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The president introduced the morning’s speaker and with the applause the glimmer of an idea rose into Marie’s mind and floated enticingly, even as she knew she’d have to reject it for ethical reasons.
Though when it came to Darcy, maybe ethics were beside the point. Maybe the only way Marie could win this battle against stubborn denial was to get stubborn herself. Stubborn and persistent.
Stubborn, persistent and willing to fight dirty.
1
“RADISHES.” DARCY TAPPED HER PENCIL on the gleaming wooden bar, made from salvaged Wisconsin oak. Her thoughts were drifting from Gladiolas’s emptying dining room around her to the side dish she was imagining for her restaurant’s summer menu, though it being merely the end of May in Wisconsin, summer seemed depressingly far away. Sauteed radishes, smoothed with butter, accented with salt and chives. And something else…sugar snap peas for color, texture and to balance the slight bite with sweetness. Or would a complementing strong taste be better, to deepen the flavor? Chard? Watercress?
“Radishes sound perfect for my mood.”
Darcy snapped out of her vegetable reverie and squinted at Amy Walker, her dining room manager. “What mood, crunchy?”
“Round and bitter.” Amy tipped back the last of the cup of coffee she never seemed to be without. Her plump body was slumped onto her stool, her short, flaming red ponytail shedding strands that hung around her cheeks.
“Bitter? I like that. Maybe we can use that in a menu name. ‘Love failed me—I’m bitter.’ A pork dish with bitter orange, a side of greens and radishes, something like that.” She made a few notes on a paper in front of her, then remembered they were talking about Amy. “Sorry, my brain went AWOL. Why are you bitter? Not Colin…”
“He hasn’t called for two days or answered my emails. I’m thinking I’ve worked my Amy-magic again and am being dumped.”
“No way.” Darcy felt familiar anger churn in her stomach. Yes, she had issues, but it was hard to work through them when men kept providing more and more examples of selfish behavior. “I thought this guy was really into you.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Amy laughed harshly. “And they say women play mind games and are hard to figure out.”
“I’m sorry. But you know men. They have a completely bizarre concept of time. He’ll reappear when you least expect it, without a clue he’d left you hanging.” Darcy pushed her untouched glass of chardonnay over to her friend, and signaled their handsome, burly bartender, Jeff, to get her another. “In the meantime, drink away your sorrows, honey. At least alcohol is dependable.”
“And a depressant.” Amy lifted the glass anyway and took a healthy swallow. “I don’t know. It’s too easy to blame men. Sometimes I think it’s just me, Ms. Man-Poison.”
“You are not—”
“No, really, I’m serious. I think there’s something about me that horrifies them. Until I find out what that is, maybe there’s no point looking anymore. I’m thinking of giving up.”
“No.” Darcy held up a hand for emphasis. “I’m the cynical, damaged one. I’m the one headed for a life of questionable hygiene, living alone in a ramshackle house overrun with cats. Not you.”
“Maybe.” Amy fingered the stem of her wineglass, eyes down. “I want to find a guy who accepts me, warts and all, who’ll consciously work on the relationship and compromise when necessary, someone for whom my happiness is nearly as important as his. Because that’s exactly what I’d do for him.”
“Oh, that guy!” Darcy accepted her new wine from Jeff. “I know exactly where he is.”
“Where?” Amy lifted a skeptical brow.
“Hanging out with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny!”
Amy snorted. “I know, I know. But I can’t totally crush hope the way you have. I wish I could. It would save me a lot of trouble and a lot of pain. I really thought Colin would hang around. Of course I probably thought that about all of them at one time.”
“Uh…yeah.” Darcy nudged her affectionately. “Didn’t we all.”
