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“Yeah, but we’re only closed one of those days.” I turn to get a hot box and place the chafing dish of rigatoni in it carefully. “Thank you for these, Lena.”
“Look at you playing nice.” Phillip snorts and someone else snickers behind me.
“Both of you, out of the kitchen now,” Lena says and we obey. Before the door swings closed, I can almost hear the communal exhalation.
“Do you have time for coffee?” Phillip asks.
“The town car is picking me up in a few minutes.”
He scratches the back of his neck, looking around the room. “I hired a consultant to help us get the house in order.”
I raise my eyebrows and carefully place the box on the floor. “We need to get the house in order?”
“Okay, wrong choice of words, but you know what I mean. She operates on the West Coast, but she’s going to be in New York for a few weeks and she’s willing to advise us on potential improvements. She’s worked with places that subsequently got a star.”
I glower, but Phillip withstands it, unimpressed. “Michelin stars are awarded on the merits of exceptional culinary art. Some consultant is going to pump us for money to do what? Teach me to cook?” My voice echoes around the room, and for a moment even the kitchen behind me falls silent. The familiar quivering of muscles as my pulse speeds up reminds me to count my breaths.
“Don’t be an asshole now. If it was the question of your culinary art, you’d have at least one star already.”
His words placate me enough to remember the breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
“But they need to notice us first,” he continues. “And that’s where we may need some help. Give her one meeting, then you can decide. At the end of the day, this is your place and I’m only the silentminoritypartner.” He raises his eyebrows, challenging me.
I stare at the floor, the ridges of the stone pattern twisting around as I see red, but eventually I pull myself together and look up. Phillip has been standing there, his hands in his pockets, waiting for my internal storm to pass. The fucker knows me well.
He showed up in my life when I was ready to close. My cuisine was exceptional, but I couldn’t attract guests because, let’s face it, my skills are in the kitchen. Phillip stumbled upon this place by accident and has never left.
“Okay. One meeting to see what she has to say.” I pick up the hot box and leave without another word.
The drive to Riverdale takes almost an hour and Mother practically jumps into the car before we come to a full stop in the cul-de-sac in front of my childhood home.
“We’re late. I’m sure your driver could continue for a few more blocks to get us there.” She squeezes my hand as she slides into the leather seat next to me.
“He’s notmydriver—”
She gives him the address and I slump deeper into my seat.
“The service at the church was beautiful. It would have looked better if you were there.” Bianca Cassinetti is a master of the subtle art of the blame game. “You look stressed, Massi. Have you been sleeping well?” She narrows her eyes.
I straighten my tie and clear my throat. “I’m good.”
“You need someone to take care of you, Massi.” She squeezes my hand again.
Here we go. Sometimes it seems my mother, who raised eight children, is solely focused on marryingme.
“Is this again a plot to set me up, Mom?”
I stare out of the window on my side. We leave our neighborhood and the car’s direction squeezes my stomach. I should have paid attention when she recited the address.
“Of course not, it’s a wake, for God’s sake.” She pretends to be scandalized by my insinuation. If only I didn’t have years of experience to prove I’m right.
“Yeah, as if that has ever stopped you.” I raise my eyebrows and study her. She is clutching her black purse with vigor, as if… as if what?
The car pulls to the curb in front of a small house I’ve never seen before. I know this neighborhood well. Too well. At least it’s not one of my former classmates. Women who are divorced and annoyingly eager.
Over the years, my mother has tried to set me up with completely unsuitable women. Sometimes I think she just needs me married off, regardless of who her future daughter-in-law would be, so she can move on and play matchmaker for my brothers and stepsisters.
We get out of the car on the deserted street.
