The Long Quiche Goodbye (28 page)

“Side note, we have a tradition.” I was lying, but she didn’t need to know. “First time out with the girls, you’re in the hot seat.”

She smiled, a bit of the devil in her gaze, like Jordan, and she nodded. “Okay, I get it. Sure. I’m game.”

Another cheer, twice as loud as the first, let out from the crowd at my grandparents’ house.

Jacky said, “Guess that means she won, huh? Tell her congratulations.”

I raced back and found Grandmère dancing in a circle with Pépère and other townsfolk.

“It’s official,” Pépère said. “You are looking at Providence’s four-time-elected mayor.”

I pecked Grandmère on the cheek.

Matthew pulled up in his Jeep and Meredith and the girls tumbled out. They raced up the front path, rally flags waving.

Matthew said, “We just heard on the radio.”

“Let the voters prevail!” Meredith yelled.

Amy and Clair hugged Grandmère. Fresh tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

“May your
Hairspray
ballet go as smoothly,” I teased.

“Oh, tosh,” Grandmère said. “It will be amazing.”

CHAPTER 31

We celebrated with an incredible dinner. In hopes of a victory, Pépère had whipped up a fancy all-American dinner: a platter of cheeses, nuts, and fruit for the appetizer; fried chicken and creamy polenta enhanced with melted Taleggio, garnished with crispy basil for dinner; and a New York- style cheesecake, laced with melted caramel and sprinkled with crushed Hershey’s dark chocolate, for dessert. Each course was paired with a wine chosen by Matthew.

When I returned home, I felt happy and calm and very, very full. Fear of the incident the night before on the staircase vanished. Urso had repaired the banister. Vivian was behind bars. No one wanted to harm me or my family.

Like a newshound eager for the story, Rags did a cha-cha around me as I let the kitchen door swing shut. “Yes, she won, you silly cat,” I said. “I’m sure she would appreciate a good nuzzle of congratulations next time you see her.”

The doorbell rang out.

“Amy or Clair, can you get that?” I yelled.

At my order, they had scuttled upstairs to get ready for bed. So much excitement had made them wired beyond belief.

The doorbell chimed again.

“Girls?” They didn’t answer, and Matthew was driving Meredith home.

I gave Rags a good nuzzle behind the ears, then sauntered to the foyer. I turned on the porch light and peeked through the cut-glass window to the right of the door. Kristine Woodhouse stood with her daughter, both in matching patriotic dresses, their hands intertwined. Willamina stared overhead, like she was assessing the light fixtures. Kristine gazed stone-faced at the door.

I heaved a sigh. What now? I shook off the tension zipping through me and swung the door open. “It’s late,” I snapped.

“May I come in for a moment?” Typical Kristine, she didn’t bother to wait for an invitation. She pushed past me, dragging Willamina with her.

The twins hurried to the landing above us and peered over the railing.

“What the heck are you doing here?” I said through tight teeth.

Kristine glanced at her daughter.

I sighed, in for the long haul. “Amy, Clair. Please take Willamina into the study and show her your dad’s photographs of trees.”

Eager to stave off bedtime, the twins raced down the stairs and gripped Willamina’s hands as if she were their new best friend. “C’mon!” As the threesome disappeared into the study and closed the doors, their energetic chatter rose to a crescendo.

“Quietly!” I shouted.

Their chatter turned into giggles.

Kristine almost smiled. Finally she said, “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For thinking your grandmother could ever be a . . . For taking potshots at . . . For . . .” She opened her hands. “For everything. I haven’t been very nice. So much went on behind closed doors. I . . .” She dropped her arms to her sides. “Ed made our lives miserable.”

“He made everybody’s life miserable.”

Her face pinched with pain. “Please give your grandmother my congratulations.”

“You should tell her yourself.”

“Yes, of course. I will. It’s late and I . . .” Kristine squeezed her lips tightly.

“What?”

“You’ve done a nice job with Fromagerie Bessette. I’m sorry I didn’t let you buy the building.”

“Me, too.” More than I would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing.

“Willamina!” Kristine said in a singsong tone. “Time to go.”

“Do I have to?” Willamina shouted from behind the study’s doors.

“Yes. Now.”

Willamina slinked into the foyer. The twins followed.

Amy said, “See you at school tomorrow,” and Willamina beamed.

I smiled. Kids
.
They could put their differences behind them so quickly. I glanced at Kristine and forced myself to be gracious. She had, after all, gone out of her way to come to me and apologize. “Stop by the shop soon. I’ll introduce you to some new cheeses.”

I closed the door after they left, switched off the porch light, and clapped my hands. “Okay, back upstairs, girls. I want you in bed by the time your father gets home or he’ll give me what-for.”

Sniggering, they sprinted up the stairs and disappeared into their room. I returned to the kitchen to turn off the lights, and the doorbell rang out again. What more could Kristine possibly need to say? I tramped to the door, snapped on the porch light and peered through the cut glass window. Jordan Pace stared back at me and grinned, a downright twinkle in his eyes.

I ran to the mirror hanging in the foyer, checked to make sure my eyes, nose, and mouth were in the right place, as if I could do anything in a split second if they weren’t. I finger-combed my hair, then returned to the door and whipped it open.

“You’re a little early for our date, aren’t you?” I teased.

Jordan kissed my cheek, then slung his thumbs through the loops of his jeans. A warm tingle of excitement suffused my chest and neck.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something all week,” he said.

That he loved me madly and passionately? I had to rein myself in. I did not live in a fairy tale.

I said, “Did you want to tell me that you like my cute button nose?”

“I bought your building.”

“What?” My voice soared an octave. So much for being the epitome of charming and casual. “You’re the Providence Creative Arts corporation that Octavia told me about?”

“Actually, the name is Providence Arts and Creative Enterprises.”

I bit back a groan. Take the first letters and it was an acronym for his name—Pace. I felt liked I’d been blind-sided by a delivery truck. I forced a smile, the wheels of my mind spinning as if generated by speed-happy hamsters, trying to figure out a way to make something positive out of the news. I couldn’t.

Jordan stood straight and held his hands open, as if that would help him explain. “We bought it because we knew Kristine wasn’t going to sell to you, and we didn’t want to see you get booted out by some big developer with no sensibility about our community. You know the kind I mean, someone from Columbus and Cleveland.”

“Then, how about you sell it back to me?”

“Uh, I can’t.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you can.” I paused. He had used the word
we.
“Who else is in your partnership?”

“Jacky, and she really needs this, Charlotte.”

“I need it, too.” I hated that I sounded desperate, but Matthew and I had worked so hard to make the shop our own. Pépère and Grandmère had dedicated their lives to it. Owning the building would make the whole business that much sweeter.

“Jacky needs to hide her money.”

“Hide?”

“We’ve buried all her assets in the corporation.” He licked his lips. “Her husband isn’t a nice guy.”

Octavia had guessed right.

“Jacky ran out with all the cash she could find. She changed her name—”

“Peterson isn’t her last name?”

“No.”

“But won’t he be able to track her down through you?” I only paused a nanosecond before I answered my own question. “Of course, he won’t. Pace isn’t your real last name either, is it?”

Jordan offered a half-grin and a shrug. “I’ve been setting up this identity for her for a while. A move here, a move there.”

“I see.” I didn’t. Not at all. “Are you Mafia?”

“Nothing like that.”

“A cop?”

He remained silent.

“Are you ever going to tell me? Why did you move here? Why are you into cheese? How did you get the expertise? I mean, that alone would be a clue for whoever Jacky’s husband is, right? Have you really thought this through?”

Jordan laughed, that husky, wonderful laugh that I liked so well.

Of course he’d thought this through.

After a moment, he said, “Do you still want to go on our date?”

He ran a finger along my cheekbone, and I shivered. The good kind of shiver.

“Yes,” I whispered, flashing on something Rebecca had said.

Perhaps
danger
was not only becoming her middle name but mine, as well.

RECIPES

Smoked Salmon and Mascarpone Risotto

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 medium shallot, chopped

¼ cup yellow onion, chopped

1½ cups Arborio rice

1 cup dry white wine

2¾ cups chicken stock

1½ cups spinach, julienned

¼ cup fresh chives, minced

4 ounces smoked salmon, chopped into bites

1 cup mascarpone cheese

Salt and pepper

Heat 1 tablespoon of butter in 6 quart saucepan.

Add shallot and onion and cook until wilted, approximately 3 minutes.

Add rice and stir for 30 seconds.

Add wine; stir to sizzling.

Add 1 cup stock and bring to boil.

Turn heat down immediately and simmer.

When rice absorbs liquid, add 1 more cup stock.

Repeat until all stock absorbed, approximately 10 minutes. Add water if needed (up to ½ cup) to keep rice moist.

Add spinach, chives, and salmon.

Mix and cook 3-4 minutes.

Remove from heat. Add cheese and rest of butter.

Set on warm plates, garnish with chives.

Serve IMMEDIATELY.

Ham and Pineapple Quiche

1 pie shell (home baked or frozen)

Dash of white pepper

4 slices thin ham (Charlotte uses Applegate Farms Black Forest Ham), diced

2 slices pineapple, fresh, diced

1 tablespoon brown sugar

2 ounces milk

2 ounces sour cream

2 ounces light cream or whipping cream

2 eggs

2 ounces shredded Edam and Cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese

Dash of cinnamon

Sprinkle white pepper on pie shell.

Arrange meat in pie shell. Arrange pineapple on top. Sprinkle with sugar.

Mix milk, creams, and eggs.

Pour into pie crust.

Sprinkle with cheese. Dash with cinnamon.

Bake 35 minutes at 375 F until quiche is firm and lightly brown on top.

Polenta with Taleggio and Basil

6-8 PORTIONS

4 cups water

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup polenta cornmeal

1 cup fresh basil leaves, separated

2 to 4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

8 ounces Taleggio cheese, thinly sliced

Bring water and salt to a boil.

Add polenta cornmeal in a thin stream. Keep stirring until cornmeal pulls away from sides of pan (no lumps). Turn down heat to simmer for 25 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes or so.

While the cornmeal is cooking, stir-fry the basil in olive oil until crispy, then drain on paper towels.

Spoon hot polenta onto each plate. Lay a couple of slices of Taleggio cheese on each portion and finish with the fried basil.

Peanut Butter Apple Pie Sandwich

2 slices of your favorite bread

2 tablespoons creamy peanut butter

10-20 raisins

2 slices sharp Cheddar or Edam cheese (Charlotte uses a delicious Edam made at Mississippi State)

2 slices of your favorite apple (Charlotte prefers a Pippin, skin on)

Spread peanut butter on one slice of bread.

Dot with raisins.

Layer on the apples and cheese.

Add the other piece of bread, slice and enjoy.