“From what I remember, Olive always had a soft spot for Will.”
Ginny shrugged, a look of defeat passing behind her eyes. “Yeah, that’s true. But now that we’re over two thousand miles away from him, she’s taken a clear preference. It’s like he’s some kind of mythical creature she can’t get enough of. Which is fine, I guess. He is her dad. But she keeps flitting off and leaving me in the lurch. As you can tell by last night’s performance, I need her here to help out.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “About that . . . Help with what, exactly? What we did last night, is that a regular thing? Do people pay you to come here?” The entire concept was madly confusing. Hadn’t Ginny moved away from New York to escape the restaurant scene? Wasn’t she done cooking for other people? Especially rich, uptight ones like the group from last night?
Ginny cast her a sidelong glance. She straightened slowly, as if being propped up with sore muscles. Julia watched as she dug the knuckles of her right hand into the small of her back. A little groan escaped. “If you must know, yes. It’s a regular thing. I invite people into my home on the weekends and they pay me to cook for them.”
“Strangers come into your home? Every weekend?” A flag of concern popped up. It sounded rather bizarre, and maybe even slightly illegitimate. “Is this, like, a business?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, Julia. It’s like a business. It’s called underground dining, if you must know. It’s a thing. Big cities have it, small cities have it. And you can stop your snobby judgment right there. I already know what you’re thinking. It’s not illegal, per se. Well, I suppose a little bit, if the health inspector gets wind of it. But it’s a trend that I’m happy to jump on if it pays my mortgage. I don’t have to worry about a big overhead at a commercial space, I don’t have to commute, and, most importantly, I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself.” She paused, narrowing her eyes. “And that includes you. Remember, you were the one who wrote me off when I moved away. You don’t get to come in here and lay on your self-righteous criticism. Not anymore.”
That stung. Ginny was acting as if she’d been innocent in the whole thing. Well, she hadn’t. And Julia planned to get to that. But first, she needed to know more.
This was not at all what she’d expected from Ginny. Underground dining? She’d never heard of such a thing. Before she could think, the reporter in her blurted out the next question. “How do people find you? Aren’t you afraid of weirdos coming in here? Invading the space where you live?”
Ginny huffed. Julia was clearly annoying her. “They find me by word of mouth. And to answer your question about whether I’m worried about strangers busting in on me, no, not really. Unless you count yourself . . . Otherwise, did you see any weird people here last night?”
“Wow, Ginny, thanks for that.” She rolled her eyes. “I just think it’s a questionable decision. But then again, it wouldn’t be the first time you did something bizarre.”
“Look, Julia, I invite people into my house to give them a different experience.” She paused a minute, swallowing as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. Then she continued. “These people come exclusively for the food. To indulge with others in their collective love of culinary fare. They don’t care about all the other trappings. They come for the unique menu only I can provide. And they come for community. And I get to give that to them.”
This was so much more than Julia could process. How strange her sister’s new life had become.
“Wow,” Julia uttered. Never in a million years would she have suspected that this was what her sister would wind up doing. Running a speakeasy in her own house. “I guess I’m pretty surprised.”
Ginny smirked. “Well, you can be whatever you want,” she said. “But unfortunately, you’ll have to do it elsewhere. I’ve got too much going on right now. I have to prepare for more people coming again later tonight. And as you noticed, I’ve got difficulties with Olive. So while you may have come to talk, or rehash old history, or I don’t know what, I need to get back to work. I’m sorry, but you need to go.”
Julia’s heart sank. She could tell Ginny was quickly retreating. She recognized the old, familiar pulling away. And her opportunity to hide out from her looming problems was going with it. She needed to think fast.
“Wait.”
Ginny sighed. “What?”
“I was, uh, kind of hoping I could stay. Not for long, just for a short bit while some things at home have a chance to quiet down. I know I didn’t exactly give you notice, but I’ve come all this way.” She searched Ginny’s face for a sign of compassion.
Ginny tilted her head. “What do you mean, ‘quiet down’? Is this about a man? Are you in the middle of a breakup or some early midlife crisis or something?” It came out flat, and Julia couldn’t tell if it was meant as an accusation or not.
“Yes. I’m going through some personal relationship stuff.” Julia felt herself shrinking with the lie. But Ginny was so smug sitting there, Julia couldn’t imagine opening up just yet. It was better to avoid the truth for now. Until she could gain back some even footing.
“Julia.” Ginny pursed her lips. It was evident by her shift in tone that she was debating something. “If you seriously want to stay, fine. I’m not sure why you want to be here, but I’m not going to force you out if you have nowhere else to go. However, you need to understand what you’re walking into. Things around here are different. I’m different. If you can handle that, well then, I guess it’s okay. Temporarily.”
“Yes, of course. Temporarily.”
“I’m not finished,” Ginny said, her tone strengthening. “Another thing is, you’re going to have to work if that’s the case. The truth is, I’m short-staffed; I have no idea when Olive is coming back and there are no other employees. I’ve got too much to do without a houseguest getting in the way. Sorry to be blunt, but that’s the truth. If you’re willing to suit up and repeat what you did last night, that’s the offer. Take it or leave it. I don’t care, but I don’t have time to stand around and wait.”
Julia felt a flop in her stomach. What was she supposed to say? She desperately wanted a place to hide, and also the chance to patch things up with both Ginny and Olive. But this was preposterous. Help run some secret restaurant? She hadn’t shown up here, after all this time, just to be her bossy sister’s lackey.
“Well . . .” Julia waffled. She wanted more time to ask questions. But she could tell by Ginny’s tightening face that her sister was rapidly losing patience. “Okay, fine.”
Ginny eyed her suspiciously. “Fine, what?”
“Fine, I’ll stay and be your secret supper club helper. Or whatever it’s called. Temporarily.”
“It’s called Mesquite, for your information,” Ginny retorted.
“What is?”
“My supper club. Named for the tree out front.”
“Ah.” Julia nodded, not entirely understanding but not wanting to sound like a clueless city snob.
Ginny rose. “Get dressed in something other than silk and meet me back here in fifteen minutes. You’ve got potatoes to peel.”
And just like that, it was settled. Julia would stay another day.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GINNY
As soon as she heard the crash of glass stemware breaking, followed by a high-pitched yelp, Ginny understood involving her sister had been a mistake. That evening’s table of dinner guests had been seated for no more than five minutes before Julia had a chance to screw things up. And of course, in typical maddening fashion, Olive had yet to materialize.
“Oh, for god’s sake. I’m coming,” Ginny grumbled, more to herself than anyone else. Pivoting from her place at the stove, she yanked a towel from its hook and groused, “What now?” Her first instinct was to reprimand her jumpy sister. But she knew she couldn’t. At least not in front of company.
Julia had been a bundle of nerves all afternoon as Ginny walked her through the serving process. It really shouldn’t have been difficult: set the ta
ble, serve the guests, try not to spill anything. Was that so much to ask?
But Julia was on another planet. Whatever had happened back in the city was taking over Julia’s ability to concentrate. Ginny didn’t say anything when her sister appeared in her kitchen, ready for work, wearing some pricey-looking romper that seemed better suited for a nightclub. She only raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“What?” Julia cocked her head in confusion. “You said no silk. This was the only other nice thing I had. I didn’t exactly plan on being your scullery maid when I arrived.”
“Seriously?”
Julia only shrugged and turned away with a wounded look.
Ginny also held her tongue the numerous times she caught Julia in the corner, scrolling through her phone for news alerts and text messages. But after the potato peeler was discovered in the garbage, rather than the sink, Ginny knew it was time to snap her distracted sister back into focus.
“It’s Saturday,” Ginny snipped. “Let the broadcast news world go for now. And please, Julia, pay attention. This is important. Your phone will still be there in a few hours, I promise.”
Julia succumbed, begrudgingly. The device slid into her back pocket, where it vibrated at regular intervals. Both women had pretended not to notice the thick tension in the air as they went about prepping for dinner.
It wasn’t that Ginny was insensitive to her sister’s plight. She understood all too well the constant pressures of life in New York. It was a city of “see and be seen.” Stay out of the fray too long and run the risk of being forgotten. And she also understood what a big deal GBN was. Her sister was likely worried about taking time away from work. Or maybe it was something more.
Julia’s habitual nail biting alone had told her all she needed to know for the moment. Ginny, however, was under stress too. Couldn’t her sister appreciate that? She’d made her situation clear. If Julia didn’t plan on cooperating, she would simply have to hide out and nurse her ego elsewhere.
Especially if it meant sending Ginny’s business into chaos.
Arriving in the packed dining room, Ginny slowed her gait and plastered on a thick smile. “Hello, everyone! Sounds like it’s quite lively in here tonight!” It took all her restraint to stop and make eye contact with the roomful of expectant faces before sending her gaze swiftly in Julia’s direction. The guests appeared a bit startled but smiled back, murmuring their hellos. Ginny recognized many of them. Tonight was an evening of regulars, thankfully. They would hopefully be sympathetic.
“Hi, George. Hi, Maddie! Nice to see you both back again!” She beamed at the couple and then zeroed in on a pile of broken glass on the sideboard. A waterfall of iced tea poured over the side and onto the floor, creating little splashing sounds. Next to it was a dazed and flushed Julia, who was attempting to pluck up the sharp pieces with her bare hands.
“Oh dear, I’ll get a mop. Sorry, everyone! I’ve put my poor sister to work tonight. She’s new, obviously. I hope no one got hurt!” She grinned through gritted teeth before sending Julia a look of disapproval.
“No harm,” said a gentleman in a sport coat. Ginny recognized him and relaxed.
“Thanks, Roger. So glad you’re here tonight.”
Her friend beamed in her direction. “How nice you have a sister! What a surprise! Sandy used to say she wanted a sibling. It was something she asked about constantly as a small child. You two must have some fun stories!”
Ginny smiled, doing her best to cover up her sadness for Roger. Roger and his wife had lost their only child, Sandy, to leukemia many years earlier. While Ginny had met the couple long after their teenager had succumbed to the disease, her heart went out to them. They talked of Sandy often, as though trying to keep her spirit alive. Ginny always made time to listen. There was so much life in the stories of Sandy. So much love. Perhaps because he no longer had a child of his own, Roger treated Ginny like a daughter of sorts, calling on her, checking up on the progress of her business, and even offering a tone of parental concern from time to time. Because of this, Ginny felt a particular bond with him.
Turning now, she shook off the familiar grief she felt for her friend. It was best to lighten the mood. “Oh, my sister and I have stories. That’s for sure! We used to work in a yummy little taqueria together back in high school. I chopped vegetables and Julia bused tables. It seems Julia needs to knock a bit of rust off tonight, though.”
The sisters locked eyes and Ginny narrowed her gaze.
“Yeah, right,” Julia muttered.
“Well, good for you, Julia!” Roger cast bright approval across the room, catching Julia midstoop. She quickly gathered up a large shard of glass with her shaky fingers. “Would you like us to help with that?”
“No!” Ginny’s dismissal came out harsher than she’d intended. Julia was throwing everything off-kilter. But she couldn’t let her guests know that. Smoothing the front of her coat, she relaxed her features. “You just sit and enjoy. My sister’s got this under control, I’m sure.”
Roger started to protest. The other guests looked on dumbly. Spilled dishes and broken glass were not normally part of the evening at Mesquite.
“Wait until you taste the steak tartare,” Ginny continued. “I sourced that farm you turned me on to, Roger. I’m so impressed with their product.” She was grateful the menu she’d prepared was a showstopper tonight, hopefully enough to overshadow any of Julia’s calamities.
“Wonderful! I’m looking forward!” Roger, with his ruddy nose and big grin, nodded enthusiastically. A local retiree, Roger had been frequenting Mesquite from the start. Ginny considered him to be one of her best customers. He’d been a surprising informant regarding up-and-coming boutique farms. Plus, he had quite the foodie palate to boot. If only all her customers could be like Roger: willing and generous. Ginny made a mental note to pull out the good wine for him tonight.
“Julia, dear,” Ginny said, still keeping her smile. “Let’s go get you something helpful for that spill. Shall we?”
Julia straightened from her crouched position, disbelief clouding her expression. Ginny never spoke to her in such a saccharine tone. If anything, they were used to barking at one another. But Julia followed along anyway, scurrying into the kitchen behind her.
Ginny spun around once they were out of earshot. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she hissed. “Julia, you’ve got to get your head in the game. These are big paying customers tonight.”
Julia recoiled. A smattering of iced tea stained the front of her romper.
“Sorry.” Ginny sent energy into a balled fist down by her side and reminded herself to keep calm. Her voice lowered. “I’m under just as much stress as you. I’m sure you didn’t mean it, but come on. You’ve got to be more careful. Why don’t you take five minutes to collect yourself and go change? You do have more clothes in that bag of yours, don’t you?”
Julia nodded wordlessly, a faint tremor in her chin. Ginny softened. She wondered if her sister was more fragile than she’d realized. It dawned on her that there could be more to Julia’s visit than just running away from a bad romance.
Julia had, after all, never visited before. She’d never really reached out before either. Ever since Ginny moved away, the two had stopped confiding in one another. Wiping her sweaty palms on her coat, Ginny felt a momentary surge of guilt. In all her haste, she hadn’t bothered to find out more about Julia’s situation. But then again, the current demands of Mesquite, coupled with Olive’s abrupt abandonment, had been about as much as she could handle. Ginny would get to Julia’s troubles soon, just not now.
“Okay, then. Sorry again for snapping. See you back here in five.”
“Okay,” Julia mumbled. Ginny watched her sister’s narrow back disappear as she slunk away.
The sound of animated conversation trailing in from the other room brought Ginny back into focus. She’d have to get back to cooking if she was to stay on schedule. At least tonight was made up of mostly regulars, which eased her stress le
vel slightly. Diners like Roger, George, and Maddie were known for enjoying long, leisurely meals as they relaxed at her dinner table. They’d be in no rush. Ginny only hoped Julia’s graceless accident hadn’t put anyone off.
Waiting for Julia to return—hopefully dressed in something more practical—she busied herself chopping a medley of shallots, chives, and parsley for her steak tartare. That evening’s recipe, which was typically summer fare, would include a healthy dose of brandy and Tabasco, to give the dish a punch. She liked to mix things up, change seasonal items around and serve them when unexpected. Plus, she’d come across such a high grade of beef, thanks to Roger’s source, that she couldn’t help herself. The flavors needed to be shown off. And this would be a fun way to do it.
She was just preparing the final element to the tartare course, cracking perfectly shaped raw egg yolks onto the center of the patties, when Julia appeared, even more flustered, bumping her way back into the kitchen.
“Watch it!” Ginny barked. The first yolk broke in half, oozing a creamy yellow down over her knuckles and in between her fingers. She sniffed and tossed the mess into the sink.
“Sorry,” Julia said. “Ew, what is that?” She wrinkled her nose at the pink, doughy strands of uncooked beef.
Ginny sighed and continued plating, careful to add a drizzle of sauce and arrange toasted sourdough spears artfully around the appetizer. “Really? Haven’t you been in my kitchens enough over the years to know better?”
“Sorry,” Julia said again. “It’s been a while.”
The Second Chance Supper Club Page 9