“I’ve been a teller at Pioneer Savings and Loan since I got out of high school. Until…” I couldn’t help it, I gulped. “Until today.”
“That’s the spirit!” There was no spirit at all in my words, but Eve didn’t let that stop her. She clapped me on the back. “That’s old news, honey. This is where your future begins.” She made a broad gesture toward the darkened restaurant. “Think of how much easier your life is going to be now that you’ve quit your job at the bank. No more working all day there, then rushing over here for the evening so you can take care of everything that needs to be taken care of.”
“That’s right.” It was one of the things I’d been reminding myself about since the day I gave notice at Pioneer and, hearing it spoken out loud, some of the weight lifted from my shoulders.
“No more working yourself to a frazzle. Now you can focus on the restaurant and your head won’t be filled with all that boring banking business.”
“Right again.” I nodded. Sure, it was the same ol’ rah-rah speech Eve had been giving me since the day I announced I was thinking about quitting my job at the bank so I could devote myself full time to Bellywasher’s, but I never tired of hearing it. And more importantly, I needed to hear it. Especially at times like this when my resolve was wavering and I was questioning what I’d done. It was, of course, exactly why Eve was saying it.
“The bank was boring,” she said. She was reading my mind. “The bank was dull.”
Truer words were never spoken.
“Now you can concentrate on other things. Like murder investigations.”
I’d been so busy finally feeling good about my decision and everything it meant, I never saw that coming. Eve’s words hit me somewhere between my stomach and my heart and automatically, I balled my hands into fists and pressed them there. Like that would actually help.
“Oh, no,” I said, but even before the rest of my objection could form on my lips, Eve stopped me.
“Don’t kid yourself, honey. You’re good at being a detective.”
I was.
Some of the tension inside me uncurled.
“You’re smart and you’re clever and, so far, you haven’t got yourself killed.”
This was supposed to make me feel better?
That knot of stress wound tight again.
“Come on, Annie. Admit it. You like the excitement of investigating.”
I did. This was one thing I could never lie about, so I didn’t even try.
“It’s just that I don’t want anyone else to die.” This was the honest-to-gosh truth, and though I realized with a start that I’d been thinking about it for months, I’d never actually put it into words. “If I have to investigate, it means someone near and dear to us is in trouble. Like you were last winter when you were a suspect.”
“Pish-tush.” Eve is the only woman I know who can actually say this and not sound ridiculous. She pouted. “I’m not going to get accused of murdering anyone ever again. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good.” I drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I do like investigating,” I said. “I like stretching my mind and my skills. I like solving the puzzle. But even that…” Another long breath. This one couldn’t still the butterflies that fluttered through my stomach. “I don’t want to get that close to murder. Not ever again.”
“Agreed.” Eve grinned. “I’ll tell you what, then. You just forget I ever mentioned murders and investigations. Think about all the other things you’ll be able to concentrate on now that you’ve quit your job at the bank. Not just Bellywasher’s.” Her eyes lit. “Think about Jim.”
A smile blossomed across my expression. Eve always knew how to get to the heart of the matter.
“You’re right.” The pep talk bolstered my spirits and, feeling better, I turned to go into the kitchen. “I’ve been through all the doubts and all the worries. A hundred times.”
“Oh, honey, more like a million.” Laughing, she fell into step beside me. “But don’t worry, nobody holds that against you. You’re not the type who looks before she leaps. We all understand that. We knew once push came to shove, and you actually gave notice and quit, you’d be a little-”
“Obsessive?” I was afraid if I didn’t supply the word, she might pick one that was more to the point-and more bruising.
“I was going to say crazy out of your mind.” She laughed. “But yeah, I guess obsessive about covers it. If you weren’t, if you didn’t worry about walking away from that nice, steady paycheck and that benefits package and that big ol’ pension plan-”
“Stop!” I clamped a hand on her arm. “There’s no use going over it again. I looked. I leapt. Or is it leaped? Either way, that’s the past and what’s done is done. It felt weird not going into the bank today. It’s going to feel weirder tomorrow coming here first thing in the morning. But I’m done agonizing over the decision. I know I did the right thing.”
“Absolutely!”
“I’ll just go into the kitchen and tell Jim I’m done checking the students in, see if he needs anything, and straighten my office. That way when I come in tomorrow morning for my first full day on the job, everything will be ready.”
“You go, girl!” Eve said and ducked into the ladies’ room, no doubt to make sure her makeup was perfect and her lipstick just right before she popped into the kitchen to meet our newest crop of students, even though her makeup was always perfect and her lipstick was never anything but just right.
Cheered, I didn’t wait for her. I stepped into the kitchen of Bellywasher’s feeling as self-assured and as confident as anyone could upon entering the scene of so many culinary disasters. Not on Jim’s part, of course. Jim is a consummate cook, and his assistants, Marc and Damien, were learning quickly. My own efforts in the kitchen left a little more to be desired, and just so Jim didn’t forget, I made sure I kept my distance and stayed near the door. He was up at the front of the room near the rolling cart he kept there for cooking demonstrations. He looked my way, and I waved.
“You’ve met Annie.” Jim said this to the dozen students gathered around him, their crisp white aprons over their street clothes, their expressions eager. “Last time we held a cooking class here at Bellywasher’s, she was my assistant.”
I didn’t need the reminder, and had Jim been thinking clearly and not caught up in the heady excitement of a new class and the aromas of chopped garlic and fresh herbs that permeated the kitchen, he would have known that. Of course, I couldn’t hold it against him. Not when he smiled at me and that little dimple showed in his left cheek.
“I won’t be calling on her to help this time,” he told his students, and I let go a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. “That’s because we have something new and different planned this time around.”
Of course I knew exactly what Jim was talking about. After all, I’d helped him plan the class. That didn’t make me any less eager to stand there and listen to his opening speech. For one thing, Jim’s got that wonderful Scottish accent that I never tire of hearing. For another… well, I never get tired of watching Jim, either, and while he talked, I stepped back and simply enjoyed the way the light gleamed against his mahogany hair and sparked in his hazel eyes when-now and again-he glanced my way.
“I’ve got a new assistant this time around,” Jim said, at the same time glancing toward the swinging door that led back into the restaurant. “Some of you may have heard of him. He’s Monsieur Jacques Lavoie.”
“You mean the chef who owns that fabulous gourmet cooking shop over in Arlington?” A man up front spoke these words with as much reverence as if he’d been told that Julia Child had risen from the dead and was going to be sitting in on the class. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jim’s classes were popular, and he’d already gained attention from the local cooking crowd for his insistence on proper cooking procedures and his emphasis on fresh ingredients and innovative recipes. The people who signed up for Bellywasher’s Cooking Academy were cookaholics, and anyone who knew anything about food also knew that in Washington, D.C., Arlington, and beyond, Jacques Lavoie was a legend.