Q: a Novel
“To begin with, the dinner table is a work of art. The napery is hand-embroidered with the letters JJQD; each place is set with a silver service plate, three sterling silver forks, two knives, a soup spoon, a lace serviette, a pewter water goblet, and two wine glasses. In the middle of the tableau sit twin silver candlesticks, into which have been set thin, elegant candles, which, lighted, produce a pair of gentle, flickering flames. There are flowers everywhere—rhododendrons in vases on the tab...le and the buffet and in the planters on the wall, so much lavender and red and white, and all so impossibly fresh it feels as if spring itself has been imported into the dining room.
And then the food, the food. I steal into the kitchen and breathe in deeply, in the hope of absorbing the entire meal at once. The bouquet, fresh and fulsome, nearly lifts me off my feet. Joan is there in the kitchen with Q, applying some final touches. She offers me a tour, which I eagerly accept. She takes me first to the side dishes.MoreLess
And then the food, the food. I steal into the kitchen and breathe in deeply, in the hope of absorbing the entire meal at once. The bouquet, fresh and fulsome, nearly lifts me off my feet. Joan is there in the kitchen with Q, applying some final touches. She offers me a tour, which I eagerly accept. She takes me first to the side dishes.MoreLess
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