“Hi Emma,” Tom said. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”
“Thank you.” She turned her attention to Peter.
“I’m actually only back for a few days.” She told him about Mimi’s Place.
“You own a restaurant? On Nantucket? That’s so cool!” Peter seemed genuinely thrilled for her, and Tom, who fancied himself a gourmet cook, even seemed a bit envious.
“What an incredible opportunity. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own restaurant.” Tom was an accountant by trade, so this was news to Emma, though not apparently to Peter.
“If that’s what you really want to do, then you need to find a way to make it happen. That’s what I did. Do you have any idea how many people talk about writing a book, someday? I did it myself, for how many years?” He glanced at Emma.
“At least seven,” she confirmed. “Finally I told him he needed to stop talking about it, and to sit his butt down in the chair and just do it.”
“I found an hour a day, either before or after work and that added up to a finished book four months later,” Peter said proudly.
“Maybe I’ll look into an evening culinary school program,” Tom said.
“Great idea!” Peter agreed, “And in the meantime you can practice anytime on me.” A look passed between them then, and it reminded Emma that things would never be the same again for her or for Peter.
“Did you say you guys were heading out soon?” She was eager to have the house to herself.
Tom jumped up. “Yes, let’s get going. Nice to see you, Emma.”
Emma didn’t know what to say to that, because it wasn’t nice at all to see Tom. So, she just nodded and watched them walk out the door.
Facing the two of them hadn’t been as much of an ordeal as she’d anticipated, but it was still difficult, and draining. She suddenly felt exhausted and just wanted to lie down in the peace and quiet of her bedroom. The spare bedroom, actually. The moment she’d heard the news about Peter and Tom, she’d moved into the spare bedroom which was bright and roomy and decorated in soothing shades of dusty pink and mauve. Sleeping in the bed she’d once shared with Peter was no longer an option.
She collapsed onto the bed and stretched out against the cool, satin comforter. She wondered if there was a support group for women whose husbands left them for another man? Probably, though she was lucky that she already had a personal support group in Mandy and Jill. She was looking forward to spending more time with them and was growing more excited about Mimi’s Place.
She’d always had a curious love/hate relationship with restaurant work. The things she disliked were the long hours on her feet, and the sometimes cheap or crabby customers. And the nights when she was ‘in the weeds’, when the timing was off and nothing seemed to go right, and all of her customers seemed to need her at once. Yes, she’d had her share of those ‘bad nights’, but overall, she’d had many more good ones, when she’d successfully juggled many tables, served food that wowed her customers, and even had regulars who would ask for her every time they came in.
What she was most excited about was the chance to actually do some of the things that she and the other waitresses she’d worked with used to talk about, ideas for changes they’d implement if they were in charge. And Emma realized that the timing was a blessing. She sent a mental note of thanks to Grams for this chance to start over.
Cory poured himself a glass of wine and joined Mandy at the kitchen table. In between bites of the veal, which was absolutely delicious after she’d warmed it up for a few minutes, she told him about Mimi’s Place and how the three of them were planning to work there. She wasn’t asking his permission, she was telling him. But she still hoped for his approval, as it would make things easier, and less stressful. The last reaction she expected was the one she got— amusement. Cory apparently found the situation quite funny.
“You’re going to run a restaurant? How? You don’t have a drop of experience.” He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of wine before continuing. “Do you know that something like four out of five new restaurants don’t make it to the one-year mark? The odds are against you.” Mandy knew that there were several restaurant stocks in his hedge fund, so he’d clearly done some research on the market. They always did before taking on any investments, but she still found his attitude frustrating. Clearly he didn’t think she could do it.
“Mimi’s Place isn’t a new restaurant. It’s been around for years and has a great reputation.”
“Sure, it’s well established, but do you have any idea how healthy it is? Have you seen the financials?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “We’re sitting down next week with Ray, the manager. He’s going to walk us through everything.”
“I’m not trying to be negative,” he began. “It’s just that the restaurant business is known to be particularly tough. It’s not at all uncommon for even established restaurants to go under if they’re not totally on top of the market and make the necessary changes to keep up. There’s a lot more competition now.”
“I know. We’re really excited about this though. It seems like perfect timing for me especially. You know how anxious I’ve been to get back to work.”
Cory frowned. “And you know that we don’t need the money. Profits are up again over last year’s record year. You don’t have to work.”
Mandy sighed. She’d lost count of how many times they’d had this discussion or some variation of it. “It’s not about the money. I need to feel useful, to get out there and do something challenging.”
“And you think running a restaurant is the answer?” The annoying smirk was back on his face. This was a big joke to him.
“I don’t know if this is the answer. But I know that I want to find out.”
The next day Mandy went to Grams’ house. She wanted to get it ready for Jill and Emma. She put freshly washed sheets on the beds, and stocked the fridge with essentials like Diet Coke, milk, eggs, a cooked rotisserie chicken, coffee, bagels— and of course, chocolate. That should hold them for a few days until they got settled.
It was a little strange when she first walked into her grandmother’s house. Even though it was immaculate and hadn’t been touched in close to a year, she could still feel Grams’ presence. As she walked through the rooms, she thought her senses were playing tricks on her because now and then she could swear she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. Grams had been a heavy smoker, a pack a day from age sixteen she’d once said, and her brand of choice was Virginia Slims. She thought they had a refined look and a more delicate taste. She made weak attempts to quit several times, but it never lasted long. Grams often admitted that she loved smoking and never really wanted to stop.
Mandy paused when she walked into Grams’ favorite room. Her cozy library/den was just off the kitchen and the walls were lined with built-in bookcases that held an eclectic mix of books, from fiction and biographies to cookbooks of all kinds. For as long as Mandy could remember, Grams had collected cookbooks. She’d rarely cooked from them, but she loved reading them and getting ideas. Tucked into the far corner of the room was an antique roll-top desk where Grams kept all of her correspondence. There was an address book, stamps and what looked like an old diary. Intrigued, Mandy settled herself into the leather padded chair and opened the diary.