The Pearl Diver by Sujata Massey Read Free Book Online Page B

a real estate guy. Where’s your own hubcap?”
    “Japan.” I would have elaborated, but Jacqueline was starting to try to wriggle off my lap. Kendall had said she’d hold her daughter after she finished reading the menu. That reminded me that the twins would need some dining suggestions.
    “Jacqueline, do you like noodles?” I entreated. “There are some nice noodles on the menu in a yummy sweet sauce.”
    “Ooh, let me have the steak,” Kendall said, studying the menu.“After that weight gain, I’m back on Atkins. And for dessert, it’s got to be fruit and whipped cream. Hmm, I don’t see it listed on the menu, but Jessica Olson’s doing the desserts, so I can ask her to put together something special for us. You should have it, too, Rei. No carbs in whipped cream!”
    “But why?” I objected. “I’ve tasted Jessica’s cakes and tarts before, and they’re not to be missed.”
    “I took a cooking class from her at the Smithsonian once, before I’d started watching my weight. Let me tell you that she’s a real bitch. She went ballistic when I suggested substituting Pepperidge Farm puff pastry for homemade in one of the recipes she was teaching us.”
    “Well, Jessica is a La Varenne–trained pastry chef—” I cut myself off, distracted because Jacqueline started to burble about wanting macaroni, and Win Junior started grabbing all the beautiful faux-ivory-handled tableware; Kendall’s cell phone rang. She slipped it out of her Kate Spade diaper bag.
    “Yes, Harp!” she said loudly, giving me a significant glance. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak up. The acoustics in here suck.”
    Justin appeared at our table with two complimentary saketinis. When he saw Kendall, he said to me, “Didn’t you tell her about the cell phone policy?”
    “No. What’s the policy?”
    “No cell phone usage in the dining room. They’re supposed to go in the hall by the rest rooms if they want to talk.”
    “I can’t interrupt her, Justin. She’s talking to Senator Snowden. By the way, could you bring some juice for the kids? Apple juice, say, in plastic glasses?”
    Justin wrinkled his beautiful nose. “We have neither apple nor plastic. The best I can do is Perrier with a twist of lime—”
    “Do you two like fizzy water?” I asked Win and Jacqueline.
    They shrieked with excitement, and I placed the order. But Justin wasn’t done. Sternly, he addressed Kendall. “Miss, you’ll have to take your call in another place.”
    “Just a minute, please, Senator.” Kendall paused and stared at the waiter. “What kind of restaurant is this that you’re so rude to the patrons?”
    “House rules. Out in the hall,” Justin said firmly.
    So Kendall swept out carrying her saketini and the telephone, leaving me with her little twosome.
    Since I had no adult to chat with, I indulged in a little people-watching. While there were some people dressed elegantly, there were a surprising number of casual dressers. At least a dozen young men were wearing regular dress shirts, untucked, over shorts or trousers, and I spotted a woman walk by who’d tied an Hermès scarf around her torso to serve as a blouse. People had said Washington was not a fashion city—I was beginning to see that Kendall was an exception, and not a rule. I hadn’t expected people wearing scarf tops and shorts to be sitting at my elaborately decorated tables, but they, in turn, probably hadn’t been expecting to see kids.
    Justin came to take the rest of our order, and I gave it: a carrot-ginger salad, noodles with ponzu dipping sauce, and a sweet bean–chocolate pâté for the kids’ bento meals. Instead of the lengthy kaiseki menu, for myself I went for the convenience of a quick bento containing a daikon salad, soba noodles, and red snapper, and for Kendall asparagus with wakame seaweed and soy-glazed filet mignon, because of what she’d said about the Atkins diet. What kind of a country was it, I thought, where a diet book could