“You’re hiring?”
“Mimi, you never even asked me for your job back. You just blew out of town.”
“Oh. That’s true. But you had just hired Claire. It wouldn’t be fair to fire her.”
“I would have found something for you to do,” Peter says. “You’re too valuable a commodity, Mimi.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“In fact, we are looking for someone to headhunt chefs for us in Europe. We’re opening restaurants in London and Florence, and another one in Paris. It’s a month-long assignment. Tempted?”
“Thank you, but no,” I say. “I don’t want to travel anymore. I want to stay close to my family.”
“I’m going to start looking for an apartment,” I tell Mom as we watch HGTV.
“Maybe you can get your old apartment back,” Mom suggests.
“Not in Philadelphia. Here. Not in The Garden, but somewhere in South Jersey.”
“Why?” Mom says.
“Why? Why else? To be near you. And the rest of the family.”
“And the restaurant?”
“Yes,” I say.
“By the way,” Mom says. “I called the towns I know and I couldn’t find a shore house for us to stay in during the last week of August. Maybe we could take a few day trips. Unless you still want to investigate Asbury Park?”
“No.”
Mothers, Part Three
We have to get through the farewell dinner for Phoebe and her Latin lover. “Do I have to go?” Mom says. “I’m feeling dizzy.”
“Nice try,” I tell her. “Get in the car.”
Over dessert of pound cake and fruit, Jeremy says, “We have an announcement to make. Allison is pregnant.”
“Mazel tov, mazel tov!” Phoebe claps her hands, then leans toward Allison and kisses both her cheeks. Mom rises, too, and hugs Jeremy. Phoebe continues to kiss Allison, not releasing her grip on her, so Mom leans forward and kisses Allison’s head.
“Congratulations,” Enrique says as he shakes Jeremy’s hand and offers Allison a broad smile.
“How far along are you?” Mom asks.
“Six weeks,” Allison says. “The doctor called this morning to confirm it. It’s still early, but I wanted to tell everyone while Mom was here.”
Getting to my feet, I hug Jeremy. “Congratulations, big daddy.”
“Thanks.” He returns my squeeze. “We have more news. We’ll need another bedroom. So we’re going to buy a new house.”
Oy. More money.
I return to my seat while the conversation turns to the real estate market. In my seat, I turn to Sarah. “You’ve lived in this house all of your life. How do you feel about moving?”
Sarah shrugs. “It’s what is best for my family.”
I nod. We sit quietly for a few moments, watching the rest of the family. Sarah is so like Allison, keeping her feelings to herself. I ask, “What do you think about your mother being pregnant?”
Sarah answers, “I hope it’s not twins.”
“You be a good girl,” Phoebe says as she kisses my cheeks. “You’ll find a good man.”
“Let’s hope.”
Mom and I drive home quietly. She doesn’t share her thoughts about Allison’s pregnancy. I don’t share my thoughts about the restaurant. Jeremy needs money, even though he doesn’t know I know. So, either I work ten times harder to make Café Louis profitable, or I sell the restaurant. What is best for the family?
The Language of Heaven
Thunder wakes me. Opening my eyes, I see my niece standing by my bed. “Good morning, Aunt Mimi,” she says.
“What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“I’m spending the day with Bubbie,” Sarah says. “But it’s about to rain and this bed is the best place to watch storms.”
“Oh.” My adrenaline ebbs as I make room for Sarah. She climbs onto my bed, sits on her knees, and folds her arms on the windowsill. Sarah puts her face against the closed window, her nose almost touching the pane. “I think storms are beautiful,” Sarah says.
“The lightning and thunder don’t scare you?” I ask.
“Oh, no. They’re beautiful. I love when the thunder booms really loud.”
Such an odd and beautiful child she is. “Why do you like thunder?”
Sarah inclines her head, watching the dark clouds gather and listening to rumbling thunder. “I pretend the thunder is Grandpa and Zadie talking to each other in heaven.”
I ask, “What do Grandpa and Zadie talk about?”
“Lots of stuff.”
“And you hear them? They speak real words? In English?”
Sarah smiles. “I think everyone speaks the same language in heaven. You can hear them, too. You just have to listen.”
Thunder booms, lightning cracks. The storm arrives.
Deconstructing Mimi
After three days of nursing Mom and her sore butt, I drive to Café Louis not having made a decision about the restaurant’s future. It’s just that…
“What is going on?” I shout out the window as I park Sally.
“Demolition,” a hard-hatted man tells me.
Debris stands in piles around Café Louis. Yellow trucks bearing red and purple SHRED logos stand guard while an enormous wrecking ball crashes into the remains of the shops that were once Café Louis’s neighbors.
“You’re pissed off at me so you send in the wrecking crew?” I’m shouting at Aaron through my cell phone.
“First of all,” Aaron says, “I’m not pissed off at you. Second, the demolition was scheduled weeks ago.”
“So this has nothing to do with me leaving you at the shore?”
“No,” Aaron says in a calm voice. “You said that you had to work. Was that a lie?”
“No.”
“You know what, Mimi? I like you. I like spending time with you. But I’ve had it with this back-and-forth crap. I was perfectly willing to take things slowly between us, but you came into the outdoor shower to be with me. I didn’t pressure you. Then you bolted in the morning, like I had done something wrong. Which I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t. Aaron, I’m just…”
“Listen, Mimi. I’ve tried to be patient and supportive. I thought we had a good thing going. Or starting to go. But you need to decide what you want. When you do, let me know.”
“Okay, Aaron, I understand…” But he’s already hung up his phone.
Grammy Love, Part Three
Grammy Jeff stands at the back door of Café Louis. She holds a glass of iced tea. A pile of empty white packets sits on the counter next to her spoon.
“Quite a ruckus,” she says. She sips her tea calmly, as if she’s looking at a cornfield instead of a battlefield. I stand next to her at the door. “Who were you yelling at on your phone?”
“Aaron Schein.”
“Did it make you feel better?” Grammy asks.
“No.”
Grammy nods.
I say, “I’m going to sell Café Louis.”
“I know,” Grammy says. “I knew all summer. I was just waiting for you to say it out loud.”
“Well, now I’ve said it. It’s not just because of the construction. Jeremy’s wife is pregnant. Again. And they could use the money from the sale to buy a new house.”
“I think that would make your daddy happy,” Grammy says.
“Closing the restaurant would make him happy?” I say.
“Sure. Put the money to good use. Help the family. I think that Jay’s biggest regret was not living long enough to tie up his loose ends.”
“What loose ends?” I say.
“Oh, you know. Put money aside for the grandkids. Make sure your mamma was settled right. And he’d want to have taken care of his restaurant family, too. Help everyone get a new job. Like you did for Christopher. That was good.”
“But I failed. I came here to keep the restaurant open.”
Grammy shrugs. “Maybe you came here to close it. The right way.”
; Eat Your Peas
Madeline and I sit on metal stools, staring out the back door of the restaurant. The wrecking ball has come and gone, leaving massive piles of debris.
“So you’re going to sell the restaurant,” Madeline says.
“Yes.”
“That will make Aaron happy.”
I say, “I don’t think so. He’s had it with me.”
“And Farmer Joe?” Madeline says.
“I freaked at him a few days ago.”
“So you’ve pissed off both of them?”
“Yep,” I confirm.
“Nicely done,” Madeline says.
“Thank you.”
We sit quietly until Madeline says, “I’ll be happy to hire the San Padre brothers. It sounds like they are hard workers. They can bake?”
“Bake. Cook. They can do anything.”
“Can they wait until I get back? I’m taking a week’s vacation from Tiers.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To see my mother.” Madeline stares at the demolition. “Seeing you work out your family issues has got me thinking about my family issues.”
“Such as?”
“Well, Mimi, you may not have noticed but I have some problems with men and relationships. It is possible that I have some residual crap from my parents’ divorce. I thought all that stuff was buried. But I think the ghost of it is haunting me. You know?”
“I do know. I really do, Maddie.”
“I’m going to spend the week with my mom. See what we can talk through.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? If there’s one thing I’ve learned this summer, it’s that every family has secrets. Things we had no idea existed because our parents wanted to do what’s best for us. Like when they made us eat asparagus by bribing us with dessert. Or, they hid peas in our mashed potatoes and thought we wouldn’t notice. But eventually, we find the peas.”
Madeline smiles. “Or maybe life is like a meal. You can’t fully appreciate dessert until you eat your peas.”
Menu Theory
After Madeline leaves, I sit in the downstairs office. Closing Café Louis is the right thing to do. But it makes me sad. Looking around the office, I think about packing it up for good. There’s just so much crap. Do I need any of it? No.
What do I need? I came to Café Louis looking for a part of myself that I thought I had lost. My optimism. My love of the restaurant business. I have found them here. I take them with me.
And I take my father with me, wherever I go. The good is good. The bad? Do I need to eat my peas? Or can I select a different side dish? Can I pick and choose which family dishes, which of my family’s legacies, I want?
Maybe families are like menus. There’s Dad’s work ethic. His creativity. Mom’s love of life. Love of love. Jeremy’s devotion to his family. To Mom. Allison? She’s a side dish, but a savory one. She believes in marriage and motherhood. Even Sid is on the menu. He has restored my faith in romanticism. He has made me appreciate the art of woo.
Joe or Aaron? It’s no wonder I can’t decide on a dessert. My entrée needs more cooking. Maybe I need to blend and balance my own flavors before I add someone else’s.
Of course, this could all be a bunch of bunk.
Family Business, Part Four
“I thought we were doing something fun,” Sarah says as we park Sally in front of Café Louis.
“We are doing something fun,” I say.
Sarah looks at me doubtfully. “Mom said this place is getting torn down.”
“It is. Soon. But not today. Today, it’s our restaurant. Yours and mine.”
Sarah peers at Café Louis. “It looks old and dirty.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But inside, she’s magic.”
Sarah follows me to the concrete steps leading to the restaurant. “Remember earlier this summer, when you said that the restaurant is more important than you?”
Sarah nods.
“I don’t want you to feel that way. This restaurant is part of our family, Sarah. I want you to see Café Louis the way I saw her when I was your age. We’ll have to use a little imagination, but I think we have plenty of that. What do you say?”
“Okay,” Sarah says.
SHRED is holding an auction tomorrow to sell as much of Café Louis as possible. The restaurant was scrubbed clean yesterday. This morning, the sun sparkles through the windows as Sarah and I walk into the dining room. “What do you smell?” I ask Sarah.
Sarah sticks her nose in the air. “Sunshine.”
“Oh, look,” I say. “Here’s our first customer.”
Sarah looks at the door. “No one is there.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Raspberry. How nice to see you.” I walk through the room holding two menus. “Your waitress Sarah will be with you in a moment.”
Sarah smiles. I lead her to the waiters’ station and tie a short, black apron around her waist. Handing her an ordering pad, I say, “Ask Mr. and Mrs. Raspberry what they would like to eat for lunch. Write it down on the pad. Oh, and look. The Watermelon sisters just walked in the door. You’ll have to wait on them next. I’ll put the menus down, then you take their order. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sarah goes to the Raspberry booth. “What would you like to eat?”
She looks back at me. I nod her onward.
“Now we have to cook,” I tell Sarah and lead her into the kitchen. I remove her black apron and tie a white one around her. “Do you cook with your mother?”
Sarah shakes her head. “I watch her cook sometimes. But Mom says to stay away from the stove. And the knives.”
“She’s right,” I say. “I’ll be the chef. You be the sous chef.”
“Okay,” she says, although I’m sure she has no idea what a sous chef is.
“What’s the first order?” I ask. “What do the Raspberrys want to eat?”
“Hot dogs and spaghetti.”
“What do the Watermelon sisters want to eat?” I ask.
“Chicken fingers and coleslaw.”
I open the refrigerator. “We don’t have that. But I have an idea. Why don’t we make one big dish and give a little bit to everyone?”
Sarah says, “The customers might not like that.”
“Sure they will. You know why? We’re going to make something very special. Louis family chicken soup.” From the refrigerator, I pull ingredients I placed there last night. Chicken stock, which I cooked myself because I thought the carcass might be too much for Sarah. I saw one when I was her age and it turned me vegetarian. For a month.
“Celery, carrots, parsnip, and look at all these herbs.” I put the ingredients on the metal worktable. I give Sarah a bunch of parsley. “What does it smell like?”
“Spring,” she says.
As I chop and dice, Sarah smells all the herbs and vegetables. I tell her their names in Spanish, English, and French. “Now comes the most important job,” I tell Sarah. “Stirring. Can you handle that?”
Sarah nods eagerly. I pull a metal stool next to the stove and lift Sarah onto it. She holds a large wooden spoon and stirs as I add ingredients to the boiling water. Quietly, Sarah sits and concentrates on her stirring. “Cooking is fun, Aunt Mimi.”
“Yes, Sarah. Cooking is fun.”
Family Business, Part Five
“This is what you want?” Aaron asks.
He stands at Bette’s counter wearing a summery beige suit and powder blue shirt. Aaron has come to collect the contracts. I hold the manila folder out to Aaron, but he doesn’t take them.
I say, “Selling the restaurant is what’s best for my family.”
Aaron takes the manila folder.
“I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have shown you my crazy. The demolition caught me off-guard.”
“Your dramatics caught me off-guard.”
“I know you think business isn’t personal, but it has been an awkward time for us to date,” I say. “What with your father’s company trying to buy my father’s company.”
&nbs
p; “I guess.”
“The thing is, I’m not Juliet. And Chrissie isn’t Richard Dawson.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” I say.
Aaron looks at the floor. “Well, I’m sorry it has to end this way.”
“Does it have to end?”
Aaron looks at me. “You don’t want it to end?”
“I think we need more time to explore our full potential. I’ve been preoccupied all summer. With my family and the restaurant. But you have been patient and supportive, like you said. Things are different, or they are going to be different. I do want to take our relationship slowly, but I don’t want it to come to a screeching halt.”
Aaron smiles. Ah, progress.
“What do you think?” I say.
“I think you’re nuts, Mimi.”
“For sure.”
“But I like nuts.” Aaron moves closer to me. “Walnuts. Pecans. Almonds.”
“Those are good nuts.” I move closer to him. “How about Mimi nuts?”
“They might be an acquired taste.” Aaron frowns. “I’d like to keep the nuts to a minimum, though. No more dramatics.”
“I can’t promise that. But I can promise to mix the nuts with…”
Aaron raises his eyebrows and smiles.
I shrug. “I’m all out of metaphor. Seriously, I plan on being much more sane. What I can offer is a lot of sane, some fun, and a minimum amount of drama.”
“That’s a good deal.”
“That’s a good deal, too.” I point at the contracts. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Aaron says. “Now that family business is out of the way, should we seal our deal with a kiss?”
“Absolutely.” I kiss him.
“So what are you going to do with yourself?” Aaron asks. “Do you have time to run away with me to a sun-drenched island? Or we could hang in Avalon. You need a vacation. After today, I need a vacation.”
“I’m not much for islands. But I miss Europe. Actually, my former boss offered me a temporary assignment. One month, four cities. I could turn it into a working holiday. Do you have a passport?”
Love, Life and Linguine Page 17