Chapter Twenty-One

Within a few minutes, the waiter came back with our food. The lobster frittata looked delicious, but the caviar looked like a small bowl of bubbly black tar.

“You want me to eat that?” I asked, pointing toward the fish eggs and trying not to gag.

“Just try it,” he said. “If you try it and you hate it, then I'll never make you eat it ever again when we go out.”

“When we go out? Does that mean that this dinner isn't just a one time thing?” I asked. My heart started to speed up despite my best efforts to stay in control.

“It's a celebration dinner, right?” he said. “We're here because you made Winthrow Financial over a million dollars. I truly hope that we have lots more things like that to celebrate in the future.”

“Me too,” I said. His answer was noncommittal, but acceptable. “Alright, so how do I eat it?”

“I like it by itself, but you might enjoy it more on a cracker,” he said, using a small silver spoon to lift some eggs