A Cookbook Conspiracy (7 page)

With little enthusiasm, I walked over to Savannah and whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Give it to me,” Savannah hissed.

I sighed and passed her the book box, which I’d wrapped in shiny silver paper and
ribbon. She turned and handed it to Baxter. “This is for you.”

I returned to the booth in time to watch Baxter, wearing a greedy grin, rip the paper
off to reveal the lush red leather cushion-inlaid box. A beautiful design, if I did
say so myself.

He turned it every which way and then shook it. “Okay, yeah, it’s a box.”

I wanted to run over and slap him, but Derek clutched my arm. He knew me too well.

“Open it,” Savannah urged.

He rolled his eyes at the crowd, then set it down on the nearest guest table, unlatched
the cover and lifted it. Pulled out the suede-and-leather-lined pouch and stared at
it. “What the hell is this?”

I struggled to pull away from Derek, but he held on to me. Didn’t he understand that
Baxter Cromwell needed to be beaten with a bat? If only I’d had one in my bag.

“You’ll see,” Savannah said gaily, her voice rising with anticipation. “Look inside
the pouch.”

“This is ridiculous.” He gritted his teeth. Was he angry?
Why? Was it because the crowd’s attention was focused more on the gift than on him?
Probably.

He loosened the ties, held out his hand, and turned the pouch upside down. The venerable
cookbook slid out onto his palm. He bobbled it before catching and holding it with
both hands.

He stared at the book. His hands began to shake and his lips thinned. In fear? Or
fury? Or what?

I thought for a second that he would lash out at Savannah, but he quickly recovered.
Smiling too brightly, he shoved the book back into the pouch, grabbed the box, and
tucked everything under his arm.

I wanted to run over and rescue poor Obedience and her cookbook, but my attention
was abruptly diverted by Kevin’s expression. She stared at Baxter in outrage, her
face turning redder by the second. She looked angry enough to slay someone, preferably
Baxter.

Then all of a sudden, she spun around and glared at Savannah with so much raw anger
that I flinched.

Holy crap. What was that all about?

“What is it?” somebody called from the audience.

“Never mind, folks,” Baxter said with a calculated chuckle. “Just an old inside joke.
Eh, Savannah?”

It wasn’t my imagination; Baxter was visibly shaken by the gift. And so was Kevin.
The other diners didn’t seem concerned as they chattered and drank the last of their
beverages.

I traded glances with Derek and could tell he was as worried about Savannah as I was.
But she was flush with happiness and didn’t seem to notice, while Baxter did everything
he could to ignore her and the old book.

He waved and tried to be jovial, but his nerves were still showing. Finally he shouted,
“G’night, folks,” turned, and rushed back to the kitchen. A few of the chefs followed
him out.

Savannah was all smiles as she shook hands with some of the
customers. After a moment, she started to follow the other chefs, but stopped to pick
up the wrapping paper Baxter had abandoned on the table.

I was about to jump up and help her when Peter moved over to assist. He handed the
crumpled paper to one of the busboys, then wound his arm around her shoulder and walked
her out of the room.

I was stymied by everyone’s reactions, but Kevin’s troubled me the most. I thought
her head was going to explode when she saw that cookbook. Why? Had Baxter promised
to give it to her instead? Or maybe it had nothing to do with the cookbook. Maybe
it was all about Baxter and Savannah. Was she jealous?

Thinking perhaps I’d imagined or exaggerated the whole thing, I turned to Derek for
confirmation. “Did you catch Kevin’s expression?”

“Yes, I saw it,” he said, his jaw tight. “That was not the same sweet girl you introduced
me to earlier this evening.”

“No. She looked ready to kill someone.”

“Not someone,” he said. “Baxter. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her smash a
bottle of wine over his head.”

“She didn’t look too happy with Savannah, either.”

But why? Was Kevin resentful of Savannah? Was she in love with Baxter? That was impossible.
She had to know he was a complete cheat when it came to relationships. Of course she
knew. She’d been there in Paris when he cheated on Savannah. She had felt the same
way we all did. Hadn’t she?

I had too many questions and no answers.

The tables began to empty as customers paid their bills and left for the evening.
We were sliding out of our booth when Savannah returned to chat with us.

“Everything was delicious,” Derek said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks.” She was beaming and I could tell she was on cloud
nine. Except for those last few moments, the evening had been a big success.

I hugged her. “The
bignolès
are to die for.”

“They’re my favorites, too,” she said.

Since she was planning to stay overnight with us, I asked, “Are you ready to leave
now?”

“No. Do you mind? I’m so wired, and some of us are going to stay and have a drink
together. We want to catch up with each other, and Baxter needs to discuss the schedule.
I can catch a cab back to your place or have one of them give me a ride.”

“We weren’t sure what you wanted to do,” I said, “but we were planning to stay in
the Mission for a while anyway. Derek’s partner recommended that we check out a Brazilian
band over at the Elbo Room.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said.

“It should be. So we can swing by after that and see if you still need a ride. And
by then I’ll be ready to grab an ice cream cone around the corner at Bi-Rite.” I looked
at Derek. “Best ice cream in the city.”

“Ice cream?” Savannah glared at me. “You’re still hungry?”

“No, but I will be. That’s a whole hour from now.” Did I really need to explain this
to her?

She threw up her hands. “Stupid question. You’re like a bottomless pit.”

It was hard being misunderstood by my own sister. “We are talking about ice cream.”

She sighed, then chuckled. “I know. Go. Get out of here.”

“Dinner was fantastic,” I said. “You’re awesome.”

Derek touched her shoulder. “We’ll be by in an hour or so and see if you’re still
here and need a ride. If not, we’ll see you at home.”

I pulled my key out of my purse and handed it to her. “Just in case you get there
first.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll probably hitch a ride from one of
these guys.” She gave me another quick hug. “The book box is gorgeous. I think Baxter
was blown away.”

In more ways than one
, I thought. “He looked a little shell-shocked.”

“I know,” she said, beaming.

I hated to bum her out, but I had to tell her what I’d seen. “Kevin didn’t look too
happy about it.”

“What do you mean?”

I hooked her arm in mine and leaned closer. “Trust me, if looks could kill, you and
Baxter would be dead on the floor right now.”

Savannah shook her head. “You must’ve misread her. Kevin’s been in a great mood all
evening.”

“Maybe so, but the minute Baxter held the cookbook in his hand, her whole attitude
changed. She looked furious.”

“Brooklyn, you can’t be serious.” Savannah looked around furtively, not wishing to
be overheard. “She was probably reacting to something else, or she’s just tired. We’re
all exhausted. You must be mistaken.”

“I don’t know. Derek saw the same thing I did. And I’m sorry, but I have to admit
that Baxter didn’t look happy, either. Is there something about this cookbook you’re
not telling me?”

She was taken aback, but that turned quickly to annoyance. “For the hundredth time,
it’s just a damn book. Get over it. Seriously, you’re imagining things.”

She started to walk away, but I pulled her back. “Fine. I’m sorry I said anything.
But just in case, please be careful, especially with Kevin. She really didn’t look
happy. In fact, why don’t you just come home with us now?”

“You’re being silly,” she whispered heatedly. “Kevin is one of my dearest friends.
She’s never been mad at me in her life. Ever. So just back off.”

She whirled around and stomped off toward the kitchen. I stared at her back until
she disappeared around the corner. Then I sagged
against the plush booth. Maybe she was right. Maybe Kevin’s infuriated reaction had
nothing to do with the cookbook.

But I didn’t believe that, did I? The instant that cookbook came out of its pouch,
Kevin’s demeanor had changed. I was just surprised that her laser focus on Baxter
and Savannah hadn’t drilled holes into the two of them. It had put the fear of God
in me from all the way across the room.

“Now I’m afraid to leave her here,” I said to Derek. “Am I crazy? Did I imagine that
whole thing?”

“No, you didn’t, but I think she’ll be fine with all the chefs here. And while we’re
gone, perhaps she’ll have a chance to talk things over with Kevin.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t worry so, love,” he said. “Savannah’s surrounded by friends and we’ll only
be gone for an hour.”

It sounded reasonable. I took one last look toward the kitchen. “I guess.”

“Come on, then.” He took my hand and I leaned my head against his shoulder as we walked
toward the door.

“I’m going to need ice cream for sure.”

“Of course,” he said. “And after that I’m going to teach you how to samba.”

Who knew Derek was such a wild man on the dance floor? And who didn’t love a guy who
continued to surprise you?

The Brazilian band performing at the Elbo Room was indeed hot. We had trekked a few
blocks east to the venerable San Francisco nightclub to catch the last half of the
show and managed to snag two seats at the crowded bar upstairs. On the wall above
our heads was a stuffed marlin. Really. Who hung marlins on the wall anymore? It made
a forceful decor statement.

We drank mojitos. It seemed to fit with the moment and the music and the marlin.

We danced. Derek and I had never danced together before and certainly had never danced
the samba. Wow, was all I could say.

The band, Los Whackos del Poblano, was not just hot—they were on fire. The lead singer
played electric accordion and the horn section took up half the stage. They were a
jivin’ group, and damn loud. I hadn’t been inside a nightclub in more than a year,
so I’d forgotten how completely fried my ears could get from spending time in a small
room filled with hard-core musicians and blasting amplifiers.

As we walked out onto the sidewalk after the show, I shook my head and tried to clear
my brain. “Are your ears working yet?”

“Beg pardon, love?” Derek said, stopping to peer at me. “I see your lips moving but
I can’t hear you.”

“I think I’ve gone deaf.”

He put his arm around my shoulders as we walked up Valencia toward Eighteenth Street.
“I trust it’s a temporary condition.”

“Ah, so you can hear me. I can sort of hear you now. You sound as though you’re in
a tunnel.”

“I’m encouraged. I think we’ll survive.”

“Thank goodness.” I stopped, stretched my neck sideways and back, then stared up at
the sky. “Oh, dear, I’ve turned into an old fogey, complaining about the noise. That’s
just sad.”

“It is.” He smiled at me. “But did you have a good time, old thing?”

“I did. It was fun. And who knew you could samba like that?”

“Blame my mother for forcing us into cotillion at an early age.”

“Good for her,” I said. “You were a maniac out there. I never knew you had so many
hidden talents.”

“Ah, darling,” he said, gazing down at me, “I have depths you’ve not yet plumbed.”

I shook my head again. “I can’t believe you can say something so ridiculous and manage
to sound so sexy.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I know there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

“There is, I promise.” As we walked, I checked my wristwatch.
“Uh-oh. We’ve been gone almost an hour and a half. I hope Savannah got a ride home.”

“We’ll just stop by the restaurant to make sure.”

We reached Eighteenth Street and waited for the light to turn green. I tossed my hair
back, grateful for the cool night air after sweating on the dance floor for the last
hour. When the light changed, we crossed the street and headed west toward Dolores
Park, where we’d left the car. Baxter’s restaurant was on the way.

Once past Guerrero, the street grew darker. We stopped talking and Derek urged me
to walk a little faster. A few minutes later, we reached the corner where Baxter’s
restaurant stood.

“Closed,” I said.

Derek nodded. “Definitely closed.”

I cupped my eyes to get a better look through the glass-fronted door. “There’s a light
on in the back. She might still be in the kitchen.”

Without much thought, I reached for the doorknob. To my surprise, it opened, so I
walked in.

Derek grabbed the back of my jacket. “Where are you going?”

“Just checking to see if Savannah’s here.”

“Brooklyn, stop,” he said sharply. “You don’t know who’s in there.”

“It’s probably some of the chefs,” I whispered. “And if not, you’ll protect me, right?
It’ll only take a second to check.”

He scowled but followed me inside.

The door eased shut behind him and the first thing that hit me was the complete silence.
There were no bustling waiters, no trickling waterfall, no cheerful chatter or clinking
of glasses or tapping of silverware against plates. Not that I expected to hear any
of that in a closed restaurant, but the sounds of the waterfall would have been nice.

With the next step, I felt a chill. The darkness of the room gave me pause. It was
silly to be afraid with Derek right here, I thought. Giving my eyes a few seconds
to adjust, I ventured forward, first
tiptoeing past the front podium, then stepping down into the dining room.