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to keep them pristine as long as I could,” I said. “So, I have you to thank for my new outfit.” It figured that Peg had butted into our demonstration, even down to the clothes I’d be wearing.
    Peg looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, which I was starting to realize I probably had by ever agreeing to this in the first place.
    She snapped, “Nonsense, those belong to your sponsor. I arranged to have all of the
chefs
wear them. It gives the tour a sense of continuity.” I swear, she had to choke out the word
chef
when she looked at me, but somehow she managed to do it without flinching.
    I shrugged. “I’ll put it on once the tour starts.”
    “I suppose that will be all right,” Peg said as she surveyed the granite countertop where I’d been working. “What’s this?”
    I held up each ingredient as I identified it. “This is flour, and this is sugar. Now this is . . .”
    “I know what they are, Suzanne. What I don’t know is why you are starting before we’ve opened the tour.”
    I couldn’t believe this woman. Was she going to be hovering around me all day? “Peg, I’m just measuring out some of the things I’ll need ahead of time. It will make the demonstration go smoother, trust me.”
    She shook her head. “I absolutely forbid it. The entire purpose of this tour is for our patrons to see the kitchens in real working conditions. You mustn’t start anything until we open the doors.”
    “What if no one’s here when I start?” I asked. “Do I have to sit around waiting for an audience before I start preparing my food?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Peg said. “You may begin precisely at ten A.M. , and not a moment before.”
    “Fine,” I said as I dumped some of the flour I’d already measured back into the container. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
    “I’d suggest you find a quiet place to relax and take full of advantage of it while you can. You’re going to be on your feet constantly for six hours once the tour begins.”
    “I do more than that every day in my shop,” I said. “Six hours is going to feel like a vacation.”
    Peg smiled cruelly. “Yes, but have you ever done it with an audience? I’m sure it’s not as easy as it may seem.”
    I nodded. I hated to admit it, but she had a point. Then, I had a thought. “You’re not staying here the entire time the tour’s going on, are you?”
    Peg laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in the sound. “Suzanne, as important as you must think you are, I have seven kitchens open on the tour today. I simply wanted to stop by to check on your setup, and to brief you one last time on the rules.” Asshe looked around, she added, “It’s a good thing I did, too.”
    I gave her my most artificial smile. “Well, you’ve done that, so why don’t you move on to the next vic . . . I mean kitchen on your list.”
    I swear, I saw Marge stifle a giggle when she realized I’d been about to say victim. She’d been surprisingly quiet during my conversation with Peg, and I wondered how the tour organizer had managed to intimidate her so much.
    After Peg was gone, I said, “Well, I for one am certainly glad we got all of that cleared up. It could have been an absolute disaster if I’d continued measuring out ingredients. What was I thinking?” I’d done my best to imitate Peg’s nasal voice, but though I wasn’t all that effective a mimic, Marge had understood the impression.
    “She’s certainly unique, isn’t she,” Marge asked.
    “I’m kind of surprised you ever agreed to do this,” I said. “How did you two manage to bury the hatchet?”
    She waved her hand in the air. “Peg is harmless.”
    “That’s not the first word to describe her that pops into my mind.” Seeing coffee brewing on one of the countertops, I asked, “Is there any chance I could get a cup? I have a feeling Peg’s right about one thing. It’s going to be a long day, and I might not have much time for breaks once we get