Three thirty p.m.A few stragglers were sipping mimosas and picking at the remains of their meals, but the frantic pace of the last few hours had finally slowed. Thank goodness. I was starving and had a dull headache from racing around in a dozen different directions all morning while trying to figure out how to juggle a life and a staff and a restaurant that I really knew nothing about. I’d pulled it off, though, and it had been oddly satisfying to be a part of what I’d dreamed of building for so long. Tiring, but satisfying. The atmosphere at Toast all morning had reminded me of the energy I remembered from the Eatery growing up, when the tables had been full and the air had buzzed with conversation and laughter.
I stood back now and watched an older couple clink glasses and finish off their second mimosas, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Next to them, a family party of six celebrating an engagement talked and argued and laughed, reaching across the table to snag the last bites of one another’s meals and sneak crumbs from the cheese board. I smiled in satisfaction. It was what I loved, inviting people into deeper connection over good food served with care, fostering a simple kind of joy.
But now, after several full-on hours without a moment to catch my breath, I needed to clear my head and get some air.
“Can you manage if I slip out for a few minutes?” I asked Chandice, who waved me out the door with an assurance that she could handle things in my absence. The dinner rush wouldn’t start for a couple of hours yet, so this slow time was the perfect opportunity to slip away. I grabbed my phone and headed out the door.
There were myriad things for me to work on. There was a substantial stack of bills waiting to be paid back in my office, and when I checked my phone I found voice mails from an electrician about a faulty wiring issue, a local charity asking for donations for their raffle, and a woman who had trained in Paris wondering if we were hiring a pastry chef. I ignored them all and headed to the beach.
It was a brisk walk, just long enough to clear my head. I wound my way through the North Laine district, past antiques shops, falafel joints, artists’ studios, and secondhand clothing boutiques. The beach was nearly deserted at this time of day, cloudy and chilly in February. Shivering, I pulled my stylish but thin coat closer and wished for the angora sweater (also in blush) that I’d spied in my subdued new wardrobe earlier in the day.
The pebbles crunched under my feet as I picked my way down to the water. The cry of the gulls wheeling above was both raucous and lonely at the same time. I took a deep, steadying breath, but the briny air did not center me. It smelled different than at home. No sweet smell of decaying kelp, like seaweed salad sitting a little too long in the fridge. No fringe of hazy purple-blue mountains on the horizon. Here was just the whitecapped slate gray of the water stretching to meet the paler gray sky. I inhaled deeply again, this time catching the oily scent of frying fish and chips. From farther down the beach, near the ornate Victorian pier, there came the high jangle of carnival music.
I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. It was one of only ahandful of names I’d recognized in my phone, and I’d been thinking about calling all day. Why had I not been home in over six years? I needed someone to tell me. One ring. Two. Three.
“Hello?”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Hey, Daphne, it’s me.”
A long pause. “Lolly?” The cold, questioning tone in her voice took me aback.
“Sorry, I know it’s early there. Just... calling to say hi.”
“Oh,” she sounded surprised, not necessarily in a good way. Did we not speak often? I was getting the uncomfortable feeling that something was very amiss between me and my family.
“It’s fine. I was up anyway. I’m studying right now.”
“Oh, what for?”
“I’m trying to get into nursing school. I’ve got my CNA license, but Aegis pays way better if you’re a nurse than just an aide, and we could use the money.” There was a hard edge to her voice, a flatness that I’d never heard before. I scrambled to connect the dots. Aegis was a group of senior-care communities in Seattle. CNA certification. Was she working as an aide there now? What had happened to Cornish and her dance aspirations? I’d never heard her talk about wanting to be a nurse.
“That’s great.” My voice sounded too cheerful in my own ears. “You’ll be a great nurse.”
“I should go,” she said abruptly. “I only answered because I thought it was an emergency.”
“Ah, no emergency. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Another beat. “Oh. Well, here it is.” I could feel her impatience over the connection. She didn’t want to talk to me, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. I had to know what had happened, where we stood, what had gone wrong. Where were all our family photos? And why hadn’t I been home in so long?
“Um, how’s Dad these days?”
She sighed. “Okay, I guess. You know he never really recovered after you left for England and the diner closed. It gutted him.” There was accusation in her tone. “He volunteers at Union Gospel Mission but other than that, he just watches baseball and cooks dinner for us when I come home after the day shift, and that’s pretty much it.”
“Oh.” I was taken aback. “And how about you? How are you?” I knew I sounded like I was interviewing her, which I was. I was desperately trying to understand the contours of our family dynamics.
“What’s this about, Lolly?” Daphne sounded suspicious. “Why are you all of a sudden interested in our lives?”
“Just... just wanted to catch up. I miss you,” I stammered. A family of Brits with a chubby toddler in tow passed me, the child crying, trailing a bucket and sand shovel, his legs limp as overcooked noodles.
“Oh yeah, since when?” Her tone was a challenge. “You went off to England a decade ago. You haven’t come home in years. You left us. And now youmissus? Well, thanks for that, but it’s a little too late. We’re doing just fine, so you can go back to your super-successful restaurant and cool English life. You don’t need to worry about us.”
“Daphne, that’s not what I meant,” I protested.
“I’ve got to go.” Her tone was final. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
“Okay.” My voice was small, subdued. My heart hurt. “Good luck on your test.”
“Thanks.”Click. She hung up.
