is heavenly. How are your snails?"
    David shrugged, popped another slimy sucker into his mouth with the tiny fork the waiter had brought. "Tender and garlicky. Just how I like them," he said and grinned.
    "I'm glad you like Robert's cooking."
    "Well, it's what I prefer. That nuevo whatever stuff leaves me cold."
    " Nuevo Latino . You know what it is, David. We're both Latinos after all," she reminded.
    He grimaced and put down his fork. “I know, Bianca. But I feel as if it’s a far riskier thing than going with something more traditional, like a French restaurant."
    It was his argumentative tone and Bianca was in no mood for a disagreement with him. Again. But somehow she couldn't let his comment pass either. "That’s true which is maybe why there are so many of them which would make it tough to stand out. Plus, I’d like to incorporate something of what I am in my food. I’m a cook -- "
    "A chef," he corrected, as if that one word made a vast difference in what she did.
    "Whatever. I may know all about how to do French and other cuisines, but there's no reason I can't apply my skills to our own food traditions," she said. She knew that he thought her choice for the restaurant was an iffy one, but she was determined to do something different.
    He met her gaze and finally seemed to recognize just how set she was with her decision. "I'm just worried that it'll be harder for you, Bianca. That's all. I know how much it means to you."
    He held his hand out for her to take, which she did, giving him a smile and a quick squeeze before returning to her plate of pate .
    When the waiter returned a few minutes later, they had both cleared off their dishes and were busy sampling a fine Sauvignon blanc that David had chosen for the meal. She had been a little concerned at first that the milder wine would not be hearty enough for their meal, but the wine was actually quite well-balanced and full-bodied. In retrospect, it would go well with the cassoulet she had ordered for her main course, although she might have preferred a merlot.
    "This was a good choice, David," she said, held up her glass of wine and swirled the wine around in the glass, watching as fingers formed along the walls of the glass as she stopped. "Did someone recommend it to you?"
    David nodded and took a sip. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Anthony did during lunch the other day. Speaking of Anthony, you really should think about having him take a look at what the contractor is proposing."
    Anthony the architect, she thought and smiled at the alliteration. Anthony was one of David's nicer friends and clients. He had been very helpful in drawing up the plans for her. It seemed to make sense. "I can give him a call."
    "Actually," David began and put down his glass of wine. "I was thinking of having a little get together on Friday night. Just a little dinner for Anthony and his wife. A few others."
    Bianca remembered the last little "intimate