Just a Taste Read Online Free PDF Page B

conversation.”
    “As it so happens, I’m not married, unless one can be married to their work.” She gazed reverently at the bare walls surrounding them. “It’s going to be beautiful in here when I’m done! Just wait and see.”
    Anthony smiled, squelching a feeling of envy. He tried to recall if he’d ever felt that kind of enthusiasm about Dante’s. His situation was different, of course—Dante’s had been family-owned and-run from the beginning—but he did remember how good it felt when his mother turned the kitchen over to him completely. He’d worked hard for it, and deserved it. “So, how are you adjusting to life here?” he asked curiously.
    “I love it here,” Vivi gushed. He must have given her an odd look, because she added, “Really! I do!”
    “Most Americans think the French are snobs.”
    “Most French think Americans are rude. But I don’t.”
    “Always a plus when you’re opening a restaurant in the States.”
    They shared a laugh, and for a minute, Anthony felt like they could be friends.
    “It’s amazing to me you didn’t formally train to be a chef,” she said with a cool, appraising eye. “In France—”
    “You’re not in France,” Anthony said tersely, abandoning the notion of friendship as quickly as it had appeared.
    Vivi chuckled softly. “Touche.”
    “Here’s what I don’t get.” Anthony was earnest as he leaned forward in his chair. “As a chef, why would you choose to leave the country that’s supposedly the gastronomical capital of the world? Isn’t France the place where the culinary crème de la crème strut their stuff?”
    Vivi traced the top of her coffee mug with her finger. “Women don’t get the same respect in France for cooking as men do. It’s seen as a man’s province. There are very, very few female chefs in France who have their own restaurants. I wanted to open a restaurant and be judged by the quality of the food, not my sex. So I chose America.”
    “Interesting,” Anthony murmured. She had to be tough as nails. Not everyone could just pull up stakes and move to a foreign country. That took real guts. “And your sister?” he ventured. “She here for the same reasons?”
    Vivi shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “She’s also here to reinvent herself.”
    “What was she before?”
    Vivi’s gaze darted away.
    “I’m sorry. Is that a rude question?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”
    Vivi looked at him. “I shouldn’t.”
    “But you want to.”
    Vivi smiled enigmatically. “There are lots of things I want to do. That doesn’t mean I pursue them all.”
    “Tell you what,” Anthony cajoled slyly. “You tell me what the deal is with your sister, and I’ll tell you who renovated Dante’s.”
    Vivi’s jaw dropped. “That’s blackmail!”
    “No, that’s what we call a quid pro quo. Come on.”
    Vivi clucked her tongue. “Honestly, you Americans are such gossips.”
    “Just spill it.”
    “‘Just spill it,’” Vivi repeated, sounding delighted. “I like that phrase.”
    “Here’s another: quit stalling.”
    Vivi took a deep breath. “Natalie is—was—an official in the foreign ministry back home. She”—Vivi hesitated—“had an affair with a cabinet minister in the government. He told her he was in the process of divorcing his wife, but it wasn’t true.” She paused for a sip of coffee, and Anthony fought a wince. How could she drink that stuff? “Anyway, the affair became public knowledge, and it wrecked her career. She knew she’d never be judged on her own merits again. If she advanced, people would always suspect it was because she was sleeping with someone in a position above her.”
    “No pun intended.”
    Vivi looked confused. “What?”
    “Never mind. Go on.”
    “Like me, she knew America is a place where there are no obstacles to one’s ability to advance.” She gave a shrug. “So, here we are.”
    Anthony couldn’t hide his admiration. “You’ve