Eve smiles and sags down in her seat. “I’ve idolized her for years. She is the exact kind of chef I want to be. Influential with a signature blend of traditional cuisine and invention. She takes classic French dishes and puts an entirely new perspective on them. She was supposed to come do a lecture at my school, but it got cancelled because of budgets. I was devastated.”
“Maybe you’ll get another chance to see her again,” I suggest.
“Maybe,” she shrugs, her pouty lips tucked to one side of her mouth. Then, she takes a bite of bacon and props her head up on one fist, eyebrows raised. “Who is your idol?”
“Me?” I ask, as though there might be someone else in the row.
She nods and tips her head forward, encouraging me.
“Now? Or when I was a kid?”
“Either.” She stares at me expectantly,
