My Little Runaway (Destiny Bay) Read Online Free Page A

of vintage vinegars, was ready for customers. The Magnificent Munch was a success partly because of this attention to detail.
    “Tilly,” she said reprovingly to the girl who worked behind the chocolate counter, “look at those mint truffles. They look all gummed together.”
    “They probably are all gummed together,” the plump, pink-cheeked blond wailed. “One look from these hungry eyes of mine and they begin to melt like butter. Jennifer, you’ve got to move me out of here! I’m blowing up like a blimp. All I have to do is breathe the chocolate fumes and I gain another pound.”
    Jennifer smiled sympathetically. “I know, I’m working on it. But you’re the best chocolatier we’ve got. You know so much about the subject ...”
    “Yeah, and how do you think I learned?” She patted her rounded tummy. “I’m a regular example of on-the-job training.” She reached out and took Jennifer’s hand. “Please give me the produce section! Or pate. I hate pate.”
    Jennifer gave her a hug and laughed. “I can’t have you work in a section where you hate the product. Our customers expect expertise with their service.”
    “I’ll be an expert—I promise! I’ll learn everything there is to know about pate. Just as long as you don’t make me eat it.”
    Jennifer assured Tilly that she would find her a place in another section of the store, then she hurried to the counter they called “Custom Food to Go.” Danny Lopez, their regular picnic preparer, was out sick, and she was taking over for the day.
    At exactly ten o’clock the doors opened, and the customers began streaming in. Friday was their busy day, as so many people wanted something special for entertaining over the weekend or a picnic basket to take along on a trip. Jennifer took orders by phone and had a delivery boy for most of the baskets she was making up.
    She loved setting up picnic baskets—lining the sides with a checkered tablecloth, filling the bottom with cold crab claws in cocktail sauce or artichoke hearts vinaigrette, some sliced smoked salmon or cold lemon chicken, a French pastry or a tin of baklava, some imported cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Then, of course, there was the chilled wine, along with highly polished wineglasses. Plates, knives, forks, and napkins were fitted into the top, and the basket was ready to make some couple happy out in the country, on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, or at the Hollywood Bowl, waiting for the orchestra to tune up.
    Meanwhile, she still had to keep things rolling in the rest of the store.
    “The distributor is here for that new line of pasta. You want to take a look?” Jimmy Buffer, one of her oldest employees, asked as she fitted a box with raspberry tarts.
    “I’ll let you make the decision,” she told him with a smile. “You know more about that than I do.”
    “Hey, Jennifer, shall I weed out some of these slower-moving canned goods?” he asked her a bit later. “These escargots are just about es-car-gone.”
    “Do,” she agreed. “And make room for a new line of natural fruit juices I want to bring in.”
    As noon drew closer, people began coming in off the street for lunchtime food as well, and pretty soon there was a line snaking through the store.
    “Help!” she whispered to Fred, the produce man, as he delivered more sliced tomatoes, torn lettuce, and alfalfa sprouts. “How does Danny keep up with this crowd?”
    “He gets someone else in here to take the orders, for one thing,” he reminded her.
    “You’re hired,” she announced with a grin. Pretty soon she’d drafted Tilly, too, and it was almost one thirty before the line had dwindled to just a few more hungry customers.
    “What can we do for you, sir?” she vaguely heard Fred ask the last man in line.
    “I’ll have a ham sandwich,” came the answer, and at the sound of Reid’s voice, she straightened, her breath coming just a little faster.
    Here he was, and she realized she’d been waiting for him all