Margo swung around in her chair. “What?”
Julie dutifully conjured a dish of baby octopus tentacles artistically arranged around the eels swimming in a garlic sauce that brimmed with unidentifiable spices and grated vegetables.
”Oh, my God.. .”
Kit couldn’t help it. He started laughing. Sven was already wiping tears.
”C’mon, Margo,” Kit teased, “what happened to your brave challenge? I thought you’d try anything I was game to try.”
”But …but…”
”Let me guess,” Kit said dryly, “they didn’t serve octopus in whatever little town you grew up in?”
Margo was still transfixed by the sight in front of her. The eels, which had been gutted and de-boned, still had their heads, producing the indelible impression that the plateful of slippery food was staring back. She swallowed convulsively. “I, uh …” She picked up her fork with an air of m determination. “All right. How does one eat them
”That’s the spirit,” Sven laughed. “The eels, you cut into pieces. The octopi, you eat whole.”
She shut her eyes and swallowed again, then tried a bite. She widened her eyes. “Hey, that’s good!”
Kit chuckled. “Of course it is. Arley Eisenstein wouldn’t serve it, otherwise. Bon appetit.”
He dug in with gusto.
True to her word, Margo matched him bite for bite and enjoyed every last morsel.
The best thing Margo could say abort her first lesson with Sven Bailey was that she didn’t have to pay for it. The worst thing was, Malcolm Moore showed up to watch. After the first five minutes, she seriously regretted the previous day’s sparring session. He enjoyed her utter trouncing far too thoroughly to outlast the brief satisfaction it had given her to show him up. After the first seven minutes, she had more bruises than she’d given Malcolm-and Sven Bailey was just getting warmed up.