The Love Goddess’ Cooking School by Melissa Senate

Author:Melissa Senate
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2010-06-12T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Holly peered out of the small kitchen attached to Banquet Room B to see Francesca Bean, her mother, and her future mother-in-law walking in and taking off their coats. The mothers both had perfectly highlighted Martha Stewart bobs and wore similar outfits of pants and flowy blouses with chunky necklaces. Holly was surprised they weren’t sisters. A short, rectangular table had been set up by the inn staff, and the two mothers seated themselves, leaving the one in the middle for the bride to be. Francesca turned toward the kitchen and mouthed, Good luck, then sat down between the two tough cookies.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you with those faces,” Sarah, the waitress Holly had hired for the occasion, said with a wink. “The scowling one is always here, complaining that the coffee isn’t hot enough.” At Holly’s frown, she added, “Don’t worry, though, I’ve served steaks tougher than her. You’ll be fine.”

Oh, great, Holly thought. Just as Holly was about to tell Sarah not to say another word, a bell chimed. Mrs. Bean had come up with the bell system as she was clearly used to ringing a little bell when she wanted her housekeeper to dust a chair her flat tush was about to sit on. At the first bell, Holly was to come out and introduce herself, then return with the first course. The next bell would signal that they were ready to have their plates cleared for the next course, and so on.

Holly glanced down at her Camilla’s Cucinotta apron to make sure it wasn’t covered in marinara, pasted a smile on her face, and walked into the room, stopping in front of the table. “Hello, my name is Holly Maguire, and I’m thrilled to have this opportunity to cook for you today. I’ve created a tasting menu that I believe suits the happy couple, this beautiful venue, the groom’s heritage and the bride’s home state, and all of your special requests. I do hope you’ll be pleased with the results.”

Her little speech seemed to charm Mrs. Mariano, the groom’s mother; she smiled in that isn’t that lovely way to Francesca, but Mrs. Bean remained as snooty-faced as ever. Well, Holly planned to crack that constipated expression with one bite of the amazing mozzarella she’d found at a tiny Italian market in Portland. By the time the woman got to the veal marsala, she’d be breaking out into song.

Holly gave a little bow, then dashed back into the kitchen. Everything was ready, heated to just the right temperature, and the tasters were waiting.

“Everything looks amazing,” Sarah assured her. “Go knock them dead. Well, not really,” she added.

If only this were a weekend and Mia would have been available to help, Holly thought. She closed her eyes for a moment and sent a wish up to the universe to let her get this job, then came out with the first course on a large round tray and set down three small plates of her artfully

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