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“Sure, of course, I’ll bring him after the lunch rush hour so I can get back to the restaurant before dinner.” He sounds distant, business-like.
Why is this so hard? Why can’t I simply enjoy them bonding? Perhaps I’m just used to not sharing him at all, so it’s an adjustment. It was so hard to leave him with Danielle and see him only a couple of times these past few weeks, and now when he’s finally here… I don’t know. What’s wrong with me?
Having Sebastien spending time with a man who hates me while I love him is difficult.
“Seb wants to talk to you.” Massi passes the phone without saying goodbye, and Sebastien launches into recounting his day with such excitement my heart is bursting. I’m happy for him and so sad at the same time. But the sadness is purely selfish, so I try to file it away.
After I hang up, I sit. And sit. Motionless seems to be the best way to absorb everything. Of course I won’t refuse Sebastien working with Massi this summer. What I don’t know is how I’ll pay for it. I have to find clients here.
Energized by the idea I pick up my phone, eager to call my former clients on the West Coast who have restaurants here to see if they may need an assessment, or perhaps if they can recommend me. Then I remember it’s too early to call California, so I take a shower instead.
Sweatpants and a T-shirt are more appropriate for my mood, but I decide to fake it until I make it. After a long shower I blow dry my hair and pull a dress from my closet. I eye the jeans, but decide I have to be all business now.
Before I even get dressed, my phone rings. An unknown number?
“Gina Accardi speaking.”
“Hello, Ms. Accardi, this is Lionel Brown. I own a small bistro in Brooklyn and I plan to open a new location soon. I hear you’re currently on the East Coast and I was wondering if we can meet. I need someone with your experience to set everything up. The new location is much larger. And if you could coordinate the opening that would be great, if you’re available of course.”
“Mr. Brown, I happen to be available. May I ask where you heard about me?”
“Oh, from Bianca Cassinetti. She spoke so highly of you, and knowing her son is the best in the city I’m assuming I can get some good counsel from you.”
I smile to myself. Of course, Bianca was smart enough not to offer me money, but a business opportunity? I can’t refuse that. I ask Mr. Brown to send me his website and tell him I need a couple of days to scout his business before we meet. We talk for a few minutes, so I can get a better understanding of his needs and explain to him what my focus is.
I shoot a text to Mila and get several dancing emojis back. I open my laptop and type Mr. Brown’s bistro’s website into the browser, but before it loads, my phone rings again.
Another restaurant. This one is a big fish.
And then another.
And two more.
Bianca Cassinetti has been busy raising my profile. Or perhaps a lot of people owe her a favor. This may be a very unorthodox word of mouth campaign, but I know I can prove myself, and none of these businesses will regret hiring me.
I call Mila and we agree to meet later that afternoon.
Sebastien sent me a few pictures from Central Park, and then of a dish he made himself. Through his pictures, I see how important Massi could be in his life. I’ve not seen my son so excited for the longest time. And I can’t help but feel grateful that the two most important men in my life are bonding.
Mila was right—things look different the next day. Though I do still feel a little sorry for myself. Sorry I’m not there sharing those moments with them. But at least it seems Seb is no longer pissed at me. Or maybe he’s just trying to placate me so we stay here longer.
As I get ready to meet with Mila, my phone beeps with a message. She has changed the location of our meeting. The address is vaguely familiar, but my mind is too distracted by all new clients and the new reality of my family life. And the almost extinguished flame of hope that Massi and I might work things out.
As my Uber comes to a stop, all my thoughts halt. What the hell is Mila doing here? What was she thinking?
The driver clears his throat to remind me I haven’t exited his car in a timely fashion. As I set my foot to the ground on a familiar street in Tribeca, I can’t figure out what’s going on.
Why would Mila suggest we meet at Modigliani’s? The place looks deserted. Perhaps they haven’t opened yet for the evening? Did I mistake the address? I step closer and pull out my phone to call Mila when the door opens.
I look up and flinch when my eyes meet with the icy look on Frederick’s face. “Come in, Gina, we’re waiting for you.” He steps aside.
We?
The room is dim and I have to blink a few times. With the blinds drawn, no daylight enters the premises. During all the years I spent with Frederick, I was never physically scared of him.
Until now.
He always had me where he needed me. Doubting myself. But right this minute, there is no doubt in my mind that he has the ability to hurt me. Though he has said nothing, nor has he made any threatening moves. It’s pure instinct.
