Four Leaf Cleaver by Maddie Day

Author:Maddie Day [Day, Maddie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2022-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

Sean had concocted a delicious lasagna dinner for the three of us, and the house still smelled of that perfect combo of pasta, tomatoes, Italian herbs, and cheeses. After we ate and Sean and I did the dishes, I told Abe about my encounter with Liam. Abe looked concerned.

“I wasn’t in any real danger,” I assured him as we nestled on the couch, not entirely sure that was true.

“I hope not. I can go to the store and get those scones and biscuits for you.”

“Thanks, but they’ll be fine. This is too cozy to let you go.” I wrinkled my nose. “Plus, I need to watch Tara at work in some previous shows to get myself ready for tomorrow. Jaden said they’re on YouTube. Because of course they are.”

“I’ll watch with you if you can wait a second. I think I have just the thing to put you in the mood for your emcee job.” He stood. “Be right back.”

I poked around until I found one of the shows from six months earlier, one with a Southwestern theme. I switched into full-screen mode and paused it until Abe returned holding two steaming mugs topped with whipped cream. Birdy sauntered up after him, settling himself in an armchair for a yogi-master bath, contorting himself in ways only cats can.

Abe set the mugs on coasters on the coffee table. “They’re still a bit hot.”

“What is it? It smells like heaven.”

“Cocoa with Irish whiskey.”

“Yum. It might put me right to sleep, but that’s okay. I had a superlong day.” I clicked Play and cradled my mug.

We watched as Tara did just what Jaden had described. She introduced each contestant and what they were about to prepare.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven . . .”

An audience of a couple dozen people in chairs watched as the contestants stood ready with knives or measuring cups in hand, ingredients arrayed around them. Tara finished the countdown and told them to begin. Vin’s camera panned the whole room, ten tables of cooks furiously beginning their dishes. She focused in on Tara at one station.

“Contestant number five is sautéing a fragrant batch of diced onions and poblano peppers.” The camera zoomed in on the electric skillet. A hand sprinkled on a smattering of dark red bits. “Ooh,” Tara continued. “Dried ancho chiles just went in.”

She moved on, narrating a bit about what each cook was doing.

“She was good at what she did,” I said.

“It doesn’t look too hard,” Abe said. “You know food. You can do it.”

“I guess.” I sipped the drink. “This is so good, Abe. Thank you. Dessert and after-dinner drink in one yummy package.”

“You deserve it.”

I fast-forwarded until each chef had served a portion on three small plates, or in the case of the hominy-and-pork stew known as pozole, in three bowls.

“It’s a good thing I’m not hungry,” I said. “Everything looks so good. It makes me want to do a Southwestern week in the restaurant soon. Chile rellenos like those, stacked huevos rancheros, and pozole.”

“What are those shiny things?” Abe pointed.

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