Inherit the Word (The Cookbook Nook Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

squat shape, clapped her hands. “Let’s stow it.”
    Ignoring the mayor, Natalie leaned forward and peered around the beader at Mitzi. “Where’s my business manager aka your husband?”
    “At a money management conference in San Jose,” Mitzi said.
    “Wow. Talk about not showing spousal support. Tsk-tsk.” Natalie lasered her opponent with a smug look.
    “Why, you . . .” Mitzi flushed pink. “I’ll have you know that I have plenty of clients here.” In addition to her home vegetable-and fruit-canning business, Mitzi was a personal chef who created in-home, gourmet meals for clients as far north as Los Gatos. I had never sampled her cooking, but I’d heard it was excellent, albeit a little froufrou. “Besides, my husband is dedicated to his work.”
    “Speaking of loyalty, Natalie,” Lola said with a snarky bite, “where’s your daughter and your son-in-law?”
    Natalie raised her chin. “At the diner. Someone’s got to run the place. It’s a thriving business, unlike your own.”
    The mayor said, “Natalie, c’mon.”
    “C’mon, yourself, ZZ. You may be a dear friend, but you cannot make me curb my tongue.”
    Lola laughed. “I told you the other day on The Pier, Natalie, that you’re going to lose friends if you keep this up.”
    Mayor Zoey Zeller, or ZZ to friends, said, “Yes, she did.”
    Natalie shot the mayor a scathing look. “You weren’t there.”
    “Sure, I was. Watching two of my best friends duking it out. My, my, how the two of you”—she eyed Natalie then Lola—“went at it. Remind me never to cross either of you.”
    Lola smiled. “Natalie, in spite of you poaching my chef, The Pelican Brief is doing very well.”
    “I didn’t poach,” Natalie said.
    “Liar, liar.”
    The fireman snorted. The baby-faced teacher and the librarian giggled between themselves.
    Natalie said, “For your information, Lola, if it’ll make you feel any better, your former chef is already gone.”
    “Gone?”
    “Vamoose.” Natalie waved a hand. “He got a great gig in Las Vegas, and he eighty-sixed this town as of last night.”
    “Good riddance.”
    “Contestants, please,” Mayor Zeller tried again. “We’re about to get under way. No more chatter. Please stow all water bottles, gadgets, and recipe cards. You should have your recipes fixed in your brains. And everyone, turn off or silence your cell phones.”
    As the contestants’ sarcastic banter abated and they settled in for the long haul, I opened the front door and allowed the general public to enter. I recognized many of our regular customers and lots of fresh new faces. Bailey caught my eye and made a
ka-ching
gesture. I grinned, remembering a time at Taylor & Squibb when a client, the very wealthy owner of the Jiggy Jogging stores, barged in on a private board meeting. My boss was upset until Jiggy declared he wanted to quadruple his account, thanks to my brilliant idea of holding a running race with kids. Hopefully, thanks to Bailey winning us the Grill Fest, we would see a bump in sales. Ka-ching, indeed.
    The mayor moved in front of the cooking stations to address the assembly. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome.” She gave a brief history of the Grill Fest and how much it meant to Crystal Cove to see so many people flock from far away places like San Francisco, Sacramento, and Los Angeles. “I want you all to know that I officially declare September, not April, Grilled Cheese Month in Crystal Cove.”
    Applause erupted from the onlookers. I joined in. I wasn’t quite sure who had established April as National Grilled Cheese Month—someone had set months for almost every food, including oatmeal and sweet potatoes—but celebrating one of the all-time best comfort foods in the world twice a year sounded like a good idea to me.
    “And finally,” the mayor continued, “I’d like you to meet the judges. I think you all know Pepper Pritchett.”
    The sixty-something, thickset woman who owned Beaders of Paradise, a