“Stupid plant,” I muttered, swatting the leaf away. I took a step and then froze as I heard Josh’s voice coming from nearby, presumably from the service station. Still hidden behind the palm, I leaned in. He was speaking so softly that I could barely make out what he was saying.
“… really hot… more than Snacker can handle…”
I thrust my head into the foliage and frowned. Peering past the greenery, I saw that Josh was whispering into Georgie’s ear. Stupid, willowy blonde with magnificent hair! She was “really hot,” of course. But was she more than Snacker could handle? But not more than my Josh could handle? Could Georgie be the real reason that Josh had come back to Boston? I winced as he brushed her hair back and continued whispering. God, he was messing around with Snacker’s girlfriend! He and Snacker were friends. They’d worked together, they were former roommates, and Josh was temporarily staying with Snacker at their old apartment-where Georgie undoubtedly spent plenty of time, too.
This new and unwelcome knowledge about Josh was what I deserved for spying on people. I pulled away. I wanted nothing more than to flee, to go home, and never to have to see Josh in the vicinity of another woman again. I felt sick. And here I was stuck behind these plants! What was up with all these palms? It’s not like this was Florida! My leg bounced nervously, and I opened and closed my hands repeatedly as I tried to figure out how to escape without running into anyone. Failing to come up with an imaginative plan, I settled for tucking my head down and making a break for it. Simple was best, I decided. I’d just walk straight back to the table and behave normally.
Having started to do exactly that, I got about six feet before I crashed into Josh.
“Whoa, Chloe. Slow down.” Josh put his hands on my arms, forcing me to stop.
I looked up at him slowly, taking in his white chef’s coat and bright blue eyes. That damn tan was still there, too. Bastard. “Hello, Josh. Excuse me.” I made a move to leave, but he held me in place.
“How… how are you?” he asked gently.
“Fine. I’m here with a date. I should go.” I cast my eyes down and refused to look at him.
“You take Adrianna along on all your dates?” he asked. “Or only on the ones with assholes like that?”
“What?” I met his eyes now. “Kyle and I are writing a book together.” Fine, it was a bit of an exaggeration. “We invited Adrianna and Owen to come out with us tonight. Owen had to stay at home with Patrick. But the point is, I’m getting on with my life.”
“Chloe, you don’t know the first thing about that guy. Hey, wait!” He tried to stop me, but I pulled away. “You’ve got to hear about… Please talk to me, Chloe,” he begged as I stormed off.
I returned to my table, where Adrianna and Kyle were deep in conversation and didn’t appear to have noticed my absence. Our entrees had arrived. I started to pick at my pork with Gorgonzola risotto. It could have been cat food and I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Owen would love to have another baby right away, but I’m mixed about it,” Adrianna was saying. “I wouldn’t mind getting the whole diaper business over with as soon as possible, while Patrick is still a baby, but it just seems like so much work, you know? And we really can’t afford to have another kid right now, anyhow.”
“But you’d like to have more?” Kyle rested his arms on the table.
“Sure, I’d love to someday, but probably not right now. Owen loves, loves, loves being a father, and he can be really insistent when he gets his mind set on something.” She shrugged. “We’ll see who wins this argument.”
“I didn’t know you were talking about having more babies,” I said, perking up. “You guys seem to make great kids, so I’m all for it. Besides, you already have all the baby gear you’ll need.”
Adrianna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you can talk to Owen about waking his ass up to feed the next one, because so far I’m the only food machine in the house. Oh my God, Chloe, you have to taste this beef tenderloin.”
Ade stuck a forkful of perfectly cooked beef at me. Okay, this dish was outstanding. The cream and horseradish sauce went perfectly with the pepper-encrusted beef. Somebody in the kitchen was doing something right, even though most of the food was disappointing.
After our plates had been cleared, Georgie appeared at our table. “Would you all like dessert tonight?” she asked.
I stared at my wineglass, unable even to look at the tramp! God, how dare she ask if I’d like dessert while she was fooling around with Josh! I wanted to stand up and slap the girl, shout that she wasn’t allowed near my Josh, that I hated her. I exerted self- control, refusing to make a tableside spectacle of myself. “Excuse me.” I hurriedly got up from my chair and rushed back toward the ladies’ room. Once again hovering behind the potted palms outside the entrance, I parted the leaves, peered through, watched my table, and waited until Georgie had left.
At first, Georgie seemed to be heading directly toward me, but her actual destination was the serving station, where she began fussing with plates and silverware. I figured I’d be able to slip past the potted palm and scoot back to the table without running into her, but just as I began to move, Ellie and her lipsticked mouth showed up, and she began berating her supposed friend.
“You’re such a bitch, do you know that?” Ellie was making no effort to keep her voice down.
Georgie ran a finger over a perfectly waxed eyebrow and stared pointedly at Ellie. “People who read other people’s e-mail have only themselves to blame if they don’t like what they find out. Excuse me. I have guests to attend to.”
Whoa, this was getting interesting.
“Hey, missy!” Ellie blocked Georgie’s path. “I only read Digger’s e- mail after he was dead. I wanted to get in touch with people who cared about him and let them know what had happened to him,” she seethed.
“Yeah, right!” Georgie scoffed. “You were probably reading his e-mail and scanning his text messages even before he died. I bet you’ve been sneaky all along, and you killed Digger yourself out of jealousy! You should’ve known what chefs are like, dummy.”
“Well, I know what you’re like. You’re a slut, Georgie. A total slut!”
“Hey, watch your mouth. I am a very loving and caring person.”
Ellie crossed her arms and glared at her ex-friend. “Loving person? You have some nerve describing yourself like that after what you’ve done. Murderous person is more like it!”
“What?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to think that you’re the one who killed Digger. You were probably hoping that by getting him out of the way, Snacker would get this chef job. Well, congratulations, you stupid bitch! You did it! Happy now?”
“Okay, little Miss Self-Righteous, listen here-”
Before Georgie had time to sling her next insult, a neatly dressed man with a pale purple tie stepped firmly between the two girls. He looked beyond furious but managed a threatening whisper behind a false smile. “Not one more word out of either of you. If we weren’t hopelessly understaffed right now, I’d fire you on the spot! This sort of scene is totally inexcusable. Get back to work immediately!”
Georgie and Ellie both hurried off, appropriately chagrined.
Well, well! So not only was perfect, skinny Georgie doing whatever she was doing with Josh and Snacker, but she’d been fooling around with Digger, too! I usually didn’t mind a little juicy gossip, but I felt sorry for Ellie, who had seemed so committed to her chef. She’d been driven in her determination to help him succeed professionally, and when I’d broken the news of Digger’s death, she’d gone to pieces. But this new information did explain her sudden change in demeanor on the phone the other day. One possibility was that she’d taken Digger’s computer from his apartment and found out about the affair only when she’d read his e- mail. Or, I reasoned, Georgie could be right that Ellie had in fact known about the relationship earlier and had taken the computer to destroy the evidence of her possible motive. Could either of these young women really have killed Digger? I shuddered.
I left the all-too-familiar potted-plant area and returned to the table. My prolonged absence had again gone so totally unnoticed that I was beginning to develop a third- wheel complex. Adrianna and Kyle, who were discussing the writer’s relationship with his father, barely acknowledged me when I sat down.
“Look, Kyle,” Ade was saying, “your father is a very accomplished and, frankly, awe- inspiring person, so it’s no wonder you feel such pressure to succeed. But this cookbook sounds like it’s coming along wonderfully, and you’re bound to impress him with how hard you’ve worked. You need to look at your accomplishments for what they are, though. Yours. Take pride in what you’ve done.”
Kyle grinned sheepishly. “I guess you’re right. I’ve put my heart and soul into this book. And I’ll admit that I
