Aunt Becky snorted. “You’ve done the Jansen’s retirement party, and there must have been close to sixty people there. Don’t forget you did Paul and Jen’s wedding, as well. I know it wasn’t that big, but they’ve been married and divorced four times now. We all figure if we miss one wedding, another will come up in five years.”
Elissa listened, and the weight of just how much she hadn’t done made her head hang low as she ate the pudding.
“Well, did you tell them about those parties?” Aunt Becky pushed.
Elissa let out a breath. “I did tell them, and they asked for the numbers, and I gave them.”
“Well, then?”
“The problem is, all of the references said they thought I was a good caterer because they had seen the signs when I was growing up.”
“Well, we all know city folk are odd. I guess it’s a good thing you’re doing those hotels in New York, you said, right?”
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“Isn’t Clara Butler’s son working in hotels?”
Elissa held her head down as the old heaviness of embarrassment came over her. “Liam is his name, and yes, I heard he was in the hotel business, but he does management. I would be in the food and beverage section. He wouldn’t be able to help me. Besides, I haven’t spoken to Liam in so long it would take a moment beyond desperation for me to ask him for anything.”
“It’s been a minute. Surely you aren’t still mad at him?” Aunt Becky prodded.
“Why would I be upset that he agreed to go with me to my college graduation dance on a dare? He was stuck-up and inconsiderate then, and I don’t think he’s had any reason to change. However, to answer your question, no, I’m not upset. I don’t even think about it.”
The truth was, the last couple of trips she’d made to New York, she had done nothing but think about it. She needed to get the catering business going, or at the very least make enough money to give Aunt Becky back her investment. She’d found out that Aunt Becky had given her a considerable portion of her retirement nest egg. If Elissa failed, she could go on, but she wouldn’t leave her auntie out to dry, even if that meant taking a knee to Mr. Mean-and-Callous.
When she had gone to New York for the second-round interview, instead of being directed to a kitchen, she was shown into an office. Elissa knew, whatever they threw at her, she could cook. In her mind, the job was a done deal. Her apprehension grew as she was walked into the building, but away from the hallway marked Kitchens and toward the administrative office.
Finally, they put her in a room with a woman whom Elissa was sure wasn’t anatomically natural. She was reed-thin. Aunt Becky would have called her a toothpick. Her hair was a mane like Rapunzel’s, explaining to Elissa why the woman’s head was always slightly bent to the side. On her best days, the woman was a hundred pounds soaking wet and a size double zero.
A lovely woman had come into the room to explain that Elissa and Flora were the finalists, and they would both be evaluated.
Aunt Becky, scooting back in her chair at the table, brought Elissa back to the present. “Well, if we’re not going to use our hometown connections, at least tell me what happened when you went to New York. You’ve been all closed mouth about it, and I was waiting for you to tell me, but it’s been three days, and that’s long enough to have a wake and bury a person. So spill it.”
Elissa dug her spoon into the banana pudding.
“They’re testing their options for the new hotel. Cooking isn’t just cooking anymore,” Elissa smiled at Aunt Becky.
“It seems like I’m missing something, so tell me what they actually said.”
“They said that both of us were talented cooks, but the person who gets this job will also have to be . . . a public representative of the hotel.”
Aunt Becky scowled in disapproval.
“Public representative . . . and you said that woman was a toothpick? No one is going to believe she can cook a thing if you can look through her. You know what they need?”
Elissa smiled, and she and Aunt Becky said it in unison. “They need a real woman!”
“Well, they didn’t say that Aunt Becky.” Elissa looked into the bit of pudding she had and was so grateful. Aunt Becky was the best. Never pointing out the potential for failure, she was supportive to the end. Elissa wasn’t sure how, but she would make it right for her. “So what they did was take us aside and explain what the other candidate offered and why it had come down to us. They thought we were both imaginative in our plating and flavorful in our food choices. However, the caterer would be part of the ambiance of the moment and potentially the permanent go-to for the hotel chain, so they wanted to make sure the candidate was unique and appealed to a wide audience. So they want me to come up with a new menu and some pictures and send it.”
Aunt Becky downed the rest of her drink.
“I know this won’t be a problem for you. It seems like you just need to do you and you’ll win, no problem. Both of us are here, and you know the rule, if two agree, it’s done. Now, the Johansens are coming, did I tell you how that happened?”
“No, Auntie.” Elissa relaxed in her chair, wishing she could be as confident as her aunt.
“Old man Johansen has a brother, and he’s visiting the Johansens at their house. You know there’s a problem there. I mean, a grown man staying at his brother’s house and he’s over the age of thirty, the man must be unemployed or beyond cheap.
Anyway, I saw him with the Johansens coming out of the minimart. They introduced me, and his name is Clyde. What kind of name is Clyde? It’s a robber’s name, and that means no job.”
“Did you ask him if he had a job?” Elissa asked.
Aunt Becky looked wide-eyed at Elissa.
“Why would I do that and get all up in that man’s business? I’m not that kind of woman.”
Elissa nodded, trying to stop the smile from showing on her face. “Of course, sorry.”
“Well, after the introduction, he says to me, ‘My brother says you make good pies and cakes.’ I tell him, ‘Yes, I do.’ Then he says, ‘Would you mind baking a couple for me and maybe a banana pudding?’ I told him, ‘You think I bake for just anyone?’ Then he says he’ll come and pick them up, and then I step back and say, ‘Listen up, we’re talking about baking for sure, and I live with my niece, so I’ll deliver the goods to you outside when you come with your family.’ He stepped back, and I laughed at him as I walked away. I admit he looked all refined and distinguished with that bit of gray at his temples and that six-foot-one height, but I’m not that kind of woman,” she sniffed.[DD2]
Elissa was laughing before she finished. On schedule, Aunt Becky went into the sitting room to turn on the television. Elissa gathered their plates to wash and dry them before joining her.
“Seems like this week was rough on everyone in New York,” Aunt Becky said.
“Is that what we’re calling it when our whole life is hanging in the balance? What else happened, Auntie?”
Aunt Becky cackled. “We were just talking about the Butler boy, and we must have called him up because they got a picture of him walking in a robe and pink flip flops next to what looks like a bag lady with a dog. The news headline read ‘The Wild Billionaire Strikes Again with His Outlandish Taste in Women and Parties.’”