the shed and continues to his office. He hasn’t bragged about having chichi restaurants as clients. I like that.
In his office, Joe hands me order forms and a credit application. “If you decide to work with us, fax all this crap back to me,” he says. “Or bring it back personally.”
Joe walks me around the house, toward Sally. “Is that your car?”
“Yep.”
He puts his hands in the pockets of jeans. “Mustang GT with a Shelby scoop, flared deck lid, and front valance. A 1966?”
“Yes, sir. Four-speed Toploader transmission and a 289 HIPO engine.”
Joe looks me up and down. “You like Mustangs?”
“I like this one.” I get behind the wheel.
“Well,” Joe says. “If you drive a car like this, you must be some kinda woman.”
“You judge people by the cars they drive?”
“Always.” Joe smiles.
“So what do you drive?”
Joe grins. “A tractor.”
Driving away from Hunter Farm, I can’t get the smell of Joe’s sweat out of my nose. His sweat smelled like onions. No. Leeks. No. Scallions.
He’s quite manly, the diva says. Earthy. Yummy.
That may be, but do I want to date a farmer? Think of the mud.
Yes, the diva says. Think of the mud.
No, don’t think of the mud. Don’t think about him at all. Did I learn nothing from Nick? There needs to be more to a relationship than physical attraction.
The diva doesn’t answer.
Pie
On my way back to Café Louis, I call Madeline. It’s three o’clock and she’s leaving work. “What do you know about Joe Hunter from Hunter Farm?” I ask.
“He died,” Madeline says.
“Not the father,” I say. “The son.”
“There’s a son?”
Big help she is. “What’s new with you?”
Madeline says, “I broke up with the lawyer.”
“What happened?”
“The other night, he came into the bedroom with a can of Reddi-wip. He wanted to put it on me and lick it off. I said, ‘First of all, I’m a chef. I’m covered in food all day. It’s not a turn-on for me. Secondly, I’m a pastry chef. No one is putting some cheap-ass, canned whipped cream on me.’”
“And he took offense to that?”
Madeline ignores my sarcasm. “Tonight I’m going out with a guy I met during The Book & The Cook preview party. He’s a civilian, not a chef. I should tell him the whipped cream rule before he goes and gets any ideas.”
“A whipped cream conversation on a first date?”
Madeline says, “I slept with him after the party, so this is our second date.”
“Madeline.”
“You know me,” she says. “I’m as easy as pie.”
100 Simple Rules for
Dating My Mother
When I get home from the restaurant that night, Mom’s car is in the driveway. “Mom?” I call when I walk in the door. There’s no answer. “Mom?” I walk through the condo. Mom isn’t home. I take off my dirty restaurant clothes and get in the shower to wash away the smell of grease.
Thirty minutes later, it’s 10 P.M. and Mom still isn’t home. It’s strange that her car is here but she isn’t. I call Mom’s cell phone. It rings, but she doesn’t answer, so I leave a voice mail for her to call me.
At 11 P.M., I get mildly concerned and call Jeremy. My brother does a full-on freak. “What if she went out with some Internet pervert? Who has she been e-mailing?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t invade her privacy,” I say. “And I’m trying to ignore the fact that she is dating.”
“You live with her, Mimi. I thought you were going to be responsible.” Jeremy turns his mouth from the phone and I hear him say, “Allison, I told you that it’s a bad idea for Mom to date.”
“Ease up on the panic, Jeremy. I didn’t call to alarm you. I called to see if she was at your house. Don’t worry. Mom will turn up eventually.”
“Eventually?” Jeremy says. “That’s not good enough. I’m coming over, and if we don’t hear from Mom by midnight, we’ll call the police.”
At 11:45 P.M., the front door opens. Jeremy says, “Mom? Is that you? Are you okay?”
“Jeremy?” Mom says. “What are you doing here?” As an answer, Jeremy wraps Mom in a bear hug. Mom looks confused, but returns his hug.
“Mimi?” she says. “What’s going on?”
Hands on my hips, I say, “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Mom sits at the kitchen table, hanging her head. Jeremy and I stand, arms folded across our chests. “You’re right,” Mom says. “I’m sorry.”
Mom was at the Phillies game with Sid. The game went into extra innings. Because of the noise of the