Page 31 of Murder By the Millions
“Did you give up because you lost interest?”
“Sort of. It lacked style and substance. I returned the investor’s money plus interest.”
“But you began construction. The foundation and framing are still there.”
“I put money in an escrow account to cover the cost of tearing it down and restoring it to the bare parcel of land it was, but it’s taking time due to a lot of red tape. My lawyer is handling it. Trust me, I’m not a sluggard. I’m not heartless when it comes to the needs of a community.” He sipped his beer. “Don’t give Mr. Luckenbill or Mr. Hardwick another moment’s thought. Now, back to the soiree. What do you think it will cost?”
I did the math in my head for liquor, dining tables and prep stations, food, and servers’ wages. “I would think a hundred and fifty per person. It depends on the presentation and the variety of dishes you’re hoping to provide, as well as the availability of the ingredients.”
He downed a French fry. “What will you need as a deposit? Will twenty-five thousand cover it?”
I swallowed hard. I’d never received such a large deposit. “Yes, it’ll do.” I’d have enough to buy all the liquor and provisions and then some. I wondered if Vanna would help or if she’d still hold a grudge against me because I hadn’t insisted she join this dinner meeting? I might have to win her over by promising she could make frou-frou appetizers.
“Swell. Glad we’ve agreed. We’ll review a menu tomorrow.” After he polished off his burger, he said, “I hear you work out of a ghost kitchen.”
“I do.”
“Is it nearby?”
“It’s four blocks away.”
“I’d love to see it,” he said. “If you feel comfortable letting me in, just the two of us.”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t get the vibe that, one, he meant me harm, or two, he had any personal interest in seducing me. Perhaps it was because he had spoken freely about Delilah and had revealed, without saying the actual words, he still loved her.
“Do you have any desserts on hand for me to sample?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Lead the way.” He threw a couple of crisp one-hundreddollar bills on the table and rose to his feet.
Wallis closed in on us. “I’ll be right back with your change, sir.”
Jason said, “No need. Whatever is left is for you.”
“Thank you!” she gushed.
I unlocked the door to Dream Cuisine and switched on the lights.
Jason entered, taking it all in while nodding. “Nice. Everything in its place.”
“If I didn’t keep it organized, I wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything.” I switched on one of the double ovens to preheat it before fetching some premade tart shells from the walk-in refrigerator. “Do you like blueberries?” I asked.
Jason was peering at the flowchart hanging above the desk. The chart held the names of the clients I needed to bake for in the coming week, plus all the private meals I had to prepare. I had a duplicate list on my Notes app. “You’re busy.”
“I am. Um, blueberries?”
“Love them.”
“I’ll make blueberry tarts for you to sample. I think your guests will appreciate them.” I arranged a few of the tart shells on a baking sheet and popped them into the oven. While they baked for ten minutes, I mixed blueberries, cornstarch, a dash of salt, and a squeeze of lemon juice in a saucepan on the gas stove.I switched the burner to high to make a quick syrup. “I have cookies if you’re hungry right now.”
“Snickerdoodles?”
“Yes. I also have sugar cookies.”
“Snickerdoodles only, please. They’re my favorite. My mother made them. I love the flavor of cinnamon.”
I opened a tin and arranged a few snickerdoodles on a plate. I always had some on hand because they were Tegan’s favorites, as well.
