Read Online The Sweet Spot by Laura Drake - Free Book Online Page B

continued, “I’m Italian. I’ve got the typical huge family back in New York,
     and God, can they cook. When Momma and Nonna get in the kitchen, you wouldn’t believe
     what they create:
bucatini, tagliatelle ai carciofi, osso buco
—mmmm.” She kissed her fingers. “And the desserts!” She threw up her hands. “Don’t
     get me started.
    “Anyway, I blimped up. By the time I was in junior high, I was wearing a size eighteen,
     and the kids in the neighborhood called me
porcellino
—piglet. It stuck.” She winced, remembering. “I became a full-blown food junkie, and
     Nonna was my pusher. She came from the old country, see, and didn’t understand. She
     loved me fat.”
    Char surveyed Bella’s prominent collarbones and delicate wrists. “It’s just so hard
     to believe…”
    “Well, believe it. I tried every diet known to woman. I ate carrots until my skin
     turned orange, and I still can’t lookat a grapefruit without my stomach hurting. I did diet pills. For a while it worked.
     I’d lose a few pounds here and there.
    “But the smells from that kitchen.” She closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath through
     her nose. “I swear I heard the leftovers call me at night, through the refrigerator
     door, all the way to my room. I’d lay there, determined, for hours. Eventually, though,
     I’d wear down, and I’d end up sitting at the kitchen table, shoving food in my mouth.
     I’d even eat it cold. I couldn’t wait long enough for the microwave.” Her eyes snapped
     open. “Did you ever want anything that bad?”
    Char’s gaze sought the bottle on the windowsill before she could stop herself. “No.”
    Bella didn’t seem to notice. “I didn’t have a single date in high school. I went on
     to college, resigned to becoming the spinster aunt to my brother and sister’s kids.”
    Char reached for the tin of cookies on the counter, guilt picking at the edges of
     her conscience. She’d judged this woman. The whole town had.
    Bella gazed through the window, a Mona Lisa smile softening the sharp angles of her
     face. “Then I met Russ.”
    “And?”
    “Another day.” Bella took a cookie and studied it a moment. “I haven’t blabbed on
     like this since I left New York.” She took a bite. “Hmmm. What is this decadent thing?”
    “They’re my creation. I call them my Chocolate Hunk PMS Specials, though not in mixed
     company.”
    Bella snorted a laugh, popped the last bite in her mouth, and dusted her hands. “I
     thought you were going to show me this hamburger-on-the-hoof thing.”
    Ten minutes later, Char led the way to the corral. Bella followed with mincing steps,
     trying to keep her spike heels from sinking in the dirt.
    “And this”—Char strolled along the fence to where a small, stocky gray-and-black spotted
     bull stood, chewing cud—“is Jimmy’s star bucker, Mighty Mouse.”
    “He’s a little punk, isn’t he?”
    “Maybe, but you wouldn’t believe what his semen’s worth.” As Char recalled hitting
     the button that would increase the price of a straw, a muscle in her stomach jumped.
     “At least, what I hope it’s worth.”
    Bella faced her, hand on hip. “Just
what
is the deal with you and cow jism? Here you are, Little Ms. Housewife, wouldn’t say
     crap if you had a mouthful and somebody asked you what you were eating. Yet you talk
     like this is acceptable dinner conversation.”
    Char waved away Bella’s comments as if they were gnats circling her head. “It’s business.
     Think of it like widgets.”
    Bella rolled her eyes, hand on the fence to help her balance on her toes. “Yeah, right.
     So how did you get in the ‘widget’ business?”
    Char looked at the horizon, remembering. “When it came time to split the assets, neither
     attorney could decide how to divide the business. If they split it in half, it wouldn’t
     be viable.
    “I lived in a fog back then. I would have signed away everything, just to be left
     alone. But the judge