I tasted one of the triple-rich chocolate cookies and shivered with pleasure. The warm chips were seductively gooey inside the dark chocolate dough that was robed in white chocolate. If these didn’t give General Bo his desired chocolate fix, nothing would.
Oddly enough, I was looking forward to seeing General Bo again. I didn’t have any catering to do until this evening, when I visited the Trotfields, formerly served by their Sri Lankan chef. The food for that sumptuous dinner in Meadowview was mostly prepared. I smiled; the Trotfields did not live far from the Farquhars’ old estate. But our family had no emotional link to the Trotfields—nothing like our connection to General Bo. Not only had I worked for General Farquhar at a time when I’d desperately needed a job to support Arch, but he
