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his impeccably polished, hand-crafted Italian shoes. Joe and his partner, Alan, made a lovely couple. They also made a lot of money. Alan was a media buyer for the biggest ad agency in town, and Joe had built up Seattle’s premiere catering firm. I loved it when my clients could afford Solveto’s; he was a prince to work with, and they always adored his food. I accepted the menu he offered with my mouth already watering.
“Let’s see… spinach salad with feta and golden raisins, the haricots verts you told me about, Penn Cove mussels… ooh, crab cakes with dried cherries and cilantro, topped with chile aioli? That sounds scrumptious.”
“It is scrumptious.” He folded himself elegantly into a visitor chair. “As is the peppercorned New York strip on foccacia with arugula and Parmesan. Oh, and I’ve had an epiphany for the Buckmeister/Frost entrée, the vegetarian one.”
“Tell, tell.”
“Two epiphanies, actually. Number one is a torta di ver-dura, and—”
“What the hell is that?” Eddie wasn’t quite as fond of Joe as I was. Back in his day, on the high seas, men didn’t admit to homosexuality unless they were very good swimmers. But Joe answered him with perfect courtesy. He had told me once in private that he found Eddie’s attempt to embrace diversity quite touching.
“Torta di verdura is a ‘cake of greens,’ in this case brioche stuffed with spinach and citrus-scented ricotta.”
“Oh,” said Eddie, embracing away. “Well, that sounds pretty good. What’s number two?”
“Baby arugula salad with figs. And polenta rosemary breadsticks to go with. The torta has dairy, the salad’s completely vegan.”
Eddie nodded grudging approval and went back to his reports.
“Joe, you’ve done it again,” I told him. “I wish you were doing the rehearsal dinner, too.”
“Oh, the Salish will do you proud,” he said. “Even if the food was bad, the location is divine. And actually, the food is quite good.”
The Salish Lodge overlooked Snoqualmie Falls, a Northwest beauty spot that’s higher than Niagara, though not as broad. I’d reserved a private room for the dinner, with a fireplace and terrace, and French doors we could open to join the after-dinner dancing in the foyer.
“That’s high praise, coming from you,” I said. “I’ll be sure to bring my appetite.”
Joe cocked his head. “You’re attending?”
“I’m an attendant.” I told him about the bridesmaid bribe.
“Goodness! For that kind of money I’d put on a pink dress myself.” That was aimed at Eddie, who snorted faintly. “Well, be sure and order the duck breast salad with blood orange vinaigrette. Their venison is excellent, too.”
As I made a note about that, Joe pulled his chair closer to my desk. “Carnegie, I heard that you found Mercedes.”
“You know her? I mean, knew her?”
He shook his head. “Not really. But her kid brother Esteban works for me. She moved him and her mother up here from Mexico a while ago. Bought them a nice house in Renton, and helped them both get citizenship.”
“Oh, God. They must be devastated.”
“Yes, indeed. Stebbie’s English isn’t that good, so he asked me to ask you something—”
“She didn’t suffer,” I said, for the second time. “It must have been over very quickly.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell him. It’ll mean a lot to his mother. How are you holding up after an experience like that?”
“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but OK.”
“You take care of yourself, Carnegie.” His slender fingers tapped on the menu—which he could easily have faxed to me instead of coming by in person. Joe was a good guy. “I’ll send you this with a cost breakdown. By the way, have you found a cake yet for the Killer B’s?”
“Buckmeisters,” I said automatically, though it was a losing battle. “Yes, I think so. Juice Nugent.”
His high-boned, theatrical face twisted in dismay. “That bizarre child at BBA? Oh, please.”
“Have you seen her cakes? She’s quite talented.”
“She’s quite Martian, if you ask me. She keeps calling me for referrals, and I tell her to put on a wig and a dress and I’ll think about it.”
“You’re a snob, Joe.”
“And a good one.” He stood up. “I’ll be in touch. Strange as it may seem, I’m convinced that Lamott/Wheeler is going to be a huge success.”
“I hope so. It certainly can’t get any stranger than it has already.”
Chapter Fifteen
WEDNESDAY PASSED UNEVENTFULLY, EXCEPT FOR THE BAD news that Vanna would be dry-docked at Pete’s for at least a week. At least I didn’t have dresses or cakes to transport this week, as I sometimes did. And I’d always meant to take a yoga class someday; folding