Bone Appétit Read Free

Belle.
    “Surely all the contestants can’t be that awful,” Tinkie said, somewhat echoing my thoughts.
    “Might be worth catching the talent competition if it’s being held locally.”
    Tinkie’s face lit up. “Excellent idea. I’ll check at the desk for tickets or information. For now, let’s have a facial. The spa across the street has this to-die-for facial. Then we’re on to appetizer school at four o’clock.”
    She babbled happily about beauty products I’d never heard of as we refilled our glasses with mimosas and ambled across the street for a full beauty treatment.

2
    Even I, a non-cook, was dazzled by the Viking Cooking School. I donned my apron and stood surrounded by state-of-the-art appliances that actually had me thinking of whipping up a batch of . . . well, nothing specific came to mind, but I wanted to create some magnificent edible concoction. Such is the power of fancy tools. I couldn’t help but wonder if the same would apply if someone put a really nice drill into my hands. Would the urge to “do” carpentry come with the tool?
    “Earth to Sarah Booth! Earth to Sarah Booth!” Tinkie tugged at my sleeve. “What in the world are you thinking?”
    “About carpentry,” I admitted.
    She shook her head. “Don’t even try to explain.” Her smile told me that whatever my mental deficiencies, I looked more relaxed. She gave me a big hug. “Let’s make those appetizers.”
    I’d never considered appetizers had a history, so it was interesting to learn the Athenians introduced the first hors d’oeuvre buffet. Even more fascinating was the concept that appetizers are meant to
whet
the appetite. I’d always assumed they were designed to keep guests from chowing down like porkers at the main course.
    Tinkie, of course, was a scholar in this field. We chopped, blended, whirred, and designed our Bouche Cream Cheese Prosciutto into elegant scoops nestled in crystal star-shaped holders and garnished with cross-cut cherry tomatoes. We then turned our hands to Miniature Quiches as light and delicate as the flowers they resembled. During the process I watched Tinkie with pleasure. She loved to cook—as long as it wasn’t part of her job description. She cooked for pleasure, not necessity, and her parents and Oscar provided her a life that allowed such an attitude. Tinkie had married well.
    To my surprise, the class was a total delight. When we finished, Tinkie and I headed back to the Alluvian and a revitalizing cocktail. The hotel bar was jammed with beautiful young women, and we found a table in the corner and sat back to watch the interaction.
    Karrie held court at the bar, surrounded by a half dozen well-dressed men who did everything except chew her martini olive for her. Beauty is a powerful weapon, and those men had been mortally gaffed. They hung on Karrie’s looks, flirtations, and expressed whims.
    A dark-haired woman, half in shadows, sitting alone in the farthest corner of the bar, caught my attention. Black eyebrows over china blue eyes, delicate cheekbones, and full lips—she looked like a movie star.
    “Who’s that?” Tinkie asked.
    I shook my head. “Never saw her before, but she is striking.”
    “She’s got a burn on for Karrie Kompton.” Tinkie, too, had observed the way the dark stranger’s gaze drilled holes in Karrie’s back.
    “Somehow, I can understand that.” We clinked our glasses in a toast.
    “Think she’s part of the beauty pageant thing?” Tinkie asked.
    “Yeah, I’d say so. The other women seem to know her, but I wonder why no one is sitting with her.”
    “Maybe she has cooties,” Tinkie said.
    “And I thought we’d been time-warped back to high school. Now I see we’ve regressed all the way to second grade, where classmates are infested with that legendary parasite.”
    “Seriously,” Tinkie said. “I’ve been watching the interaction. The other girls act like they’re afraid of our Dark Stranger.”
    I signaled the barkeep for