bar,” she explained. “He should be cutting us a break with the drinks. Get the lychee mojito; it’s sublime.”
Eva assured her that she was on top of it and opened her menu. At the other end of the long table, the waitress had already started making the rounds.
“It’s Asian fusion,” said Mark.
“That’s all right.” Eva said. She wasn’t a picky eater and enjoyed most cuisines.
“After six months in the Middle East, I was really looking forward to a hamburger and French fries.”
Ruth leaned across Mark to recommend the steamed halibut. “I saw the executive chef on some Food Network show making it. It made my mouth water. I’m getting that and the consommé. Mark’s going with the filet mignon, rare, with the red wine sauce on the side and the jicama salad. He’d been debating between the jicama salad and the asparagus tart, but I told him that he doesn’t like asparagus.”
“That’s not true,” he said.
“What?” Ruth’s eyes were wide and round. “That you don’t like asparagus? I once made a lovely dish called blushing asparagus for him and he couldn’t swallow a bite.”
“That was your cooking, not the asparagus,” he said. “The recipe called for sour cream, but Ruth didn’t have any so she threw in yogurt.”
“Same consistency,” she defended.
“ Strawberry yogurt.”
“It added zest.”
“ Zest isn’t the word I would use.”
“And color. The dish was supposed to be blushing .”
“I don’t think it’s the dish that should be embarrassed.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to see you cook for me sometime.”
“I had you over for dinner the night before I left for Pakistan.”
“You served frozen food.”
“It was ice cream cake.”
Eva hid a smile behind her menu as she listened to their banter. It was always like this with Ruth and Mark. The two of them were endlessly wrangling over unimportant details and making each other laugh. That they couldn’t get it together as a couple saddened Eva. They were perfect for each other. Mark’s common sense and his habit of looking before leaping dovetailed nicely with Ruth’s impulsiveness and resistance to logic.
“Your mojito,” the waitress said, as she laid it on a cocktail napkin in front of Eva. “Sorry it took me so long. The bar’s moving a little slowly tonight.”
“Not a problem,” she said, taking a sip. The drink was tangy and strong.
“It’s good, eh?” the woman to her left asked. She had black hair in a page-boy cut and long tanned arms.
“Excellent.”
“Are you a friend from Saks?”
Jenny’s previous job had been at Saks Fifth Avenue. Now she was a shoe buyer at Bloomingdale’s. “Nope. College. And you?”
“Bloomies.” She held out her hand and Eva took it. “Soledad Rodrigues. I work in the costume jewelry department.”
Eva introduced herself, and after a short discussion of what Jenny was like in college, they talked about a collection of costume jewelry that was coming up for sale at Wyndham’s in a few weeks.
“It’s not a problem at all,” Eva said, as the first course arrived. “Just give me a call and I’ll show you around. I wish I had a catalog on me.”
Soledad dug into her asparagus tart and Eva eyed her consommé with a jaundiced eye. She shouldn’t have ordered soup. It reminded her of Reed. She hadn’t thought about him once in the last hour, and now his image was front and center in her mind. Damn it.
She noticed that Ruth was busy talking to the woman on the other side of her, so she leaned over and whispered in Mark’s ear. “Tell her about your harem in Saudi Arabia.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Drive her mad with jealousy. Tell her about your harem in Saudi Arabia.”
“But I don’t have a harem,” he pointed out mildly.
This was a typical Mark answer. Trust him to think the only thing wrong with her plan was the fact that it wasn’t true. “Tell her anyway.”
“She won’t believe me.”
All right, Eva