On Lavender Lane by Joann Ross Read Free Book Online Page B

on her shows, which required yet more traveling, such as her trip to Omaha.
    All to feed the ravenous alligator that Maxime’s restaurant empire had become. After what he’d done, why should she care if the entire thing collapsed around him?
    As it was, the career she’d looked forward to her entire life was looking more and more out of reach. Her parents had cooked for a living, true. But their goal, along with puttingfood on their own table, was to share their meals with others.
    But now there were times when Madeline was forced to consider that professional cooking was becoming less about food and more about chef branding and ancillary marketing—pots, pans, spice rubs, television shows, books, even designer chef–labeled baby food.
    More and more she felt as if she were running on a treadmill, or, to mix metaphors, the tail had begun wagging the dog.
    Perhaps, before she confronted Maxime, she could give serious thought to her options. All of them.

6
     
    Anyone just walking down the street might not even have known the Temple Bar existed, which Madeline had always thought was part of its charm and was what kept it from being packed with the
Sex and the City
crowd, who was more interested in seeing and being seen. The only eye-catching thing about the exterior was the white petroglyph-type lizard on the blue stone wall.
    But the moment she entered the gorgeous deco room decorated in a 1950s-style dark mahogany, she felt her nerves, which had been tangled even before the video debacle, begin to loosen.
    She passed the sweeping L-shaped bar and marble and mirrored walls to a comfortable lounge in the back, where Pepper was already waiting with an oversized dirty martini and a bowl of popcorn in front of her. Her lips curved in a welcoming smile, but even in the dim light, Madeline could view the concern in her agent’s eyes.
    “I love this place,” Madeline said as she sat down at the table. The velvet drapes and backlighting added to the feel that the bar belonged to a different time. “I always expect to see
Mad Men
’s Don Draper drinking Manhattans.”
    Another cheating spouse,
she considered as she took a bite of the popcorn, which was laced with sweet swirls of fried yam and beet strips. At least the advertising exec was fictional.
    “Or Frank Sinatra,” Pepper said as their server, a tallredhead looking chic in Armani black, appeared to take their order. Both women were the picture of Manhattan elegance, making Madeline feel even more travel rumpled.
    “I’ll have the Black Crow.” The vodka and Kahlúa would hopefully prepare her for whatever possible bad news Pepper was about to share, while, with any luck, the Vietnamese coffee in the cocktail would overcome the jet lag mixed with depression that was threatening to crash down on her.
    “We’ll also have an order of the salt-and-pepper calamari,” Pepper told the server.
    “What’s up?” Madeline asked.
    “Quite a bit, actually. But while we’re waiting for your drink and our food, why don’t you tell me about Omaha?”
    “It was cold.” Madeline plucked another bite of popcorn from the bottomless bowl the bar specialized in. “Our car ran into a snowbank on the way to the department store, but the son of the woman who picked me up was a cop, so he got us on our way soon. And the store staff had everything set up and prepared.”
    “Well, I’m pleased to hear that something went well.”
    Although the bar was nearly empty, it took a while for their order to arrive. Despite being eager to hear Pepper’s news, Madeline chatted a bit more about her experience in Nebraska. Leaving out the humiliating part about everyone racing to YouTube during her demonstration.
    A little silence came over the table after she’d finished her story. The server showed up, placed their order on the table, and discreetly faded away.
    “Well?” Madeline asked after taking a sip of the drink that was sinfully good.
    “You have an offer.”
    “Good try, but