cover. Add the bag with gizzards, etc., and bring soup to a boil, then turn down the heat and let it simmer for several hours, adding water if it gets too low. When the broth is a deep, velvety yellow, remove the pan from the burner and discard the bag of gizzards, etc. With a slotted spoon, fish out chicken pieces to a plate, and let cool until they can be easily handled. Remove the skins and bones and discard, then shred or chop chicken into small pieces. Put them back in the broth and correct seasonings. Add 1–2 cups of rice or pasta if desired, cook until done and very hot. Serve with milk and saltines.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Excited by the possibility of making up for last night’s debacle, Elena went downstairs to her office and dialed Julian’s number while she opened the computer to the Internet. “Hey, Elena,” he said smoothly when he answered. “How are things over there this morning?”
“Not bad. Couple of our guys showed up again, and I’ve got Ivan working on getting their papers straight.” She typed in a search with the words Aspen, restaurants, Travel Channel, and Valentine’s Day. “I told everybody here that we need bodies desperately, and we’ll pay more to get them. We may eat the profits until we’re up and moving, but that raid hit every restaurant in town. They’re all hurting this morning.”
“I’m sure. Do what you have to do.”
He sounded a little standoffish, and Elena thought about apologizing for last night, for this morning, for her aloofness. But if she didn’t reestablish some distance between them, she was going to be lost. “The reason I’m calling is to let you know that my friend Mia called to let me know there’s going to be a Travel Network special on Aspen for Valentine’s Day.” As she talked, she clicked links on the search page. “Might be a good chance to—” She started reading a blog from Jenna Bok, a notoriously difficult critic. “—revenge this fucking review! Have you seen the Jenna Bok?”
“Not that one,” Julian said, and she could hear him typing in the background.
“There’s more?”
“Elena, don’t go around looking for bad press. It’s just going to make you crazy.”
Taking a breath, she clicked the icon to close the Internet. “You’re right. Focus on the positive.”
“Exactly. Prepare and execute.”
“I’ve got everybody out there combing the restaurant underworld for bodies, and if we can get some good press from this special, it would really help mitigate last night’s disaster.” Her neck felt tight and she squeezed the muscles. “I’m sorry, Julian. I let you down.”
“It was one bad night. It’s gonna be okay.” He cleared his throat. “Will you be coming here tonight?”
A hard pinch on her esophagus made it hard to breathe for a minute. “I hate imposing, Julian. It feels so awkward. But there’s absolutely nothing available. I thought about crashing with Patrick but—”
“Now that would be awkward.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry you feel uncomfortable at my house,” Julian said in a slightly formal tone. “What if I make the tower room yours for now? Would that make it easier?”
Elena closed her eyes. No, she wanted to say. I need to sleep with you. I want to breathe in your skin and dream with you and curl a toe around your ankle in the middle of the night. “Don’t you think we should be kind of careful, Julian? Just keep a little distance? That way nobody gets hurt.”
“Very smart,” he said briskly. “I’ll make sure you have what you need when you arrive. I can take Portia out for dinner and you’ll have the house to yourself for a while this evening.”
“Julian, I don’t mean to—”
“Never apologize, never explain,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
By midafternoon, Elena could not do one more thing. Lifting her arms took such effort it left her sweating. Putting one foot in front of the other required extreme concentration.
Ivan found her in the walk-in, where she was standing on her toes as if to lift herself up and away from the claws in her hip and lower back. “Go home, Chef. I can handle it from here.”
“I’m fine.”
“I can see that,” he said, and abruptly grabbed her arm, put a fist against the knot in her back, and rolled his big knuckles over the spot.
She groaned at the burst of both relief and pain. “Oh, ow, good!”
“Yeah. Go home, call Mindy or Candy or whatever her name is, and get some rest. We start over tomorrow.”
In the frosty