Free Last Bite: A Novel of Culinary Romance by Nancy Verde Barr Page A

relative,” Sonya said. The truth is that none of us ever thought of Sally as any age but ours. It wasn’t that she
tried
to act younger than she was; she
was
younger.
    “Hey, most boys do outgrow beer guzzling and wedgies at some point.” I wasn’t certain about the “most”; it was probably more like “a few.”
    “It’s not just that. Whenever he calls to go out, he says things like ‘Hey, you wanna go out sometime this week?’ I say, ‘Sure, that sounds great.’ Then he says, ‘Cool,’ but he doesn’t say where or when. At first I’d suggest something and that’s what we’d do. But it really began to annoy me that he wouldn’t at least once have an idea of his own. You know, call and say, ‘How about catching some sounds at the Knitting Factory Friday night’ or ‘Let’s go for Thai food and a flick on Tuesday.’ So after a while, when he’d call and say, “Wanna do something?’ I’d say, ‘Fine’ but make no suggestions. And he’d just hang there waiting for me to decide what we’d do. That would go on for days. He’d call and ask, ‘When can I see you,’ I’d say, ‘Whenever you like,’ and he still didn’t come up with an idea. I think it’s a definite sign of a couch potato in training.” She did have a point.
    “You can do better, Mae.” Having been married to the same handsome, adoring, man for over twenty years, Sonya was a creditable adviser. “I think that Danny O’Shea is pretty cute. And he’s single.”
    “I think he’s into Casey. He was, like, totally coming on to her but, you know, she was acting all chefy.”
    “Hey, I was nearly naked. I felt vulnerable. Besides, coming on to women seems to be his natural persona. He was much too obvious about it. I didn’t take it personally.”
    “I liked that he was open and direct. I’ll bet when he calls a girl he’s got definite plans,” Mae said.
    “I’m sure he does. And I’d bet those plans aren’t dinner and a movie.”
    Sally thought that was pretty funny. “What makes you think that?”
    “He’s flirtatious as hell and full of himself. He just acted like someone who spends all his free time seducing women.”
    “A real Casanova,” Sally said.
    “You got it.”
    “In my day, they would say that young men just need to sow their wild oats.”
    “Well then, my guess is that Danny O’Shea qualifies for a farm loan.”
    “So what about his party tomorrow night. Shall we all go together?” Just as we’d suspected, Sally was craving to go.
    “Definitely,” said Mae.
    “Since you’re staying out in New Rochelle, Casey, do you want to change at my hotel room tomorrow? As a matter of fact, it’s a suite, so why don’t you spend the night.”
    “That would be great. I was going to sleep on Mary’s couch, but it’s about two inches shorter than I am and it’s hard to stay curled up all night.”
    “I’m going to lunch at
Gourmet
tomorrow, so I’ll bring you your own key in the morning and you can just help yourself.”
    Finally, the apples were all in place. We covered three of the pans with Mae’s perfect circles of dough and slid them intothe oven. As soon as they were baked, we would be ready to call it a day. Sonya looked at her watch and said she’d better run. I remembered that she was meeting with George and the suits and I was grateful the offices were in another building. I really hated to be in the same room with him. Sally said, “I think we should go out for a good, big lunch today. How about that?”
    “Count me in,” I said.
    “Oh, bummer.” Mae frowned. “I have to work at the family place this afternoon. We’re short-staffed since April and June are gone.”
    “The months or your sisters?” I asked.
    Mae had to be sick of my inane jokes about her family’s names. “That’s so lame, Casey.”
    “I know. I am sorry you can’t come, though.”
    “Thanks.”
    Sally suggested we try Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s new place.
    “Well, good luck, Sally. That’s one