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“Surprise!” the waitress said, as she put the squid dish in front of him.
“I was hoping it was going to be the calamari,” Da
“Ha!” Loretta said. “I’ll tell your dad.”
May had finished her pepperoni pizza first, and anyone seeing the way she eyed the last piece on Dot’s plate might have had reason to warn Dot that she should never entirely trust her old friend. “I guess I liked mine a little better than you’re likin’ yours,” May said.
“I’m likin’ mine just fine,” Dot answered with her mouth full, her thumb and index finger quickly gripping the crust of that precious last slice.
May looked away. “That writer is finally eatin’ somethin’, and it looks pretty appetizin’,” she observed. Dot just grunted, finishing her pizza.
“Would you say it’s almost as good as Cookie’s?” May asked.
“Nope,” Dot said, wiping her mouth. “Nobody’s pizza is as good as Cookie’s.”
“I said almost, Dot.”
“Close, maybe,” Dot told her.
“I hope you ladies left room for dessert,” Celeste said. “It looks like those pizzas hit the spot.”
“What’s the secret ingredient?” May asked the waitress.
“You’ll never guess,” Celeste said.
“I’ll bet it’s honey,” Dot said; both she and May cackled, but they stopped cackling when they saw how the waitress was staring at them. (It didn’t happen often that Celeste was speechless.)
“Wait a minute,” May said. “It is honey, isn’t it?”
“That’s what the cook said-he puts honey in his dough,” Celeste told them.
“Yeah, and the next thing you’re go
But Da
“Weren’t you ladies interested in the pie and the cobbler?” the waitress asked them.
“Wait a minute,” May said again. “Are you sayin’ your cook’s got a limp?”
“He limps a little,” Celeste hesitated to say, but in effect she’d already said it.
“Are you shittin’ us?” Dot asked the waitress.
Celeste seemed offended, but she also looked afraid; she knew something was wrong, but she didn’t know why or what it was. Neither did Da
“Look, our cook’s got a limp, and he puts honey in his pizza dough-it’s no big deal,” Celeste said to them.
“Maybe it’s a big deal to us,” May told the waitress.
“Is he a little fella?” Dot asked.
“Yeah… and what’s his name?” May asked.
“I would say our cook is… slightly built,” Celeste answered carefully. “His name’s Tony.”
“Oh,” Dot said, disappointed.
“Tony,” May repeated, shaking her head.
“You can bring us one apple pie and one blueberry cobbler,” Dot told the waitress.
“We’ll share ’em,” May said.
It might have ended there, if Da
“Might I inquire if you two ladies are from around here?” Da
“Sweet Jesus, May,” Dot said to her friend. “Don’t that voice kinda take you back?”
“Way back,” May said, looking hard at Da
The Cookie word was enough to tell Da
“Your name was Da
“No,” the writer told them too quickly.
“I gotta meet this here cook,” May said.
“Why don’tcha tell your dad to come say hello to us, will ya?” Dot asked Da
Celeste came back with the ladies’ desserts, which Da
“Celeste,” Da
“Our cook’s name is Tony,” Celeste said a little desperately to the bad old broads. She’d heard enough about Twisted River to make her hope she would never hear anything more about it. (The cook had told her it would be all over on the day Twisted River caught up to him.)
“Your cook’s name is Cookie,” Dot said to the waitress.
“Just tell him we’re chokin’,” May told Celeste. “That’ll bring him ru
“Limpin’, you mean,” Dot corrected her, but now their cackles were suppressed. If the writer had to guess, it seemed that these women had a score to settle with his father.
“You got the same superior-soundin’ voice as your daddy,” May said to Da
“Is the Injun around?” Dot asked him.
“No, Jane is… long gone,” Da
In the kitchen, Celeste was still dry-eyed when she walked past her daughter. “I could have used a little help with the party of eight, Mom,” Loretta was saying to her, “and then those three couples came in, but you just kept talking away to those two old biddies.”
“Those old biddies are from Twisted River,” Celeste told the cook. “They said to tell you they were chokin’… Cookie.” Celeste had never seen such an expression on Tony Angel’s face-none of them had-but of course she’d never called him “Cookie” before.
“Is there a problem, boss?” the sous chef asked.
“It was the honey in the pizza, wasn’t it?” Celeste was saying. “The honey gave it away, I guess.”
“Dot and May. It’s finished, sweetheart,” Tony Angel said to Celeste; she started to cry.
“Mom?” Loretta said.
“You don’t know me,” the cook told them all. “You won’t ever know where I go from here.” He took off his apron and let it fall on the floor. “You’re in charge, Greg,” he said to the sous chef.
“They don’t know your last name, not unless Da
The cook walked out into the dining room. Da
“Well, that’s something to be thankful for,” his dad said.
“I wouldn’t call that a little limp-would you, May?” Dot asked her old friend.
“Hello, ladies,” the cook said to them, but he didn’t come any closer.
“The limp’s gotten worse, if you ask me,” May replied to Dot.
“Are you just traveling through?” the cook asked them.
“How come you changed your name, Cookie?” Dot asked him.
“Tony was easier to say than Dominic,” he answered them, “and it still sounds Italian.”
“You look awful, Cookie-you’re as white as flour!” May told him.
“I don’t get a lot of sunshine in the kitchen,” the cook said.
“You look like you been hidin’ under a rock,” Dot said to him.
“How come you and Da