I Love You Again Read Online Free PDF Page A

the appetizer. “You’ve whetted my appetite.”
    “Me too,” Bess said eagerly.
    “Good.” Stella stood and took her glass. “I’ll be back with the salads.”
    “And you’ll join us?” Roz asked.
    Stella took the plates and headed back to the kitchen. Bess swirled the wine in her glass, looking pensive, which was never good.
    “Do you remember our vacation in San Francisco?”
    Roz laughed. “What a week. Fisherman’s Wharf. The Golden Gate Bridge. What a great time.” Roz stared at her wineglass. “We were all so young.”
    “Well, Kit and I were.”
    Roz grinned. “This is true. But what a week. We saved for a year for that vacation.”
    “You and Kit were just starting your life together. You had your business, and Kit had just become a partner in that real estate firm.”
    “She’s a wiz at that stuff. So are you. I couldn’t imagine doing what you do.”
    “But you do what you do, and you do it so well.” Bess stopped. “Isn’t that a song?”
    Roz raised an eyebrow. “Do, do that voodoo that you do so well,” she said dryly.
    Bess laughed and sang, “For you do something to me…”
    “That nobody else can do…” Stella sang out as she walked up to the table. “If you’re singing Cole Porter, you’ve had enough wine.” She set three salads on the table and sat down. “Now this is my raspberry vinaigrette.”
    “Yummy. Sweet yet tangy, and is this feta cheese?”
    Stella nodded with a mouthful.
    “It’s great, Stella,” Roz said.
    “Thank you.” She sat back and took another drink of her wine. “So why are we singing Cole Porter?”
    “Accidently,” Bess said between bites. “But when we were all together, we’d have sing-along nights. Remember, Roz?”
    “Yeah. Kit and her mother play the piano. So on Sundays, Helen, that’s her mother, would come over.”
    “And me too,” Bess chimed in.
    “And Bess, too. We’d have dinner, then either Helen or Kit would play, and we’d just sing the night away.”
    “Sounds like a good time,” Stella said, stealing a glance at Bess. “Nothing like good memories.” She reached over and poured three more glasses to finish the bottle. “I’ll pick the wine for dinner. We’re having chicken marsala and roasted Greek potatoes.”
    “I’d be a blimp if I lived here,” Bess said as Stella once again disappeared into the kitchen. “But the guests will love this. So what are you charging for dinner?”
    “Well, a continental breakfast is included. Stella makes her own breads and pastries, ya know. But we charge like a restaurant for dinner, maybe a little less.”
    “Sounds like you have it all under control,” Bess said.
    “I’m not good at the marketing and all that. Stella helps.” Roz stared at the fire and took a drink. “It’s just missing something,” she said absently.
    “The wine? Or you?” Bess asked softly.
    Roz said nothing as she took another drink—she knew the answer already.

 

    Chapter 3

    All was set for the guests’ arrival. Stella had the specials all ready and written on the large chalkboard in the dining room. She dusted off her hands and stood back to examine her handiwork.
    “Aunt Stella, why do you bother with a menu when you’ll make whatever anyone wants?” Mark asked.
    Stella looked over her reading glasses and put the chalk down. “For the same reason you don’t pick up after yourself because you know someone else will.”
    “That’s not a good comparison. Cleaning my room has nothing…”
    “The guests will be arriving soon. Are there enough clean napkins? Are the tables set? Are the water glasses clean?”
    “Yes, yes, and yes.”
    “No spots on the glasses?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
    Without a word, Mark walked behind the bar and picked up a clean linen napkin. “What’s the point of a dishwasher?”
    “They leave spots. I told you that. Nothing works like a little elbow grease.” Stella regarded her only nephew with a motherly smile.