Listen To Your Heart
FERN MICHAELS
Kensington Books
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Kitty Dupré’s Favorite Recipes
Copyright Page
Notes
One
Gourmet Party magazine called the building a picture-perfect Hansel and Gretel cottage, rhapsodizing over the gingerbread trimming, the diamond-shaped windows, and the Dutch doors that looked out onto a miniature front porch, where window boxes chock-full of colorful petunias and geraniums nestled under the gleaming windows. Luscious green ferns on white braided chains hung from the porch ceiling and swayed in whatever breeze found its way to the Garden District. Neighbors and friends referred to the cottage as a cute little converted playhouse, in part owing to the small front porch and the extra room added on to the back. Twin sisters Josie and Kitty Dupré called it their place of business, also known as Dupré Catering. It was all those things by design, a design the twins had come up with to attract new customers. The test kitchen and the working kitchen were set farther back and secluded with the help of well-pruned shrubbery and huge old oak trees that dripped Spanish moss.
Bright red and black stepping-stones in the shape of ladybugs, a holdover from the twins’ childhood years, led customers from the discreet sign at the side of the driveway to the eye-pleasing cottage, where business was conducted six days a week.
Josie Dupré bent down to pick up the eight-pound snow-white Maltese and set her on the corner of the small secretary. “It’s just you and me today, Rosie. It’s Monday, so things are going to be slow. What that means is, I am going to trim and water all the plants on the porch while you sit and watch me. I’m going to tell you all about my date last night with Mark O’Brien. It’s not interesting at all. Inputting the weekend records would be more exciting. It was a dud.
“This is the way the date went. He was late, as you know. Kitty didn’t like him from the git-go. He was so dressed up I felt like a bag lady next to him. I thought we were going to a movie and out to get a bite to eat afterward. I wasn’t dressed for a fancy night out. He switched up without telling me. That tells me he’s arrogant and into himself. Another thing: he spent the entire night talking about himself. I can’t remember one thing he said. Guess I won’t be seeing him again.” Josie plucked a yellow leaf from a cluster of luscious scarlet geraniums. Rosie listened attentively as she watched her mistress.
“You know what, Rosie? I really love this little house. I didn’t think I’d be able to live here again after Mom and Dad died and Kitty twisted my arm to come back here. I miss Baton Rouge so much sometimes I want to cry. There are just too many memories here.” The little dog hopped off the porch chair to paw at Josie’s leg, a sign she wanted to be picked up and cuddled. Josie obliged.
“C’mon, let’s get some coffee. We’ll take it out to the porch so we can admire all the pretty flowers. Kitty and I used to play here when we were little. This was originally a potting shed Mom used for her flowers when she did all her gardening. Of course that was before Dad’s heart attack and before they went into the catering business. Can you imagine a young man of thirty having a heart attack? It scared Mom silly. When Kitty and I came along she talked Dad into adding a room, and it became our playhouse. We spent whole days out here. We even slept out here sometimes. After we ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches we’d spook ourselves and run into the house. Why am I telling you all this? I think it’s because Kitty is sick, and I hate it when people get sick. Sometimes when people get sick they . . . they die. It’s just a cold. People get colds all the time. In a few days Kitty will be her normal self and cooking up a storm. Things will go back to normal. I worry about everything. I think it has something to do with moving from Baton Rouge three years ago. I miss Mom and Dad. Maybe it has something to do with Kitty getting married the first of next year. I’m just rambling, Rosie. Don’t pay attention to anything I say. Here’s your baby.” Josie fished a Beanie Baby out of her pocket.
The little dog picked up the toy and trotted over to her bed on the corner of the porch. She settled the Beanie Baby between her front paws and proceeded to lick its face. It was a toy she loved and was rarely without. Tears burned Josie’s eyes at the little dog’s devotion to her cuddly toy. She should think about getting Rosie a playmate. Something that was alive and breathing. Another dog, or possibly a kitten. It was something to think about.
Not that she didn’t have enough to think about. She had plenty of things on her plate, perhaps too many things. Mardi Gras was looming, and she was booked solid for two straight weeks. Then Easter and the usual round of spring parties that led the way to Mother’s Day, the busiest time of year. This year they were going to have to hire extra help. She winced when she thought what the extra help would cost her in the way of payroll taxes. They already had four employees, two full-time and two part-time. They were going to need at least four more people to carry them through the summer months. All thanks to Gourmet Party’s center-spread article.
One article in one glossy magazine, plus their newly designed Web page, and their business had taken off like a rocket. She’d been beating the bushes for a solid year to bring in business—business that had been lost with her parents’ death—and now she was so busy she had to turn business away. Dupré Catering’s reservation book was full.
Josie saw the car turn into the driveway before Rosie growled. She heard the car door close and then she saw him: a giant of a man, in a business suit. She blinked at his easy stride, noting his dark hair pulled back slickly into a short ponytail. He stopped in midstride, looked down at the ladybug stepping-stones, then looked around, the tiny cottage directly in his line of vision. He closed his eyes and shook his head as though he were shaking off a mirage. When he realized he was still standing on the ladybug walkway and the cottage was still there, he stepped carefully on the next stone until he was at the foot of the steps leading to the porch.
Good-looking. “Can I help you?” Josie asked as Rosie yipped her way to the top of the steps and growled.
The giant looked down. “Is that a real dog?”
Great body. “Yes. Her name is Rosie. Can I help you?”
The giant placed his right foot on the bottom step. Rosie backed up and lunged. Josie flew off the chair just as a whirlwind of motion streaked up the ladybug walkway and onto the porch. She whirled and was knocked sideways as the tornado crashed into the window boxes, sending them flying through the air. Geraniums and petunias, their clumps of dirt dotted with vermiculite, scattered in all directions, littering the green porch carpet with thousands of specks of white. Rosie’s little bed sailed between the rails of the porch, the Beanie Baby flying through the air to land in front of the huge boxer bent on destroying the cottage. Josie watched in horror as the dog’s big behind slammed through the screen door. She saw her favorite coffee mug—the one with the cluster of butterflies painted on the side—crash on the front steps. The hanging ferns swung crazily as huge paws swiped at them, finally sending them out into the yard. And then, the ultimate horror, as the huge dog ripped at Rosie’s beloved Beanie Baby, causing Josie to give voice to a primal shriek. “Call off your dog, or I will let her rip out your throat!” Later she might laugh at Rosie’s vicious hold on the man’s pristine white shirt collar. “Look what you did! Stop it this minute! Bite him, Rosie! He ruined her baby! Do you see what he did! She
loves that toy. She carries it around all day and sleeps with it. It’s worn in. It can’t he replaced. Call off your damn dog this minute! I have a gun! I’ll get my gun! Give me my dog! Do you hear me? Give me my dog!”
The giant jerked his head backward. He managed to gurgle, “She’s yours—just get her the hell off me. She wants my jugular!”
“You want me to try and get past that terrorist! Not in this lifetime, mister. I’m not going to tell you a second time. Give me my dog!”
“She won’t let go!”
Overhead a wind chime in one of the trees tinkled to life as a flock of birds took wing. Josie’s arms flapped in the air as though she, too, wanted to fly away. “Call off your damn dog! That’s an order, mister. Tell him to sit! Tell him something!”
“Sit, Zip!”
“Zip?”
“He doesn’t listen too well. He’s still a puppy,” the giant managed to croak.
“A puppy! A puppy! You call that monster a puppy! He’s as big as a cow!
“You will now sit, Zip!” Josie thundered. Rosie took that moment to relax her hold on the giant’s shirt collar. Two monstrous hands reached up and grasped the little dog around the middle of her body. He held her out in front of him as she snapped and snarled. Zip raised his head and with one swipe of his paw he had the little dog free and between his teeth. He lowered her gently to the littered floor. She ran immediately to her Beanie Baby. Josie watched her as she tried to fix it with her paws, knowing something was seriously wrong. Tears stung Josie’s eyes as she dropped to the floor, oblivious to the giant and his dog Zip.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Rosie. We’ll find the beans. I’ll fix it for you. I can sew it up.”
“Look, I’m . . .”
“Sorry? Is that what you were going to say? Just get out of here. See, Rosie. I found a few. I’ll keep looking. I can sew his head back on. Ohhh, it’s going to be okay.”
“Can I . . .”
“Help? Your kind of help I don’t need.”
“I’ll pay for the damages. Just tell me how much. I’m sorry. How much do those things cost? Tell me where to get one.”
Josie swiveled around. He really was a giant. “Are you dumb or dumb and stupid? This can’t be replaced. She’s had it since she came to me at six weeks. She loves it. It was something to cuddle and cling to when she left her mother. You can’t replace something like that. Being a man, you obviously can’t be expected to understand.”
The trees rustled overhead as the wind chimes tinkled again. A small red bird settled on the railing at the far end of the porch and watched what was going on with bright eyes. Inside the telephone rang as the miniature grandfather clock chimed the hour.
“I thought I told you to leave. Don’t bother sending me a check. Just take your dog and go. Look, Rosie. I found some more beans,” Josie crooned soothingly.
“You’re still here. What part of ‘leave and take your dog with you’ didn’t you understand?”
“Because I’m a man you think I don’t understand the mother-child . . . thing.”
“I didn’t say anything about a mother and child. I was talking about my dog being taken away from her mother. I’m a person. She’s a dog.”
The boxer, his eyes dark with misery, loped over to where Rosie was trying to tug her bed from the spokes in the railing. With one bite and one tug, the little bed came free. Rosie hopped in and lay down. The boxer lowered his big head and licked at her tiny face. One giant paw pulled the bed closer to Josie.
“I guess that’s an apology from your dog,” Josie sputtered. “You need to take him for some obedience courses. You should think about taking a few lessons yourself while you’re at it.”
“You’re pretty mouthy, young lady. My dog was coming to my defense when your dog sprang at me. I told you, he’s a puppy. He’s not a year old yet. If I had known you had a dog, I would have closed the windows of the car. He didn’t get out until your dog did her trapeze act. Does the Board of Health know you have a dog on the premises where food is prepared? You need a sign saying Beware of Dog or something like that. I wasn’t expecting a dog.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Josie saw the big boxer playing with Rosie. It irritated her. She said so. “Rosie doesn’t go in the test kitchens. This is the office, not that it’s any of your business. I don’t need a dog sign. She’s never done anything like that before. She must know you’re . . . dangerous or . . . or something.”
“I guess I’ll be going . . .”
“It’s about time,” Josie snapped. “Take your dog with you. He looks like he’s settling in.”
“Are you always this nasty?” the giant asked.
“Yes,” Josie snapped again.
“Then I don’t think you’re the kind of person I want to do business with.”
Josie sat back on her haunches, her eyes on the two dogs. Rosie seemed to be enjoying the boxer’s attention. They were rubbing noses. Dog love. Was there such a thing?
“Look, you came to me. I didn’t come to you. You are certainly within your rights to do business wherever you like. I would like to remind you that it was your dog who did all this. I’m willing to chalk it up as one of those unexpected things that happen every so often. I can replace the plants and rehang the window boxes. The screen door will have to be redone. It’s cleanup, basically. With the exception of Rosie’s toy. Why don’t we just forget this happened and go on from there?”
“Fine. Come on, Zip, time to go home.”
Josie watched the big dog out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t moving, and it didn’t look like he was about to move either. Obviously the giant was of the same opinion. She did her best to hide her smile when he leaned over and picked up the huge dog, who protested mightily by howling his head off. Rosie whined and yipped as she ran after the giant and his dog. Josie ran after them, only to meet up with Kitty in the driveway.
“My God!” the giant exclaimed. “There are two of you!”
“What’s he talking about, Josie? What’s going on? Somebody tell me something.”
“Later,” Josie said, scooping up the little dog, who only wanted to get in the backseat of the car with the big dog.
Thanks to Zip’s huge paws, the horn of the Mercedes sedan blasted again and again as the giant backed the car out of the driveway. The picture of the giant and his big dog driving the fancy Mercedes would stay with Josie for a long time. She grinned as Rosie whined all the way back to the cottage.
“Don’t panic now, Kitty. I’ll clean it all up. It’s a good thing it’s Monday. What are you doing out of bed?”
“Who was that? He looks familiar. Oh, my God! What happened?”
“His dog got loose, and Rosie went for his throat—the guy, not the dog. I don’t know what he wanted, and I don’t even know what his name was . . . is. Go back to bed, and I’ll clean this up. The dog got Rosie’s Beanie Baby. I have to find the beans. Maybe I can sew it up. I don’t even want to think about tonight if she doesn’t have it to sleep with. By the way, what are you doing out of bed?”
“When you didn’t pick up the phone in the cottage, I answered it in the house. It was Mrs. Lobelia. She wants to know if she can come over to talk to you this afternoon. Something about that big party she’s planning for Mother’s Day. I told her yes since we have nothing scheduled for today. Older people like to do things right away. They don’t like to wait around. Okay, okay, I’m going back inside.”
Josie stared at her twin. It was the same as staring at herself in the mirror. They had the same dark brown eyes, the same dimples, the same jawline, and identical noses. Their hair was brown and curly, with no options for style, and it left little for people to tell them apart. Even the giant had recognized that they were identical.
Kitty had been her best friend from the moment their mother had placed them together in the same crib. It was them against the world, or so it had seemed at the time. Two voices were always better as well as louder. At least they got to be heard. They had played
all the standard twin tricks, and for a time in their teens they were able to fool their parents a time or two.
Kitty was the serious, stable one. Kitty was the one who thought things through and always came up with the right answer, and it was Kitty who loved to cook. Unlike Josie, who couldn’t boil water. Josie was what Kitty called a loose cannon, flying off the handle, plowing ahead and reading directions after she broke whatever it was she was trying to put together. She had a head for business, unlike Kitty, who said it bored her to tears. They were a natural, as Kitty put it, to take over their parents’ catering firm. She would do the cooking, and Josie would handle the business end of it. Now, three years later, their books were solidly in the black. “The American dream,” Kitty had said back in Baton Rouge when she wanted Josie to agree to take over the business. “We answer to no one but ourselves. We give ourselves the best health insurance, the best pension plan, and we don’t have to worry about anyone downsizing or snatching it away from us.” Josie had agreed because it made sense. She liked being her own boss. She’d hated the bank she worked in just the way Kitty hated the insurance company she worked for.
She loved N’awlins, or the Big Easy, as people called the city. She adored the Garden District, with its wonderful old homes like their own, as well as the exciting French Quarter. When she missed Baton Rouge, the city where she and Kitty first achieved their independence, she hopped in the car and drove there, sometimes at a moment’s notice. As Kitty said, the past was prologue. N’awlins was her home again just the way it had been her home growing up.
“Get to bed,” she ordered her sister. “I’ll meet with Mrs. Lobelia, but first I have to clean up the porch and see about fixing Rosie’s baby.”
“Why don’t you go to the store, buy another Beanie Baby, take out the beans, and sew it up again? I’ll take Rosie in the house with me so she won’t see you doing it.”
“That’s a thought, but only if I can’t find the beans. I want to fix it for her just the way it was. I’ll be in to fix lunch in a little while.”
Listen To Your Heart Page 1
