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In an essay titled A View From the Front Line, Jencks described her experience with cancer as like being woken up midflight on a jumbo jet and then thrown out with a parachute into a foreign landscape without a map: "There you are, the future patient, quietly progressing with other passengers toward a distant destination when, astonishingly (Why me?) a large hole opens in the floor next to you. People in white coats appear, help you into a parachute and — no time to think — out you go. "You descend. You hit the ground....But where is the enemy? What is the enemy? What is it up to?...No road. No compass. No map. No training. Is there something you should know and don't? "The white coats are far, far away, strapping others into their parachutes. Occasionally they wave but, even if you ask them, they don't know the answers. They are up there in the Jumbo, involved with parachutes, not map-making. ↗
You don’t like my restaurant, Miss Connor?” “I couldn’t say since the waiting list to get in is six months long.” One side of his mouth curved up. “This is true.” His finger lingered, and I tried to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. “I think you can call me by my first name now, seeing as how you’re touching my boob. That puts us a little past formality, don’t you think? ↗
Emilio appeared with wine before Cal could say anything, and Min beamed at him, grateful for the rescue. "Emilio, my darling. I forgot to mention cake boxes. Two hundred cake boxes." "Already on it," Emilio said. "Nonna said you'd need them. She said to get four-inch-square boxes for three-inch-square cakes." "I'm getting the boxes," Min said, nodding. "Sure. Great. Fine. Your grandmother is an angel and you are my hero. And of course, a genius with food." "And you are my favorite customer." Emilio kissed her cheek and disappeared back into the kitchen. "I love him," she told Cal. "I noticed," Cal said. "Been seeing him behind my back, have you?" "Yes," Min said. "We've been having conversations about cake." "Whoa," Cal said. "For you, that's talking dirty. ↗
I had a really great time tonight. I got to eat great food, meet new people and even play on a stage with you. But you wanna know the best part of the whole night? It was when I got to pretend I was your boyfriend. ↗
The bourbon goes into the recipe, Miss Connor, not into you,” he’d said from directly behind me. He had a way of doing that, catching me in the act. I suppose the number of times I screwed up made me an easy mark. My spine straightened at the scolding, but my mouth did what it knew best. “Well, that’s just a waste of perfectly good bourbon if you ask me. ↗