Read Online A Killer Retreat by Tracy Weber - Free Book Online

behind, “you look gorgeous, like always.”
    He lied.
    Rene looked awful. Even worse than she had earlier. A volcano-sized pimple had erupted on her normally flawless chin. Her watery eyes were laced with a web-like network of red lines. Her face was swollen and blotchy. If I hadn’t been with her for the past four hours, I’d have sworn that she’d spent the day crying.
    Rene’s eyes pleaded with me to agree. “Kate, do I really look OK?”
    I paused, searching for something—anything—truthful to say that wouldn’t hurt my friend’s feelings. I considered fibbing, but lying would go against satya—yoga’s principle of truthfulness. Besides in this case, it would be useless. Rene could read me like a country fair psychic. What could I say that would be honest, but kind? Somehow I didn’t think assuring her that she looked ten years younger with acne would make her feel better.
    A bouncing fur ball solved my dilemma. Bandit jumped up and down at the top of the stairs, barking at full volume. He was restrained, for a change, by a rhinestone-studded leash.
    â€œWell, aren’t you a cutie pie?” Rene leaned down to pet him.
    I snatched her hand away. “Don’t encourage him.” I whispered in her ear so Michael wouldn’t hear me. “The Beach Witch is here.”
    â€œBeach Witch?” Rene asked.
    I filled her in on the story as we entered the buzzing restaurant.
    An amazing mixture of scents floated into my nostrils and made my mouth water. Spicy arugula, garlic, tomatoes, and a smell that— if I weren’t in a vegan restaurant—I would have sworn was melting cheese. Photographs of freshly harvested produce and rescued farm animals decorated the walls, creating a collage of bright red tomatoes, dark purple grapes, deep green chard, and black-spotted piglets. The goats I’d seen mowing the upper pasture adorned the spot above our table. A gray-bearded, hugely smiling man knelt among them, hugging a goat under each arm. The sign attached to the photo read, “Nubian goats provided by Dale’s Goat Rescue.”
    The hostess filled our water glasses and handed us each a one-page paper menu labeled in bold black letters: “Welcome to Eden. Gourmet dining that respects the value of all life.” Below the title, several paragraphs described the restaurant’s philosophy.
    Eden only served food that was one hundred percent vegan (no eggs, dairy, or animal products of any kind), organic, and freshly prepared. Breads and pastries were baked on site daily. Many of the fruits and vegetables served were grown in the center’s garden and harvested mere minutes before preparation. The rest were delivered fresh each morning by local farmers.
    My stomach rumbled as I imagined the possibilities. Eating out as a vegetarian could sometimes be limiting, even with Seattle’s large vegetarian population. Most restaurants had at least one or two meatless dishes to choose from. But a pure vegan menu from which I could order anything I wanted? That was something special. I flipped the page over, wondering how I’d choose between all of the delicious-sounding options.
    There weren’t any. Options, that is. Eden offered the ultimate in freshness, not variety. All meals were prixe fixe —French for lots and lots of expensive food. Each course was created based on the ingredients available that day. Tonight’s dinner: Penne Arrabiatta with fresh vegan Romano. I laid down my menu with a satisfied smile. I could live with that.
    While Michael, Sam, and Rene finished perusing their menus, I glanced around the room. The limited menu certainly didn’t seem to be hurting Eden’s business. The space was completely packed with satisfied-looking diners. Not a single table was available.
    My eyes stopped at the windows, captivated by the train wreck in front of me. OK, so it wasn’t a train wreck, at least at