Deep Dish by Mary Kay Andrews

Author:Mary Kay Andrews
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins

As the dishes were being cleared by two high-school-age girls, Sis came into the dining room with a tray holding a silver pitcher and half a dozen tall ice-filled glasses.

“It’s a tradition at the lodge to have Arnold Palmers out on the porch after dinner,” she announced. “Or, if you’d like something stronger, we can manage that too.”

“Have you got any Natty Lite?” Lisa asked.

Sis nodded.

“Make it two,” Zeke added, following Lisa out the front door.

“An Arnold Palmer sounds great,” Gina said, getting up from the table and stretching.

“What’s an Arnold Palmer?” Val asked.

“Iced tea and lemonade,” Sis told her.

“Great,” Val said. “I’ll have an Arnold Palmer and gin.”

On the porch, Val staked out a rocker on one side of the front door, and Scott and Gina took rockers at the opposite end. Lisa and Zeke had already claimed the wicker swing, and Gina could hear her sister’s laugh from where she sat.

Dusk was settling over the island. The last remnants of a peach-hued sunset filtered through the canopy of oaks and pines, and already Gina could see the tiny sparks of fireflies in the shrubbery at the edge of the porch. In the distance, she heard the soft hooting of an owl.

“I wonder what Moody’s up to,” Scott said, rocking animatedly.

“Who cares?” Gina said. “Right now, I just want to look at the sky and relax. I’ll worry about him tomorrow.”

“I’ll worry about him right now,” Scott said. “He’s up to something, I guarantee.”

“Scott?” Gina asked. “Who’s Deidre Delaney?”

His rocker abruptly stopped creaking. “You really never heard of her?” her producer asked incredulously.

“Nope. Should I have?”

“She’s the Deidre of Deidre’s on South Beach,” Scott said. “She’s just the hottest celebrity chef in Miami. Hell, the country, just about.”

“Oh,” Gina said, feeling slightly out of touch. “If she’s from Miami, what’s she know about southern food? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing here?”

“She’s a top-gun foodie,” Scott said. “A tastemaker. Her presence as a judge ups the ante that much more. It means Barry’s really going all out for this Food Fight.”

Now she felt queasy. “Miami? What if she doesn’t like my kind of food? I mean, here on Eutaw, I won’t have access to papayas or mahimahi or cilantro or anything trendy like that.”

Scott reached over and laid his hand on top of hers. “Neither will Moody,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “Unless…”

Gina stared pointedly at his hand. “I don’t like Tate Moody. But I don’t think he’s the type to cheat.”

“And I am, is that what you’re saying?” he asked, his voice low and full of heat. “What’s it gonna take to convince you how sorry I am, Gina? You want me to crawl on my belly? Write an apology in my own blood?”

“Forget it,” she said. “Let’s change the subject. Keep things on a professional level, all right?”

“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about your plan for tomorrow, then. I’m assuming you have one?”

“I do,” she said simply. “And I think it’s a really good one.

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