“You know how Artie loves to hear from me,” she said, then picked up the sandwich and took a bite.
Did Artie love hearing from her?
Angelica finished chewing and swallowed. “Besides, maybe he can send out a press release.”
“Isn’t that your job-not his?”
Angelica frowned. “I am one of his more successful clients. I’m sure he’ll just ask his assistant to draft something.”
“It’s rather short notice-one day in advance.”
“You worry too much,” Angelica said, and drained her glass. She got up from her seat, grabbed the wine bottle, and poured herself another. “And why are you so grumpy, anyway?”
Tricia offered her own glass to be topped up. “Oh, I don’t know. The fact that Grant suspects me of Pippa Comfort’s murder and said we can’t see each other-let alone talk to each other unless it’s about the case-until this whole situation is resolved.”
“Why?”
Tricia took a fortifying swallow of wine before she related how she and Sarge had spent the evening.
“Oh dear,” Angelica said, sobering. “Then I guess you won’t be interested in buying advertising on Channel Nine. I mean, not if it looks like you’ll actually be going to jail this time.”
“I am not going to jail!”
“It doesn’t sound too hopeful right now. Why did you take Sarge back to Maple Avenue, anyway? I told you he had an hour or more before he needed to go out. If you hadn’t jumped the gun, someone else might have found that candleholder and you might not be looking at a stint at the New Hampshire State Prison for Women.”
“I’m going to call Roger Livingston in the morning. Hopefully with his help-”
“You mean the help of one of his criminal attorney colleagues,” Angelica interrupted.
“-I will clear my name,” Tricia finished.
Angelica shrugged. “Let’s get back to this TV show. This could be my big break-a one-way ticket to the Food Network.”
Tricia sighed. How like Angelica to be more concerned with her own welfare. “Says who?”
“Me, of course.”
“Only if you can get someone from the Food Network to watch the show.”
“Hmm. That might be a bit hard. But I bet if I charm Bill, he’ll let me send a tape to an exec at the network.” With that little detail worked out, Angelica took another big bite of the sandwich.
“Why are you eating my dinner?” Tricia asked. “You just got back from a restaurant.”
Angelica chewed and swallowed. “Once I heard Bill was station manager, I was too nervous to eat. I’m starved. And where did you get this sandwich? It’s delish.”
“Grant brought it over…just before he told me we shouldn’t see each other.”
“Where’s the rest of it?” Angelica said, and polished off the last bite.
“He took it with him.”
Angelica swallowed. “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”
“It was his sandwich,” Tricia pointed out.
“What else have you got to eat?”
“Not much.”
Angelica went rummaging through one of the cabinets. “Let’s see, saltines, brown sugar, an almost-full bag of chocolate chips. Where’d you get this stuff?”
“If you must know, I eat a lot of soup-which explains the crackers. As for the other, last Christmas I thought I might try my hand at baking again. I just never got around to it. I keep the chocolate chips in case of an emotional emergency. Actually, now that I think about it-now could be a chocolate emergency.”
“If you’ve got real butter squirreled away, we’ve got candy.”
“Candy?” Tricia repeated.
Angelica checked the freezer. “Oh, you do. Smart girl, giving up the processed crap that’s disguised as butter.” With that, Angelica found a saucepan, tossed in the butter, and turned the burner on low. “In about forty minutes, we’ll have a delightful treat.”
“I didn’t know you were planning to stay that long.”
Angelica glared at Tricia, then turned back for the stove. “Line a cookie sheet with foil and spread out the crackers, will you. And turn on the oven to four hundred.”
Tricia did as directed.
“Now,” Angelica continued, “you’ve got to help me decide what to make for the TV show.”
“Why don’t you just make this recipe? It seems simple enough.”
“I’m not even sure they’ve got a hot plate, let alone an oven. I’ll call Bill in the morning to ask what I should bring.”
Tricia could already smell the melting butter. Angelica measured the sugar and tossed it in, grabbing a wooden spoon from the utility crock to stir the mixture. “This recipe is so easy, even you could make it.”
“You think?” Tricia said dutifully. The mix of ingredients didn’t sound promising, but if Angelica said it would taste good, Tricia had to believe her. Then again, just about anything that was covered in chocolate had to be good.
“The recipe I use on the TV show has got to be simple,” Angelica said. “Something I can have partially made, something I can cook in a skillet in a minute or so, and something with panache.”
“Crepes flambé,” Tricia suggested, expecting a scornful response. Instead, Angelica squealed with delight.
“Oh, Trish, that’s perfect! Maybe you should help me pick out the recipes for the next couple of books. Too bad you don’t actually eat much of anything besides iceberg lettuce and canned tuna.”
“I do, too.”
Angelica just shrugged and attended to her sugar-and-butter mixture, which was beginning to bubble. She inspected the tray covered with crackers, neatened up the rows, and then poured the hot mixture over the crackers. She placed it in the oven. “Now to let it bake for five minutes.” She adjusted the stove’s timer.
Angelica served herself the last of the wine and went looking for more. Sadly, that was the last of it. “You need to make a grocery run and restock your wine cellar.”
“I’ve had a lot of help drinking the last few bottles,” Tricia said, and drained her own glass. She sighed, allowing herself to pout. “I wouldn’t have to drink so much if my life weren’t such a mess.”
“Cheer up,” Angelica said without sympathy, “It can’t get much worse.” She bent to look into the oven to check on the crackers, which were madly frothing. The stove timer went off, so she grabbed a pot holder and removed the tray. “Hand me the chocolate chips, will you?”
Tricia did. Angelica sprinkled them over the crackers, then reached for a spatula. “When they’re all nice and gooey, I’ll spread the chocolate around. Oh dear. I forgot. They need to sit in the fridge for an hour or so before they can be eaten.”
“So much for a quick treat,” Tricia groused.
“Let them cool for a minute and eat one anyway. To err is human. To hang around waiting for perfection is just too damn long. You might want to apply that last little piece of advice to your love life, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been hanging around for nearly eighteen months waiting for Grant Baker to find time for you. It’s time to move on, my girl.”
“And we’ve talked about how slim the pickings are around here.”
“Then broaden your horizons. Why not try a dating service?”
“Have you been talking to Frannie?” Tricia asked suspiciously.
“Only about her own love life-not yours, which is nonexistent. You’re not getting any younger.”
“Neither are you. And if I’m not mistaken, you and Bob have been on the outs for quite some time, too.”
“I’m busy with my careers. For the first time in my life, I really haven’t got time for romance, and I must say I don’t miss it all that much. But I’m not swearing off men-just taking a much-needed hiatus. And the next man I commit to had better be monogamous. Or else.”
Angelica poked at the cooling crackers, broke off a piece, and offered it to Tricia. She took a bite and her eyes widened with delight. She chewed and swallowed. “Whoa-who knew such innocent ingredients could taste so decadent.”