Goldie looked at the Juneau Jump Rope Team calendar on the back wall and felt a lump of resentment building in her throat. If Chili was leaving on Thursday and the Gourmet thing was at the end of October that meant Chili would be gone more than a month.
It would be tempting to call her sister back and give Godiva a piece of her mind, but she knew it would do no good.
CHAPTER 3
“Ah, lovely. Being syndicated does have its advantages,” Godiva said as she led Chili to the two front row seats with placards that read RESERVED FOR PRESS. She dusted off the seat and sat down, careful not to put creases in her emerald green Armani dress.
Chili plunked down next to her. Godiva looked at her niece and felt a tiny twinge of guilt for dumping three sacks of mail on her last night when she had offered to help. Even though the girl had worked until midnight she radiated excitement and vitality.
“Wow, Auntie. I still can’t believe I’m actually here! Just look at this place.” The seats were packed. Women outnumbered the men four to one.
“I must admit, sweetheart, I’ve never really seen the show.” Godiva reached under her seat for her VIP gift basket and pulled out an 8x10 glossy photo of Chef Caesar Romano. Perfect white teeth sparkled in a gleaming Hollywood smile. Steely blue eyes twinkled in his bronzed face. The wavy black hair touched with silver, and full moustache, added to his Latin good looks. “But I’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.” She looked at Chili and smiled. “He really is sexy.”
The crowd exploded with applause. Godiva lifted her eyes from the photo to watch the real item strutting across the stage, waving and blowing kisses to the audience. He bobbed his head toward Chili and Godiva’s section, then turned and bowed to the far side of the room. Godiva admired the way his tailored chef’s jacket showed off his physique.
Her mind drifted back to the racecar driver who had romanced her during the Gran Prix a few years ago and then looked at Romano again.
Damn, that is one handsome man! He’s actually better looking than Juan Carlo.
Chili tugged at her sleeve and Godiva snapped back to the present. “Candy’s not here,” Chili whispered in Godiva’s ear. “The rumors must be true.”
“Who’s Candy?”
“His assistant.”
Then Godiva remembered seeing something in last week’s gossip columns. Candy Vanderloop, the air-headed blonde who normally handed him spoons and ladles, had walked out on him without notice. Word was out that she had signed on with Romano’s rival, Biff Wellington.
On cue, the room filled with applause as Chef Romano rolled up his sleeves. He romanced every woman in the audience as he simmered his sauce and sautéed his shrimp, constantly looking to his right or left as if expecting an assistant to hand him something.
“He needs a sous-chef,” said Chili. “See how he keeps looking for Candy?”
After presenting his savory
Scampi àl Fungi de Bosco
, Romano picked out a lanky, bald fellow sporting an African tunic to join him in the kitchen and sample the succulent shrimp with forest mushrooms. Next he brought up a chubby woman in a Hawaiian muumuu. Godiva leaned toward her niece whispering, “Oh my God, look at the outlandish red and green parrots on that woman’s dress.”
“I don’t know, Auntie. I kind of like them. Grandma Belle has a dress just like that.”
Before Godiva could answer, Romano said, “And the lovely lady in the emerald green dress, won’t you join us in the kitchen?” She turned from Chili, and saw that he was pointing at her.
As Godiva stood and smoothed her skirt, she heard whispers behind her.
“Look, Hazel. That lady in the green dress is G.O.D. You know,
Ask G.O.D.—
the new column in the
Times
.”
The camera zoomed in on the man in the African tunic smacking his lips with delight. The lady in the colorful muumuu wiped a dab of caramel-colored sauce from her chin. Godiva gobbled up the heavenly scampi and boldly asked for another serving.
She cleaned her plate and batted her lashes. “Chef Romano, you can cook in my kitchen anytime.” Romano smiled, raised an eyebrow and the camera cut to a commercial.
As the show came to a close, Romano stared in horror when the man in the African tunic grabbed his stomach and fell to the floor in a slow motion break dance. A plate of scampi and mushrooms crashed beside him and the large woman in the bright muumuu collapsed on top of it.
A drenching cold sweat slicked over Godiva’s skin. She panicked as her stomach cramped in painful knots. The room swam before her eyes. The pounding in her head was more than she could bear. Her last conscious thought as she sank to the floor, landing face down in a puddle of mushroom sauce, was that the studio’s lush burgundy carpeting didn’t feel as luxurious as it looked.
CHAPTER 4
Goldie’s Silver Spoon Antique Shoppe, housed in a quaint building on Juneau’s South Franklin Street, was a far cry from the legendary cathouse that flourished there in the 1920s. The only “cat” currently in residence was a huge black Persian sitting absolutely motionless on a Hepplewhite footstool in the front window.
Startled by shrill voices, Goldie Silver glanced up from her ledger book to see two old women dressed in red hats and matching purple jogging suits with cruise ship ID badges pinned to their ample chests.
“How much is that stuffed cat in the window?”
“Stuffed cat? Oh, you must mean Midnight. The only thing he’s stuffed with is chicken livers and king salmon scraps.”
The lady with wispy red hair wagged her finger at her blue-haired friend. “Y’see Gladys, I told ya I saw its eyes move.”
“Humph!” Gladys steered her friend back out the door.
As she watched the purple rumps disappear down the street, beads of perspiration broke out on Goldie’s forehead. The image of her twin sister flashed before her eyes and she had the unmistakable feeling that something was terribly wrong with Godiva.
“Rudy!” she called to the back of the shop. “Get your butt out here, I need you. Something’s wrong. I’ve got to call my sister.”
A balding beanpole in his mid-sixties came flying out of the back room with shirtsleeves rolled up, pink fluorescent bowtie askew and red suspenders holding up his perfectly creased trousers.
“Okay, Goldie, keep yer bloomers on, I’m here.” He took his place at the counter and immediately began fiddling with an antique gold scale. “Goldanged woman! A man can’t finish a delicate project without her high-falutin’ sister sending flippin’ ESP messages! Why can’t that woman wait ’til after hours to get a hair up her caboose?”
From the other side of the shop a voice boomed, “Y’all take U.S. money here?” The man’s “Everything’s Bigger In Texas” tee shirt barely covered his beer belly.
Goldie started toward the back of the shop as Rudy spun around and growled at the customer, “In case you haven’t heard, Pardner, we became a state in ’59. That means we take
Texas
money, too.”
Goldie slipped behind a tasseled velvet curtain and reached for her private phone just as it began to ring. She expected it to be Godiva, but instead it was a frantic Chili. “Oh, Mom, it’s awful,” she sobbed, “Aunt Godiva’s in the hospital...she almost died...the show...the shrimp...they pumped her stomach...Grandma Flossie’s freaking out...”
Goldie jumped in before Chili finished her sentence, “Calm down, honey. Give me the whole story.”
She listened for a moment and then said, “I’ll catch the next plane out.”
CHAPTER 5
Goldie jumped out of the cab and ran through the main entrance to Cedars-Sinai Hospital, her rolling suitcase bumping along behind her. As soon as the elevator opened at the fifth floor, she made a beeline for the nurse’s station, where a large woman in a pastel smock intercepted her.
“Hold it right there, Lady Godiva. What do you think you’re doing wandering around here like that? This morning you looked like Great Gatsby’s Ghost. Just because you put on a little makeup doesn’t mean you get to go home.”
She took Goldie by the shoulders and turned her around, “You’re going right back to bed, Missy. You may call yourself G.O.D., but according to this chart,” she tapped her clipboard, “G.O.D. stays in bed today! You had a close call, you know. Now give me that suitcase!”
Goldie faced the harried nurse, and glanced at her nametag. “Sorry, Nurse Brady, you obviously think I’m Godiva.” She tightened her grip on the suitcase. “But you’re wrong. I happen to be her twin sister from Alaska! See, I came right from the airport.”
Nurse Brady grasped Goldie’s elbow with a no-nonsense iron grip and steered her down the hall. “Good try, Miss High and Mighty, but you
do
have to stay in bed and that
is
final. Now let’s go back to your room, shall we? I’ll take the valise for you.” They pushed through the door of a private room, and the suitcase fell on its side with a plop. The plump nurse’s jaw dropped open, quadrupling her chins, as she took in the sight of Godiva in a saffron yellow silk bed jacket propped up against two pillows, a steaming mug of tea cradled in her hands.
“Well, I’ll be darned.” Nurse Brady raised her eyebrows as she released Goldie’s arm. Staring from one twin to the other for a moment, she backed out of the room muttering an apology.
Godiva grinned, “God! Am I happy to see you!”
Goldie approached the bed and enveloped her sister in a fierce hug.
“Hey, what about the other people on the show? Were they as sick as you?”
“Well, I was making such a pig of myself I probably got the worst of it. There we were, tasting what should have been shrimp from heaven and instead we almost wound up at the Pearly Gates!”
“Bummer! They might not have let you in...”
Godiva made a face. “Seriously, we were all in pretty bad shape. The other lady was writhing around on the floor like a beached whale while this guy in an African shirt hopped up and down like a frog on fire. But worse than that, my beautiful new Armani dress is a total loss.
That sauce will never come out.”
“You and those other people almost died and all you can think about is your dress?”
Godiva gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders. “It
was
an Armani.”
“Well, gee, I see you’ve got your priorities straight.”
Godiva ignored her. “Anyway, the last thing I remember was Chef Romano shouting that corny line, ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ over and over again. Then this horrible cold, clammy feeling washed over me and the next thing I knew I was here at Cedars, they were pumping my stomach and I was watching yellowish, greenish gunk come out of me.”
“Yuck! How horrible! Was it the shrimp?”
“No. Poisonous mushrooms. That’s what the toxicology reports showed. Imagine that. The great Caesar Romano serving deadly mushrooms. I could kill him in print if I was that sort of person, you know. I have the power of the press behind me. After all, I
am
syndicated!”
“Godiva, you wouldn’t! The important thing is that you’re okay. Seeing you behave like a spoiled bitch is such a relief. I can see you’re almost back to normal. Where’s Chili?”
“Down in the coffee shop. Poor kid’s a nervous wreck.” She managed a knowing wink. “My ordeal wasn’t even close to what Chili’s been going through trying to manage her grandmother. You know what Mom is like, doing my charts, reading the cards...She keeps telling Chili about the harbingers of doom while she deals the deck again. My God. Last night she was even planning a séance so she could communicate with me just in case I died.”
Goldie nodded, understanding only too well. “I guess that’s what happens when astrology meets a hand-wringing Jewish mother. So, where’s Mom now?”
“Bless Uncle Sterling. When he brought me these letters and things, he maneuvered her out of here and drove her home.”
“I’d better find poor Chili and give the kid a hug. Have fun with your mail, G.O.D.”
Goldie hurried toward the bank of elevators across from the nurses’ station. Amazing! Less than eighteen hours ago she dropped everything, left Rudy in charge of the shop, fought for a reservation on the next available Alaska Airlines flight, and here it was just past noon and she was two thousand miles from home.
Lost in thought, Goldie almost bumped into the handsome man as he rounded the corner. He stopped short. A smile played around his lips, causing his neat salt and pepper mustache to wiggle. “My dear lady, I’m so glad to see you up and around. Thank goodness you recovered so quickly. I didn’t think they would release you yet.”
Looking a bit embarrassed, he held out a dazzling bouquet of yellow roses and purple iris.
“Here, these are for you. Of course Food Broadcasting will compensate you, but I wanted to personally offer my apology for this terrible thing and bring a little something to cheer you up.” His moustache bobbed around like a wooly caterpillar.
Goldie cocked her head to the side. “What in the world are you talking about?” She started to push past him.
“Wait, I can explain.” The man looked panicked.
Goldie felt the light bulb click on. “Are you by any chance that chef, Caesar Romano?”
His eyes widened with disbelief, “Surely you know I’m Romano!” With a grand flourish he touched his chest.
Goldie could picture the imaginary headlines.
Romano Almost Serves G.O.D. Her Last Supper.
No question about it. Godiva could definitely ruin him.
As the elevator doors parted, Chili hurried out, nearly colliding with her mother and her idol who were now standing in the middle of the hall staring at each other. She ran over to Goldie and hugged her. “Mom, I’m so glad you’re here. Have you seen Aunt Godiva yet?”
“I just came from her room, darling. I was on my way down to find you.” Goldie turned to the confused chef and extended her hand. “By the way, Chef Romano, I’m Goldie Silver. It was my twin sister you almost killed.”
CHAPTER 6
Godiva shifted around in the cranked up hospital bed, trying to focus on Goldie and Chili. Then she stared at the man with them, finally realizing it was Romano. Doing her best to look fragile, Godiva managed a weak smile and played it for all it was worth.