“Thanks, Mom. Honestly, I’ve never seen her so sad and helpless. It was hard to watch. She’s usually strong and snarky.”
“Yes, she is.” Mom sighed. “Poor thing. I’ll drive over to the restaurant to see how she’s holding up.”
“Thank you,” I said, since I knew she was trying to placate me. “She’ll appreciate it and so will I.”
“I’m still more concerned about you. I know this must be troubling for you.”
“Mom, please.”
“Brooklyn, honey,” she said, her voice softer now. “We’ve talked about this. The last time it happened, I had to give you a chakra adjustment over the phone. And the time before that, you were so upset that you even spoke about it to Robson. I know it took a lot of courage for you to open up to him and I admire you for it. And it’s lovely that you’re expressing your concern for Savannah instead of yourself, but I’m your mother and I know what hurts you.”
What could I say? Except for the fact that she had succeeded in driving me to tears, I appreciated her concern.
“I love you, Mom.”
She sniffed a few times and I realized I’d driven her to tears, too. Could I feel any more guilty?
“I love you more,” she whispered.
I smiled. “I love you most.”
She giggled, then sniffled once again before changing the subject. “Now, when will we see you and Derek?”
“I thought we might come up this weekend.”
“Well, that’s wonderful! Why didn’t you say so?”
“I was getting around to it.” Actually, I had only just decided after hearing her tear-soaked voice. But now that I’d brought it up, I knew it would be a good idea to get away to the wine country. I just hoped Derek would agree.
Mom and I finished our conversation and I gave Derek a quick call. He was happy with the plan to drive up to Dharma for a few days and thought he might like to work in the vineyards with my brother Austin. Now that our plans were firm, I was excited at the thought of seeing my friend Robin, who lived with Austin.
Before I hung up the phone, I asked Derek if he’d spoken to Inspector Jaglom about the chef interviews yet. He assured me he had left a message for the detective and would let me know if he heard back from him.
I filled my coffee cup, headed into my office, and found the copied pages of the old cookbook on my desk. I couldn’t resist reading a passage or two before I settled down to work.
16 April 1774. I spend my mornings in the galley with Cletus, the ship’s cook. Cletus lost his scullion in the storm that took Mrs. Branford so in exchange for cooking lessons, I am content to do scullery work, cleaning up, peeling potatoes, and gutting fish.
“Gutting fish.” I gulped. Instantly, the image of a fish knife and Baxter’s lifeless, blood-covered body in the restaurant kitchen lurched to the forefront of my mind.
“Okay, enough reading.” I rubbed my stomach, then set the pages aside and spent the next three hours at my desk taking care of the business end of things. I tackled my calendar first, since I had recently accepted a three-week summer gig in Lyon, France, where I would be teaching bookbinding at l’Institut d’histoire du livre. I’d taught at the institute twice before and loved it there.
For many die-hard European book lovers, Lyon was considered ground zero for the book arts. The institute specialized in the history and practical application of book design, conservation, and restoration. The city also boasted a printing museum, and the municipal library had its own superb book collection with fabulous displays of textiles and papers.
Besides being a slice of heaven for book wonks, Lyon was also a beautiful old city built on a picturesque river. There were other fine art and historical museums around town, including a fascinating puppet museum. And since it was France, there would be food. Lots of fabulous food.
My old friend Ariel Hodges lived in Lyon with her adorable French husband, Pascal. Ariel had moved to Dharma years ago to work with my bookbinding mentor, Abraham, on several projects for the Sonoma Art Institute. While in Dharma, Ariel and Robin and I had become fast friends.
Now as I read over the Lyon offer and the brochure they’d included, I was reminded that I hadn’t heard from Ariel and Pascal in a while, so I dashed off an e-mail message to them.
I signed the contract and made a copy, then stuck it in an envelope to mail. Now that I was committed, I wrote out a tentative schedule for the next six months, centered around the Lyon job. I thought how nice it would be if Derek could come along or meet me afterward for a little vacation time in Paris.
After a few minutes of happy daydreaming, I settled down to the task of paying all the bills related to my bookbinding business and balancing my checkbook.