AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Carol’s brow furrowed. “What does bad blood mean anyway? I’ve heard people say it, but it sounds kind of yucky.”
And just like that, she was back to twelve again. Being a mother could give you whiplash. “It means you’ve got issues with each other. I don’t know where the phrase comes from exactly. You could look it up.”
“I’ll Google it. Don’t forget about the chain mail. It’s really cool.” She disappeared from the doorway, presumably headed back to the living room with its blaring TV.
Ruth sighed. Now she’d probably have to buy her daughter a set of chain mail. Either that, or face an endless discussion about why the chain mail hadn’t been purchased and how much it would simplify things if it had.
There were times when she wished Carol were just a little less precocious. Yet, having a daughter who was occasionally too smart for her own good didn’t rank high on her list of problems.
Barbara Jean, on the other hand, was right up there with David in terms of making her life more difficult. Maybe she should start checking around to see if any other cooks were available.
She should definitely get going on that. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever she had a little extra energy to spare, unlikely though that seemed.
She took another sip of her wine, knowing she shouldn’t fall asleep in her chair, but letting her eyelids droop anyway. A fifteen-minute nap wouldn’t be out of the question, would it?
“Mom,” Carol called from the living room. “I found the chain-mail gloves on Amazon again. Should I go ahead and order them?”
Or not. Ruth pushed herself to her feet, shambling toward the living room. “Hang on a minute and let me check them out first.”
Chapter Seven
Black Mountain Tavern didn’t do lunch on Mondays, which made it easier for Liam to persuade Peaches to come to lunch with him. His plan, so far as he had one, involved taking her to the Salty Goat and giving her a chance to look around. Then he could broach the somewhat more complicated question of whether she was interested in a new job in a kitchen with a real oven.
He assumed the Salty Goat had a real oven. He hadn’t exactly checked.
All of this ignored the multitude of problems that surrounded this potential fiasco. Would Ruth get rid of Barbara Jean if she had a replacement available? Would she like Peaches? And did Peaches even want a new job? He’d known people who had a perverse loyalty to employers who didn’t deserve it. Maybe Peaches was that way about Stanton.
Peaches glanced around the small dining space in the Salty Goat, bordered by deli cases full of cheese and meat and other delectable things. She gave him a quick smile. “I’ve never been in here before. I’ve heard about the cheese, though. It’s supposed to be first-rate.”
Liam nodded dutifully. “It’s great. I’m no goat cheese lover myself, but Ruth’s stuff is good enough to convert me.” He hoped Peaches didn’t see this lunch as some kind of date, but he was pretty sure she didn’t. They’d been working together for several months with zero sexual tension. He liked Peaches a lot, but she fell firmly into the friend category, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way about him.
The teenage waitress who’d waited on him before stepped up to the table, notepad in hand. “What can I get for you?”
“Can I get the grilled tomato and goat cheese sandwich?”
“Oh, that sounds good,” Peaches said. “No, wait, I want the avocado and goat cheese. That sounds even better.”
The waitress looked doubtful. “Let me see if those are available.” A few minutes later, she stepped to the table again. “Your sandwiches will be right out.”
Peaches occupied herself by looking around the room. “This is such a nice space. So open. Love the sunshine.”
Liam glanced around their table. He hadn’t paid much attention to the room before, but now that he did, he had to agree. Whoever had renovated the nineteenth-century building that housed the Salty Goat had done a good job. There were windows in front and along the side to let in the sunshine Peaches had mentioned. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high and the pressed tin lining might have been original. The floor was black-and-white marble tile, or a good imitation of it, and the oak café tables and bentwood chairs fit right in.
