“What’s that?” she said, and then, “Oh, my God.” She grabbed the bottle from me and threw it into the garbage can. “We can’t have any of that lying around here.”
I watched, openmouthed, as she left the kitchen. All I could think was that Charles had made the chicken dish I’d had for lunch the previous day. And Toni had handed me the bag. And she’d been awfully quick to clean out my fridge. Getting rid of evidence? Could one of them have…? No, that was just too awful to even consider.
a balanced diet is one
cookie in each hand
By the next morning, I’d concluded that I would be out of my mind to suspect Charles or Toni, and had dismissed that idea. Since missing a few days of work over a month ago, Charles had been nothing but punctual and dependable, so we’d never had that talk with him. Besides, what could his motive possibly be? As for Toni, she was my closest friend.
I poured my energy into creating low-calorie recipes. Replicating flavors and textures with lower-calorie ingredients was even more of a challenge than I’d originally thought. I consulted countless healthy cookbooks for inspiration—everything from vegan cooking to heart-smart cooking. All this kept me occupied, a blessing really, since it helped me push my worries out of my mind.
I was studying a calorie-counting manual my mother had given me years ago. Why I’d kept this, I had no idea. This was the first time I’d as much as looked at it. To my horror, the first thing I learned from the healthy weight chart was that, because my frame was small, I’d been way more than twenty-five pounds overweight. Somewhere inside I’d probably known this, but seeing it in print made it impossible to deny. I did a quick calculation. I’d been consuming about three thousand calories a day, almost twice as much as I should be eating. I tried to imagine how much food—or I should say how little food—two thousand calories represented. Why, that was starvation!
With a groan, I began checking the calorie content of a few basic ingredients. I was an aficionado of French cooking, and as Julia Child had always said, “There is no such thing as too much butter.” I couldn’t have agreed with her more. A little butter made everything taste a little better, and a lot of butter…you get my drift. When I’d first looked it up, I’d been horrified to find that one single tablespoon was over one hundred calories. Whipping cream—fifty-two calories per tablespoon.
I put the book aside and redid my calculations. Holy shit. With the amount of butter and cream I used in a basic sauce… At work, I was forever sampling sauces. According to this, each itty-bitty taste was the equivalent of sixty-five to seventy-five calories. Multiply that by, say, twenty tastes each day. I quickly added it all up—I wasn’t consuming three thousand calories a day, but over four thousand. No wonder I was fat.
I pulled out the recipe card for my secret, super-flaky piecrust, the one I used for all our pies. Now how the hell was I supposed to make a low-calorie pie crust?
By the time I realized I was late for work, my kitchen looked like a cafeteria food-fight zone. I’d tried countless versions of a lower-fat piecrust and the best one had come out as hard as a brick. The worst one…well, let’s just say it was worse. I’d baked half a dozen different quiche lorraines and I was pretty happy with a no-crust spinach version that I was taking to the restaurant for Toni to sample. She and the boys could help me decide if it was good enough to add to our menu.
I was coming up to the entrance when through the window I noticed Toni sitting in the corner, frowning down at bills strewn all over the table. She glanced up as I walked in and then went right back to punching numbers on the calculator. I didn’t get a “How are you?” or even a “Hello.”
“You look about as happy as a turkey on Thanksgiving morning,” I told her, closing the door behind me. “If you don’t wipe that frown off your face, you’ll scare all our customers away.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Do you want to know how bad things really are?” I wondered briefly if I did. “We don’t have any customers to scare off. I’ve been doing some calculations and, according to this, we aren’t even coming close to break even. If we keep on this way much longer, we’ll either have to inject a large dose of capital or close shop.”
My face must have reflected my disappointment because her eyes softened and she continued, joking, “On the bright side, I found out that whenever I want to meet a new man, all I have to do is fall behind on our bills and dozens of them come crawling out of the woodwork. And they all have the same name—Bill Collector.”
“That bad?” I asked, joining her at the table. I already knew it was that bad. But I’d hoped that Toni didn’t. I wasn’t ready to give up the battle, but I was afraid she might.
She nodded. “We’re losing thousands of dollars a month. I’m afraid an injection of cash would only be throwing good money after bad.” She sighed and pushed away the calculator. “On the other hand, I think your idea is really good.”
“So do I.” I held out my covered pie plate. “It isn’t much, but I’ve come up with a low-calorie quiche.”
Toni stared at me wide eyed. “You have? You’ve already completed a low-calorie meal?”
“Actually, I have a few main courses. I have a low-calorie Caesar salad, a wonderful skinny chicken parmesan.” I handed her the quiche. “And this, which I’m not one-hundred-percent sure about.”
She pulled off the wrapping and inhaled. “It smells wonderful. I bet it’s divine.” At my skepticism, she winked. “If it isn’t, you’ll keep working at it until it is.”
* * *
We conducted our first official taste test in the dining room.
“How do you like that?” Toni asked. “Not one single customer all day. I swear I’d put up a red light and sit naked in the window if I thought it would help.”
“Dahhhling,” Jake drawled. “In this area, you might do better if you let me sit in the window.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “When we advertise our Skinny Menu, we’ll be so busy we’ll be turning people away.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear. All right, let’s start.”
I steered everyone toward the corner table.
“Not there,” Toni said. “You know what they say, ‘He who eats in an empty restaurant should not expect fresh food.’ Let’s use the window table.”
“Good idea.” I wasn’t convinced this would fool anyone into thinking the place was full, but I could see her point.
Charles brought out a bottle of chardonnay and poured everyone half a glass. “Here you go.” He passed them around, then poured himself a full one. At Toni’s raised eyebrows, he threw his hands up. “Hey, I cooked.”
Charles was the creator of the night’s entrée, a whole-wheat penne with roasted cauliflower, walnuts and feta—which he swore was to die for—and only three hundred and sixty-five calories. Across the room, Toni gave me a doubtful look. I guessed what she was thinking. The dish didn’t sound very appealing
“Fine.” Toni took a sip. “Just bring on the food. I’m starving.”
“I created this one entirely on my own,” Charles boasted. “Nobody’s tasted it, not even Marley.”
He ran to the kitchen and reappeared a moment later, carrying dishes of gorgeous, steaming noodles sprinkled with small chunks of roasted cauliflower, caramelized onions and toasted walnuts. “I want you to be completely honest,” he said, handing a plate to each.
I looked down at the dish in front of me. It looked more appealing than I’d anticipated, but I still had my doubts. I bit in. To my astonishment, this was really good. I looked around to the others. They looked as surprised as I was.
Charles waited with barely disguised enthusiasm. “Be honest,” he said, smiling broadly.
I was taking my time, savoring every bite. This was so good I didn’t want to rush it. Meanwhile, Toni seemed fascinated with the flavors. Across f
rom me, Jake and Marley had already wolfed down their portions, but waited deferentially for Tony and me to speak.
At last, Toni put down her fork. “I think this is delicious. I was sure I’d hate it. I don’t normally like cauliflower. You didn’t really invent this recipe, did you?” she asked with a you-can’t-fool-me look on her face.
“Yes, I did,” Charles answered vehemently.
I held up my hand. “I agree with Toni. This is absolutely divine. The mix of flavors is inspired.”
Charles let out a whoop. “Two out of two ladies love it,” he exclaimed, doing a happy jig.
Jake, who had been silent until now, spoke at last. “This is one of the best pasta dishes I’ve ever had.”
With every compliment, Charles’s smile grew wider, until at last he pulled a chair and plopped into it with a hand over his heart. “I was so scared you wouldn’t like it.”
Marley piped in. “I would never have thought of combining those flavors.”
“Which is why you’re not a chef,” Charles replied haughtily.
Marley looked at Jake. “I think I’ve just been snubbed.”
“He’s just jealous ’cause you’re cuter than he is,” Jake said. Even Charles joined in the laughter.
When the laughter subsided, Toni poured everyone another glass of wine. “Charles, you’re brilliant. If you can come up with a half dozen other recipes this good, Skinny’s will be a hit. How many do you have so far?”
“Seven,” I answered. “Two appetizers, two soups and three main courses.”
“By the end of the week, we’ll have at least another three,” Jake interjected. “A few are nearly perfect. They just need fine-tuning.”
“That’s enough for a basic menu,” I declared. “We’ll start with that and expand.”
“Now how are we going to advertise this new menu?”
“The best kind of advertising is word-of-mouth, but we need to get paying customers soon.” I thought quickly. “Here’s a thought. Who would be more interested in a good low-calorie restaurant than someone on a diet? I’ll Google all the weight-loss organizations in the city and make a list of the addresses where they hold meetings.”
“What for?” Toni asked.
“Every person who goes to those meetings is a potential customer. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll print our new menus with the calorie content alongside each dish, and use it as a flyer.” I snapped my fingers. “And you know who can get us good prices on printing? Janice. Her family is in the printing business.”
“Good to know. But I don’t get why we need the meeting schedules.”
“You know when you come out of a store and you see those annoying flyers on your windshield? Well, that’s going to be us. Imagine thousands of potential customers reading our menu.”
“We’re geniuses.” Toni finished her wine and proffered her glass for a refill.
“What do you mean we?”
“Okay, fine, you. But I wouldn’t boast about being a genius if I were you. You know what they say, ‘Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one.’”
I laughed. “Let’s set a date for the launch of the new menu. Does everyone agree that we can get ready in one week?”
“We’ll have to work like mad, but I don’t see why not,” Toni said.
“Then let’s err on the safe side and aim for ten days from today.” My announcement was met with hesitation and then nods all around as they digested this. “Great, that’s set then. I’ll call Janice and put a rush on those menus and flyers,” To Toni I said, “What would you say to joining a weight-loss group? We could pick up recipe ideas.”
“Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, a balanced diet is one cookie in each hand.”
As we were clearing the table later, Toni was watching me. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how much more weight have you lost? You must be down another five or ten pounds.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, Toni. You may be a good friend, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not making it up. The guys said they noticed it, too.”
“Oh, so you’ve been discussing my weight behind my back? Nice.”
“Don’t get your panties in a knot. We were talking about how good you look. All you’re eating these days are low-cal dishes. No wonder you’re losing.”
“You really think so?” I was almost afraid to believe it.
Toni pushed away from the table. “Okay, that’s enough for one night. I have to go.”
“Where are you off to?” I asked.
“Oh…” She waved a hand vaguely. “I have an appointment.”
“At nine o’clock at night? Sounds like a date to me.” Then I added, “And if it’s with Steven, he’s a good man and we know a good man is hard to find.”
Toni hooted. “Like Mae West said, ‘A good man may be hard to find, but a hard man is good to find.’”
“Have fun,” I called out, laughing. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” But the door had already closed. Hmm. For all her joking, Toni had not denied that her date was with her ex.
I was alone, straightening the kitchen, when I noticed Charles’s backpack still hanging from the coat hook near the back door. Without thinking, I went straight to it, unzipped it and looked inside. There, in a small plastic pouch, was a glass vial with a watery liquid and a hypodermic needle. I stood there staring at it for what felt like forever, when I heard the front door open and close. I quickly re-zipped the bag, and a second later, Charles walked in.
“Oh, there it is.” He grabbed it from the hook where I’d just put it back. “See you tomorrow,” he said and left.
I was too stunned to answer.
a scene straight out of hell
Before I had a chance to confront Charles the next day, I noticed Jake was up to something, though I had no idea what. My first inkling came after the phone rang and he made a wild dash to pick it up. This in itself was nothing strange, but the guilty glances he threw my way aroused my suspicions. All I could hear, of course, was Jake’s end of the conversation.
“Sweet,” he said, immediately lowering his voice and turning his back. I moved closer. “That’s a great idea. I love it,” he whispered. “Not a problem. She’ll never suspect a thing.” The moment Jake went into the kitchen, I checked the call display. Toni’s number. What the heck did she and Jake have to talk about in secret?
When I questioned Jake about it, all I got was a vague, “Toni just wanted to ask me something.”
“What?” I asked.
He looked at me blankly. “What, what?”
“What did Toni want to know?”
Instead of answering, he sniffed the air and exclaimed, “Something’s burning,” and he ran off to the kitchen.
An hour later, I was checking the reservations book when I was startled by the flash of a camera. “What was that for?” I asked Jake. “If I’d known you were going to take my picture, I would have made an effort to look good.”
“That just goes to show that you should always look your best,” Jake smart-mouthed back before flouncing off to the dining room, brandishing his Kodak like a trophy. “If you want me to take a better picture of you, wear makeup tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to have my picture taken,” I called after him. “Why would you want a shot of me?” But the door had already swung shut, and for the rest of the day, every time I turned around, there was Jake taking a snapshot of somebody.
“Get closer together,” he ordered the kitchen staff. Marley, Charles and Scott got into a huddle. “Closer.” The guys squeezed together. “Here, Nicky. You take this picture.” Jake handed me the camera and joined the group.
Later he snapped Toni, the staff in the kitchen, one of Kim when she dropped by, even a few more of me. Thankfully,
Toni screeched at him to stop. Then she shuffled me off to the washroom where she helped me apply some makeup. “Now you’re beautiful,” she declared before ordering Jake to take some “nice pictures of Nicky for a change.”
By the time the day was over, I still hadn’t had a talk with Charles. This was not something I could postpone forever. I would do it the next day, I decided. No excuses.
The following afternoon, I was setting out clean tablecloths when he came in.
“Charles, I need to talk to you for a second.”
“Sure,” he said, plopping his backpack on the floor and dropping into a chair. “What’s up?”
“I saw a syringe in your bag last night.” I paused, searching his face. “Charles, do you have a drug problem?”
His smile evaporated, and he stared hard at me. “What exactly were you doing, going through my stuff?” He pushed back his chair and grabbed his bag. “I do not have a drug problem,” he said, his face stormy. “I have diabetes.” And with that, he stomped into the kitchen.
I chased after him. “Charles, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have.” I paused. He was wrapping his chef’s apron around his waist, his movements brusque. “I know this is no excuse, but, what with the murder, I guess I’ve been a bit paranoid lately.”
He turned to face me, sighing. “I know. I guess maybe I should have told you when I found out. But I’d missed a few days of work from feeling weak, and I was afraid…” He shrugged.
“Forgive me?”
He nodded. At that moment, Toni burst in, her face glowing with excitement.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “You’re never here until at least three o’clock. Did I miss something?”
“No,” Toni assured me, smiling and waving a brown manila envelope. “You sounded as if you didn’t believe that you’d lost much weight. This is the proof.” She handed it to me. “That’s why I’m here early.”
Getting Skinny Page 21