Ring of Truth by Ciji Ware

slave in a cafeteria to be able to do what he loved.
    â€œWell... based on that salad of yours I ate today, I don’t think you’re too cocky at all. I’m guessing that you have everything it takes to become a great chef.”
    Tony’s tanned complexion took on a glow, his pleasure at hearing her words obvious.
    â€œWow! And coming from you... double wow! Thanks! And I guess this is the time I should admit I am a huge fan of your CookChic blog... and have been ever since you began posting.”
    Kerry was pleased by the fact that her blogs might be educating the next generation of great chefs and his kind words assuaged her guilt, somewhat, about not directly putting to use what she’d learned at the CIA.
    Â Tony wound his car up Ashby Avenue, climbing successively higher into the Berkeley Hills with each turn in the road. At length, he made a right on Domingo and parked in the shadow of the massive Claremont Hotel, a shingled extravaganza from another era, he explained, that still hosted weddings and temporarily housed well-heeled out-of-towners visiting the UC Berkeley campus.
    They parked and entered the cool confines of the “Amphora Nueva Olive Oil Works,” as it said on the business card Kerry grabbed from the counter. In the next moment, she heard a man’s voice call out at the rear of the shop to someone entering from the service door.
    â€œHey, Ren! Great to see ya! That’s your latest? Well then, just wheel that dolly right in here, my friend. I can’t wait to taste that first press of yours! We’ve all been waiting with bated breath.”
    â€œWe are so in luck!” Tony whispered loudly. “The rumors were true! That’s Renato Montisi himself back there,” he added excitedly, nodding in the direction of the rear of the large room that had rows of two-foot-high stainless steel olive oil dispensers lined along the wall. “Montisi Ranch usually presses their olives in mid-to-late November, and then delivers soon after, and I guess today’s the day !”
    The store’s proprietor walked up to the tall, good-looking figure he had hailed as “Ren” who had wheeled in his dolly loaded with a large, stainless steel drum. Printed on its circumference was an olive branch logo and the words MONTISI RANCH OLIVE OIL.
    From across the store, Kerry absorbed the view of the six-foot, broad-shouldered man delivering his wares and felt an unexpected flutter in her chest at the sight of his full head of dark blond, wind-blown hair that was barely tamed by a pair of pricey Ray Ban sunglasses perched just above his tanned forehead. About her age—or perhaps a few years older—his high cheekbones and square jaw, along with trim arms that were also tanned despite its being early December, made him appear more like a sought-after ski instructor than a rancher. She could also easily imagine him in an expensive suit and tie, addressing an audience in the LifestyleXer boardroom. Yet, here he was, wearing jeans, work boots, and a brown T-shirt with the same Montisi Ranch logo stamped in khaki green across a muscular chest that couldn’t help but capture a bystander’s attention.
    â€œHey, how’s everybody doing?” Ren asked of store owner Michael Bradley and his staff that had gathered in a circle around the dolly. “Yep, this is our latest press. Do you have some bread to give it a taste?”
    â€œC’mon!” exhorted Tony in a harsh whisper. “Let’s get in line!” He grabbed her arm and hustled toward the small crowd in the back. “Hi,” he boldly addressed the group. “I’m Tony Perez and this is Kerry Hannigan, who just moved to San Francisco from New York. She’s the CookChic food blogger and I brought her here because maybe she’ll do a post about your latest product, Mr. Montisi... and also about the store,” he added hastily to the owner of Amphora Nueva.
    Both men