The Mortal Groove Read Free Page B

ruin our party just to find that out. I mean, h-e-1-l-o. Haven’t any of you ever heard of
phones?”
    Ray laughed, though nobody else seemed to find it funny. “You want to know why these people are here?”
    â€œDamn straight,” she said, adjusting her plunging neckline so that it didn’t plunge quite so precipitously.
    â€œThese folks want me to run for governor.”
    â€œGovernor of what?” she asked, still working on her dress. “Minnesota.”
    She looked up. Her eyes grew huge. “That’s fabulous news!” she shrieked.
    Hearing the shriek, everyone who’d been waiting patiently in the living room was now rushing upstairs into the hallway.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” asked Jane, making her way to the front.
    â€œCan I tell them?” asked Cordelia, looking like she was about to burst.
    Ray smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t made a decision yet, so it’s probably a bit premature.”
    â€œScrew premature. Ladies and gentlemen.” She turned around. “May I present to you the next governor of the great state of Minnesota, the honorable, the dashing, the father of my best friend . . . Raymond Patrick Lawless!”

Four Months Later
Early May
    T he Xanadu Club stopped serving lunch at two on weekdays. By three-thirty, the dining room was generally clear of customers. That’s when Jane called her staff meetings, as she had today. As she stood near one of the wait stations, one of the bartenders walked up to her and said that there was a woman in the bar—Tia Masters—who said she needed to talk to Jane asap.
    Jane knew who she was. Several weeks ago, Tia, a freelance feature writer for
Minnesota Today,
a major glossy monthly magazine, had contacted her about doing a story. Tia pitched the idea by saying that she wanted to concentrate on Jane Lawless, local restaurateur and general business phenom, and her two high-profile restaurants. The Lyme House, Jane’s first restaurant, had been covered in several local and regional magazines, but never by
Minnesota Today.
This would also be the first feature article that would include the Xanadu Club.
    Jane was thrilled, but she was also realistic. Because her dadwas running for governor, some of the attention focused on him was spilling over onto her. In the past two months, she’d received more requests for interviews than she had in the last ten years. It was great for business, but with each interview it seemed the personal and political questions grew more probing. She’d talked to her dad about it, but he’d kept his advice to a minimum. He’d told her to answer the questions she felt comfortable with, and pass on the rest. Be honest, he’d said, but let everyone know that she was speaking for herself, not her father. Clear boundaries. Seemed easy enough—in theory.
    Jane wasn’t quite sure why Tia had come today. As far as she knew, they were scheduled to meet tomorrow.
    â€œMaybe I got my dates mixed up,” Jane said, giving her business partner, Judah Johanson, a perplexed look.
    Judah was more of a silent partner these days. He made it to meetings every now and then, and he spent whatever time he could at the club in the evenings, but Jane was in charge of the day-to-day functioning. Judah Johanson, as his name suggested, was a study in odd pairings. He was an anesthesiologist and an entrepreneur, half Jewish, half Norwegian, a guy who looked like a six-foot-three cross between Woody Allen and Max Von Sydow.
    â€œYou go deal with her,” said Judah. “Tony and I can handle the meeting today. It will be good for me.”
    Tony Inazio was her executive chef. Since these staff meetings often took on a kind of rah-rah quality, with the one doing the talking taking the position of cheerleader, Jane was glad that Tony would be coming up from the kitchen in a few minutes. Judah was wonderful when it came to ideas, and even