Page 43 of The Fragile Truth
“Something smells divine,” Lizette chirped as she and Madeline bounded over to the kitchen island. Madeline went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Perrier. She tossed one to Lizette. As Lizette twisted off the metal cap, her striking-green eyes sparkled with interest. “You must be the chef extraordinaire that Madeline has been raving about.”
“Thanks,” Sadie murmured, surprised. One thing she was fast learning about Madeline Chasing was that the woman didn’t go around doling out compliments.
Lizette moved over the manicotti, studying it with a critical eye. “What is it?”
“Spinach Manicotti,” Sadie answered. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, noting that Madeline was home earlier today than she had been the rest of the week. “The salad is ready. I can put the garlic spread on the bread so that you can pop it in the oven just before you’re ready to eat. I can put aluminum foil over the manicotti and stick it back in the oven on low, so it will stay warm.”
“Aren’t you just a regular Martha Stewart,” Lizette cooed.
Sadie bristled at the patronizing tone, deciding on the spot that she wasn’t a fan of Lizette Laramie. The woman struck Sadie as pampered and privileged. The kind of woman who tried to make herself feel more important by taking potshots at others.
“Cut it out, Liz,” Madeline admonished. She looked at Sadie. “She’s just peeved because I won’t share you with her.”
Sadie felt her eyes widen. “Oh.” Ordinarily, she would’ve been flattered that her cooking skills were highly sought after. Now, however, her job as a personal chef was secondary to her mission. She needed to put aside her first impression of Lizette and remember that the Laramies were next on her list to investigate. Or maybe not. If Banks were the culprit, then the case would be solved. Sadie was developing a grudging respect for Madeline Chasing. She sensed that Madeline was a good person and wouldn’t relish the idea of learning that her husband was a thief and possibly a murderer. Sadie liked Talon also. For his family’s sake, Sadie hoped that Banks was innocent.
“Why won’t you share your chef?” Lizette sniffed.
“It’s not that I don’t want to share,” Madeline countered. “It’s just that Sadie is too busy cooking for me to concern herself with anyone else right now.”
Lizette’s eyes flashed with envy as she thrust out her lower lip. “That’s too bad,” she purred. Her expression brightened. “Didn’t you say that Sadie works for you on weekdays?”
“Yes,” Madeline answered warily, glancing at Sadie.
“She could come to my house on the weekends.”
It was comical and annoying how Lizette was speaking of Sadie as though she weren’t there. “Don’t I get a say in this?” Sadie joked. Going to the Laramie’s house on weekends would be a great opportunity to investigate them, but she couldn’t appear too eager.
Color seeped into Lizette’s cheeks. “Of course,” she soothed.
Madeline opened her water and took a long drink.
Lizette pulled out a barstool and plopped down on it. “I have an idea. Next Saturday is Wesley’s birthday.” She looked at Sadie. “You should come to my house and prepare dinner. Wesley is my son,” Lizette explained.
“I could do that,” Sadie answered carefully, looking to Madeline for approval.
Madeline frowned. “Sorry, that won’t work. Sadie is preparing dinner for Banks and me next Saturday.” She threw Lizette an apologetic grin.
“But I thought she didn’t work weekends for you.”
“This is an isolated event.”
“Party pooper,” Lizette pouted. She gave Madeline a pleading look. “Come on, Mad, you have to make some concession here.”
Madeline arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have to do anything.” A benevolent smile curved her lips. “But for you, I will. We’ll have Wesley’s birthday party here. Sadie can cook for all of us.”
Lizette brought her hands together. “Splendid,” she squealed.
Sadie knew how this worked. The rich enjoyed outdoing one another. She was the latest and greatest shiny object. While Sadie would have liked to have gone to the Laramie’s home, at least she would be able to observe them. Also, Wesley was coming. Now she didn’t have to try and think up a way to rub shoulders with him.
“When does Sylvia get back from her European cruise?” Madeline asked as she pulled out a barstool and sat down beside Lizette.
“Two weeks from today,” Lizette answered.
The corners of Madeline’s lips drooped in concern. “How’s she doing?”
“Okay.” Lizette exhaled a long sigh. “Her heart is broken, but she’ll survive. If only Talon had felt the same way about her as she did him.”
Madeline gave her friend a sympathetic look. “Heaven knows we tried hard to get the two of them together, but the heart has a mind of its own.”