The Second Chance Supper Club

by Meier, Nicole

  Ginny inhaled and looked Julia hard in the eye.

  “Comprende,” Julia stammered back. She understood. It was an old inside joke they had, to answer in the affirmative using a Spanish word. They’d learned it from their former boss at a local eatery back home. Recalling Manny’s was sentimental for Ginny. It was the place where she’d fallen in love with being in the kitchen. Manny had opened her eyes to the possibilities of food. She also believed it was where her sister had fallen in love with listening to other people’s stories. In a way, Manny’s Restaurant had sent them each on the course toward their future.

  It had been a long time since Ginny had reflected on that part of her life. Manny’s represented a time when the two sisters had been so close. Ginny and Julia used to playfully mock Old Man Manuel behind his back, shuffling around and yelling, “Comprende, girls? Comprende?” Ginny would hold up an open hand and shake it in the air. It had always brought them to fits of laughter.

  But tonight, it held the potential to bring on another kind of emotion entirely.

  The fact that Julia repeated the phrase now meant that she’d heard her sister. Despite the giant chasm of guilt and pain that lingered between them, Julia’s response connected them momentarily. Ginny believed Julia would play along. For now, anyway.

  She knew there’d almost assuredly be consequences later.

  Once Julia had tied a crisp white apron around the waist of her size-zero slacks, Ginny got focused. Her hands flew over dishes and made quick work of sautéing the fish and spooning the sauces. A puree was spread onto plates first and then topped with the main course. After an ultrafine sliver of ginger was placed as the final garnish, she turned and nodded to a dumbfounded Julia.

  “Go!” she whispered.

  Julia used both hands to scoop up the white dishes, her painted nails curving over the rims. Then she stopped.

  “What is it?” Ginny asked.

  “Serve from the right, take from the left?” Julia inquired. Her head was cocked, her blonde hair cascading to one side. It occurred to Ginny that she suddenly looked very young.

  Ginny nodded. “Yes. See? You remember. It’s just like riding a bike. Get going before anything goes cold!” She shooed her sister from the room with a face full of encouragement.

  Julia strode from the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Ginny overheard a burst of voices as people welcomed the long-awaited delivery of hot food. Men and women chattered eagerly, their volume traveling to the kitchen. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she could tell by their tones it was all positive.

  As Ginny went for the freezer and began the preparations for the frozen dessert, something dawned on her. She realized that in all her haste, she’d overlooked one thing: Julia, with her sparkling eyes and impressively blown-out hair, might very well be recognized. If that were to happen, what would be the reaction? What would the guests say about a high-profile news anchor appearing out of nowhere to pour their waters and bus their dirty plates? What would Ginny—or Julia, for that matter—offer as an explanation?

  Her mind ran through the possibilities. After setting aside a bowl of freshly whipped cream, she cleaned her hands on a towel and did her best to wipe the fear from her face. She raised her chin and strode purposefully toward the dining room.

  Well, she told herself, there’s only one way to find out. Bracing for what might prove an awkward encounter, she went in to greet her guests.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JULIA

  Julia’s mouth watered as she placed the final plate of food down on a long wooden table. The setting spread out before her was quite stunning, really. The table’s surface, adorned with flickering votive candles and metallic containers cradling miniature geometric succulents, had a kind of rustic elegance with a natural edge and rich finish. She noticed fine white linens had been tucked onto people’s laps and polished sterling-silver serving pieces were lined up on each end. Faint notes of acoustic guitar music trailed into the room from a sound system somewhere in the house, and a low fire crackled in a corner fireplace.

  Julia also observed that the high-backed chairs were filled with chattering, well-dressed men and women sipping pinot noir and sinking their forks into artfully assembled plates of ginger and fish. The lighting was soft and the mood was festive. A flavorful, buttery aroma encircled the room. At first glance, it appeared to be a dinner party full of happy acquaintances.

  But why were these people here in Ginny’s dining room while her sister was hidden, toiling away in the kitchen? And why had Julia been made to serve them without so much as an explanation? Perhaps this was one of those dinners offered at a charity auction, the kind that promised a personal chef to cater to the winner’s dinner party? She’d seen that sort of event publicized before. But still, why were these people in Ginny’s house and not someone else’s?

  She glanced around the table once more. It was baffling. No one there appeared to be the type of friend Ginny usually kept. It was nothing like her diverse, eclectic New York scene of fellow chefs and colorful artists.

  Something felt off.

  Julia’s empty stomach grumbled loudly as she continued to gawk, causing an elderly woman to swivel around in her seat. The woman’s milky-blue eyes drifted upward and then settled on Julia with a hard squint. Her lips pushed out with stern concentration.

  Instinctually, Julia understood what would come next. She was going to be recognized.

  “I’ve seen you before,” the woman said. Her quizzical stare indicated she was slowly connecting the dots in her head.

  “Possibly.” Julia stiffened. She sensed the unwanted rush of heat creeping along her skin. She’d experienced that brand of suspicious scrutiny many times before. Strangers would often stop her on the city streets and peer into her face, gauging whether she was famous. She hadn’t been on GBN long enough to become a household name—not like the lineup of well-known evening anchors—but she’d been on enough television screens to be recognized by many people. At least in New York.

  In Arizona, she had no idea.

  This woman’s blatant inspection, especially in such close proximity, caused Julia to squirm. Casting about for a place to hide, she stumbled sideways with a burst of clumsiness. Her heel caught and created an unfortunate scraping sound along the colorful Mexican tile. More heads popped up now and curious faces landed on her. The older woman narrowed her eyes. Julia kept her lips tight and forced a restrained smile. She’d hoped to back out of the room quietly, avoiding the need to engage.

  The entire evening had taken the most bizarre turn. In all the scenarios Julia had imagined, this was definitely not one of them. Showing up at her long-lost sister’s house only to have an apron and water pitcher shoved into her hands had been shocking. Being recognized, especially after her very public snafu, while serving a bunch of strangers in some remote Arizona dining room, was just plain demoralizing. She’d gone from a high-paid television personality to waitstaff in only a matter of hours.

  Perhaps that’s exactly what Ginny wanted. Humiliation. If that was the case, coming here had been a big mistake.

  “Where do I know you from?” The prying woman twisted farther in her chair midbite, a little fleck of food clinging to the corner of her mouth. Julia had the urge to offer a napkin and walk away. But she didn’t want to be rude. The rest of the table paused in their chewing and waited for Julia to respond.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed in a well-practiced breathy tone. “You might know me. I may have shown up in your home on occasion.” It was a playful line she’d tossed out many times before. One she deployed to suggest she wasn’t vain enough—unlike Miller, who relished these types of encounters—to outright announce her GBN status, but that was coy enough to indicate onlookers might be familiar with her show. This reserved answer was apparently not good enough for this crowd, however. Because they all scowled in unison as if she’d said something crazy.

  And at the moment, Julia felt a little crazy.

&nbs
p; “This is my younger sister, Julia,” Ginny announced suddenly, barging into the room with swift authority. The dark-blonde roots of her wavy, cropped hair were damp with perspiration. The effects of working over a hot stove had transformed the fair skin of her exposed neck to a gummy pink. Julia noticed her face was one full shade darker, flushed from hard work.

  A tingle of nostalgia ran through Julia. Her sister looked just as she used to in her old Manhattan restaurant days, when she’d labored for hours at a bank of steaming equipment. Only now, she appeared older and perhaps a tinge wearier. It was unsettling and reassuring at the same time.

  Ginny dipped her head ever so slightly as she caught Julia’s disoriented gaze. It was a signal that the situation would be handled. Julia was to move on.

  She retreated gratefully, heading to the sideboard to clutch an icy water pitcher in her mildly shaky hands. She watched as Ginny hiked up the long white sleeves of her coat and smiled at the group. “Julia has come for a visit and kindly offered to help out. This is her first night, so I know we’ll all go easy on her.”

  There was a wink and then a rumbling of understanding.

  “Ah.” A few of them nodded and murmured to one another before looking back at Ginny.

  Julia’s eyes darted away and then back to the inquisitive woman, who, unlike the others, still appeared unconvinced.

  “Well,” the woman began, “I don’t see the resemblance. But there is something familiar about you I just can’t put my finger on.” Julia held her breath as the tip of a semignarled index finger wagged in her direction. She felt as if a fortune-teller were suddenly uncovering an unwelcome truth.

  Julia froze and swallowed awkwardly. It would have been so nice to avoid people altogether that day. But no such luck. This woman was suddenly a dog with a bone. Julia realized a better explanation was in order. Or perhaps a white lie.

  Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She cast Ginny a pleading look.

  “Julia works in the media,” Ginny said. “She’s on vacation from New York. Coming for a bit of sun. Just like most of you. Am I right?” Ginny chuckled a little too loudly, her throat undulating. “Who here is from out of state? I’d love to know where my guests hail from!” Her eyebrows arched as she made her way to the head of the table, smoothing down her coat and offering a handshake to a couple seated near the end.

  “Oh, my wife and I are from the East Coast,” offered one man in a neatly pressed linen shirt.

  Then another woman perked up. “I’m from Connecticut! And I ate at one of your restaurants when you worked in New York.”

  “Really?” Ginny asked. Her smile deepened. She placed a hand over her heart. “And you found your way to my private dining room. I’m flattered.” The guests bobbed their heads enthusiastically. “Tell me what you think of your salmon this evening. I tried something new.”

  A multitude of voices chimed in at once.

  And just like that, Ginny was able to steer the conversation swiftly away from Julia and any potential scandal. The room thankfully switched gears, and guests expounded on Ginny’s specialty menu. Eager diners doled out equal amounts of praise and enthusiasm and agreed they’d be back.

  Julia slipped from the room, stunned.

  Despite whatever hard feelings her sister might harbor, despite the purposeful distance between the two of them, Ginny apparently still held on to her role as protective older sister. It was quite astounding, really.

  A small patch of warmth bloomed in Julia’s chest, filling a place that had been empty for so long.

  She tilted her hip against the kitchen counter and waited for Ginny to return. At present, the kitchen was quiet. It was the first moment she’d had to fully observe the space. The interior of the home had a definite southwestern feel, with brightly patterned woven rugs, slipcovered furniture, and authentic-looking tile. A charming fireplace stood in the corner of the breakfast nook, with a smooth, rounded hearth. Its broad base and narrow top included a little recessed shelf notched into the white plaster, which housed miniature bits of Mexican art.

  A set of glass doors led out onto a patio, and beyond that was a view of the mountains. It was dark out now, so it was difficult to see, but she could make out that much from where she stood. On all accounts, the house seemed to offer a cozy, lived-in vibe with a wide-open outdoor space. It was rather welcoming. Like a meditative retreat of some sort.

  Listening to the hum of conversation in the next room, Julia allowed herself to relax slightly. She eased her sore and swollen feet from her shoes and rested them on the cool tile. Leaning back on her elbows, she surveyed the kitchen. The first thing she spied was a nearby bowl of fluffy whipped cream, and she wondered if she might steal a quick spoonful. Next to this she noticed a thick cutting board piled high with beautiful arcs of dark chocolate shavings. The temptation of sugar lured her closer. Slowly, she reached out and placed a few fragments of sweetness on her hungry tongue.

  Julia closed her eyes and sighed. The reward was immediate. Velvety heaven melted in her mouth. Oh, how she’d missed desserts.

  Maybe coming here wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. As long as she could keep up the pretense, that was. Julia wasn’t ready to disclose the details of her epic career failure to Ginny just yet. The humiliation was still raw. She also didn’t know if Ginny could be trusted with her feelings. Though she was willing to find out.

  Just as Julia’s weary limbs began to go slack, Ginny came rushing back into the kitchen. The friendly face from the other room had vanished. Julia tensed. Hopefully there wasn’t any chocolate on her mouth that would give her away.

  “No time for standing around,” Ginny said. She clapped her hands together as if to jolt Julia from her stupor. With quick movements, she strode past Julia’s sagging pose and began retrieving things from the freezer.

  “What do you mean?” Julia asked, perplexed. At this point in the evening, with a long day of travel and the time difference catching up to her, she was more than ready to go somewhere quiet to lay her head. Surely Ginny didn’t expect her to keep working.

  She pointed toward the other room. “It looks like the dinner’s winding down and all your guests out there are happy.” She watched Ginny embellish ice cream with swirls of crisp meringue, chocolate shavings, and berries. After sticking a sprig of mint into the side of each one, Ginny shoved the icy bowls in Julia’s direction.

  “What I mean is we have to get these people through dessert, pronto. I’ve got another group coming very soon. If we don’t get this first group out of here by the time the others arrive, I’m screwed.”

  She can’t be serious.

  Julia looked on, dumbfounded. Glistening bowls of ice cream were lined up and waiting to be served. “Wait a minute. What? I thought you were kidding. We’re playing this game all over again? What exactly is going on here, Ginny? Who are these people? And why are more of them coming?”

  Ginny swatted at the air. “Never mind all that. We had an agreement, remember? You promised to help with no questions asked. I don’t have time for this. If you want to stay, then stay. If not, I’ve got work to do!” Ginny’s voice escalated and the pink color returned to her neck.

  “But—”

  Ginny halted. “But nothing. You’re the one who came here unannounced. Not me. Remember? So either get your bag and go, or get out there and deliver those desserts!”

  Julia bit her lip and deliberated. It was a negotiation. As a reporter who often had to pry more information out of people than they wanted to reveal, she recognized that. And normally Julia would have used some sort of leverage to glean more details before moving forward. But at the moment, with a frantic-faced sister and a clock ticking against her, she didn’t see that she had much choice in the matter.

  With wounded pride, she shook off her mounting exhaustion. She slipped her swollen and tender feet back into her abandoned shoes. The dessert bowls were snatched up, and she trudged back toward the dining room with reluctance.

  Somethin
g told Julia it was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JULIA

  The next morning, Julia found herself alone and upright in a strange bed. She smacked her dry lips. It was as if all the moisture had been sucked from the air overnight. Her hands skimmed across the length of a textured quilt that was not her own. Early-morning light cast shadows on the wall. She cocked an ear. The staccato song of once-familiar caws and chirps traveled in from the desert landscape just beyond her window. She knew these sounds.

  A flash of remorse shot through her.

  These were the distant echoes of her childhood, of growing up in the comfort of her parents’ Arizona home. So much had been lost, and here was a sudden reminder of the grief she’d so carefully locked away.

  Rubbing her eyes, she readjusted. It was too hard to dwell on that now. The heartache over her parents’ deaths might swallow her whole if she wasn’t careful. And that wasn’t why she was here.

  Instead, she turned her focus to Ginny. The decor of her sister’s house was curious—the wrought-iron daybed and its floral printed bedcovers, the punched-tin wall mirror with a brightly patterned inlay, and the tobacco-colored Mexican leather and twig chair standing in the corner. From the looks of the decor, Ginny had embraced her move back to Arizona.

  What a strange twenty-four hours it had been.

  After the last guest had finally headed out the door just before midnight and the candles had melted down into flattened puddles of wax, Ginny had claimed she was too tired to talk. The lights were turned off and the appliances shut down.