Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [37]
At six o’clock, tired of sitting around, Jack walked into the family room, which now belonged to Zip. Outside of FAO Schwarz, he’d never seen such an array of toys, beds, collars, leashes, and even a red wagon. Zip’s room. Paul had a chair and a small television set. The rest of the room was totally Zip’s. He looked at the shelf over the wet bar. Every dog treat known to an animal lover was on the shelf. He reached for one of the hearty-looking leashes and made the decision to canvass the neighborhood. Paul had said it was within walking distance. He could call out to the dog, whistle, do whatever it took. The poor thing was probably sitting by the door whining and crying to go home. What kind of fun would he have with a fat chick with big feet? Zip was a man’s dog. A real man’s dog.
“I’m coming, buddy. I’m coming.”
Six
Okay, that’s the last of it,” Kitty said, blowing a wisp of hair off her cheek. “I think the Soileaus are going to be delighted with this intimate little dinner party for two. Celia reminds me of you—she can’t cook worth a darn. Her husband loves her anyway. You should see the diamond choker he’s giving his little cupcake. It’s got to be at least five carats. And she doesn’t do housework either. She has a housekeeper, and a nanny for her little guy. We must be doing something wrong.”
“Everything will go wonderfully. I just wonder what the little cupcake is going to do when and if we go out of business. We’ve been serving their dinners every weekend for three years,” Josie grumbled. Some people just seemed to step in good luck. Unlike her, who couldn’t seem to do anything right where men were concerned.
“They’ll hire another caterer who won’t be half as good. You look anxious, Josie. Is something wrong?”
“No. I’ve had this weird feeling all day. I can’t put my finger on it. He’s back, you know. Back and he didn’t call. We still have his dog, too.”
“What’s with that we stuff?” Kitty said, slamming the door of the van. “You still have his dog. Maybe he got in late; maybe the phones don’t work. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s in love with you and too shy to make another overture. Maybe a lot of things. Time will tell the tale.”
“I hate leaving the dogs.”
“Get off it, Josie. You just want to stay home in case the phone rings. That’s why we have three different answering machines. It will be a good thing if he does call and you aren’t here.”
“I’m not playing anything. You know what? I’m pissed.”
“Oooh, Josie, Mom would wash your mouth out with soap. N’awlins ladies do not use such language. Ever.”
“They don’t run naked through the rain slurping on a mango either,” Josie snapped.
“Touché, big sister. C’mon, let’s get this show on the road.”
“What is it we’re serving again? For some reason I can’t seem to remember anything these past few days.”
“You asked me that six times today. For the seventh time, we are serving baked oysters with braised leeks and tasso Hollandaise. Since this is a special night for our clients, I chose oysters because they have a reputation as an aphrodisiac. Now, how many times have you seen a car sticker that read: Eat Louisiana oysters and live longer? Thousands, right? See, perfect choice. We also have roasted eggplant and garlic soup. We have a side dish of creole-spiced blue crab with green onion dipping sauce. Celia passed on a salad this time and wanted us to double up on the dessert. I made fresh coconut ice cream and profiteroles. I made enough so they can eat this stuff all week. As usual, it will tide them over until next weekend. How’s it sound?”
“Wonderful. They’ll go to bed drunk on good food.”
“And we laugh all the way to the bank. Lighten up, Josie. You look way too grim.”
Josie bared her teeth in a grimace. “Is that better?”
Kitty sighed. “No, but I guess it will have to do.”
Jack Emery loped down the street, calling Zip’s name and whistling. He was three houses away from Dupré Catering when a boy of eight