I pictured Priscilla’s committee as I began crumbling pungent Gorgonzola. Ostensibly, the eight women of PosteriTREE, the ones who’d held the previous day’s bake sale, were doing a town-beautification project. They were raising funds to buy and plant native trees around Aspen Meadow. But as usual with these types of groups, I suspected that the real reason for belonging to the committee was to be able to say that you were on it. I’d heard one woman brag that PosteriTREE members belonged to the crème de la crème of town society.
I set aside the Gorgonzola and started grating the fontina. The crème de la crème of town society? From a caterer’s viewpoint, Aspen Meadow didn’t have any society. At least, we didn’t have anything as identifiable as what you’d see in a major metropolis. I’d worke
