Lora dipped her spoon into the soup, then lifted it to her lips. The broth was clear, with a faint lemony taste; the vegetables, as always, were slightly crispy. Bits of parsley floated on top of the soup. Lora swallowed.
"Superb," she said, trying to smile. Antoine, the chef, stood near the table, searching her face with his morose brown eyes. "Really, it's delicious. You are an artist, Antoine." Antoine tilted his head; his chef's hat slipped a little.
Geraldo, Lora's partner, was slurping softly. "Good soup," he said. The rest of Lora's family was gazing at her expectantly, perhaps wondering why she had not been more effusive in her praise. Her three sons put down their spoons almost at the same moment, while her two little girls fidgeted, tugging at their gown straps. At the other end of the table, Junia was staring directly at Lora.
"I think it's one of the finest soups I've ever tasted," Junia announced. Antoine bowed.
Lora could not control herself any longer. Releasing a sigh, she dropped her spoon next to her bowl. "Oh," she murmured, giving the word all the misery she could muster. She covered her eyes for a moment. "You'll all find out soon enough." She leaned back in her chair. "Another disk was stolen, it seems. It was the one for this cauliflower soup."
"That is too much," her son Roald muttered as his brothers, Rex and Richard, nodded their heads. "I don't understand it. It just goes on and on." The three brothers scowled in unison. Rina tugged at her strap again, then brushed back a lock of blond hair; her sister, Celia, planted her elbows on the table. One of Celia's loose, dark tresses narrowly missed her bowl of soup. Junia sat back, folding her hands. Geraldo continued to eat.
"A pity," Antoine said in tragic tones.
"It's unbearable," Lora said in an unusually harsh voice. "I imagine that, at this very moment, millions of people are enjoying this same soup. What is the point of having our own chef and our own exclusive recipe disks if we can't keep them to ourselves and our invited guests?"
"I am most sorry, madame," Antoine said, gazing heavenward. "I shall create another soup, never fear. And there are still all the disks that remain. They far outnumber the purloined ones."
Lora glanced at him, suddenly irritated with his unhappy face. Gretchen Karell's chef was a cheerful Chinese gentleman who could barely contain his joy at the sight of his sumptuous dishes, while Antoine's seemed to bring him to the verge of tears. It was Gretchen who had left the message that morning, telling Lora that various food fanciers had suddenly acquired disks labeled Antoine Laval's Cauliflower Soup. Lora had longed to reach toward the screen and slap Gretchen's smug image.
"Still tastes good," Geraldo said as he finished.
"Really!" Lora gazed balefully at her partner's handsome but chubby face. "I simply can't understand how you can so blithely enjoy a soup that anyone can have now. I've always prided myself on our unique cuisine, and now it seems that it's becoming as common as dirt."
"I don't know how the disk could have been stolen," Junia said in her clear, sharp voice. "No one's been in this house except us for at least a month, and the house would have warned us of any intrusion. You always had guests here when the others were taken."
Lora winced. She had done her best to get along with Junia, who was soon to be the partner of her son Roald, but the young woman was tactless. Junia had just pointed out what no one else at the table had wanted to mention--namely, that one of those present had to be the thief. That was the worst of it; Lora would have to be suspicious of her own family. Already, she was peering at each face, searching for signs of guilt, wondering who would be capable of such a deed. Her three sons stared back with the same bland look in their identical blue eyes. Her two daughters were once again plucking at their gowns and she nearly burst out with a reprimand, wanting to tell them to be still.
Geraldo signaled to Antoine, who departed for the kitchen to prepare the next course. Geraldo could not have stolen the disk. He had a hearty appetite, but at the same time, he didn't seem to care what he ate; it was one of his more disagreeable qualities. Lora tensed. Maybe that indifference made him more likely to steal. The treasured recipes did not mean that much to him, and he would enjoy them just as much no matter how many people had access to them. He was, she thought sadly, only a man of leisure at heart.
Lora covered her eyes again, waiting for someone to take pity and blurt out a confession. She would forgive the lapse, she decided, but only after a truly abject apology. But when she looked up, the robots were already clearing away the soup bowls in preparation for the next course, and no one had spoken.
)
Lora lives in a world of unlimited wealth, where people can have any material possessions they want, and has gained her social position by entertaining guests in her home with dishes prepared by her chef, dishes that are unique and served nowhere else. But now an unknown thief is stealing her chef's recipe disks; Lora must find out who the thief is or risk social ruin in this humorous science fiction mystery.
