Read A Cookbook Conspiracy for Free Online Page B

snagged her.”
    “Aw, that’s sweet, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Derek. “Let me
     guess. Sussex?”
    “Oxford.”
    “Damn!” she said. “Not even close.”
    Derek studied her. “And you? Cornwall?”
    “Closer guess than mine, but no cigar. Devon.” Kevin laughed and glanced at me. “Sorry,
     Brooklyn. All Brits seem to play thisgame when they meet on neutral territory. We try to guess where we’re from based on
     our accents.”
    “Oh, we Yanks do that, too,” I said. “I’m tough to figure out since I have no discernible
     accent.”
    The two Brits exchanged glances, and Kevin burst into laughter. “Right. You just keep
     on believing that.” She patted Derek on the shoulder, then turned to me. “I’ll let
     you get to your table. Promise me we’ll catch up later? I’ll be in town for two whole
     weeks.”
    She rushed off without waiting for a response and our attentive yet discreet hostess
     continued to lead us to our table as though we hadn’t stopped to talk.
    Once we were seated, she handed us our menus and an extensive wine list and said,
     “Chef Baxter has listed a few of his own specials, but he hopes you’ll choose to enjoy
     the offerings of his featured chef tonight, the wonderfully talented Savannah Wainwright,
     whose expertise is haute vegetarian cuisine.”
    “We will,” Derek murmured.
    I nodded. “Thank you.”
    The hostess smiled and walked away.
    “Everything is perfect,” I said, admiring the gold-rimmed white chargers and Riedel
     stemware. “Positively haute.”
    Derek’s lips twisted sardonically. “It’s intolerable, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, damn it.” I didn’t want to like the place. I tried to scowl, but my heart wasn’t
     in it.
    He reached for the wine list while I glanced at my menu. But I couldn’t concentrate.
     How in the heck had Baxter managed something so swank? So fabulous? Toads like him
     shouldn’t be this talented. “I guess I’m happy everything looks beautiful and of course
     I’m happy that Savannah’s cooking tonight. But part of me wishes Baxter wasn’t so
     popular and didn’t have such excellent taste in everything.”
    Derek scanned the room and admitted, “It really is a phenomenal space.”
    “I know,” I muttered. “That waterfall is amazing. And his staff seems competent and
     friendly, so I suppose he’s trained them well.”
    “Bastard.”
    I chuckled. Why did swearwords sound so refined when spoken by Derek?
    “I guess it’s silly not to enjoy the evening,” I said.
    “Yes,” Derek said, nodding. “We’ll order champagne to improve our mood—what do you
     say?”
    Once the bottle was opened and our glasses were filled, we raised them in a toast
     to new experiences. As I sipped, I noticed the place was filled to capacity and a
     number of guests had begun table-hopping. Most of the people here seemed to know someone
     else in the room.
    It made sense that many of the first week’s guests would be friends or business acquaintances
     of Baxter’s or the other chefs. Either that or serious foodies. I hoped that indicated
     that everyone would be extra appreciative of the food, for Savannah’s sake. I knew
     from firsthand experience that if they gave her strictly vegetarian menu a chance,
     they would fall in love with it.
    It probably didn’t hurt that Savannah had been receiving rave reviews from every food
     critic in the Bay Area since she first opened Arugula. Some of these customers had
     to be here because of her, right? Not just because Baxter Cromwell had opened a new
     hot spot.
    As I lifted my champagne glass for another sip, I saw another white-jacketed chef
     crossing the room and heading directly for me. I recognized him instantly and cried,
     “Peter!”
    “Hello, you,” he said, spreading his arms to greet me.
    Scooting out from the booth, I hugged him hard. “It’s so good to see you. How are
     you?”
    “I’m marvelous,” he said. His Devonshire accent was