Read Online A Table by the Window: A Novel of Family Secrets and Heirloom Recipes (Two Blue Doors) by Hillary Manton Lodge - Free Book Online Page A

today.”
    “Excellent. For the next installment, I was thinking about fondue.”
    “Oh, fun.” I brightened. “I’ll get right on that.”
    “You can cover how to throw a fondue party. They’re trendy again and pretty straightforward, when you think about it.”
    “Right. I’ll start working on that as soon as the crepes are turned in.”
    Marti gave me one of her awkward, overly enthusiastic thumbs-up signs—my signal that I’d been dismissed. I gathered up the cookbook and recipe cards and walked back to my desk.
    I was pleased and amazed at how I’d fought for the piece about Grand-mère. How long would Marti take to decide? My idea was solid. Sure, I had plenty to work on in the meantime.
    By the time I got back to my desk, I had formed a plan. If Marti didn’t want to do a piece with the recipes, there were other local periodical publications that would. I could write the piece and sell it as a freelance article. And if no one bought it, I would post it on my blog.
    I filled Linn in on my plan as we made a coffee run.
    “It’s a solid idea,” Linn assured me as we speed walked down the sidewalk. “Marti will pick it up.”
    “You know,” I said, “this isn’t my usual thing. I write what she tells me, eat what she tells me, and I’m good at it.”
    “You are,” Linn said. “I would tell you if you weren’t.”
    I grinned. “Thanks. Anyway, this is the first time I’ve really wanted to chase a story.”
    “Got the bug, did you?” Linn asked, as we arrived at our favorite purveyor of Stumptown coffee and ducked inside.
    “I guess,” I said, sliding into line. “But it’s more complicated than that.” I filled her in on Nico’s restaurant plans and how he’d offered me the opportunity to manage it.
    Linn’s eyes widened. “That’s big, Etta. Frank Burrows is the real deal.”
    “Sh,” I cautioned, looking around. “This isn’t public information yet.”
    “Sorry. My ma wishes I were more discreet. But you managing a restaurant—that was your thing before you came here, right?”
    “On a smaller scale, yes, but that was a long time ago.”
    “So would you leave the paper?” Linn asked, before turning to the barista. “Americano. Very hot, please.”
    “I’d have to. If I was lucky, I might have time to keep ghosting the cookbooks … Do you want to split a cinnamon roll?” When she nodded, I ordered it along with a café au lait.
    “Good call on the roll,” Linn said once she’d torn a piece off. “You can try with the ghosting, but restaurants take over your life. You know that better than anyone.”
    “Oh, I do.”
    “I like the cardamom in the rolls. Well, no matter what, we’ll still see each other. Don’t let the specter of missing me influence your decision.”
    I laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. You want to go get fondue with me next week?”
    “To research your new assignment? I’m game. I like melted cheese as much as the next girl.”
    The barista called out our drinks, and we picked them up at the end of the bar. “To melted cheese,” I said. We tapped our paper coffee cups together and laughed.

    By the time I left work that day, I had five texts from Nico, each one a differently worded version of “Have you decided about the restaurant?”
    I wished I had. And if wishes were fishes, I would have something to eat for dinner—my larder was otherwise empty.
    Faced with an echoing refrigerator and a rumbling stomach, I picked up my purse and headed back out the door.
    Garlic, onions, and herbs scented the air outside D’Alisa & Elle. I let myself in the back door, greeting servers and staff as I made my way inside. When I saw the light on in the office, I knocked on the door.
“Coucou,”
I called, poking my head inside.
“Bonjour, Maman!”
    “Ah!” Maman turned to face me, spinning her chair. “
Bonjour, ma fille
. How are you tonight?”
    “Hungry. I thought I might try to snag a dish of pasta or something.”
    “
Mais oui,