Diane Davidson - Prime Cut

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Invite her for dinner, if she can stand the smell of paint. And you’re right, Arch, this kitchen positively rocks.”

Tom beamed wordlessly, surveying the result of his labors over the past weeks with unconcealed pride. It wasn’t quite done, but who cared? The floor still needed to be sanded and finished, the walls painted, the molding put in, and a hundred details attended to, but Tom, unlike the late Gerald Eliot, would take care of everything. My spirits soared.

“One thing I forgot to tell you,” Tom said as we were packing up chilled wine and salads. “Litchfield’s attorney tried to cop a plea on the charge of criminal mischief, tainting your food. Andy Fuller turned him down until Litchfield told Fuller that John Richard’s guy, Leland, was paying him, Litchfield, to sabotage the food. And that John Richard was calling the shots during the weekly visits that Litchfield made to the jail. That bit of info motivated Leland to pay Arch’s school bill. It looks as if Litchfield will get probation, which probably upsets him less than the facts that Edna Hardcastle’s daughter put off getting married again, and Merciful Migrations has yanked him from doing this year’s Soiree.” I blinked. Litchfield had lost two jobs in one day? Things were looking up. Tom went on: “Your ex will be charged as a principal in the criminal mischief situation. Might add to his jail time.”

“Might make him think before he tries to wreak vengeance on his ex-wives,” I observed. “So. Eventually, I’ll still be dealing with Litchfield.” I thought about that While mixing fresh basil into tomatoes vinaigrette. Was I secure enough to deal with the competition? You bet. “On an even playing field,” I said finally, firmly, “I can compete.” To Arch, I said, “Are you ready?”

My son nodded. His face had turned tight with apprehension. This was, after all, a big day for him.

On Sunday night, Rustine and Lettie had called to invite Arch to accompany them the next day, when they met their father’s flight from Juneau at Denver International Airport. Their father had given up on finding a job and was skipping the California leg of his trip to come home; he missed his daughters. Julian had generously offered to help the sisters clean their house Monday morning. I shuddered, remembering the chaos and dust we’d encountered on our visit. For his part, Arch had spent the morning getting clean himself and deciding on his wardrobe.

Julian returned; half an hour later, Rustine finally pulled up in front of our house. By that time, Arch was so nervous you’d have thought he was flying in from Alaska. I didn’t hug him good-bye. I didn’t tell him to be polite to Lettie’s father. I told him to have fun.

Julian had proposed that Marla, Hanna Klapper, and Sergeant Boyd join us at the cabin dig. To celebrate , Julian added, we should have a feast for all the workers: crab cakes, pasta, salads, Parker House Rolls from The Practical Cook Book , and Andre’s famous Grand Marnier Butter-cream Cookies, which I had given a new name. They were a delicious treat my teacher had left for me to serve my clients: Keepsake Cookies. Plus, I had made a flourless chocolate cake that was really a collapsed soufflé … when you want a soufflé to fall, it can be delicious—like life, once you’ve put it back together.

But Julian’s words haunted me as I packed the food. Celebrate what? I’d wondered. I hadn’t had the heart to ask what Julian’s plans for the future were, but I sensed the feast was a kind of good-bye. He’d declined to accompany us to church on Sunday. I concluded it was because he was on the phone, making his plans to get a ride back to Cornell so he could plead his way in for the fall semester.

“Time to go,” Tom said. “I swore to Sylvia that we’d be there by one o’clock. They aren’t allowed to bring anything out of the ground until we get there.”

Boyd and Tom carefully packed a chilled white chocolate cream sauce I’d made for the cake into the cooler; I covered the rest of the food with foil.

By the time we arrived at the Mercifull Migrations cabin, the crew of diggers made up of members of the Anthropology Department of the University of Colorado and volunteers from the Furman County Historical Society, including Cameron Burr, were hard at work at the base of the elephant rock. We set up our feast on the deck of the cabin. The diggers had vowed to have no treat until they found what they were seeking.

“Good school, the University of Colorado,” Julian said idly as I handed Marla a very small advance taste of the tomatoes vinaigrette. “I just finished a transfer application. For the spring semester, of course.”

I gasped. Marla giggled. Boyd brought his mouth into an o . Tom shook his head and said softly, “I knew it.” Even Hanna Klapper smiled.

“Something esle,” Julian went on mildly, his eyes sparkling. “I called Leah Smythe on the cellular, on my way home from Rustine’s house. Woke her up, I think.”

“You called Leah?” Hanna demanded. “Why?”

“Well,” Julian said as he tilted his handsome face knowingly at Tom and me, “you know, Leah and I are related, sort of. I’m her nephew once removed, since Brian Harrington, her brother-in-law, was my biological father. I mean, Weezie has made it very clear she doesn’t want to be involved with me. But I thought Leah might want to know she had more family than just Bobby. That she could, you know, call on me—”

“You never said I could call on you,” Marla hrumphed good-naturedly. “And I’m your biological aunt.”

“I didn’t need to,” Julian rejoined. “You knew you could call on me day and night, and you did, when I went through rush and was visiting all the fraternities, and you called every night to make sure I’d gotten back to my dorm safely.”

Labor Day Flourless Chocolate Cake with Berries, Melba Sauce and and White Chocolate Cream

7 ounces (¾sticks) unsalted butter

7 ounces best-quality bittersweet (semi-sweet) chocolate (recommended brands: Lind Bittersweet, Bernard C. Semi-Sweet, Godiva Dark)

tablespoon espresso or strong coffee

5 large eggs, separated

tablespoons best-quality unsweetened cocoa (recommended brand: Hershey’s Premium European Style)

7 tablespoons granulated sugar 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1 small package fresh blueberries (approximately 6 ounces)

1 small package fresh raspberries (approximately 6 ounces)

Melba Sauce (recipe follows)

White Chocolate Cream (recipe I follows)

Place the oven rack in the middle to lower (not the lowest) part of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter the bottom and sides of a 10-inch Springform pan. Make sure you have the bottom of another 10-inch Springform pan on hand.

Place the butter, chocolate, and coffee in the top of a double boiler and melt over boiling water. Transfer to a bowl and allow to cool slightly, then stir in the egg yolks and whisk until smooth. Sift the cocoa and sugar together, then sift this mixture directly into the chocolate mixture and stir until smooth. Stir in the vanilla and set aside. Beat the egg whites to soft peaks. Fold half the egg whites into the chocolate mixture, then pour the chocolate mixture on top of the remaining egg whites and fold in. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and set it on the lower rack of the oven. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the cake is puffed and the center no longer appears moist.

Remove the cake from the oven and immediately press another spring-form pan bottom onto the cake to deflate it. Allow the cake to cool on

When the cake is cool, remove the Springform ring and place the cake on a serving platter. Decorate the top with concentric rings of blueberries and raspberries. When serving, ladle large dollops of Melba Sauce and White Chocolate Cream on top of each slice.