Read The Pearl Diver for Free Online

the night—that being the Japanese day. And then I think I’ll need a few hours of rest.”
    “Of course. Take your time getting it right. I’ll see you late afternoon at Mandala.”
     
    When Hugh arrived home at seven, he found me at the computer with dozens of design and antiques magazines fanned around on the floor. I’d already found three good choices for bento boxes, and now had been drawing and cutting and gluing together pictures of what I would try to accomplish at Bento. I had the speakerphone on, and my mother’s voice was booming into the room.
    “One hundred dollars an hour, sweetie, is a junior decorator’s rate right now in San Francisco. And there’s just as much moolah in Washington as out here. Now, the next thing you must determine is what percentage to mark up the merchandise, although if you can sell him some of your own tansu chests, you’ll profit very nicely.”
    “Thanks, Mom. Hugh’s here, so I’d better go start dinner.” I suddenly remembered the risotto I’d promised to make.
    “Give Hugh my love and tell him to examine everything carefully! I’ll send over what I’ve been using, but you probably need more protection.”
    My mother rang off and Hugh kissed the back of my neck.
    “Exactly what is your mother sending? I thought we were trying to get pregnant.”
    “Only you are,” I said. Now I recalled that I’d forgotten to buy condoms, along with scallops, at the supermarket. I pulled away from the kiss and told him about the new job designing the restaurant.
    “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” he asked, taking in the flood of papers around me.
    “Could you take care of dinner? And after that, maybe you could advise me on the contract. I’m still trying to decide what my services are worth.”
    “Loads.” Hugh smiled. “Exactly what else are you putting on offer tonight?”
    “Not what you seem to be thinking about.” Who had time for sex when such a crisis was looming?
    I managed to divert Hugh into stirring the risotto and listening to everything that had happened at Mandala and the soon-to-be Bento. He agreed with what I’d been thinking of: offering antiques from my warehouse wholesale, and passing on any discounts I received for items bought elsewhere. I would bill my services at $90 an hour, to make it really seem like a bargain.
    “Ask if we’ll be able to eat free at Mandala and Bento, once it opens. You’ll be working so many hours you won’t have much time to cook,” Hugh said when we sat down to the risotto flavored only with onions and cheese. The rice was undeniably hard. I felt guilty that I hadn’t taught him the proper stirring and stock-adding techniques.
    “I’m not sure I would really be relaxed having dinner there,” I said, moving on to the salad, which was perfect—though completely lacking in dressing. “They’re a bit uptight. I adore their chef—this Japanese guy, Jiro—but I’m supposed to trick him into thinking I’m buying real lacquered wooden bento boxes when I’m actually buying plastic—”
    “Do you really want to do the job?” Hugh studied my face. “It isn’t worth it to work with bad people, no matter how much you might earn.”
    “They’re not bad people,” I said. “Jiro and I already get along well. Marshall is not the kind to give anyone much time, but that’s to be expected, with the opening in a month. On the other hand, Andrea, the one who is going to be the restaurant hostess, is pretty cold. I wouldn’t want to spend more than a minute withher, and I can’t imagine how she’s going to make diners feel welcome.”
    “That opinion doesn’t surprise me.” Hugh grinned. “You’re not much for the girls.”
    “What do you mean?” I took a sip of zinfandel.
    “You’ve never had a really close female friend. Ever since I’ve known you, it’s just been blokes. I thought maybe it was hard for you to connect with women in Japan, given how nontraditional you are, but I see it here,