Was a bit of the ice starting to thaw? She hoped so, for she missed his laugh.
Twenty-Nine
Gray had met with tribal leaders, government bureaucrats, and hard-nosed businessmen from all over the world, but he was uncomfortable as he braced to meet Eleanor Sharpe and Horatio Feldman, editors of the nation’s foremost ladies’ magazine. This was uncharted territory for him, and he was reluctantly grateful for Annabelle’s help navigating it.
It was a drizzly day as they arrived in Springfield, then hired a cab to drive them to the offices of the magazine. He shared an umbrella with Annabelle, wishing this meeting was already over.Good Housekeepingwas located in a perfectly ordinary building, four stories of buff-colored stone with uniform windows on each floor. Despite the building’s pedestrian exterior, the inside was something else entirely. The windows had draperies, the office walls boasted wainscoting, and each room had at least one potted plant in a brass container.
“Welcome, welcome!” a matronly woman gushed as she swept into the foyer wearing a heavily ruffled gown, smelling of lilacs, and looking like the personification of everyone’s favorite grandmother. “I’m Eleanor Sharpe, content editor for the magazine. I’m afraid Mr. Feldman is still with the accountants,but all to the good! We can get to know each other before discussing tedious business.”
Annabelle stepped forward. “Annabelle Larkin from the Department of Agriculture. Thank you so much for using your publication to help spread the word about nutrition and the value of proper housekeeping.”
Mrs. Sharpe pressed a hand to her ample bosom. “Miss Larkin! How wonderful to see a lady working in a professional position. We need all the allies we can get in our campaign against dishonest and adulterated food.” She turned her attention to Gray, a single eyebrow raised a little skeptically. “And you are?”
“Gray Delacroix, from Delacroix Global Spice,” he said. “Thank you for seeing us.”
Mrs. Sharpe’s smile chilled. “You are to be congratulated on the quality of your spices. All your products are marvelous, your political views much less so. We eagerly await your change of heart regarding food purity laws.”
It appeared Mrs. Sharpe was a grandmother with fangs.
Before he could reply, Annabelle stepped to his side and took his hand in hers. He instinctively tried to withdraw it, but she squeezed harder.
“I’ve told him the same thing over and over,” Annabelle said in an amused tone. “I think at last he is beginning to see the light. That’s why he agreed to come with me today. Isn’t that right ... darling?”
He stiffened at the endearment, but Annabelle’s instinct was a good one. His political views put him at a disadvantage with Mrs. Sharpe, but Annabelle was off to a flying start. If it killed him, he would get on Mrs. Sharpe’s good side, for this woman could use her magazine to launch a salvo directly at the Magruders and any other company that misbranded their food.
“Miss Larkin has been a good influence on me,” he said, patting Annabelle’s hand. “I’m eager to hear more of whatGood Housekeepinghas to say on food purity laws.”
The matronly woman brightened. “Excellent! But first let’s get acquainted. I’ve asked the secretary to set up tea for us in the conference room before we get down to business.”
It was unlike any conference room he’d ever seen. It was huge, with a full kitchen installed along one side of the room. In addition to a typical stove, icebox, and sink, the counters held scales, test tubes, thermometers, and chemistry manuals. A long table dominated the other side of the room, covered with a lace cloth. With bone china plates and an assortment of delicacies, the “tea” looked like it had come from Buckingham Palace. Petite sandwiches, tarts, and scones were arranged with artistic flare.
As soon as they were seated, Mrs. Sharpe did the honors, pouring from a porcelain teapot into cups with elaborate grace.
“I must apologize for the honey,” Mrs. Sharpe said as she passed a tray holding cream, sugar, and a pot of honey. “While most of the delicacies here come from the surrounding area, I’m afraid the local honey harvest was poor this year. We had to import it from Ohio, and it lacks the geographic integrity of local honey.”
Annabelle seemed baffled by this statement. “The honey looks perfectly fine.”
“Annabelle,” Gray tutted. “How often have we discussed the importance of geographic integrity in honey?” Annabelle might know her durum wheat, but he was the one who knew high-end dining and was ready to flatter Mrs. Sharpe’s zeal for entertaining. “I always love sampling local honey, whether it is from tupelo trees in Florida or clover blossoms in the Midwest. I’ll never forget the honey gathered from orange blossoms along the Mediterranean coasts. It was like sunlight spun with sugar.”
“Yes!” Mrs. Sharpe declared. “The terroir of a product is so rarely appreciated. You have a true connoisseur’s palate.”
“Terr-what?” Annabelle asked.
“Terroir,” he said. “Tare-WAHR,” he repeated at her blanklook, savoring the heft and roll of the French word. “It’s how the unique elements in soil and climate affect the flavor of an agricultural product. It’s why the grapes from the south of France produce the finest wine in the world. It is why olives from the hills of Tuscany are so pure, they made emperors fight to keep them. Why an oyster harvested in the Hudson River will taste different than one from the Chesapeake Bay.”
“And why the wheat from Kansas is the best in the world,” Annabelle said bluntly.
“Precisely!” Mrs. Sharpe said. “My goodness, aren’t the two of you a pair! At first blush it seems you don’t like each other, but heavens ... I think you’re actually playing games with each other. Am I right?”
“Indeed you are!” he said heartily, for under no circumstances would the animosity between him and Annabelle interfere with his mission today. “I began courting Miss Larkin shortly after our first meeting. It has been a courtship filled with twists and surprises. Constantly peppered with spice.”
“No more ups and downs than in any other loving relationship,” Annabelle said. “He’s only banished me from his sight once!”
“Twice, counting the incident on thePelican, darling.”
She smiled tightly. “How could I forget when you keep reminding me?”
Mrs. Sharpe watched the interplay in fascination, then gave a playful swat to his arm. “I can’t imagine a gentleman not being able to spot this treasure from the Department of Agriculture.”
