Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil Read Online Free PDF

“They only dance for Samuel. But you can try.”
    I followed close behind my host as he shooed the geese till we made it back into the kitchen. We surprised Samuel who was standing near the stove, hips wiggling and hands clapping in the air as he danced to funky cymbal music. I smiled at him, but he looked away appearing embarrassed.
    “Samuel, our guest would like to try to make Hildy and Holly dance for popcorn.”
    “Miss, they may attack rather than dance. They are stubborn birds.” He filled a small bowl with popcorn and handed it to me.
    The geese were on me in a flash. I held my arms high, standing on tiptoe, and moved the bowl in a circle. They stopped trying to pull it from my hands and instead turned in circles. I laughed with delight. The small bowl went quickly and the dance was short.
    “All gone,” I turned the bowl over so they could see I wasn’t holding out on them. Their yellowish webbed feet stepped all over my shoes, and they came in closer, pushing their heads against me like dogs, almost knocking me over.
    Benny was smiling. “That’s the first time they’ve taken to anyone. Well done!”
    “That was fun. I’m going to run upstairs now. Thank you, Samuel.”
    In my room, I grabbed my phone and dialed Roger, again. What good was there in having an archaeologist on speed dial if you couldn’t call him? Three times I tried to reach Roger Jolley, and three times I got the same recording of a computerized voice saying the connection was unable to be completed. I was on my own.

Chapter 9
    I frittered the day away looking through antiquities books in Benny’s library until it was time to get dressed for the evening. I showered, then towel-dried my hair and applied illuminating cream to brighten it. It always gets dry on long flights. I twisted it at the nape of my neck and held it with a few pins.
    Slipping into a little black Lady Dior dress with a bow at the chest, I carried a Hermes Kelly bag I’d bought with part of a large commission ten years ago. My Louboutin Marcia Balla patent pumps with four-inch heels were so expensive they had to last me to my hundredth birthday, and here I was sweating into them.
    At a half-past eight, Benny and I got into the limo, and Samuel drove us to the Savoy. The city lights striking prisms of light into the car. My host smiled and gave me a fatherly wink. Wendy’s big night out. If he was afraid of his so-called death threats, he sure didn’t show it.
    The elegant Savoy Hotel, a lovely blend of art deco and English Edwardian architecture, sat on the banks of the River Thames. The doorman helped me out, and Benny followed as Samuel pulled away. I wondered what the chauffeur would do with his time while we were dining. Did he run to a curry shop or take a nap in the limo?
    Holding Benny’s arm, I walked across the checkered lobby floor to the Savoy Grill. I got goose-bumpy knowing that my idol Katherine Hepburn had stayed here, along with The Beatles, but not at the same time.
    I tapped Benny on the shoulder. “Just a minute. A quick peek.” Letting go of his arm, I eased into the doorway of the Thames Foyer. I had heard about the new stained-glass cupola and had to see it. “Oh my!” It was everything I’d imagined it would be, and more. The ceiling was a huge parasol of colored glass reflecting thousands of twinkles of artificial light. The room put me in mind of a sunny day in Hyde Park. I planned on coming back, sitting alone or maybe sipping tea with Roger, pretending to be British. But for now, I returned to Benny’s arm.
    Then, on to our reservations in the Grill.
    The menu was a carnivore’s delight, except for the broiled English hare with buttered spätzle. Poor bunny buried in German noodles. I’m not a fan of eating things I might have had for a pet. Instead, I had red wine-braised Dedham Vale beef fillet with creamed wild mushrooms. Benny had roasted loin of beef with parsnip purée and black pepper sauce. We shared a delightful red