Simmer Down

by Jessica Conant-Park

  I hadn’t realized how unready Josh felt for the opening. “Well,” I said hopefully, “did she seem to like your food tonight?”

  He sighed deeply. “I have no idea.”

  We were interrupted by Naomi. “Oh, it looks beautiful, Josh. Could I have one without the red meat, though?”

  Josh managed not to roll his eyes and graciously made a plate of focaccia crisps and dressing for Naomi. Eliot appeared, looking more bug-eyed and frizzy-haired as the evening kicked into gear.

  “Guess what? Randolph Schmitt, who’s the organizer of this entire event, is going to give a toast here sometime tonight! I’ve heard he’s going to do three or four toasts at different galleries tonight, but this will be his first stop.” Eliot looked as if he intended to jump up and clap his feet together in a celebratory jig, but he just reached out and clutched Naomi’s hands in his, evidently because she was the only one who appeared as excited as he was.

  I’d invited my parents, together with my sister, Heather, and her husband, Ben, and spotted them in the big front room of the gallery. Heather and Ben looked relaxed and relieved to have a night out without their two children. I stood on tiptoe to wave to them. I caught Heather’s eye, and she waved back excitedly as she pointed next to her.

  What has she done?

  My ex-boyfriend, Sean Blackett, was standing right beside my sister.

  I am going to kill her! First, I am going to take back the expensive sweater from Ann Taylor Loft that I gave her for Christmas, and then I am going to kill her! What in God’s name was Sean doing here? As far as I knew, he had no interest in art. I looked around in the hope of seeing that he’d come with friends but saw him surrounded only by my family members.

  Mental note: Add to Naomi’s list.

  6. Having ex-boyfriend (brought by dumb sister) appear at new boyfriend’s event.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” I muttered.

  “What?” Josh asked.

  Oh, God. Josh. There was no way I could avoid some dreadful introduction here. I mean, the gallery was only so big, and Sean might actually want to eat something at a food event, meaning that he’d end up right in front of Josh and me.

  “It appears that my lunatic sister has unearthed my ex, Sean, and now we are all squashed together in this fricking art gallery celebrating the holidays together!” I was, perhaps, going to have some sort of anxiety attack.

  “Well, let’s get a look at the ex then, shall we?” Josh teased, standing on his toes to get a good view.

  “Argh! This is a nightmare. I better go say hello and get this over with. I’ll be right back.” I walked toward Sean and my family and tried to think of polite things to say.

  Sean had been a great boyfriend, but he just wasn’t someone I’d wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Heather, on the other hand, thought Sean and I should’ve run off into a picturesque sunset and had forty babies together. And she knew damn well that when I’d broken up with Sean I’d been left with monster-sized guilt over dumping an altogether nice guy.

  To top it off, Sean didn’t look particularly good tonight. His whole body had thinned out. Not that he’d been heavy when we were dating, but now he looked sort of gaunt and pitiful. And he’d started wearing glasses. Look what I’d done to him! Maybe I’d upset him so badly that he’d barely eaten in the past few years? And I’d caused his eyesight to fail? I had zero interest in facing someone whose heart I’d crushed, but I forced an enthusiastic smile.

  “Sean! What a surprise! It’s great to see you,” I lied. I gave him a brief hug and gave my sister the finger behind his back.

  “God, Chloe. It’s been a long time,” Sean said. “I hope you don’t mind I’m here. Heather called me and invited me to come out with everybody tonight. I thought it’d be good to see you again.”

  “No, of course I don’t mind.” But I did mind.

  I hugged my brother-in-law, Ben, who whispered in my ear, “I cannot begin to apologize enough for this. I swear I had nothing to do with it.” I loved Ben. He was always clean-cut and well-groomed, but tonight he looked especially put together. I could tell he’d recently had his monthly haircut, and his short, neat style showed off his high forehead and warm, green eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I know it was all Heather,” I tried to reassure him, although I couldn’t help wondering whether the whole family was engaged in some horrible reunite-Chloe-with-Sean conspiracy. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” I turned to my parents. My mother was wearing a tremendously awful cape-like thing on which she had affixed patchwork squares. Her latest craft obsession?

  “Hi, sweetie.” Mom gave me a hug. I tried to avoid chafing my cheek on her cape. “Where’s the food?” she asked.

  “Yes, where’s the food?” Dad chimed in, craning his head over the crowd. “Oh, yeah. Nice to see you, too, kiddo,” he teased. But at least he gave me a sympathetic look that I took as a reference to the Sean problem. I was pleased to note that my father had not only run a comb through his graying hair but had traded in his usual jeans and flannel shirt for a pair of corduroys with coordinating jacket and dress shirt.

  “Down this way.” I gestured to the back of the gallery. “Mom and Dad, come with me. I have to get back to the Organization’s booth, anyhow. Heather, why don’t you stay here and get something to drink, okay? I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” I glared at her. I wanted to keep Sean away from Josh for the moment.

  “What has your idiot daughter done this time?” I avoided screaming at my parents as we moved toward Josh. “Sean said Heather called him? She is a piece of work.”

  “I don’t even know what to tell you, Chloe. I cannot imagine what she was thinking,” Mom shook her head. “Oh, there’s Josh!”

  “Jack and Bethany! You made it,” Josh said to my parents. My parents greeted Josh, whom they adored, and immediately asked him for a full description of the food he had prepared. I felt a little better realizing that my parents were complete fans of Josh. I left them hovering over their plates and returned to Naomi.

  “There you are!” she said. “We had a rush of interested people here. This is such great publicity for us!”

  “Really? That’s good news.” Naomi was so happy that I couldn’t help smiling at her. Maybe she had relaxed enough to stop accosting everyone who stepped too close to our table.

  Our piles of information had been significantly reduced, so I reached under the table and pulled out more brochures, fact sheets, and flyers from a box and restocked our table. Naomi was right; our table was doing well. I spent the next twenty minutes busily describing our organization to visitors. I was surprised at how much I knew about the Organization and wondered whether I’d been absorbing more information than I’d thought. When things quieted down, I realized that I hadn’t even tasted Josh’s food, so I excused myself and walked over to the good smells.

  Josh was speaking with two sets of well-dressed couples who were standing at Simmer’s table. “Hey, Chloe. This is Oliver and Dora Kipper, and Barry and Sarka Fields. Oliver and Barry are from the Full Moon Group,” Josh said, giving me a knowing look. Oh. The very same Full Moon Group that Gavin outbid for Simmer’s location! “You know, they own Lunar, the Big Dipper, and Eclipse?”

  Despite the fancy space-themed names, those places were pretty much bars and nightclubs, not restaurants. The Full Moon Group had just finished some sort of marketing blitz; you could barely go anywhere in Boston without hearing or reading something about its clubs. I’d been to Lunar a few times with Adrianna, but it was such a meat market that we hadn’t been there for a while. For one thing, she and I both had boyfriends now. For another, it was…well, a meat market. Lunar served food of some kind, but it wasn’t exactly known for gastronomic originality. I couldn’t even remember its menu—and on the subject of food, I’m known for my total recall.

  “Sure. Nice to meet you.” I shook everyone’s hand and had to refrain from squealing in shock at Dora. She had a forehead with the telltale tautness of too-frequent visits to doctors’
offices for Botox injections. I suspected she’d had piles of other work done and guessed that any fat liposuctioned from her had been injected straight into Oliver’s enormous stomach. The rest of him wasn’t all that huge, but his gut made him look as if he’d deliver triplets at any moment. Everything about him was round; round face, round eyes, and round head.

  I busied myself filling a plate and eavesdropped on the Full Moon Group. Barry had tight brown curls that clung to his head and deep brown eyes that exactly matched his suit. He was absorbed in commenting on the artwork hung in the gallery: “The artist’s use of color in this one indicates his attempt to…”

  Oh, blah, blah, pretentious blah, I thought.

  Oliver burst out with a deep, raspy chortle. “Oh, shut it, Barry. What are you, some goddamn art collector now? You’re not fooling anyone.”

  Barry’s face reddened. “I know, I know. You don’t care about art, but I really enjoy these galleries.”

  Oliver softened a bit and said, “Well, keep the business moving, and you can collect all the art you want, right? I know you’re a food nut. What do think of what the cook has here?” With another chortle, he led Dora off into the crowd.

  Cook? There is nothing more insulting to a chef than being referred to as a cook. In the culinary world, it’s a slur, a derogatory term that devalues the professionalism of chefs. An executive chef has earned that title and expects to be called “Chef” by the kitchen staff. Sous chefs, second in line to the executive chef, are often called “Chef,” too, although, depending on the restaurant, they’re sometimes called by their first names. But even those outside the restaurant world should know that there is an important difference between the words chef and cook. Although the Full Moon Group’s establishments offered nothing even remotely like fine dining, Oliver should have understood and respected the distinction. Indeed, maybe he understood it perfectly and was just a prick. I was glad that Josh hadn’t overheard him.

  Josh leaned into my ear and whispered, “Hello, my little snooper.”

  “I know. I can’t help myself,” I whispered back.

  “So, Josh,” Barry began, “you’re going to be the executive chef at Simmer? What are your plans for the menu?”

  Josh filled Barry in on some of his ideas. Meanwhile, I sank my teeth into the beef medallions. Oh, destemming the herbs had been well worth the work! The flavor was rich and complicated and amazing.

  “Tell me, what inspires your cooking? Where do you get ideas from?” Barry helped himself to another appetizer. “These are wonderful, aren’t they, Sarka?”

  “Hm? Oh, yes. Wonderful,” she murmured unenthusiastically. Her food was untouched, and she couldn’t have looked less interested, and she was so thin that she probably never ate anything anyway. Sarka had a natural beauty that would have made even my beautiful friend Adrianna jealous. Her dark hair was slicked back into a simple ponytail. The severe style highlighted her gorgeous cheekbones and wide hazel eyes. It was impossible to stand next to someone like this and not feel horrendously unattractive. I yanked at my red hair, willing it to not succumb to the unseasonable humidity and frizz up.

  In an effort at friendliness, I said, “Sarka! What a pretty name. And so unusual.”

  “Check,” she said, as if we were going through some sort of to-do list together. Rather, that’s what I heard her say.

  Responding to what must have been my baffled look, she said in a flat tone, “As in the Czech Republic.” Her face was as expressionless as her voice.

  Feeling like a dope, I listened in as Josh and Barry continued to talk. It became apparent that Barry truly appreciated wonderful food. In view of the forgettable and, in fact, forgotten menu at Lunar and the reputation of the Full Moon Group’s other places, I found his enthusiasm and knowledge surprising. Barry had traveled widely and had spent a large part of the past year in southern France, in various parts of Italy, and in a few countries in South America. “I went on a culinary tour of Italy that you wouldn’t believe,” he was telling Josh. “Sarka didn’t want to come. She said she grew up having to travel all the time and getting lugged all over the place as a kid by her parents, and she was never touring anything for the rest of her life. So I had to go alone. But the meals I had were phenomenal. Our group visited a handful of cities and ate the regional specialties wherever we went. Same deal in South America. I really wanted to get some ideas for Full Moon’s next location. Obviously, we didn’t get the space we wanted”—he smiled—“but congratulations to you and Gavin. Fair is fair.”

  Josh nodded his thanks. “Gavin got the space. I just hope I can do it justice. Stop in anytime you want, and I’ll show you around. And you should come in on New Year’s for the opening.”

  Barry eagerly accepted Josh’s invitation and took his bored wife off, presumably to listen to obtuse remarks about artwork.

  “Josh?” I looked at him in disbelief. “Why on earth would you invite the competition to your opening?”

  “Look, first of all, this guy, Barry, obviously cares about food. Second, it never hurts to show off. You don’t ever burn any bridges in this business. The Full Moon has money, and you never know what they’ll do in the future, right? How do I know Simmer won’t shut down in six months and leave me without a job? You know Quasar in Kendall Square? Full Moon owned that, and they just closed. Probably because of its crummy location, but even so…you can’t count on anything in this business.”

  Before I could ask Josh why he wanted a potential employer but not a reviewer present on opening night, Naomi interrupted. “Chloe! What are you doing?” I’d forgotten about her. Again. She was looking really irritated with me. For good reason. I did keep disappearing.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I swear I’ll focus from now on.”

  Josh saved me from further groveling. “Oh, my God. I don’t believe it. Are you kidding me?” I looked at him and saw him staring at a young woman standing with Oliver, Dora, Barry, Sarka, and Eliot.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “That’s Hannah,” he answered.

  “Hannah, your old girlfriend Hannah? The one who only liked turkey burgers Hannah?”

  It made no sense to me that Josh had dated someone who cared nothing about food. Josh had told me that she’d never appreciated his cooking and had insisted that he make her turkey burgers all the time for dinner. After they’d been dating for almost a year, Miss Hannah Hicks had announced to Josh that she couldn’t stand the hours he worked and that he’d better find a nine-to-five job if he wanted her to stick around. And that was the end of that.

  “The one and only, Hannah.”

  7. New boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend appearing on big night. Or ever.

  FIVE

  HANNAH had straight dark brown hair that hung just below her ears and razor-sharp bangs that cut across her forehead. She was so neat and tidy and put together that I wanted to squash her like a bug. I immediately hated everything about her: her minimal makeup, her tiny frame, and her simple, tailored clothes, undoubtedly bought in the petite section at Talbots. Worse, she was pretty in a pinched, uptight, naughty-secretary kind of way.

  “Oh, good,” I snarled. “Now we both have exes here. I’m just oozing warm fuzzies from every pore.”

  “I don’t know what she’s doing here.” Josh shook his head. “Last I heard, she was living in New York.”

  “Well, she’s not there now,” I pointed out brilliantly.

  “You don’t need to be threatened by her presence,” Naomi tried to assure me. “As uncomfortable as these situations are, you have the skills to handle difficulties such as this.”

  Social work wisdom was not what I needed right now. I needed a best friend. Oh, how I wished Adrianna were here with me! She’d know exactly what to do. I had no idea, and all I could think was that I was being punished for some unknown sin.

  Hannah scanned the room in time to catch Josh, Naomi, and me all staring dumbly at her.

  “Josh? Is that you?” she
mouthed with exaggeration.

  “I suppose I have to say hello,” Josh said with resignation. He took a few steps forward, and Naomi and I immediately followed.

  “Hannah,” Josh said blandly. “What a surprise.”

  Hannah Banana cocked her head to the side and flashed my boyfriend a smile. “I never thought I’d see you again.” She reached out and lightly thumped his chest with her hands. And left them there, touching him!

  Josh took a step back and pulled me next to him. “Yeah. I didn’t think I’d see you again, either. This is my girlfriend, Chloe Carter. And this is Naomi Campbell. They’re here running the sexual harassment booth.”

  “Oh, yes. Nice to meet you, Chloe.” Hannah gave me an icy handshake. “And, Naomi.” Staring pointedly at Naomi, she probably had the same reaction most people did to the name that my Naomi shared with the notoriously unpredictable celebrity; the fear that Naomi might reach out and bite her or hurl a cell phone at her head.

  “So what brings you to Boston?” Josh asked.

  “I was hired by the Full Moon Group to head a marketing campaign for them to kick off the new year. I’ve been here for about six weeks, and I have another two to three months of work to do for them. Have you seen any of the publicity I’ve done for them? I’ve been killing myself, but the money is worth it.”

  “Then back to New York?” I wondered hopefully. I couldn’t get her out of Boston fast enough.

  “You know where I’m from? I see Josh has told you about me.”

  Dammit! “I guess he must have said something in passing,” I said as casually as I could. I could’ve kicked myself for giving her any sign that Josh had even considered her worth mentioning.

  “I’m not sure what my plans are.” She eyed Josh. “It depends on a lot of things.”