spend the rest of her life with. Nathan Buckridge was just a memory.
“So what’s on our agenda for this evening?” asked Sophie, nibbling her toast.
“Would you believe I’ve got tickets for a Twins game?”
She groaned.
“You’re not delighted?”
“I love you madly, dear, but not madly enough to sit through one of those interminable ballgames.”
He retrieved his piece of bacon. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to call one of my old girlfriends.”
She rolled her eyes. ‘Try your cop buddy, A1 Lundquist.”
“You know, his knuckle cracking has been getting on my nerves lately.”
“I had no idea you’d ever noticed.”
“You think I’m some sort of insensitive gorilla type, right? Some Darwinian primate?”
“You’re much too suave to be a gorilla.”
“Thank you.” He narrowed one eye. “I can tell you’re about to compare me to something else. An orangutan, perhaps?”
“Actually, I was thinking of a penguin. They wear tuxedos and they’re awfully cute.”
“Cute?” Disgusted, he pushed himself out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“To my tailor’s. From now on, I will wear nothing but loud Hawaiian shirts and cheap drawstring pants. Nobody calls me a penguin and gets away with it.”
While Bram barricaded himself in his study to go over the research for next week’s shows, Sophie spent die afternoon in her office, writing a short feature about yesterday’s event at Kitchen Central. She tried contacting George Gildemeister several rimes but had no luck. Around four, however, she finally found him at his apartment.
“George, hi. I don’t mean to interrupt your Sunday, but I’m kind of under die gun here. Do you have any files at home, any of your old reviews? Also, I dug through the filing cabinets at your office yesterday and couldn’t locate anything that resembled a list of new restaurants in the metro area — or those that will be opening soon.”
“Yeah,” he said, letting out his breath slowly. “I’ve probably got some of that stuff around here. When do you want it?”
She was annoyed not only by his disorganization but also by his total disinterest. “Can I come by this evening?”
“I suppose. Look, Soph, I’m not feeling very well. Probably the flu or something. Buzz me when you get here and I’ll let you up, but if I don’t feel like being sociable, I’ll put a box outside in the hall. If you need to talk to me about anything else, I’ll be here through Wednesday night On Thursday morning I’m driving up north to my farm.”
“I’ll stop by around eight.”
“Whatever.”
Before heading off in different directions, Bram and Sophie grabbed a quick bite of dinner together at the Fountain Grill. A1 Lundquist had consented to go to the Twins game, which got Sophie off the hook. They could have a “guys’ night” and she could get some work done. Driving over to George’s apartment wouldn’t take long and then she could spend the rest of the evening concentrating on hotel business.
Sophie hopped on 1-94 at about ten to eight and made it to Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis in record time. As she pulled up to the curb halfway down the block from George’s building, she hoped that he would be in a more sociable mood than he’d been earlier in the day, mainly because she’d thought of several more questions she needed to ask. Cutting the motor, she sat for a moment going through her purse, looking for a piece of paper and a pen. If nothing else, she’d slip a note under his door asking him to call her first thing tomorrow. No more talking to answering machines.
She scribbled a few lines on the back of a business card, then started to get out but stopped when she saw a man emerging from the front door. It was getting dark and she was a fair distance away, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar. Before she could get a good look
“So what’s on our agenda for this evening?” asked Sophie, nibbling her toast.
“Would you believe I’ve got tickets for a Twins game?”
She groaned.
“You’re not delighted?”
“I love you madly, dear, but not madly enough to sit through one of those interminable ballgames.”
He retrieved his piece of bacon. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to call one of my old girlfriends.”
She rolled her eyes. ‘Try your cop buddy, A1 Lundquist.”
“You know, his knuckle cracking has been getting on my nerves lately.”
“I had no idea you’d ever noticed.”
“You think I’m some sort of insensitive gorilla type, right? Some Darwinian primate?”
“You’re much too suave to be a gorilla.”
“Thank you.” He narrowed one eye. “I can tell you’re about to compare me to something else. An orangutan, perhaps?”
“Actually, I was thinking of a penguin. They wear tuxedos and they’re awfully cute.”
“Cute?” Disgusted, he pushed himself out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“To my tailor’s. From now on, I will wear nothing but loud Hawaiian shirts and cheap drawstring pants. Nobody calls me a penguin and gets away with it.”
While Bram barricaded himself in his study to go over the research for next week’s shows, Sophie spent die afternoon in her office, writing a short feature about yesterday’s event at Kitchen Central. She tried contacting George Gildemeister several rimes but had no luck. Around four, however, she finally found him at his apartment.
“George, hi. I don’t mean to interrupt your Sunday, but I’m kind of under die gun here. Do you have any files at home, any of your old reviews? Also, I dug through the filing cabinets at your office yesterday and couldn’t locate anything that resembled a list of new restaurants in the metro area — or those that will be opening soon.”
“Yeah,” he said, letting out his breath slowly. “I’ve probably got some of that stuff around here. When do you want it?”
She was annoyed not only by his disorganization but also by his total disinterest. “Can I come by this evening?”
“I suppose. Look, Soph, I’m not feeling very well. Probably the flu or something. Buzz me when you get here and I’ll let you up, but if I don’t feel like being sociable, I’ll put a box outside in the hall. If you need to talk to me about anything else, I’ll be here through Wednesday night On Thursday morning I’m driving up north to my farm.”
“I’ll stop by around eight.”
“Whatever.”
Before heading off in different directions, Bram and Sophie grabbed a quick bite of dinner together at the Fountain Grill. A1 Lundquist had consented to go to the Twins game, which got Sophie off the hook. They could have a “guys’ night” and she could get some work done. Driving over to George’s apartment wouldn’t take long and then she could spend the rest of the evening concentrating on hotel business.
Sophie hopped on 1-94 at about ten to eight and made it to Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis in record time. As she pulled up to the curb halfway down the block from George’s building, she hoped that he would be in a more sociable mood than he’d been earlier in the day, mainly because she’d thought of several more questions she needed to ask. Cutting the motor, she sat for a moment going through her purse, looking for a piece of paper and a pen. If nothing else, she’d slip a note under his door asking him to call her first thing tomorrow. No more talking to answering machines.
She scribbled a few lines on the back of a business card, then started to get out but stopped when she saw a man emerging from the front door. It was getting dark and she was a fair distance away, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar. Before she could get a good look
Similar Books
