absolutely delicious. Remember, Amber? You and Garek had dinner at that little place in Honolulu once, I believe.”
“Yes, I remember. It was good. Very good.”
Amber looked at Garek in a way that made Ellie think the blonde wasn’t just talking about the fish.
“Tell us, Ms. Hernandez,” Doreen went on. “What is your favorite restaurant?”
Ellie looked up and glanced at the faces around the table. Everyone seemed to be staring at her. “The Taco Palace,” she said. “It has the best fish tacos you can imagine.”
Sarah Carlyle laughed, causing some soup to drip from her spoon onto her white dress. Still smiling, she dabbed at the greenish stain with her napkin. “The Taco Palace? I’ve never heard of it. But I love fish tacos. Where is it?”
“Near the corner of Twenty-fifth and Kedzie in Little Village.”
“I like Mexican food, too,” Sam said. “Do they make enchiladas?”
“The best,” Ellie assured him. “Although I have towarn you, I may be a little biased. My uncle owns the place.”
Peter Branwell, who owned a national chain of restaurants, looked up from his soup. “Your uncle owns the Taco Palace? I’ve heard of it—it has an excellent reputation for inexpensive, high-quality food. Has your uncle ever thought of franchising?”
“No, he prefers to keep the restaurant family-owned and operated.”
Doreen gave a tinkling laugh. “Family-owned and operated? You make it sound as if you’ve actually worked there.”
Ellie met her gaze calmly. “I have. As a waitress.”
“A waitress?” Doreen waved at the maid to remove the soup bowls. “Not a profession most people would aspire to. But perhaps you come from a long line of waitresses?”
“No, my mother cleaned houses.”
“Dear me. And your father?”
A rueful smile curved Ellie’s lips. “Poor Papa. He was most often unemployed, I’m afraid. His last job was as a usedcar salesman.”
“I’ve bought used cars for the last twenty years,” Sam commented as the maid set a dessert plate in front of him. “Maybe I bought one from your father. Hernandez…Hmm, it doesn’t ring a bell. What was his first name?”
“I doubt you knew him—we lived in Philadelphia.” Ellie reached toward the two forks above her plate. She hesitated, then picked up one and took a bite of her dessert. “Mmm, cherries jubilee, my favorite.”
“Ahem.” Doreen cleared her throat delicately and pointedly picked up another fork. “After hearing about your background, I can see why some of the finer aspects of etiquette must be bewildering to you.”
Ellie switched forks and smiled sweetly. “Oh, no, not at all. My mother taught me that truly good manners mean making other people comfortable.”
Ellie thought she saw Garek smile, but then he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. “It’s time to proceed with the silent auction,” he said, rising to his feet. “We have a special item this evening, from Vogel’s Gallery. The artist, Caspar Egilbert, will tell you about it. Caspar?”
Caspar, who’d been deep in conversation with the Palermos at the other end of the table, stood also, pushing his lank brown hair back from his face. The motion caused the sleeves of his ill-fitting brown suit to hike up, exposing his bony wrists. He ambled over to the easel. “I created this painting especially for this occasion. It is symbolic of the many influences in my life, and my love and appreciation for my mother.” He whipped off the covering, revealing…breasts.
Hundreds of them.
Pointy, sagging and siliconed breasts. Brown, pink and one pair of blue breasts. Lopsided, tattooed and hairy breasts. Breasts with nipples that, through some trick of perspective, always seemed to be pointing directly at the viewer no matter where he or she stood—or sat.
Mrs. Branwell’s fork clattered onto her plate. Her husband leaned forward and craned his neck to get a better look. Amber folded her arms over her chest. Doreen emitted an odd, muffled noise.
Garek burst out laughing.
“I’m glad you found the evening so amusing,” Ellie said several hours later as Garek was driving her home. “I don’t think your sister did. But that was your intention, wasn’t it?”
“At first, perhaps,” he admitted. “What about you? Did you enjoy yourself?”
“It could have been worse,” she said, not very graciously. But she didn’t want to admit that she had had a good time. After Garek burst into laughter, everyone had seemed to loosen up. The silent auction had gone well, with George Palermo and Sam Kroner getting into a bidding war over Caspar’s painting. Through it all, Ellie had chatted with the guests. Amber had left early, but everyone else had appeared to