Taste: A Love Story Read Free

he replied, ‘What do you mean by that?’” Olivia sat back. “I’m on my way to his cubicle after I leave you.”
    Kara sipped her tea.
    “Oh, did you notice Marco Polo finally bit the dust?” Olivia asked, checking her manicure.
    “I . . . I did see that. Probably just as well.” Kara tried to make sure her stupid heart was back where it belonged. The food section of the LA Times was no place for humanity.
    “Agreed. It’ll be a great location for a serious restaurant that knows what it’s doing. Your review was spot-on, by the way.” Olivia stood and smoothed out her leopard-print pencil skirt. “Well done. Now,” she sighed again and brushed the ink-dark bangs off her face, “I’m off to give a hands-on ‘try-again’ demonstration to Ed from Chicago.” She gave a dismissive wave over her shoulder as she sauntered out of the office.
    Kara refilled her teacup and began reviewing the rest of her e-mail. Her phone vibrated with a text from her mother:
     
    Reminder – you’re expected at the Volunteer Thank-You this Wed.
    Please dress appropriately, preferably raspberry. It’s your signature color! :) :) :)
     
    Kara was pretty sure her brother had taught their mother to text. She would be sure to thank him for that “little slice of heaven,” as their Nana would say. Texting had given their mother twenty-four-hour access for her passive-aggressive hinting. There was nothing the woman wouldn’t say and now she could follow it with happy faces.
    It was an election year, which meant the Malendars were expected to be out in full force and on their best behavior. Her parents had even hired a PR babysitter for her brother. Kara hadn’t met Kate, the babysitter, yet, but judging by the way her brother talked about her, Kara was pretty sure that relationship was going from professional to complicated any day now. All Kara’s mother had said about Grady’s new keeper was that her name was too close to Kara’s and it was confusing. As if a mother would confuse her daughter with someone else because her name was similar. “Does that happen?” Kara had wanted to ask her mother with more than a little sarcasm, but she hadn’t because she was the obedient daughter, the one who followed the rules. Grady was the wild child of the family and while her brother was one of her favorite people, she often envied his courage. Instead of bold and brave, Kara had a chip on her shoulder she couldn’t seem to shake. She decided a while back that being a bitch and distancing herself was easier than feeling. Feeling only reminded her of Paris and what was stolen from her.
    Kara opened her desk drawer and pulled out the stack of envelopes she had labeled Campaign . They were all dated in the right-hand corner, with a black dot if they required formal attire. Wednesday’s invitation was still unopened. Kara usually waited a couple of days before reading any political event invitations. That cut down on the time she had to second-guess and dread. Running her pearl-handled letter opener along the sealed crease of the envelope, she pulled out a single card.
    Let’s Celebrate You!
    Kara rolled her eyes.
    Senator and Mrs. Patrick Malendar would like to thank each and every volunteer,—
    blah, blah, blah.
    We will be hosting a happy hour and buffet-style dinner at—
    She stopped reading and set the invitation down. After what her best friend, Jake, called a “deep cleansing breath,” she picked it up again. Nope, nothing had changed—it still read the same. Her parents would be hosting their thank-you party at
    The Yard, a cool new local restaurant we’ve been hearing great things about.
The Yard is owned by hometown chef, Logan Rye.
    Well of course , Kara thought, tossing the invitation back into her desk drawer.
    The one person from her past who probably hated her to the core. Kara had heard about Logan’s restaurant when it opened three months ago, but she had done a very good job avoiding everything concerning