Caught in the Net by Jessica Thomas

Author:Jessica Thomas [Thomas, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Lesbian, Contemporary, Romance
ISBN: 9781931513548
Google: kgMmAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1931513546
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2004-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

She delivered the final inducement. “You might even let me help you pick up one or two plants for a window sill. That’s how I started. And food tastes so much better seasoned with herbs snipped fresh, right from the plant.”

“Oh, Mrs. Cartwright, that sounds just wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like that greenhouse—I’m sure—it will be a real treat. Between your books and the greenhouse . . . I’m learning, I’m learning.” She was ready to include me in the trip. “Alex, you’re coming, of course?”

Aunt Mae laughed and answered for me. “Alexandra? All she would think to do with herbs would be sprinkle them on Fargo’s food. To Alexandra the word ‘cook’ means some explorer who discovered Hawaii.”

“I grow basil and dill every year in the back yard,” I protested.

“And it took me ten years to get you to do it.” Aunt Mae had settled the issue. They agreed she would pick up Janet around two on Monday at her apartment, and we parted.

Janet’s mood seemed to have improved measurably. She was bubbly about meeting Aunt Mae and about the planned excursion. Fargo and I were more interested in the grocery bags with which he now happily shared the back seat. And we three arrived back at my place in considerably better humor than we had left it. We carried in the bags and Janet put aside the few items she had picked up for herself. I put away the staples. And we were all ready to begin dinner.

I soon discovered that my part in this production was apparently limited to being told to set the wine on the steps outside the back door.

I came back in and gave Janet a hug. “I’m glad to see you know that ‘room temperature’ for red wine doesn’t mean seventy-five degrees.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t. The ‘room temperature’ that gives red wine its best taste is fifty-five degrees, which is the temperature of most old European wine cellars.”

“Now where did you learn that?” I asked. “It’s not common knowledge. I’m supposed to be the wine expert.”

“Hah!” She began to pound the chicken breasts. “I convinced the CG to send me to cooking school. I did well and eventually became manager and head chef of the Officers’ Club outside Seattle. Believe it or not, I learned it there.”

“Head chef and manager! That’s really something, and at your age.”

“Well, I worked hard, in school and later. It wasn’t exactly a Michelin five-star operation, but it wasn’t at all bad. The food and presentation were considered excellent. I stayed in budget. And I got along with people. I think I would have made chief petty officer within a year.”

“Did something change that?” Her eyes clouded. Anger? Hurt? I wasn’t sure. “Don’t get me off on that track,” she said flatly. “We’re planning a pleasant evening. Now let me get to work. You and Fargo—out!”

I didn’t mind. I found a rerun of The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming on TV and settled down happily.

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