Caterina obliged, then stood to take in her surroundings. “You’ve done a great job with this place. It looks like you, but in a way that Grand-mère would approve of. I don’t know what I’m saying—it looks freshened.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “It took work. Did Nico or Clementine show you the restaurant?”
“No, but I love the blue paint.”
We walked downstairs alongside the building, and I led her into the restaurant from the back. “Kitchen looks great—nice layout,” Caterina said as we walked though. “And the dining room—oh, Juliette,” she breathed. “It’s lovely.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “It looks so peaceful when it’s sleeping.”
Caterina cackled. “You are so right. You excited about the opening?”
“I think so, yeah?”
“Okay, well…just remember, you don’t have to spend the rest of your life here.”
I snorted. “I think I’m committed for a while.”
“For a while, but not the rest of your life. Nico can find another manager if you ever feel the need to move on to a new dream.”
“What would I do? I left my job to be here.”
“Your dreams are up to you. Gosh.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like a stupid motivational poster. Whatever, I’m just rambling that I want good things for you. If this is what you want, stay forever. And if not, just remember that you can do anything you want.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Planning on dinner tomorrow with the family—do you think that’ll work for you?”
“It should, yes.”
“And I want to take you shopping before the opening, my treat.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to, thank you very much.”
I grinned. “Fine then. Be like that.” I threw my arm around her shoulders. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”
“I know. I’m delightful,” she answered with a wink. “There’s extra food in your fridge. Eat at your leisure and put your feet up. This is your last chance to relax, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” I ran my hands over my eyes. “I’m trying not to think about it too hard.”
After an exchange of continental kisses and hugs, Caterina left to rejoin her family. I ate, sharing with Clementine before taking Gigi for a walk. My head and heart were so full, I hardly knew how I thought or felt, only that the sun felt good on my face and for once I was so very glad to be home.
When I arrived at my parents’ house later that night, Caterina, Damian, and the boys had all turned in for the night, but my parents were still awake and sociable. My father made coffee and the three of us sat on the back deck around the brazier, admiring the stars.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” my mother said, squeezing my hand. “Such a good daughter. Did you have a nice time with Neil?”
“It was good to see him,” I said carefully. “We’re not sure where the relationship is headed, but we like each other very much. He’ll be out for the opening, so I’ll see him then.”
My parents exchanged glances.
“You do not know if you love each other?” my father asked. “I am confused.”
“I love him,” I said softly, “and he loves me, but he’s in Memphis. I can’t move to Memphis, and he may not be able to move here. So…it may not work out.”
“Why wouldn’t he leave Memphis?” my father persisted. “There are tornados in Memphis.”
“He has a good job there, and good friends. It’s complicated.”
“I think not so complicated,” he answered gently.
“If he doesn’t choose to move for you, he’s foolish,” Maman said. “And you’re too smart to put up with a foolish man.”
“I feel selfish asking him to move for me,” I admitted.
“Bah.” Maman waved a hand. “No more worrying. If you love this man, you’ll find a way to be with him. It’s the way. Now. Let us talk of the restaurant opening. Do you feel ready?”
I thought it over for a moment. “Yes. I think so. The last pieces are pretty much in place, and Clementine’s ice cream maker will arrive on Wednesday.”
“Clementine will be making ice cream?” My father sat up straighter. “I look forward to that.”
We chatted for a few minutes longer about whatever we could think of. I tried bringing up Maman’s health—the ER trips had spooked me—but my attempts were neatly evaded each time. Life was short, and my mother had no interest in discussing her illness. When Maman began to yawn and slouch in her seat, however, I said my good-byes in order to let them get their rest.
I used the last of my energy to read a few more letters before sleep that night.
June 24, 1940
My dearest Cécile,
The Germans have arrived in Paris. Gabriel’s youngest brother has decided to marry Alice, and given the political uncertainty, they are planning on a simple wedding in two weeks.
Many of the Jews in the 9th arrondissement have fled. Tante Joséphine considered leaving, but decided that she was too old to leave her home, and so has stayed.
And indeed the city has remained quiet. If anything, business has been good because the soldiers, they like to eat.
I have begun my pastry courses again, which has been a pleasant distraction. Now I attend class, and after cooking all day I go home and cook some more. There is an advantage to being married to a pastry chef—Gabriel has been able to help me when he is home. But he has begun to work later at the restaurant, and with me at the school during the day, we see very little of each other. Never fear—he has taken to leaving short notes for me to assure me of his affection.
How are the affairs at the chateau? I hope the men that Papa hired have worked out sufficiently. Has Maman changed her mind about your tour, with the war going on?
Silly me. As if she’d change her plans to marry you off because of a war.
Bisous!
Mireille
I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t heard very many stories about my great-grandmother, but she sounded like a handful. And, perhaps, a little like Sophie—single-minded in her pursuit of perfect domesticity.
Cécile’s response came next.
July 20, 1940
Dearest Mireille,
Yes, I regret to report the tour is on, and I don’t know what might bar its way. I shall regret the departure, though. I’ve begun to come up with excuses to drive into the village to accidentally run into M. Caron.
Oh well. We leave in two weeks. At least we’ll take the train. I’ve always found trains exciting. Perhaps the change of scenery will be enjoyable.
Nothing much else to report. Gilles’s mother has been visiting often, telling us of Gilles’s business success in Paris. I didn’t even know he’d left for Paris, and from the way you’ve spoken of him, I didn’t think he’d ever leave here. It doesn’t take a great genius to deduct that she’s still put out that you broke off the engagement. I am pleased you were not stuck with her as a mother-in-law.
Oh—and the latest foal is really quite lovely. Not only is she the loveliest shade of reddish brown, but she isn’t at all frightened when I practice my laugh nearby. I’ve named her Coco.
À bientôt,
Cécile
September 1, 1940
Dearest Cécile,
I am glad you’ve returned safely from your trip. I confess I felt quite worried about you these past several weeks.
One of the reasons I feel particularly high strung is that we are expecting again.
Was this my mother? I mulled the dates over in my head. My mom was born in ’41, so likely yes? I read on to learn more.
I can hardly believe it myself, but already my body is swelling and growing with alarming speed. Yet again I’ve had to drop out of school, and I believe this time it’s for good. I am very, very ill, so ill that I’ve become gaunt in places even while the rest of me balloons. I look nearly comical these days, though it concerns Gabriel
to the point that he’s become obsessively committed to helping me put weight back on.
He sees my sickness as a puzzle to overcome. White rice and bread I can’t hold down at all, but a sturdy wheat bread helps. Porridge, too, has been successful. If Gabriel cooks meat—even the freshest, loveliest cuts—I have to go and sit with Mme. Ledoyen, who clucks her tongue at me as she knits away at a suspiciously tiny sweater.
It would be sweet if I felt more confident. Because of the miscarriage, I become frightened at every twinge. This baby is full of twinges. The doctor has come and gone, telling me that nothing’s wrong, that the pregnancy is proceeding smoothly enough despite my illness.
Still, I have not begun to work on the nursery. It remains the way it was, when Gabriel began to tidy and paint it last time.
It’s still early days. I’ll write Maman once it seems certain this baby will arrive safely. I feel she’d want to know, even if she does not return correspondence.
Mireille
For her sake, I hoped so. Surely this one was my mother—this time, the dates lined up. I set the letters aside, switched off my light, and dreamed of Paris.
A great meal is an experience that nourishes more than your body.
—RUTH REICHL
I swung by the toy shop on NW 23rd before dinner on Tuesday for last-minute gifts for Luca and Christian. Bedlam waited inside my parents’ house when I arrived. Something had burned—I could smell it from the outside—Nico and Caterina were arguing at top volume, Luca and Christian ran through the house with Chloé right behind.
I paused on the threshold.
“I used to think my family was loud,” came a voice behind me. I turned to see Adrian just behind me. He seemed to have become a fixture at our family dinners.
“Either you’re very quiet or they drowned you out,” I observed.
Adrian shrugged. “Probably both. These are my quiet shoes. Didn’t meant to startle you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“How was Memphis?”
“Good.” I pasted a bright smile on my face. “It’s pretty, lots of nice architecture. Leafy trees. And the barbecue was good—you were right about Corky’s. I brought you back sauce, forgot to bring it with me.”
“I’m sure we’ll work something out. You live pretty close to my workplace.”
“True.”
“Neil’s all right?”
“Yeah. He’s good.” I looked back toward the entryway. “We should probably go in.”
“You’re ready?”
“I’ve learned a few things in the last twenty-eight years, and the most important one?” I held up the presents for the boys. “The art of distraction.” I stepped inside, lifting the gifts high. “I’ve got presents for two little boys—if there are two little boys here, I’ve got presents for them.”
Sure enough, I had my nephews clinging to my knees within seconds, Chloé close behind. Nico and Caterina gave up their argument to say hello and watch the boys open their presents.
“Well played,” Adrian noted admiringly.
Clementine arrived a few minutes later bearing leftover desserts from her catering gig. My father led us out to the deck, where we dined on a crispier-than-intended roast duck.
We ate al fresco, taking advantage of the warm evening. I thought back to the fireflies I’d seen at Callan and Tarissa’s.
After dinner I hung back to clean up, only to see Adrian had stayed behind as well. “I thought you could use a hand,” he said.
“Thanks.”
We gathered cups and silverware in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “I think your family’s pretty cool. The way they’ve included me—Clementine too. They’re good people.”
“There’s always room at the table,” I said. “That’s the motto I grew up with. The only thing keeping my dad from accepting every reservation request at D’Alisa & Elle was the fire marshal’s capacity limit.”
Adrian laughed. “I can see that. Caterina and Damian—they’re cool too. You’re a lot like your sister.”
“You think so? That’s a high compliment.” I lifted the tablecloth from the table and moved to shake it out over the edge of the deck. “Caterina’s pretty amazing. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.”
“You’re not grown up?”
I shrugged and began to fold the cloth. “Cat has…a confidence about who she is, where she’s going in life. She writes her own story. I’m”—I paused to search for the right words—“I don’t know. Still trying to figure that out.”
“She does have a head start. Their boys are cute.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Luca and Christian are great kids.”
“Twins run in the family?”
“Not really,” I answered, choosing my words carefully as I set the gathered the dishes on my arm to carry inside. “They had a hard time getting pregnant. They knew going in that fertility treatments could result in multiples. Caterina joked that she wanted triplets.” I leaned against the deck railing. “They were really happy when the boys arrived safely. Caterina is…she’s brave. Brave in a way I wish I was.”
“You’re no slouch yourself,” Adrian said as he lifted half of the dishes off my stack and placed several drinking glasses on top. Ordinarily I would have worried about things falling, but I could tell from the way he stacked and gathered that he’d bussed his share of tables.
I thought of my relationship with Neil as we headed toward the house. “I don’t know about that. But the restaurant’s opening, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
While I expected Adrian to find something else to amuse himself with, he stayed and helped me wash the dishes.
Oddly enough, none of my other family members arrived to pitch in, instead staying preoccupied elsewhere.
We made quick work of the dishes anyway, discussing the opening, the menu, and the finer points of Memphis barbecue until each dish had been taken care of.
Neil and I caught up over the phone the following afternoon, while I hung artwork and he drove home from the lab. He’d launched into an explanation of his lab work involving antibiotic resistance and narrow spectrum therapies, which I followed to a point before I found myself well in over my head.
“Wow,” I said, hoping that was the right response. I really didn’t know. “Well, I’m off to my mom’s doctor appointment. My sisters are going too. We’re making an event out of it.”
“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry, Juliette. You’re a good daughter and a good friend.”
“Thanks. I think you’re kind of great.”
“Don’t make light of it—you look out for your people, Jules. I love you. Let me know how your mom’s appointment goes.”
We said our good-byes and hung up. I tucked Gigi away in her kennel and grabbed my purse before heading downstairs to check in with Clementine.
Downstairs, however, Clementine was nowhere to be found.
My heart began to pound. The ice cream maker had been scheduled to arrive today and would need to be signed for. Our opening summer menu depended on being able to make ice creams and gelatos in quantity—we wouldn’t have time to ship a second machine out.
I reached for my phone and dialed Clementine. No answer.
I dialed a second time—this time, I heard her voice at the other end of the line, and then explained the situation. “Oh no. I marked that on my calendar for tomorrow. Juliette, I’m so sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m catering desserts, one of my last gigs before the opening,” she answered miserably. “And I’m in Vancouver. Even if I wanted to get there quickly, I couldn’t. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Mistakes happen,” I said, recalling the great potato fiasco from two months before. The only problem was I didn’t know how to solve this one.
“I’ll make some calls, see what I can do. Your mom’s appointment is today, right?”
“It is. It’s…soon.” As in, forty minutes away, and I still nee
ded to drive and park.
“Give me five minutes.”
I didn’t have to. She called back in two. “Nico’s on shift at D’Alisa,” she said, “and Adrian’s not answering his phone. Kenny’s on shift too. I’m so sorry, Etta.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I said, even though I had no idea how. “Don’t worry about—”
Just then I heard the back door slam and footsteps. “Hello?” Adrian’s voice sounded down the back hallway.
“Adrian’s here!” I squealed into the phone.
“Yay! Gotta go—I’ve got cakes to prep. I’ll make it up to both of you, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her before hanging up. “Adrian!” I called in my next breath. “You’re here?”
“I’m here. I have shallots,” he said, glancing down at the crate of shallots in his arms. “What’s up?”
“Can you stay?” I pleaded. “The ice cream maker’s being delivered and Clementine was going to be here to sign for it but marked it wrong and she’s on a catering job, and my mom’s chemo appointment is in, like half an hour, and I promised I’d be there—”
“I’ll sign for it,” he said, putting the crate down on the counter. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Really?” Elated, I threw my arms around him in the quickest of hugs. “Thanks so much, you’re the best.” My face flushed as I realized what I’d done. And how solid his arms had felt beneath mine. “Traffic,” I said. “I’ve got to—”
“Go on, get out of here,” he said, looking away. Was he blushing? Or was he flushed from carrying around shallots? “I’ll take care of it.”
“Perfect,” I said, backing away before I could speculate further. “Thanks so much. Bye!”
I raced out, ultimately making it to the appointment early enough to distract Sophie from badgering the receptionist. Between Caterina and me, we were able to sail without an altercation into what they called the “chemo lounge,” with its overstuffed recliners, televisions, and IV stands.
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