Queen of Babble in the Big City by Meg Cabot Page A

that his culinary repertoire extends beyond mac and cheese. Plus, there’s the kissing.
    “Right,” I say. I’m sitting on a velvet-cushioned stool in front of the granite-topped bar beneath the pass-through between the kitchen and dining/living room.
    “But.” Luke is pouring us each a glass of cabernet sauvignon, then hands me mine through the pass-through. “Aren’t you…I don’t know. A little overqualified to be a receptionist?”
    “Sure,” I say. “But this way I’ll be able to pay the bills and still do what I love—for part of the day, anyway. Since I haven’t had any luck finding a paying fashion gig.”
    “It’s only been a month,” Luke says. “Maybe you just need to give your job search a little more time.”
    “Um.” How can I explain this to him without revealing the factthat I am flat busted broke? “Well, I am. If something better comes along, of course I can always quit.”
    Except I don’t want to. Quit Monsieur Henri’s, anyway. Because I’m starting to like it there. Especially now that I know who Maurice is: a rival “certified wedding-gown specialist” who owns not one but four shops throughout the city, and who has been stealing away Monsieur Henri’s clientele with his promise of a new chemical treatment to combat cake and wine stains (no such treatment exists), and who overcharges his customers for even the simplest alterations, and underpays his vendors and employees (although I don’t see how he could underpay them more than Monsieur Henri is underpaying me).
    Worse, Maurice has been bad-mouthing Monsieur Henri, telling every bride in town that Jean Henri is retiring to Provence and could pick up and leave at any time, due to his business falling off—which is apparently true, judging from the Henris’ private conversations, which they aren’t aware I completely understand. Well, almost completely.
    As if all of that were not bad enough, the Henris have heard a rumor that Maurice is planning on opening up another one of his shops…DOWN THE STREET FROM THEIRS! With his glitzy red awning and matching signature red carpet (yes!) outside the front door, the Henris don’t have a chance of competing…not with their subtle yet tasteful front window display and modest brownstone.
    No, even if the Costume Institute calls tomorrow, I plan on sticking around at Monsieur Henri’s. I’m in too deep to get out now.
    “Well,” Luke says, sounding dubious, “if it makes you happy…”
    “It does,” I say. Then I clear my throat. “You know, Luke, not everyone is cut out for the traditional nine-to-five thing. There’s nothing wrong with taking on a job you’re maybe overqualified for if it pays the bills and allows you to do the thing you really love in your spare time. As long as you really do the thing you love, and don’t spend all your free time watching television.”
    “Good point,” Luke says. “Taste this and tell me what you think.” He holds out a spoon containing some of the juice from the coq au vin. I lean over the bar to taste it.
    “Delicious,” I say, thinking my heart just might bubble over with joy. I have a boyfriend who loves me…and is a terrific cook. I have a job I love. And I have a way to pay the rent on the kick-ass apartment I’m living in.
    New York isn’t working out so badly after all. Maybe I won’t be Ann Arbor’s next Kathy Pennebaker.
    “Oh, hey,” I say. “We’re going out Saturday night with Chaz and Shari. To celebrate my new job. And because we haven’t seen them in forever. Is that okay?”
    “That,” Luke says, stirring, “sounds great.”
    “And you know?” I’m still leaning across the pass-through. “I think we should really try to make it a fun night. Because I think Chaz and Shari are going through a tough time.”
    “You get that feeling, too?” Luke shakes his head. “Chaz seems pretty miserable these days.”
    “Really?” I raise my eyebrows. I can’t exactly say Chaz seemed miserable when I