The Second Chance Supper Club

by Meier, Nicole

  “So, are you staying in town for much longer? I gathered from Ginny that you didn’t go back with, um, James.” From the strained way he posed the question, Julia got the sense he felt awkward asking. Perhaps he felt it wasn’t any of his business. Or maybe he wanted it to be his business but was embarrassed to be so bold. Either way, Julia was intrigued.

  “You’re right. I didn’t. James and I . . . we broke things off, actually.” It felt strange to say it. Almost like a betrayal. But this was her new normal. Julia and James were truly no longer a couple.

  “Oh gosh. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

  A warmth bloomed in her chest. She could tell Shane was sincere with his concern. It was nice to talk to a friend. “Yes, thanks. We had a long talk and realized things just weren’t working. It was difficult, but I think it’s for the best. We just want different things.”

  “Well, good for you for knowing what you want. Best to get out before it’s too late, I suppose. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, though.”

  “No, you’re right. I have time off from work at least, so it’s helping to spend it with my sister and my niece. The sunshine doesn’t hurt either. That’s definitely a plus.”

  “Yeah, this is a nice time of year. It’s nothing like the intense heat of the summer, which comes a bit later. You know that from growing up here. You chose a good time to come.”

  “And you guys have the best skies for stargazing too. We can’t see all of that in the city. Too many lights.”

  “Well, maybe sometime . . .” His voice became unsteady and dropped off. Julia very much wanted to know what he was trying to say.

  “Sometime what?”

  There was rustling on the other end. Shane seemed to be choosing his words. That, or he was distracted. “Oh, nothing. I forgot what I was going to say. Anyway, I should let you get back to it. Maybe I’ll get to see you around before you go.”

  Julia deflated some. “Sure. Thanks for the call. It was nice to hear from you.”

  “You too,” he said. “Bye.”

  And then he was gone. Julia stared off into the distance and tried to imagine the words Shane had stopped himself from saying. And she wondered if she’d ever find out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  GINNY

  Ginny pressed the gas pedal as she sped into town, her knuckles blotched with white against the hot steering wheel. She checked the time once more on the car’s dashboard. Eight forty a.m. Good, she wasn’t late. But she wanted to arrive well before Roger in order to secure a corner table and collect her thoughts. It was important to be buttoned up. She might be meeting with a friend, but today was about business. Ginny needed to treat this meeting seriously.

  They’d agreed to meet at nine o’clock at the local bakery. For the past couple of days Ginny had been cautiously optimistic. Now, however, as she raced down the road with the foothills fading in her rearview mirror, she found herself twisting into a bundle of nerves.

  It had been a long while since she’d put herself out there.

  Earlier that morning she’d showered and dressed, then made rushed excuses to Olive and Julia that she had an appointment in town. Olive, who’d barely peeled herself from her bed, didn’t bat an eye. Her sleepy daughter was too preoccupied with getting the coffee maker to start. Julia, on the other hand, cast her a sidelong glance.

  “Okay, but don’t we have stuff to do for tonight’s double booking?” Her sister stood in the dining room, folding table linens. It was Friday night and Mesquite had reservations for two separate seatings, which meant double the food and double the work for all three women. It was risky for Ginny to be flitting around town on such a busy day for the supper club.

  “Oh yeah. I know. It’s going to get hectic later. But this was on the books and I don’t think I can cancel. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour or two. I’ll be back soon. I promise. Thanks for setting the table,” Ginny called as she gathered up her tote bag containing her laptop and printed notes, then headed out the front door.

  Now, as she eased into a parking spot in the bakery’s back lot, Ginny glimpsed at her reflection in the visor mirror. She wasn’t normally one to wear makeup, but today she’d applied a conservative amount of black mascara and powdered bronzer that she’d located in Olive’s bathroom drawer. With a quick swipe of her organic lip balm, Ginny straightened her shoulders and exited the car.

  You can do this, she told herself. Just do it like you practiced, and remember, Roger is your friend.

  Her mind quickly went over a checklist of papers and computer documents in her bag. Her plan was to impress Roger with a brief PowerPoint presentation, followed by some real estate photos and anecdotal scenarios that would paint a broad-stroke image for him. Her hope was that she’d walk away from the meeting having piqued his interest, at a minimum. Anything more would be a victory.

  The sugary aroma of freshly baked pastries welcomed her into the boutique eatery like a warm hug. The tinkle of an overhead bell announced her arrival as she slipped through the doors and made her way across the black-and-white checked floor. After waiting in a short line, she paid for an Americano, heavy on the cream, and a healthy-size savory breakfast muffin loaded with sausage, spinach, and cheddar cheese. It was an indulgence, but a protein-filled snack sounded like a good idea. She needed to be sharp for this meeting. Afterward, she settled down at a two-top table near the front. Sliding into her chair, she glanced around. Not too full and fairly quiet—perfect. Now all she had to do was wait.

  For Ginny, waiting was always the hardest part.

  Her head popped up at the bell. Roger emerged, striding through the entrance wearing a neatly pressed plaid shirt coupled with khaki slacks, Italian leather loafers, and a metallic Rolex that glinted in the light. Ginny knew enough to recognize expensive clothing when she saw it, even though Roger’s uncomplicated, casual appearance was anything but flashy. He had money but didn’t show it off. That’s what she admired about her friend.

  In addition to this, despite his age, which was somewhere in the seventies, Roger was certainly an active guy. With his cinnamon-hued suntan and muscled forearms, which he’d once told her was from hours spent on the tennis court, he looked like he could quite possibly outrun Ginny in a race—though that wasn’t saying much considering she didn’t really work out, ever. She also liked that Roger was one of those retirees who kept himself so entrenched in the passions he loved. So far, she knew him to spend his free time on a mixture of travel, country club sports, and gourmet food. It was the latter interest that Ginny wanted to capitalize on.

  She only hoped Roger would feel the same.

  Spotting her, he held up a hand and waved enthusiastically in Ginny’s direction. He crossed the room. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Roger.” A faint ripple of grief suddenly went through her. Roger was around the same age Ginny’s father would have been if he were still alive. She wondered if these kinds of coffee dates were something she and her father would have enjoyed together. They’d been close, but the geographical distance had split them further apart than she’d liked. And then, before Ginny knew it, her parents had been killed. Ever since then, Ginny had chosen to tuck the sadness away in the background.

  Seeing Roger now gave her a kind of nostalgic feeling of what it used to be like to have parents.

  “What fun to see you out and about, away from the confines of your natural habitat,” Roger announced.

  Ginny shook off the sadness and chuckled. “You make me sound like an animal near extinction. I do leave the house every now and then, you know. But yes, I’m not often out of my chef’s coat, away from the kitchen.” She glanced down at her tunic shirt and white pants with a brief air of self-consciousness. She wasn’t about to admit that before she left the house, she’d had the fleeting thought to wear her chef’s coat in order to make her presentation seem more professional. But at the last minute she’d decided against it. It was better to appear more casual and not give any indication that Roger mig
ht be her only hope for a successful future.

  “Indeed,” he said, skimming the bakery with a playful grin. “Although we are still in a restaurant, so I guess I didn’t get you too far out of your zone.”

  “Ha! That’s the truth. I’d have breakfast here every day if I could. One skill I lack is baking. I admire all those fancy cakes in the display case. A dessert chef I am not.”

  “But you do everything else so well.”

  “Thanks, Roger. Can I buy you a coffee? A muffin perhaps?”

  “Sure, I’ll have what you’re having. Looks perfect.”

  After they were both settled again with their matching orders, Ginny cracked her knuckles under the table and decided to dive right in. She wanted to keep Roger’s attention while she had it. Who knew how long he had to meet with her. For all she knew, he had a tennis match or some other appointment to keep.

  “So, Roger,” she began, clearing her throat. “I’ve actually asked you here today to present a proposal of sorts. To cut to the chase, the short of it is that I think I’m going to shutter the supper club.”

  “Oh?” He frowned. “But why? It’s such a wonderful experience you provide in that cozy adobe home of yours. And I’ve seen firsthand that you’ve curated a nice little customer base of regulars. Don’t you enjoy it anymore?” She could tell by Roger’s concerned expression that he didn’t approve.

  She shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy cooking for intimate groups, because I really do. In some ways it’s been the best of both worlds for me. I get to experiment and try new menus without the worry of a large staff and oppressive overhead to contend with. I’ve kept it fairly simple with Mesquite. The fact that what I do resonates with people has been a dream come true.”

  Roger’s face remained scrunched into a question. “So?”

  “So, the downside to that scenario is that pop-up restaurants and underground supper clubs don’t usually make a profit. And”—she hesitated—“if I’m totally frank, I’ve kind of dug myself into a financial hole.”

  “You’re in debt?”

  Ginny nodded, swallowing back an upwelling of shame. “I’m not able to pay myself or Olive. I just make enough to stay afloat. But that’s not really working anymore.”

  “I see.” Roger squinted, the rim of the coffee cup hovering in front of his lips. He took his time with his drink, sipping it in a preoccupied manner, as if he was contemplating something. His gaze moved to the middle distance, his brow furrowed. After a minute, he looked at her. “So what do you need in order to keep going?”

  A burst of hope bubbled up. This was the reaction she’d hoped for.

  Ginny shifted in her chair. Now was the right moment to open her computer and dazzle him with her presentation. She reached down to retrieve her things from her bag. As she did so, she reminded herself to keep calm. To speak with confidence, in the hopes of impressing her friend.

  “Well,” she said, bringing the device to life on the table between them, “I’ve asked you here because I’ve been working on a business plan. I think, with the right backing, I’d like to open a boutique restaurant no bigger than the one we’re in right now.” Her right hand waved in a swooping motion around the cozy bakery.

  Roger’s gaze followed her hand. The beginnings of a smile emerged as he perked up. “You want to open up a dinner spot? To the public?”

  “I do. And I believe there’s room in the local market for me. I’ve looked around. No one else is offering what I can do. I have some ideas on how to make it happen. It may be presumptuous, but I thought that of all the people I know, you’d be the most likely to be interested. Or, at the very least, perhaps give me some feedback. You are my favorite foodie, after all. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to share my ideas.” She bit down on her lower lip and waited.

  “Because you think I might be the right ‘backer,’ as you say?”

  “Yes, I do.” Her lips practically tingled as she’d said it. All Roger had to do was listen. But Ginny couldn’t help but feel excited. She’d taken the first step. Saying it out loud had made her wish suddenly seem real.

  Ginny had announced she wanted to get back into the restaurant game. And this time, it would be on her own terms. All that stood in her way was the money.

  An hour and a half later, after they’d drained several cups of coffee and outlasted most of the bakery’s morning clientele, Ginny and Roger ended their meeting with a handshake. They left together, breaking off into separate directions toward their cars. Ginny’s feet felt as if they weren’t even touching the ground as she floated through the parking lot and into the driver’s seat. Her meeting with Roger couldn’t have gone any better.

  He was going to sleep on some ideas about how he could possibly support her new restaurant. While he hadn’t committed to anything yet, Ginny had hope.

  She couldn’t wait to get home and tell her family the good news. A new chapter was about to begin, possibly for all of them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  JULIA

  It was Friday evening, and Ginny’s place was hopping. Boisterous voices mixed with raucous laughter filled the rooms, bouncing off the walls and encircling everyone in a cloud of merriment. Julia wound her way through the guests, busying herself with topping off cocktail glasses. Olive had created a signature cocktail she’d named Mesquite, after the supper club. Olive was also tending to empty drinks and offering small dishes of an artfully plated amuse-bouche before the dinner service began. Men and women mingled, gathering in chatty clusters by the fireplace, on the living room sofa, and out on the back patio as they waited for Ginny to announce dinner.

  She’d arrived home in a flurry earlier that day, beaming with happiness, claiming she had some fun news to share.

  While she was away, however, the well-used dishwasher had practically exploded and sent copious amounts of dirty water flooding onto the previously cleaned kitchen floor. The disaster had thrown the women into a slight panic. A hose must have become disconnected, because it took Julia and Olive the better part of the morning to sop up the mess. They’d elected to call a plumber out to the house the following day for fear of putting them all further behind schedule. Repairs would have to be made.

  It would be a full night of service at Mesquite. There wasn’t time for any sort of crisis.

  Ginny’s news was temporarily put on hold as the three women scampered around, trying to make up for lost time before the first group of guests arrived. So much still needed to be done: prepping the food, setting up the bar, and deciding on the various wine pairings. It wasn’t like Ginny to leave so many critical elements of her menu to the last minute. But by the way her sister cheerily went about cooking that afternoon, Julia had assumed there must be a good reason.

  Julia herself was presently caught between a confusing mixture of happiness and trepidation. On the one hand, it was evenings like the one Mesquite was having—the cozy rooms of the adobe house full of joyful people, her sister and her niece contentedly working close by, and the desert night air trailing in from the outside with an intoxicating mix of sweet sage and rich earth—that made Julia feel alive.

  Somewhere along the line, desert life had regrown on Julia. And more than that, it made her happy. She’d come to peace with the things she’d run from as a young adult—when she’d hoped life in a big city would somehow legitimize her dreams and her career—and now could appreciate the beauty of this place from a more grounded perspective.

  Yet still looming was her unfinished business with work and her future. Her old life. Never in a million years would she have guessed that those two subjects would ever be pushed into the background. For so long, they’d been the only things she poured her energy into. Gratefully.

  But everything had shifted. And now Julia feared what had once meant so much to her had altered. She felt like the mysterious cactus flowers she’d seen that suddenly opened up in the desert night, blossoming into something more than their previously closed-off shape had allowed.
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  She felt herself transforming into something new under her circumstances. And the realization was both heartbreaking and invigorating at the same time.

  “Thinking about one of your many suitors?” Olive sidled up beside her and took the empty pitcher from her hands.

  Julia turned, flushed. “Oh my gosh. You don’t give up, do you?”

  Her niece pivoted, her long ponytail whipping as she went. “Just wondering, that’s all. I’m going to open the wine, but maybe you can tell me what had you looking so dreamy when I get back.” She winked and trotted away, appearing pleased with herself.

  Julia scanned the room. All the guests still seemed happy. Excusing herself, she hustled into the kitchen. “How much longer?” she asked Ginny, who was sliding a baking sheet of glistening caramelized figs from the oven.

  “Five or six minutes, tops. Then you can seat everyone. Are they all okay out there?”

  “Yes, totally fine.” Which they were, but Julia couldn’t help but wonder if this late seating would run into the second shift of diners, expected later that evening. Being late wasn’t ever an option. She knew Ginny well enough to hold her tongue. She didn’t want to sink her sister’s buoyant mood with excessive worries.

  “Okay, great. I’ll get this banged out in no time. We’ll be okay.” Ginny jutted her chin in the direction of the baking sheet, indicating the first course was nearly ready. A sugary aroma trailed through the air. She seemed to have everything under control.

  “And maybe in between courses you can tell me where you were today?” Julia broached. The question had been burning a hole in her ever since Ginny had arrived home practically bursting with delight, but she’d remained tight lipped.

  “Yeah, Mom. Why all the mystery?” Olive asked, snatching up the basket of warm bread to deliver to the table.

  Ginny ignored them. She began plating dishes of buffalo mozzarella with glazed figs and fresh mint. Julia looked on as each plate was drizzled artfully with olive oil and sprinkled with crunchy salt and black pepper just before Ginny nodded that they were ready to go out.