Always Friday Read Free

the state line.”
    He scowled. “My God, what business does an eighty-year-old
woman have at a racetrack? And can you tell me why the hell she moved out of
that very exclusive retirement home that she was so anxious to move to, or why
she now wants to buy an RV?”
    “An RV?” Tess bit back a chuckle. “It must be for the top
secret project.”
    “Top secret project? What top secret project? Has Gram
become senile?”
    Tess burst out laughing. “Far from it. She and Aunt Olivia
are both in full possession of all their faculties and having the time of their
lives. They were girlhood friends, you know. I can see I need to explain a few
things to you, but I’ve got to get the Mermaidmobile stocked so Becky can go
out on her rounds.”
    “Mermaidmobile? Who’s Becky?”
    “She manages Mermaid, a frozen yogurt shop downtown, but she
had an important errand to run this morning, so I promised to have the delivery
wagon ready when she got back. It seems that all the employees picked today to
have emergencies, and I’m elected to help out.” She chewed on her lip for a
moment, then said, “I feel just awful about not being able to entertain you
until Aunt Olivia and your grandmother get home. Any other day, it wouldn’t be
a problem, but—”
    “Don’t concern yourself.” He answered politely, but he was
frowning. “I’ll find a hotel room until—”
    “Don’t be silly.” She hooked his arm with hers and took off
at a fast clip up the pier. When they were on the boulevard, she said, “You’ll
go to our place and make yourself at home until you can see your grandmother.
Do you have a car?” He nodded. “Ivan should be back from fishing soon, and he
would love to try one of his new masterpieces on you for lunch. I think we’re
into shrimp dishes now.”
    “Who’s Ivan?” Daniel asked. “The cook?”
    Tess pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Ivan would pop a
blood vessel if he knew someone had referred to him as a “cook.” Cocking her
head, Tess pondered the question. “No, not exactly. How do I explain Ivan Petkov?”
    “Petkov? Is he Russian?”
    Tess shook her head. “Bulgarian originally. American now. He’s
a friend of Aunt Olivia’s, though for thirty years, he’s been trying to make
her more than a friend. He’s an internationally-known chef who comes to visit
now and then, sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a few years.”
    “Years?”
    Tess laughed at his incredulous expression. “Sometimes.”
    “How long has this visit been?”
    “Almost two years so far. He came when my aunt fell and
broke her hip. Ivan and I arrived the same day. After she recovered, he stayed
on to write a cookbook.”
    “And you?”
    She shrugged. “I just stayed.”
    She strode toward her car, a creamy-yellow junkyard hybrid
she called Buttercup. As she tossed her bagpipe in the back seat, she saw Dan
do a double take, and she smiled. Buttercup affected a lot of people that
way—it was a great advertisement for Custom Conversions, the body shop and
garage she owned with Luis Garza.
    He frowned at the front of the car, walked around and
frowned at the rear. “What is this thing?”
    She patted the fender. “Buttercup is a Custom Conversion.
Pretty, isn’t she? Before Luis found her at the junkyard and fixed her up, she
was a rusty green Volkswagen beetle. After he overhauled the engine, he added a
scaled-down Rolls-Royce grille, a continental tire kit to the back, wire
wheels, and” —she brandished her hand in an exaggerated presentation—”voila . .
. a new incarnation.”
    “Interesting,” Daniel said.
    As her eyes slid over the conservative navy blazer, the gray
slacks, and the correct silk tie, Tess fought a smile. Although he reminded her
a little of a young Clint Eastwood before he lost his hair, she knew he was no “Dirty
Harry.” Daniel Friday’s image was corporate establishment to the core. What had
happened to the sexy, playful man she had glimpsed earlier? It was