Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics Read online

  5th Annual

  Italian Culinary Retreat

  Villa Tuscany

  Jean Claude Martin, Head Chef

  May 8, 2002 — May 15, 2002

  Agenda

  Day 1 Wednesday, May 8

  9:30 Transport from Florence to Villa Tuscany

  Settling in at Villa Tuscany

  1:00 Lunch, Introductions and Orientation

  3:00 Tour of facilities, equipment lecture, review of pre-work

  5:00–7:30 Free Time

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner

  Day 2 Thursday, May 9th

  7:00 Breakfast

  8:00 Lecture and demonstration

  9:30 Break

  10:00 Hands on kitchen work

  1:00 Lunch and free time

  4:00 Break-out groups

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner

  Day 3 Friday, May 10th

  7:00 Breakfast

  8:00 Winery Tour Bus leaves from main Lobby

  5:00 Free time

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner

  Day 4 Saturday, May 11th

  7:00 Breakfast

  8:00

  Group A Leaves for market from Lobby

  Group B Kitchen work/Lecture

  Group C Lecture and demonstration

  1:00 Lunch and free time

  3:00

  Group A Lecture/Demo

  Group B Tour and lecture in Wine Cellar

  Group C Kitchen work

  5:00

  Group A Kitchen work

  Group B Free Time

  Group C Free Time

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner

  10:00 Jazz and after-dinner drinks in the main salon

  Day 5 Sunday, May 12th

  7–10 Breakfast

  8:00 Transportation to local churches

  10:00 Lecture and demo of pasta

  1:00 Lunch

  2:00 Kitchen hands on Pasta workshop

  5:30 Free Time

  7:00 Cocktails in main salon

  7:30 Dinner

  Day 6 Monday, May 13th

  7:00 Breakfast

  8:00

  Group A Lecture and demonstration

  Group B Leaves for market from Lobby

  Group C Kitchen work/Lecture

  1:00 Lunch and free time

  3:00

  Group A Kitchen work

  Group B Lecture/Demo

  Group C Tour and lecture in Wine Cellar

  5:00

  Group A Free Time

  Group B Kitchen work

  Group C Free Time

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner

  Day 7 Tuesday, May 14th

  7:00 Breakfast

  8:00

  Group A Kitchen work/Lecture

  Group B Lecture and demonstration

  Group C Leaves for market from Lobby

  1:00 Lunch and free time

  3:00

  Group A Tour and lecture in Wine Cellar

  Group B Kitchen work

  Group C Lecture/Demo

  5:00

  Group A Free Time

  Group B Free Time

  Group C Kitchen work

  7:30 Cocktails in main salon

  8:30 Dinner Award Ceremonies/Graduation

  10:00 Graduation Party in Main Salon

  Day 8 Wednesday, May 15th

  7–9:30 Breakfast

  8–12 Transportation leaves from Main Lobby

  INTRIGUE IN

  ITALICS

  A Claire Gulliver Mystery

  Books by Gayle Wigglesworth

  GAYLE’S LEGACY,

  Recipes, Hints and Stories Culled from a Lifelong Relationship with Food

  THE CLAIRE GULLIVER MYSTERIES

  Tea Is For Terror

  Washington Weirdos

  Intrigue In Italics

  Cruisin’ For A Bruisin’

  Malice In Mexico

  A POTTERY MYSTERY

  Mud to Ashes

  INTRIGUE IN ITALICS

  A Claire Gulliver Mystery

  by

  GAYLE WIGGLESWORTH

  Copyright © 2006 by Gayle Wigglesworth

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior written permission from Gayle Wigglesworth, except for the inclusion of quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2006935844

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9825519-3-6

  ISBN-10: 0-9825519-3-2

  Gayle Wigglesworth, publisher

  Email: [email protected]

  Web site: www.gaylewigglesworth.com

  Acknowledgements

  This book was completed with the help of my husband, David, and my daughter, Janet, who as always were dedicated editors as well as strong supporters. This time a special thanks is due to my son-in-law, Dave, who helped me with the wine “talk”, to my neighbor, Clare Perkins, who edited the draft to make sure it stood alone and to my friend, Carol Barraco, who knows Italy, their food, wine and language. She kindly read it in draft form to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself with mistakes.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my baby sister, Teresa Grill, who has always been an enthusiastic fan of my stories and even more so now that she can read them in print. It is thanks to her efforts that my website is always working and, I hope, pleasantly interesting to those who access it.

  CHAPTER 1

  Claire felt wilted as she waited curbside for a break in traffic when the light changed at the next block down. The street in front of her seemed to shimmer in air heavy with exhaust fumes from the profusion of mopeds, bicycles, motorcycles and occasional tiny auto. It was hot. The sun bounced ferociously off the ancient stone buildings. There were no trees, no shade.

  She needed to get back to the hotel to nap. Maybe it was only jet lag from her night flight to Milan, then immediate transfer to a flight to Florence. She had arrived in time to lunch with her mother and Ruth, her mother’s longtime friend, who had arrived a few days before her. Now she realized her schedule had been too ambitious; now she was paying for it.

  Numbly she watched the people passing. Her eyes followed a motorcycle driven by a handsome man with a toddler sitting precariously in front of him while a young woman with an infant strapped to her back sat sideways behind him, clutching him around the middle. None of them seemed concerned about how dangerous their mode of transportation appeared. Tired as she was, Claire almost laughed at the sight of a very prim older woman, dressed in a conservative navy dress, her gray hair tightly twisted into a bun, sitting very straight on her cherry red moped. Her tiny poodle rode in a bag secured between her feet on the floorboard. She chugged along serenely, unruffled by the traffic. Following her closely was a group of younger people, perhaps students, judging by their backpacks and ragtag bikes. Some of them were trying to pass others, some calling out to friends; all of them seemed intent on arriving at their destination as quickly as possible. Behind them came a redheaded woman. Just as she pulled even with Claire, their eyes met. Claire saw her own surprise reflected in the woman’s eyes. She felt a smile spread over her face as she started lifting her hand in greeting. Then a shutter seem
ed to come down in the woman’s eyes. She quickly averted her head just as she swept by and the greeting died on Claire’s lips. Her head swiveled, her eyes followed the woman, confusion rocking her.

  It was Kristen. And she was sure Kristen had recognized her, too; she saw it in her eyes.

  But then her own eyes widened as she realized it couldn’t be Kristen. Chills ran down Claire’s spine causing her to shudder.

  * * *

  “I just can’t believe it.”

  “Hush, Ruth, you’ll wake Claire.” Millie’s whisper woke Claire instantly.

  She lay there a minute remembering where she was, blinking at the afternoon light which was pleasantly dimmed by the louvered shutters. Then she rolled over and said, “Believe what?”

  “Oh, now, see what you did.” Millie accused Ruth.

  Ruth rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a clean shirt while at the same time she struggled to get the one she was wearing over her head.

  “Ugh. A pigeon got me. Pigeon? It felt like a pelican. A direct hit; it’s disgusting.”

  Millie, Claire’s mother, couldn’t keep the shadow of a smile from reaching the corners of her mouth. “Ruth, it could happen to anyone. Some people consider it a sign of luck.”

  “With all those people on the street I was the one that got it. It was lucky for all those others. Trust me; I could have happily lived my entire life without this experience.” Ruth was indignant. She took great pains with her grooming. She would never have worn anything even slightly soiled, and wearing the dirty shirt back to the hotel was odious for her. Even now, well into her sixties, she kept up with current styles, wearing what was fashionable regardless of what was suitable for her age bracket. She bragged she still wore the same size she did in high school, ignoring the fact she now appeared to be poured into her clothes, which only further accentuated the bulges. And of course, no one mentioned the sagging muscles and wrinkles which clearly told her age.

  Claire was wide awake now. “Mom’s right. It could happen to anyone. Mom, remember my friend, Pat? She was in her bridal gown, getting out of the limo at the church when a seagull got her good.”

  Ruth looked shocked. “What did she do?”

  “She went on with the wedding of course. Her mother cleaned her up at the church. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. She had a beautiful gown with lace and beading, but she got it clean. And it wasn’t an omen or anything.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that, Claire,” her mother said. “As I recall, after about ten years and three kids, she finally got tired of her husband’s philandering and divorced him.”

  “Philandering? Come on, Mom. Sometimes marriages just don’t make it. And I’m pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with the seagull.”

  Millie shrugged, obviously not convinced. “Anyway, dear, are you feeling better now after your little nap?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She was a little surprised at how revitalized she felt. “I think I’ll shower and change my clothes, and then I’m ready to see Florence. What do you two have planned?”

  “I’m writing some postcards.” Millie sat down at the little desk beneath the generous window, shuttered to keep out the hot afternoon sun.

  Ruth sank down on her side of the big bed she shared with Millie. “I’m going to take a nap, and then we’ll decide what to do tonight for dinner.”

  Claire straightened the covers on the bed the hotel had rolled into the generous-sized room so she could share with the two women. Then gathering up her toiletry kit, she headed for the bathroom. The large room was completely tiled, including the ceiling. It took her a moment to realize there was no bathtub, not even a shower stall. She poked her head out and whispered to her mother, “Mom, where’s the shower?”

  “See the spigot in the middle of the wall?” She nodded in the direction of the shower. “That’s it. I’ve already learned to move the toilet paper out of the way. Put your clothes on the shelves at the far end away from the spray. And be very careful, because the floor is like a skating rink when it gets wet.”

  After she got over the shock of standing in the middle of the room to shower, Claire found the spray very satisfactory. She let the water flow over her, remembering how pleased she had been to find her mother in such good spirits and obviously enjoying this trip she had been so reluctant to take.

  When Millie had announced last year she would retire at the end of the year, her boss at Richman Cadillac had been justifiably alarmed. He and his two brothers had immediately tried to talk her out of the idea, not wanting anything to interrupt the smooth flowing dynamics of their company. The dealership had grown to be one of the biggest in the West and they had always said it wouldn’t have been possible without Millie’s management of the support functions. If she retired, they believed, everything would change and not for the better.

  Rich Richman, the oldest of the brothers, couldn’t believe she was intending to start a second career. “That’s not retirement, Millie. Retirement is doing something fun. Something you want to do, but don’t have time to do while you’re working.”

  “That’s it exactly. I love to cook. And I don’t have the time or any reason to cook now. That’s why I plan to provide meals for a few busy career people and cater some small dinner parties. I think it will be perfect. It won’t be work, you see; it will be fun!”

  And he did see, so he convinced his brothers her retirement was inevitable. And then, in an effort to show their appreciation of her contribution, they had signed her up at the prestigious Italian Culinary Retreat, which was being held the following year at the posh Villa Tuscany outside Florence, Italy.

  Millie had been touched and grateful. But she flatly refused to go. She wasn’t adventurous. She didn’t travel. She thought the classes she was taking at the California Culinary Academy, just a bus ride away, were all she needed.

  Of course she didn’t tell the Richman brothers any of that.

  Her friend, Ruth, and her daughter, Claire, argued endlessly with her trying to change her mind. They saw this as a chance to help Millie spread her wings a little; to stretch her boundaries as they say in all the magazine articles. They were convinced she was passing up an opportunity of a lifetime.

  At last they succeeded by pointing out the cost of the gift, a sizable amount, would be wasted if she didn’t use it. That was a very distressing thought for the ever frugal Millie. Finally, Ruth promised to accompany her, even agreeing to take the classes at the Retreat, so Millie, reluctantly, capitulated.

  Of course, then Millie tried to talk Claire into going with them. Not to the Culinary Retreat; she knew Claire had little interest in cooking. But why not join them in Florence and Venice, she wheedled.

  Claire had lots of reasons to resist. The most important were the two trips she had taken the previous year which had both turned out to include harrowing experiences, which she was still trying to forget. Those trips had cooled her ardor for travel considerably. Of course, her mother didn’t know about the near disasters and Claire didn’t intend she ever learn of them.

  Then there was the universal horror of 9/11 which had occurred shortly after she returned from her second trip. That disaster had stunned the world. Claire’s business, Gulliver’s Travels Bookshop reeled from the public’s sudden aversion to travel. Claire had laid off staff and cut hours in an effort to make it through the slump. And luckily, after the beginning of the year, business had started improving. People once again wanted to hear the travel lectures she had scheduled at the store. And customers started buying books for trips they were planning.

  Claire’s mother continued to nag her to go to Italy with them and in early February, Marianne Peabody’s inspiring lecture at the store kindled Claire’s desire to see Italy. That’s when her assistant manager and friend, Mrs. B, got on her case.

  “Look, Claire, if we want people to travel we need to show them it’s safe. It would be great for business for you to go and send back lots of postcards for our bulletin board.”

&n
bsp; Claire countered with, “Why don’t you go? You could use some time off. And you get along well with my mother. It would be perfect.”

  “I’m too old.” Then seeing Claire’s skepticism, she shook her head firmly. “It’s true. I like reading the books and talking to the customers. But I’ve done my traveling. I’ve been there, everywhere. I don’t want to schlep my luggage on and off trains and planes. I don’t want to sleep in a strange bed every night. I’m too old. Getting up and coming to work every day is enough adventure for me.”

  Claire didn’t even know how old Mrs. B was, but suspected she was in her eighties, even though she looked twenty years younger. But she could see Mrs. B didn’t intend to travel again.

  “You have the free pass on Vantage, so it would be a pretty cheap trip. What’s keeping you from going?” She continued, looking at Claire shrewdly, “You’re not scared are you? You’re not letting those past two experiences turn you off of traveling, are you?” She shook her head, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Travel is fun. It’s enriching. And believe me, it’s safe. And don’t forget we rely on it for our livelihood. You should go!