Turn up the Heat
Not at all.” Our slight tiff about women in the culinary profession didn’t really count as a relationship problem. At least I hoped not. “We’re great. I just miss him.” Was I tearing up? I hadn’t realized how hard it had been to have Josh working so much.
“Sweetie, it’s going to even out, I promise. Josh is crazy about you.” Ade sounded unusually soft and loving. Maybe her hormones were preparing her to soothe a teething baby.
I wiped the tears from my eyes. “What about you and Owen? Any thoughts on getting married?”
“Lately, I’ve probably seen him as much as you’ve been seeing Josh. Not that bad really, but we’re both so busy trying to fit in work and packing right now that we haven’t had too much time together.”
I realized that I had not seen Owen since the day Leandra appeared in his truck. “I miss Owen, too. It seems like he always used to be around, and now he’s not. I’m not used to it. Aren’t we pathetic, sitting here complaining about our men?”
Ade stood up. “You know what we need? Cheesecake with tart cherries! I happen to have just that in the fridge.” Two slices later, I was overstuffed. After that, I enlisted Adrianna’s help with Leandra’s memory book. We talked over the situation and agreed that the only reasonable solution was to concoct the kinds of happy recollections and flattering descriptions of Leandra that Gavin wanted.
I scribbled notes on a legal pad while Adrianna brainstormed. “Okay,” she said, “let’s have somebody say, ‘She was the first one to volunteer when we needed someone to work late, and she never once complained about putting in that extra effort.’ ”
I nodded. “That’s good. Keep ’em coming.”
“ ‘Leandra was loved by all her coworkers. I will especially miss the sound of her laugh echoing through the dining room.’ ” I couldn’t imagine who at Simmer would have said such a thing, but I wrote it down anyway. The time was too short for truth.
“Oh, here’s a good one,” Adrianna said excitedly. “ ‘Leandra was a bright soul in a dark world.’ ”
“Nobody talks like that,” I protested with a laugh.
“I don’t see you coming up with anything better!”
True enough. I wrote it down and prayed that I wouldn’t be punished for the sin of lying. “What about something that a customer might say?”
“ ‘It was always a delight to have Leandra as a server. She made a delicious dinner even more enjoyable with her loving spirit.’ Do you like how I threw in the compliment to Josh there?”
Ade and I kept going for another ten minutes or so before we called it quits. Then we worked out a plan to camouflage the fabricated memories. I would type out all the recollections, genuine and fake, and intersperse them throughout the book. Separately, I’d list the names of everyone who had reportedly contributed. There would thus be no direct link between the material and the names.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something tonight?” I asked Ade. “I’m sick of studying.”
“Actually, Owen is coming over tonight. He should be done with his deliveries by late afternoon, and then he’s taking me out to dinner at Rialto, if you can believe it. I told you he was doing well with this job!”
I was so jealous. Rialto was in the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, and the executive chef was Jody Adams, who did absolutely spectacular food. Yes, a famous female chef! Even by Josh’s tough standards, Jody Adams was a real chef. She not only created the menu but worked the line, too; on many nights, she was actually in the kitchen cooking. Josh had no use for the kind of chef whose name graced the menu but who stayed tucked away in a corporate office and left the real work to the sous chefs and line cooks. My parents had taken me to Rialto a bunch of times. One night, I’d had Jody’s phenomenal truffled egg creation served in a hollowed-out baked potato. As I wouldn’t say to Josh, it was one of the best dishes I’ve ever eaten. But cheap, Rialto wasn’t, so I was impressed that Owen was taking Adrianna there.
I went home and set to work on Leandra’s book. After keyboarding the material, real and fictional, that I’d gathered, I printed it all out. How pathetic was it that basically no one had anything positive to say about this dead girl? Very, that’s how. Consequently, I was glad that Adrianna and I had remedied matters. I took the printed pages, a pair of scissors, and a glue stick to
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