The Perfect Dish (12 page)

* * *

“Tell me all about it,” Viv said.

Meredith sighed into the phone. “It was just dinner.”

“So you ate at the bar?”

“Not exactly.” Meredith knew what Viv was after but enjoyed making her work for it.

“You slept with him?” Viv’s voice went up a happy octave.

“No! For heaven’s sake, is that all you think about?”

“Sex, shoes and socializing. That’s my life in a nutshell.”

“You ought to be in nutshell.” Meredith set down the pages she’d been editing. Talking to Viv took all her concentration.

“Why don’t you meet us for lunch at Market? I’m sure the girls would like to hear this too.”

“I can’t, I have work to do. Jason’s coming home this weekend.”

“That’s wonderful! What time does his flight get in?”

“Around seven.”
And then I have a date.

“That’s perfect. Tell him if he comes to brunch on Sunday, I’ll have Marcus take him to the airport in the limo. That way we can ooh and aah over him and he gets to arrive in style.”

Meredith could almost hear Viv smiling. The woman was too clever for her own good. “He might actually go for that.”

“Of course he will. Now then, the reservations at Market are for 12:30.”

“I just said I can’t,” Meredith reminded her.

“Don’t be silly. Your editor will understand if her best-selling author is a little late. Those deadlines aren’t really firm anyway, they just use them for incentive.”

Meredith rolled her eyes. Viv might be a genius when it came to fundraising but the woman knew nothing about publishing. “Really, I can’t—“

“See you there,” Viv interrupted.

The line went dead. With an exasperated sigh, Meredith hung up the phone and went to change. She’d yet to slip her shoes on when the phone rang again. Undoubtedly Viv calling to make sure she was coming. She snatched the receiver.

“Settle down, will you? I’m on my way.”

“To an appointment with a spin doctor I hope. Meredith, this is getting out of control.” Jillian sounded more tense than usual.

“Hello, Jillian. What’s getting out of control?” Meredith bit her lip.

“The press on that all-men-should-die blog rant you posted.”

“I never said all men should die.” That was patently incorrect.

“You might as well have.
Psychology Today
got a hold of the post—someone must have screen-captured it before you deleted it, you know anything you put on the internet is there forever—and they’ve printed it as part of an article titled ‘When Good Doctors Go Bad’. Let’s just say you’re number one on their hit list.”

Meredith’s fingers went numb. “What? Can they do that?”

“They’ve attributed you so it seems on the up and up. I’m looking into the possibility of suing.”

“Suing?” Meredith swallowed. “Wouldn’t that make a bigger mess out of this?”

“You have a better idea?” Jillian sighed. “I’m sorry but at this point it might be better to cut your losses and run.”

“What about the book I’m working on? Maybe we can get some press for that, show I haven’t lost my compassion.” Her book for children,
Healing The Hurt
, would let people see her heart was in the right place.

There was silence for a moment. “I take it you haven’t talked to Phillip.”

The numbness crept into Meredith’s chest. “Why?”

“It’s not my place—”

“Just tell me.”

“I’m sure he’s trying to negotiate something, but word is that contract’s a no-go.” Jillian softly cleared her throat. “I’m sure Phillip will work something out.”

It was Meredith’s turn to be silent. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. The children’s book was important. “I have to go.” She choked the words out, desperate to hang up.

“Wait.” Jillian’s plea made Meredith pause. “I know that book means a lot to you. Are you sure you’re not willing to take some more public action to resolve this?”

“I...I don’t know.” Meredith closed her eyes. “I’ll think about it.” There was no reason not to go to lunch now, was there?

* * *

When Meredith got to the restaurant, Viv and Celia were already seated. Viv’s eyes lit up. “You came!”

“Not like I had anything better to do.” She shot Viv a dirty look. “You basically forced me into coming.” Better they think that than she have to explain the conversation she’d just had with Jillian.

“You’re a grown woman, darling. No one forces you to do anything.” Viv smiled. “Now sit down like a good girl and tell us all about Chef Spicer and what he looks like naked.”

Celia squealed and clapped a hand over her mouth. She removed it to whisper, “You didn’t.”

“No,” Meredith said, her voice stony. “I didn’t.” She tsked at Viv. “You’re a bad egg, Vivian.”

“I’ll be sure to add that to my résumé.”

Celia looked disappointed. “But you did have dinner with him, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Meredith said.

“Do tell,” Celia pleaded. “And Viv, hush. Let her have her say.”

Viv sipped a glass of white wine and stayed quiet.

“So,” Celia said. “How was it?”

“It was...” Meredith searched for the words. “Nicer than I expected.” Much nicer.

“Details, please.” Celia smiled sweetly.

“You’re spending too much time with Viv,” Meredith told her.

“Inquiring minds want to know, lovey.” Viv smoothed the napkin on her lap. “Be a dear and tell us everything, won’t you?”

Meredith held up her hands. “I know when I’m beat.” Not to mention, Kelly was a wonderful distraction from the sudden downward spiral her life was on. She spent the rest of lunch answering questions and giving them details on everything from the beautiful white table setting to Kelly’s momentary jealousy over Jason’s phone call to the decadent vanilla rum cake Kelly had served for dessert. The breezy chatter was a welcome change from the depressing news she’d received earlier.

Viv wiped her mouth then tucked her napkin under the edge of her gold-rimmed plate. “What are you going to tell Jason?”

“Nothing for right now. There’s nothing to tell, really.” Meredith finished the last spoonful of leek bisque. “He doesn’t need to know. That means keep your mouths shut at brunch.”

Celia stuck her bottom lip out. “What will we talk about then?”

“Well,” Meredith answered, “I’m pretty sure he’s dating someone seriously but he won’t tell me. Feel free to interrogate him to the best of your abilities.” That ought to refocus their energy.

Viv’s eyes brightened. “Do you think there’s an engagement eminent? Oh, I haven’t planned a wedding in ages.” She clutched her throat, twining a finger in her pearls, as though the prospect might overwhelm her with happiness.

“Whoa! Just a minute now.” Meredith held up her hands. “Let’s not get crazy. He’s much too young to get engaged. Not until he finishes school. He knows that.”

“Relax, mommy dearest,” Viv teased. “Jason’s got a good head on his shoulders. He won’t do anything rash.”

Meredith searched for a way to derail the current topic. “We should go see a show. We haven’t been to a show in ages.” She tapped her fist on the table. “We should go this Saturday night, maybe see that new one with Kristin Chenoweth. I’m sure Jason will be out with his NYU friends.

“Sounds like fun. It’s not like I have a date.” Celia smiled a little too big.

Viv shook her head. “It’s a marvelous idea, but not on Saturday. That’s the Bryson-Louis Alzheimer’s Benefit Dinner. Let’s do a matinee on Sunday after brunch. I’ll call Jack and have his secretary get us tickets.”

Celia shrugged. “Sunday works for me.” She looked at Meredith. “Matinee all right with you?”

“Not exactly.”

Viv’s brows rose. “Because?”

“I have a...meeting.” Not quite a lie.

“A meeting? With your editor, perhaps?” Viv suggested.

At the word, Meredith laughed bitterly. “I think the days of meetings with my editor may be over.”

“What?” Celia’s eyes widened. Viv’s brows shot up. Celia shook her head, her blonde shag danced at her cheekbones. “What happened?”

Reluctantly, Meredith summarized the whole sorted mess. With each detail, a sense of relief grew in her. Perhaps misery really did love company.

Viv pulled her napkin from beneath the edge of her plate and laid it over the top. “I think the answer is obvious.”

The look on Celia face said she agreed.

“No.” Meredith shook her head, already knowing where Viv was going. “I can’t. That would be using him.”

“He’s not interested in marriage, you said so yourself,” Celia said.

Viv tilted her head in thought. “Sounds like the perfect man for the job.”

Meredith balled up her napkin. “It’s not a job, it’s a scam. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

The tiniest of smiles tipped the corners of Viv’s mouth. “It’s not a scam. It’s what would happen anyway in the scheme of things. His picture is in the paper every week with a different girl.” She leaned forward, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “The hard part is keeping him interested longer than a week.”

Meredith smirked. “Don’t try to use reverse psychology on me. I know you want me to rise to the gauntlet you’ve just thrown but forget it. It’s not happening.”

Viv searched aimlessly through her Chanel clutch, a distraction tactic Meredith knew well. “Wasn’t a portion of the proceeds from that children’s book to go toward a new pediatric grief counseling center at Sinai? You wouldn’t want that deal to disappear, now would you?”

The numbness settled around Meredith’s heart. “You don’t play fair.”

Viv’s smile blossomed into one full of sympathy and friendship. “Neither does life, my dear. You of all people should know that.”

Celia reached over to squeeze Meredith’s hand. “I know how much that book means to you. This really does seem like a fab opportunity to make things right, don’t you think?”

Offering a little nod, Meredith conceded. “Unfortunately, it does. I’ll give it some thought, that’s all I’ll say.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better run. I’ll see you all Sunday for brunch.”

She said her goodbyes, excused herself and grabbed a cab. On the ride home, the sucking sound of her career’s descent blocked out the Latino dance music pouring from the cabbie’s radio. Maybe her friends were right. Kelly wasn’t looking for anything serious and neither was she. He was already a known quantity to the local paparazzi. He wasn’t hard to spend time with, either.

Therein lay the problem. Spending time led to familiarity and familiarity could lead to...intimacy. Or worse. She shook her head. She would not fall in love again. Those days were over. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it, wouldn’t let it happen. The city passed by in a slow blur.

Lying to yourself was no way to live.

* * *

After an early morning at the fish market and a quick workout, Kelly sat in his office trying to get a jump on the day’s paperwork, but his mind kept wandering. To Mery.

Unable to think of a reason not to, he grabbed the phone and dialed. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

She sounded slightly breathless. Kelly shifted in his chair. “Hey, gorgeous. It’s Kelly.”

“Oh, hi. I saw the caller ID and thought it was Shelby. I told her she could call me any time. Can I call you back?”

“Yeah, sure.” Shelby could call any time but he couldn’t? So much for being missed. Or even thought of.

“Okay, thanks, bye.” She hung up.

Kelly stared at the receiver in disbelief. He felt like the cheese had just fallen off his cracker. Women were so damn hard to figure out. He hung up and sat there for a moment wondering what to do. Should he send more flowers? That might seem desperate. Besides, he’d done that already. No point in sending chocolates when the only ones he wanted her eating were the ones he made. He rapped his fingers on the desk trying to think, but the clock’s ticking drove him nuts.

He went downstairs and found Shelby in the bar, files and stacks of receipts surrounding her. Paper curled out of her adding machine and onto the floor. “You busy?”

“What’s it look like, I’m on vacation?” she snapped without glancing up.

“You’re about as sweet as an outhouse breeze this morning. You still mad at me about those chocolates?” He turned a chair around and straddled it at her table.

“No, sorry.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m in Stage Three and it’s making me cranky.”

“Stage three of what? Being ornery?” What was wrong with the women in his life? They were all losing it.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “No, you goof. Dr. Black’s book. Stage Three is where you re-adjust to your environment without the person you lost.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what else to say but seeing her smile made him feel better. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah, make some coffee, would you?” She tipped her cup to look inside. “I just finished the last pot.”

“Sure thing.” He got up and went behind the bar to brew a new one. “I need some advice.”

Her brows shot up. “On what, being sad and pitiful?”

He refused to answer that. “I need some advice on women.”

“You? From me? Are you feeling all right?” She looked at him like he’d sprouted a set of horns.

“Who else can I ask?” He dumped a bag of coffee in and added water.

“Thanks. That makes me feel special.” She stuck her tongue out through a smile.

“C’mon now, you know what I mean.” He flipped the switch on the coffee pot and came back to sit beside her. “I think I’m outa my league on this one.”

Her pencil stopped mid-scribble. “Who is this miracle worker?”

He swallowed and picked up a spare pencil. He bounced it against the table on its eraser. “Mery.”

“Mery?” She looked at him curiously. “Mery who?”

“You um, you don’t know her.” Great. Now he was lying to Shelby. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Actually, you do know her.”

“So? Who is she?”

He cleared his throat. “Dr. Black.”

Her jaw went slack. “What are you, crazy? There’s no way she’ll go out with you. She’s way out of your league. Plus, she’s not a bimbo.”

“That’s a nice thing to say about your brother.” He couldn’t help but smile. “For your information, she already has gone out with me. And we’re supposed to go out again on Sunday.”