Death on a Silver Platter (3 page)

Sophie grimaced.

“Don’t get excited. I not saying I’ve bought the gun.”

“You don’t need to. Your father’s gun cabinet is still in the basement rec room.”

“Perhaps this isn’t a good moment for you to remind me of that, Soph.”

“If it wasn’t for your mom, do you think Alex would let you have that part of the company?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

When Sophie looked up, she saw that Nathan had entered the dining room. He was welcoming customers, stopping at various tables, making his way slowly through the room. He looked incredibly handsome in his white chef’s coat and checked pants.

Elaine took hold of Sophie’s hand. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to murder my mother.”

It took an effort of will for Sophie to return her eyes to Elaine. “What?”

“I said, ‘Don’t look so worried.’ Unless you’re worried about something else. What’s wrong, Sophie?”

“What could be wrong?” She glanced back at Nathan.

Elaine followed her gaze. “Hey, isn’t that Nathan Buckridge? Your old boyfriend? I read he was back in town.”

“Chez Sophia is his restaurant.”

“Right. He looks pretty much the same . . . except he’s filled out, grown into a man. A very attractive man, I might add. I wonder if he’s married.”

“He’s single,” said Sophie. “Look, if he comes over here, you do the talking. It’s possible the waiter tipped him off that we were ordering a lot of food. He may smell a reviewer. Deny it, okay? And remember, I’m your date.”

“Like hell you are. I’d never date someone who looked like you.”

“Gee thanks.”

“He won’t recognize you in that disguise. You look like a miniature version of Mike Myers impersonating a British lord. Then again, I suppose your voice might give you away.” She tapped her finger against the side of her wineglass. “I wonder if he’d remember me.”

“Here he comes,” said Sophie. “Just act natural.”

“I always act natural,” said Elaine, smiling seductively. “Elaine ‘Au Natural’ Veelund, haven’t you heard?” She turned her smile on Nathan as he stepped up to the table.

3

“Evening,” said Nathan, smiling at Elaine. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

“Elaine Veelund.” She offered her hand. “I knew you in high school. We have a mutual friend—Sophie Greenway?”

“Of course,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.

Sophie could see the wheels turning inside his mind. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days, which she knew was trendy. It also accentuated the rugged angles in his face.

“This is my friend, Tom . . . Jones,” continued Elaine. “We’ve been enjoying your food. Tom tells me you own the restaurant.”

Nathan gave Sophie a nod. “I do. So, what’s it been, Elaine?”

“Too long. I don’t like to talk years. It makes me feel old.”

“You don’t look old,” he said, his smile turning to a flirtatious grin.

“You’re still quite the charmer.”

“That’s what they tell me. What did you order?”

“I think it’s more a question of what we didn’t order.”

He laughed. “And you liked it?”

“Everything was wonderful.”

“Then, in honor of old times, the meal is on the house.”

Her smiled clicked into high-beam. “In that case, you’ll have to let me return the favor. I don’t cook as well as you do, but I’ve been known to grill a great steak and baked potato combo.”

“Really. Is that a dinner invitation? I should warn you: I never turn down a home-cooked meal.”

Sophie was hemorrhaging internally. Couldn’t he see that Elaine’s teeth were really fangs, that her blond hair had dark roots! Did he want to be number four in Elaine Veelund’s marital march toward an even dozen?

Before they could swap phone numbers, Elaine’s cell phone rang.

“Sorry, but I have to take this.”

“Call me at the restaurant,” said Nathan, handing her his card. “We’ll firm up a date and time. It’s great to see you again.” As an afterthought, he said, “Nice meeting you, Tom. I hope you stop by again.”

Elaine grinned like a predatory wolf as he walked off. Glancing at the caller ID on her cell phone, she pressed a button and said, “This better be good. I’m having dinner with a friend.” She listened. “What? When?” Her expression turned serious. “Then break the goddamned door down!” She pulled off an earring and switched the phone to her other ear. “This isn’t what I’m paying you for, Mick.” Listening another moment, she said, “Okay. Tell her I’ll be home as fast as I can make it. If anything happens to her, I hold you personally responsible. You got that?” As she clicked the phone off, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Is everything all right?” asked Sophie.

“It’s my daughter. She’s . . . not feeling well. Long story. Look, Soph, I have to go. I’m sorry to cut our dinner short, but this is, well, sort of an emergency.”

“Is your daughter okay?”

Rising from the table, Elaine said, “She’s fine. It’s just . . . she’s going through a bad time. Like I said, long story.” She returned the cell phone to her purse. “This was fun. Really. Let’s not wait so long to do it again.”

“Actually,” said Sophie, rising and placing her napkin on the table next to her empty plate, “I’ll probably call you tomorrow. My parents are out of the country right now, but they phoned this afternoon. Dad asked me to talk to you about log homes. He wants me to get all the specs, the different choices, an idea of price.”

“He wants to build one?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Where?”

“Up on Pokegama Lake.”

“I’d love to work with your family,” said Elaine, hooking her purse over her shoulder. “I promise, I’ll make it happen. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay, but right now I’ve got to run. Wish me luck.” She squeezed Sophie’s arm, then hurried out of the dining room.

Elaine was a mother with a problem daughter. If ever a child had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth it was Tracy Veelund-Willard. She was the child of Elaine’s second marriage, spoiled by both her father and her mother. Every toy she’d ever wanted was hers just for the asking. As she grew, the toys just got bigger.

Elaine often referred to Tracy as having “moods.” She was a high-strung and emotional little girl who had grown into a sullen and strangely passive young woman. Elaine adored her daughter, although they always seemed to be at war over something, often concerning Tracy’s appearance.

With straight brown hair, heavy, dark eyebrows, a large nose, and a rail-thin body, Tracy hadn’t been terribly attractive in high school. Then again, with the right clothes and makeup, she could have been a model. She had one of those looks that could have gone either way. Much to her mother’s dismay, Tracy had little interest in maximizing her strengths. She refused to wear makeup and hated dresses. Appearance had always been very important to Elaine, especially in the business world, but Tracy just blew off all of her mother’s makeover suggestions.

When Tracy started college, she gained quite a bit of weight. Every time Sophie saw her, she was on a new diet. She looked uncomfortable in her new, heavier body, as if something had happened to her that she didn’t understand and didn’t much like. She tried to hide herself in large shirts and baggy pants, but the weight had only made her look more attractive, almost voluptuous, not that Tracy saw it that way. She had flawless skin and perfect teeth, and when she smiled, Sophie thought she was quite beautiful, in an odd sort of way. Or perhaps she was odd, in a striking sort of way.

As Sophie resumed her seat, a waiter came over and offered her the dessert menu. Now that Elaine had fled, it would look truly suspicious to order three desserts. Sophie studied the menu, noting five she wanted to taste. Deep in thought, she calculated which two would be the most interesting for her review. As she looked up to wave for the waiter, Nathan slipped into the chair next to her.

“Now that Elaine’s gone,” he said, folding his hands on the table, “I thought we might talk for a couple of minutes.”

She was startled. Had he seen through her disguise?

“My waiter tells me that you’ve been taking notes on the food.” He leaned forward and looked into her lap, nodding at the notebook. “Are you a reviewer?”

She tried to deepen her voice. “Well, ah—”

“I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but if you are, I’d love to show you around. I’m very proud of Chez Sophia.”

“As well you should be.”

“You liked the food, then?”

She nodded. “Very much.”

“From what I understand, you haven’t had dessert. I’d like to recommend the Torta Milano. It’s one of my favorites. We have an outstanding pastry chef here, Donna Randall, but this was an adaptation of a recipe I created many years ago. A fruited pastry cream between layers of sponge cake soaked in rum and maraschino cherry syrup, covered in whipped cream with an apricot and raspberry garnish.”

“It . . . sounds wonderful.” Her mouth watered.

Nathan snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared. He ordered the dessert.

“This is very kind of you, but I really can’t stay,” said Sophie, glancing at her watch. It was really Bram’s watch. Her own would have given away the game.

“Oh, but you have to at least
taste
it,” said Nathan. “I insist.”

“Really, this isn’t the way I do my reviews,” she said, pushing away from the table and standing up.

“Don’t go, Sophie,” said Nathan, pressing his fingers gently around her arm. “Not yet. I haven’t seen you for so long. Not that . . . I’m actually seeing you.”

“You rat! You stinking rat! You knew all along.”

“What took you so long to get here? We should have been reviewed months ago.”

She wondered if he really
was
upset. Not that the lack of a review seemed to have hurt business. “I, ah—”

“It’s okay. I know it gets complicated when your ex-girlfriend is the reviewer. And the restaurant just happens to be named after her.”

She was caught. She sat down.

“How’s Bram feeling?”

Sophie wasn’t sure if getting into a personal discussion was a good idea. “He’s great,” she said.

“The operation was a compete success then?”

“Thankfully, yes. He says he’s back to his old ‘fighting weight.’ ”

Nathan looked confused. “He was a boxer?”

She tittered. “Hardly. It’s just his way of saying he’s feeling fit.”

“Good. That’s good. And how about you?”

“I’m fine. As always.”

“A woman of many disguises.”

She looked down. “All of which you can see through.”

“I wish. This one was easy. It’s the ones you wear every day that I have trouble with.”

“Do you honestly think that?”

“I’ve always wished I understood you better. Once upon a time I thought I had a lifetime to spend figuring you out. There’s only one part of you that I’ve always seen with total clarity.”

“And that is?”

“That you love me.”

“Nathan—”

“And that hasn’t changed, no matter how much you want it to.” He covered her hand with his. “I’ve missed you, Sophie. I’ve reached for the phone dozens of times wanting to call you, wanting you to come to the restaurant and let me show you what I’ve done. I’m so proud of this place. Do you remember the first time I showed you the monastery—the grounds, the buildings? Do you remember that picnic we had out by the river, how it started to rain and we got soaked to the skin running like lunatics for cover? We ended up sitting in front of that fireplace right over there while a tornado blew its way across the St. Croix valley. I thought . . . I’d finally come home.”

“Nathan—”

“I know. I’ll stop. It’s just, seeing you here tonight after wishing you here so many times”—he sat back in his chair—“Okay. Tell me you’ll give me a decent review.”

“Can’t. Wouldn’t be ethical.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Where are you living now?”

“I took over one of the brothers’ rooms in the residence hall. It’s just a bed and a closet and a window, but I like it. It suits me . . . for now. I spend most of my days here at the restaurant, so why do I need a big place to live?” He picked up one of the napkins and began refolding it. “I bought myself a kayak last spring. I’ve spent some time on the river this summer. The St. Croix is incredibly beautiful, especially just before sunset. I’m thinking that I might get myself a cabin cruiser, moor it over in Hudson. I figure it will make me feel a little less like a monk. I mean, right now, my life consists of work, sleep, and the little time I steal from the restaurant to spend on the water.”

He was so different from Bram. Bram’s idea of spending time outdoors was sitting in a soft chair on a veranda, sipping a cool drink. Where Bram was the type to haunt jazz bars, attend the theater and the opera, Nathan was rough, direct, a hunter and a fisherman.

“I planted an herb garden this summer,” continued Nathan, “out by the vineyard the brothers started. Next year I’ll enlarge it. The idea of being able to step outside and, depending on what’s fresh, what’s seasonal, combine it with my own herbs really appeals to me. I love this life, Sophie. Every part of it but one.”

She looked away, not sure what to say.

“I’m lonely. No matter how much I fill my life with work, it isn’t enough.”

“Is that why you accepted Elaine’s invitation?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just . . . you should know that Elaine was recently divorced.”

“Ah. And I should be careful because she’s on the rebound.”

“Something like that.”

“Something like that, but not
exactly
.”

She looked up. “What do you want from me, Nathan?”

“Nothing. And everything. I’m glad Bram’s recovered.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t compete with a sick man.”

“There
is
no competition. I’m married. I love my husband. End of story.”

“But I loved you long before you met him. We were supposed to get married. We’d be married now if it hadn’t been for your detour into religious insanity. You can’t deny that, Sophie.”

“I get it now. You staked your claim first. I might as well be a piece of property.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did.”

Out of frustration, he tossed the napkin on the table, then raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I take it all back. It’s obvious that you and Bram were fated to be together. I mean, how many times does a guy have to get shot down before he sees the light?”

“I think you just mixed a metaphor.”

“Call the cops.”

Sophie’s wig pressed hotly against her head. Her brain felt like it was about to boil.

“I won’t bother you anymore, Sophie. I mean it this time.”

She could tell by the firmness in his voice that he was telling the truth.

As if to soften the statement, he added, “If you can sit in my restaurant, eat my food, and
not
fall into my arms, I’ve done all I can do.” He looked around the room. “Maybe it’s time to stop living like a monk. Which brings us back to Elaine. You’re her friend. What’s she like?”

“Oh, no. I’m not touching that topic with a ten-foot pole.”

“I’m just asking.”

“What’s that old saying? ‘Don’t worry if you miss the bus. Another one will come along any minute.’ ”

He shook his head. “You’re deliberately misreading my intent. I’m moving on. That should make you happy.”

“It does.” She straightened her tie.

“Great. Then what are we arguing about?”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Don’t play with me, Nathan. Dating Elaine won’t make me jealous. I only told you about her divorce because I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He laughed, folding his arms over his chest. “You know, after I lost you all those years ago, I used to think of myself as bulletproof. In some ways, I think I still am. Don’t worry about me, Soph. I’m a big boy. Elaine will be my Zen way of moving back into the dating world. Besides, there are never any guarantees in this life, right?”

“Right,” she said, knowing full well the irony of what she’d just agreed to. “No guarantees.”