The Blue Bistro by Hilderbrand Elin

Author:Hilderbrand, Elin [Hilderbrand, Elin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781429905497
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-08-13T02:10:27+00:00

By ten to six, the restaurant was ready. The bunting hung evenly all the way around the edge of the restaurant, and the tables were set with a tiny American flag standing in each silver bud vase. On the beach, two hundred and fifty chairs were set up in perfect rows. It was a beautiful night. Adrienne had wolfed down a plate of tangy, falling-apart ribs and three deviled eggs at family meal and then she rushed to brush her teeth. When she went to the bar to get her champagne, Duncan confronted her.

“I’m innocent,” he said.

“Delilah, would you pour me a glass of Laurent-Perrier, please?” Adrienne asked.

Delilah, also wearing a red, white, and blue necktie, seemed harried. She studied the bottles in the well. “Where’s the champagne?” she asked Duncan.

“In the door of the little fridge,” he said. “You’d better learn quick; you only have ten minutes.” And then, turning back to Adrienne, he said, “I know she told you.”

Adrienne watched Delilah grapple with the champagne bottle. It took her forever just to unwrap the cork. Finally, Duncan wrested the bottle from his sister. He had it open in two seconds and he poured Adrienne’s drink.

“Hey,” Delilah said. “I’m supposed to learn how to do it myself.”

Duncan ignored her. “She talked to you,” he said to Adrienne. “So if she asks, you tell her I’m innocent. Golf got cancelled, I bumped into Phoebe in town . . .”

Adrienne picked up her champagne. “Tell her yourself,” she said. “I’m not getting involved.”

She walked to the podium to await the onslaught with Thatcher: 125 people arriving at once.

“What was your best Fourth of July?” Thatcher asked her.

This sounded like another getting-to-know-you question. Why didn’t he ever ask her when she had time to answer?

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said.

“Tonight is going to be right up there,” Thatcher said. “Nobody does this holiday better than we do.”

By six thirty, 125 people were sitting down, including the Parrishes; the local author and her entourage; Holt Millman with a party of ten; Senator Kennedy; Mr. Kennedy the investor; Stuart and Phyllis, a couple who dined at the Bistro so often that their college-aged kids referred to the food as “mom’s home cooking”; the Mr. Smith for whom the blueberry pie was named, and his wife; Cat, her sister, and their husbands; Leigh Stanford with friends from Idaho; and Leon Cross and his mistress. The place was hopping. Rex played “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” followed by “Camptown Races.” The busboys brought out the pretzel bread and mustard and when Adrienne poked her head into the kitchen, Paco and Eddie were frantically plating shrimp skewers. Adrienne ran the skewers out. Ten of the thirty tables were drinking champagne; the corks sounded like fireworks.

Adrienne saw Caren out by the beach bar. From the looks of things, Caren was letting Duncan have it, but in a quiet, scary way. Letting him have it while Adrienne ran Caren’s apps and Delilah drowned in drink orders.

“Adrienne!” Delilah cried. “I need help.

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