Rest in Pizza by Chris Cavender Read Free Book Online Page A

for him, but he insisted on coming to this little burg.”
    I couldn’t let that comment slide, not with the way he’d said it. “I know we have a small town. That’s why so many of us like it.”
    Oliver looked around at the shops, the brick promenade, the trees, the statues, the obelisk, and the captured cannon. “I didn’t mean anything derogatory, trust me. I can see why you all love it. It’s charming, and there’s no denying it.”
    “But it’s not exactly a place for a proper book launch, right?” I asked.
    “No, not in my mind. Is that your place?” he asked, pointing to my blue building.
    “It is,” I said as we neared. “We’re open right now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disrupt our business any more than you have to.”
    “Of course,” he said, and then said, “Why blue, if I might ask?”
    “You can ask, but I honestly don’t know myself,” I answered honestly.
    He studied the painted brick, mortar, and stone, and then said, “It looks as though it would be expensive to remove. I’m guessing you were stuck with it when you got the place.”
    “Right in one,” I said. “How could you possibly know that?”
    Oliver laughed. “You might have your own hidden sense of whimsy, but you look far too sensible to paint the structure blue yourself.”
    “I might just surprise you,” I said, grinning at him. I held the door open, and after he walked in, I followed him.
    During the time I’d been at the Bookmark, my pizzeria was now over halfway full. Greg and Josh were both waiting on customers, but both young men looked at me with matching inquiring glances as I walked in with Oliver. I smiled and nodded with as much reassurance as I could muster that all was right with the world, and they both went back to work. It was nice having them both look out for me, even if I didn’t need it as much as they thought I did.
    “They’re worried about you,” Oliver said softly.
    “I didn’t realize you caught that,” I said with a smile.
    “Believe me, I don’t miss much.” He looked around, and then said, “I may have spoken too hastily. This place is really quaint.”
    “We like it,” I said.
    “May I see the kitchen?”
    “This way,” I said, leading him to the back.
    Maddy was surprised to see me, and before she noticed that we had company, she asked, “How bad was it? Is the man as dreadful as we thought? I can’t believe you’re already back here. I didn’t get any texts.”
    I didn’t know what she was talking about at first, and then I realized that she was talking about the 911 call I was supposed to make at the first sign of trouble.
    As the chef’s assistant joined us, I said, “Maddy, this is Oliver Wills. Oliver, this is my sister, Maddy, the best front person we have, and a rather excellent backup in the kitchen as well.”
    They shook hands, and then Maddy said, “You must be special, Oliver. Eleanor doesn’t let just anyone come back here during working hours.”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know about being special. I’m the chef’s personal assistant and food-prep man. It’s not really all that much of a claim to fame.”
    “I assume you’re talking about Chef Benet,” Maddy said. “I’ve got to tell you, I just loved his Chicken Parm Twist from the show last night.”
    “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
    I was about to answer for her when Maddy said, “Try me.”
    Lowering his voice, Oliver said proudly, “That was actually one of mine.”
    “Really?” Maddy asked, clearly happy with the backstage information.
    “Well, at least it was my basic idea. The chef expounded on it and made it his own, of course, but I thought of the twist.”
    “You’re good,” Maddy said.
    Oliver seemed pleased with the praise, and then noticed the conveyor oven. “Is this how you make your pizzas?” he asked.
    “Yes, it works fine for our needs,” I chimed in.
    “You don’t have a wood-fired oven?” he asked.
    Why did everyone believe that pizza had