Read Online No easy way out by Elaine Raco Chase - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elaine Raco Chase
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didn't think you had it in you,
Julia Child."
"I don't." Virginia reappeared, her pot holdered hands bearing
two obvious TV dinners. "I let those scientists, chemists, and
nutritionists in the frozen-food industry be creative for me." She
placed an aluminum-foil-covered tray on each flowered place
mat.
"What about the antipasto?" Diane looked inquiringly at the
individual wooden salad bowls filled with colorful vegetables
glistening with oil, vinegar, and herb dressing.
"The Italian deli on the corner," she returned matter-of-factly,
shaking her hands free from the oven mitts. Virginia reached for
the bottle of rose and intently studied the label with the
vengeance of a connoisseur. "Napa Valley. A week ago Thursday.
Perfect!" She twisted off the cap and poured.
Laughter erupted from both women, filling the room with joyous
camaraderie. Stubbing out her cigarette, Diane grinned up at
Virginia. "I don't know why I expected anything different. As I
recall, you got suspended from home ec for setting fires in the
ovens."
"That was the only thing I never did deliberately." Virginia's
mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "I really missed not having a
mother to teach me to cook and sew. I hoped home ec would do the
job, but somehow I don't think it would have helped. I easily
accomplish the most difficult scientific problems, but cooking,
baking, and general housekeeping elude me." Her blue eyes rolled
toward the ceiling. "Thank heaven for housekeepers, laundry
services, and processed foods. For me the best cookbook is the
yellow pages, and the handiest kitchen appliance is the
telephone."
The laughter faded from Diane's face. She picked up the crystal
wineglass and stared somberly into the shimmering pink liquid. "It
must have been rough on you. When you have parents and a family you
tend to take them for granted. Sometimes you even think you'd be
better off without all their nagging and interference. But when you
don't have them..." Her voice trailed off.
"When you don't have them, you learn to compensate," Virginia
finished in an even tone. "It does color your attitude on life.
Little stains that are embedded forever. It changes the way you
think, the way you feel, the way you relate."
She cleared her throat and pushed the memories from her mind. "I
made a promise to myself that we were not going to be serious
tonight." Virginia smiled at her friend. "You want me to be lively
and bright and witty, so you are the one I'm going to practice
on."
Diane lifted her glass in silent approval. She studied
Virginia's appearance with critical delight. Long brown hair had
been pulled into an off-center topknot anchored by two cloisonne
chopsticks; her face was still flushed from the heat of the oven,
and the mannish work clothes had been discarded, replaced by a navy
silk kabuki robe etched with a screen of cherry blossoms.
"You look very"-Diane had been about to say "Gingerish" but
thought better of it-"exotic."
Tucking her hands inside the wide kimono sleeves, Virginia gave
an oriental-inspired bow. "I think I told you that I spent last
year working with a toy company, but I failed to mention it was in
Japan." She settled in the opposite chair.
"I fell in love with Tokyo. The people are courteous,
respectful, and full of tradition. The laboratory was housed in a
graceful temple surrounded by breathtaking gardens. There was a lot
of work to be done, but somehow the tranquil "environment lessened
the stress."
"My big travel adventure has been from Boise to here." Diane
grinned as she tore open the aluminum covering on her dinner. "One
of these days I'll travel to some faraway land, take a cruise,
maybe hike across Europe . . . one of these days."
She grimaced at the food on the metal plate. "The least you
could have done was learned to cook Japanese," she mumbled and
reached for more wine.
"Give it a chance," Virginia coaxed, cutting into the steaming
buttered flounder with paprika and stuffed with crabmeat. "You only
get dessert
Julia Child."
"I don't." Virginia reappeared, her pot holdered hands bearing
two obvious TV dinners. "I let those scientists, chemists, and
nutritionists in the frozen-food industry be creative for me." She
placed an aluminum-foil-covered tray on each flowered place
mat.
"What about the antipasto?" Diane looked inquiringly at the
individual wooden salad bowls filled with colorful vegetables
glistening with oil, vinegar, and herb dressing.
"The Italian deli on the corner," she returned matter-of-factly,
shaking her hands free from the oven mitts. Virginia reached for
the bottle of rose and intently studied the label with the
vengeance of a connoisseur. "Napa Valley. A week ago Thursday.
Perfect!" She twisted off the cap and poured.
Laughter erupted from both women, filling the room with joyous
camaraderie. Stubbing out her cigarette, Diane grinned up at
Virginia. "I don't know why I expected anything different. As I
recall, you got suspended from home ec for setting fires in the
ovens."
"That was the only thing I never did deliberately." Virginia's
mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "I really missed not having a
mother to teach me to cook and sew. I hoped home ec would do the
job, but somehow I don't think it would have helped. I easily
accomplish the most difficult scientific problems, but cooking,
baking, and general housekeeping elude me." Her blue eyes rolled
toward the ceiling. "Thank heaven for housekeepers, laundry
services, and processed foods. For me the best cookbook is the
yellow pages, and the handiest kitchen appliance is the
telephone."
The laughter faded from Diane's face. She picked up the crystal
wineglass and stared somberly into the shimmering pink liquid. "It
must have been rough on you. When you have parents and a family you
tend to take them for granted. Sometimes you even think you'd be
better off without all their nagging and interference. But when you
don't have them..." Her voice trailed off.
"When you don't have them, you learn to compensate," Virginia
finished in an even tone. "It does color your attitude on life.
Little stains that are embedded forever. It changes the way you
think, the way you feel, the way you relate."
She cleared her throat and pushed the memories from her mind. "I
made a promise to myself that we were not going to be serious
tonight." Virginia smiled at her friend. "You want me to be lively
and bright and witty, so you are the one I'm going to practice
on."
Diane lifted her glass in silent approval. She studied
Virginia's appearance with critical delight. Long brown hair had
been pulled into an off-center topknot anchored by two cloisonne
chopsticks; her face was still flushed from the heat of the oven,
and the mannish work clothes had been discarded, replaced by a navy
silk kabuki robe etched with a screen of cherry blossoms.
"You look very"-Diane had been about to say "Gingerish" but
thought better of it-"exotic."
Tucking her hands inside the wide kimono sleeves, Virginia gave
an oriental-inspired bow. "I think I told you that I spent last
year working with a toy company, but I failed to mention it was in
Japan." She settled in the opposite chair.
"I fell in love with Tokyo. The people are courteous,
respectful, and full of tradition. The laboratory was housed in a
graceful temple surrounded by breathtaking gardens. There was a lot
of work to be done, but somehow the tranquil "environment lessened
the stress."
"My big travel adventure has been from Boise to here." Diane
grinned as she tore open the aluminum covering on her dinner. "One
of these days I'll travel to some faraway land, take a cruise,
maybe hike across Europe . . . one of these days."
She grimaced at the food on the metal plate. "The least you
could have done was learned to cook Japanese," she mumbled and
reached for more wine.
"Give it a chance," Virginia coaxed, cutting into the steaming
buttered flounder with paprika and stuffed with crabmeat. "You only
get dessert
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