Trust Me

“What the hell is tapenade?”
    “Basically it’s an olive paste. You spread it on crackers.”
    “It costs a fortune. Wouldn’t it have been cheaper to just serve a couple of bowls of olives?”
    “Probably, but Miss Bedford wanted tapenade.”
    “And what about these cheese breadsticks? Who needs four hundred breadsticks?”
    “Two hundred people were invited to the reception, Mr. Stark. Miss Bedford wanted to be able to serve two breadsticks apiece.”
    Stark continued down the list. “Stuffed mushroom caps? I don’t even like stuffed mushroom caps.”
    “Apparently Miss Bedford was fond of them.”
    “More fond of them than she was of me, obviously. What are these swans at fifty bucks each? Nobody eats swans these days.”
    “They aren’t real swans. They’re ice sculptures. Rafael, one of my employees, did a beautiful job on them.”
    Stark glanced toward the window. “I’m paying fifty bucks apiece for those blocks of ice that are melting away in my garden?”
    “Think of them as works of art, Mr. Stark. Rafael definitely considers himself an artist.”
    “They’re made out of ice. I’m paying a total of one hundred and fifty dollars to water my garden with fancy ice sculptures?”
    “I realize this is very difficult for you, Mr. Stark. I’ll be glad to go over each item on the bill, but I can assure you that all the charges are quite reasonable.”
    “Your idea of reasonable and mine are two different things, Miss Wainwright.” Stark went back to the invoice. “About this herbed goat cheese.”
    “Very popular these days.”
    “I don’t see how it could be, at this price.”
    “It’s very special goat cheese. Made by a local firm.”
    “What do they do? Raise the goats in their own private, waterfront condominiums?”
    Desdemona opened her mouth to respond with a crack about the goats being worth it, but at the last instant she changed her mind. It dawned on her that Stark was using the line-by-line argument over the invoice as a means of venting some of the rage and pain he must surely be feeling.
    She glanced at his very large fist, which was fiercely clamped around a slender gold pen. The muscles in his forearm were bunched and taut.
    “I know the goat cheese is a little steep,” she said gently. “But it’s excellent, and it keeps well. Shall I leave it behind for you to eat?”
    “Do that. I’ll have it for dinner tonight. Leave some crackers and a couple of bottles of the champagne, too.”
    Desdemona frowned. “Look, I know this is none of my business, but are you going to be all right here on your own this evening?”
    He glanced up swiftly, his gaze shuttered. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do something stupid like overdose on goat cheese and champagne.”
    “You’ve been through an emotionally exhausting experience. It’s not always a good idea to be alone after that kind of thing. Do you have someone who can stay with you? A family member, perhaps?”
    “I don’t have any family here in Seattle.”
    Desdemona was startled. “None of them came out for the wedding?”
    “I’m not close to my family, Miss Wainwright.”
    “Oh.” She was unsure how to respond to that. The concept of being bereft of family sent a chill through her. Since she had become a member of the extended Wainwright clan at the age of five, family had been everything to Desdemona. The time before her mother had married Benedick Wainwright was a shadowed realm that Desdemona preferred not to revisit. “Well, is there a friend you could call?”
    “I suppose I could send out for one of those inflatable, life-sized, anatomically correct dolls that are sold in adult entertainment stores,” Stark said. “But with my luck, she’d probably deflate before I figured out the operating instructions.”
    Desdemona smiled faintly. “I’m glad your sense of humor is still intact. It’s a good sign.”
    “Do you think so?”
    “Definitely.” Desdemona leaned forward and folded her arms on the desk. “Look, I’m serious here. I really don’t think you ought to be alone tonight.”
    He gazed at her with unreadable eyes. “What would you suggest I do? I’m not exactly in the mood to throw a party.”
    Desdemona gave into impulse. “Tell you what. Let’s finish going over this invoice. Then you can come back to the Right Touch kitchen with me and have dinner with my staff. Afterward you can go to the theater with us.”
    “Theater?”
    “The Limelight down in Pioneer Square.