The Second Chance Supper Club

by Meier, Nicole

  “Uh-huh.” Ginny snatched up a plate and held it out in front of her. “So I hope you’re feeling steady. This egg, see here?” She pointed with her free hand. “This beautiful, sunny little thing cannot lose its shape. So maybe you should just carry one at a time. Gently! Please, go slow and don’t bump into anything.”

  A hesitant hand reached for the plate. Ginny fixed her gaze on Julia’s unsure expression. “Okay?”

  “Yes, got it. Don’t mess up your precious egg.” She took the appetizer plate in both hands and walked toward the dining room methodically, as if she were marching in a wedding procession. Ginny scoffed. Julia was pissing her off. She needed real help. Where in the hell was Olive when she needed her?

  But her irritation toward her daughter was now morphing into real concern. She’d checked her phone for responses to texts she’d sent Olive the night before. No answer. A text to Will had been fruitless as well. The only thing keeping her from calling the authorities was the fact that Olive had done this kind of disappearing act before. Whenever the two of them had a particularly bad argument, Olive would stay at a friend’s. Which friend, Ginny was never quite sure, since her daughter kept her mostly in the dark about the people she hung out with. There was a kid who worked for one of the cheese vendors, a Logan Something-or-other, who sometimes hung around after deliveries. She knew he and Olive had struck up a friendship, or possibly something more, she wasn’t really sure. Maybe Olive was with this kid now, drinking beers and swapping complaints about their lame jobs. Maybe they were doing something she didn’t even want to consider.

  What Ginny did know was that if her daughter didn’t surface soon, Mesquite would be without a decent server, because Julia was proving to be a piss-poor substitute. Maybe she had been wrong to expect anything more.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JULIA

  While the house was still, Julia stood outside on the back patio and soaked in the warming rays of the rising sun. Now that it was Sunday, she assumed everyone would finally sleep in. It had rained overnight, a little pitter-patter of drops playing on her window sometime just after midnight. The storm had moved in and washed over the dusty outcroppings of Ginny’s property. Everything was left with a dewy sense of renewal.

  The ground was still damp but oddly warm against Julia’s bare toes. A veil of steam floated up from the stone pavers, giving everything a mystical feel. She remembered these kinds of mornings. The recollection comforted her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled. Fresh air filled her lungs. She liked the sweet, organic smell that touched at the back of her throat and hinted of sage. Probably the rains had been responsible for releasing such an ethereal aroma. The desert was often like that in January. Little by little, the land she once knew was becoming less of a mystery.

  Despite Julia’s difficulty falling asleep the night before, starting upright at the howls of a distant coyote and hooting of a large owl, she was beginning to recognize certain elements of the wild.

  Yet she also longed for the city, with the constant humming of action that only New York could provide. She deeply missed the fulfilling rush of heading into work and getting caught up in the business of breaking news stories, the excitement of the jam-packed editorial pitch meetings, and the electric-charged energy of the harried support staff on the newsroom floor.

  Out of habit she’d been up early, checking email and skimming the weekend news. She’d glanced at social media for any mention of her name on GBN’s site. There were several posts that included a brief retraction—all terribly dry and legal sounding in Julia’s opinion—but no explanation of why Daybreak was down a cohost at the end of the week. It maddened her to think how easily she’d been cast off. Peter still had explaining to do.

  Her email included a terse directive from Peter not to come in on Monday morning. Another day Julia wouldn’t be on the show. Hang tight until we sort this thing out, his message read. The execs don’t want you coming back to the show quite yet. More from legal soon. Peter. No word on what was being done. No inquiry as to Julia’s side of the story. Just a continuance of her punishment.

  Julia sulked. She wondered how long this could go on.

  “I see you’re up early again,” Ginny’s voice called, breaking the silence. Her sister pushed the double doors wide and stepped out onto the patio. An oversize pair of what looked like men’s tailored pajamas were buttoned and rolled up at the sleeves. Even in her sleep, Ginny looked like she was ready to get down to business. Julia stifled a grin.

  “Yeah, still on East Coast time, I’m afraid.”

  Ginny yawned and rubbed at her face. Little sleep lines ran down one cheek. In that light, Julia noticed how her sister’s features had aged. The soft skin at her neck had begun to be drawn down by gravity, and the edges of her hairline revealed a thinning that didn’t used to be there. If she looked hard enough, Julia could detect threads of gray weaving their way into the blonde. Despite this, Ginny appeared healthy in other ways. The strong desert sun had given her skin a golden hue that wasn’t there before. And there was an element of brightness in her eyes. Overworked or not, Ginny seemed to be thriving in her new environment.

  Despite the grueling pace of having to feed people in her own home, her sister seemed to enjoy herself. She’d caught Ginny on several occasions laughing with guests and puffing out her chest slightly as she offered details on each dish and its specialty ingredients. Watching her was like witnessing a flash of the old Ginny, the one whose artful menus had earned her awards and garnered the big bucks from important restaurant owners.

  It was kind of touching, really. Albeit still strange.

  Julia held on to a healthy dose of skepticism about the whole affair. Her sister had left it all behind—the glitz, the glamour, the adoration—for a modest adobe house tucked away in the desert. It was quite a risk. Julia worried. It all felt so tenuous. Her sister and her niece were just one phone call away from being out of a job.

  True, Julia still harbored a grudge toward Ginny over certain events from the past, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t concerned. This was family, after all. The only family Julia had left.

  “You’re staring,” Ginny said dryly.

  Julia shook her head, embarrassed. They’d never felt so awkward around each other in the old days. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. It’s just that . . .”

  “That we haven’t seen one another for three years? Yeah, I know.” Her words were edged with remorse.

  “It’s kind of strange, isn’t it?”

  “Strange that you popped up out of nowhere after you accused me of foolishly giving up? Um, yeah. You could say so.” A fresh bitterness coated Ginny’s words. She’d set her anger aside for the past few days, but clearly it had existed all this time.

  Julia winced at the memory of their harsh exchange. It had been such a difficult time, for both of them. The grief over losing their parents to a freak car accident had gutted them equally, but the sisters’ reactions had been altogether different.

  Unable to explain how something so cruel and random could happen to her family, Julia had chosen to throw herself into her work as a kind of escape from the pain of her shattered heart. She loved her parents and secretly held on to guilt over not seeing them as often as she should have. Then, suddenly, they were gone. Her time was up. There was nothing she could do other than press on. If she didn’t, Julia feared she might slip into an abyss of sadness that had the potential to swallow her whole.

  Ginny, on the other hand, had let the grief entirely overcome her. Her reaction was to step back into some kind of free fall, to let go of nearly everything she’d once had such a firm grasp on: the restaurant, her friends, the notoriety, and even Julia. It was maddening and confusing, and Julia hadn’t taken the separation well.

  But then again, neither had Ginny.

  Yes, Julia could admit she’d said some ugly things at the time of Ginny’s abrupt departure from the city. She’d been so consumed with anger and sadness at being abandoned in the wake of their
parents’ deaths. Even now, she could feel the ripple of resentment running through her. She still didn’t understand her sister’s choices. More than that, she’d been stung by them.

  It was as if Ginny had morphed into someone she no longer knew, and she hadn’t bothered to inform Julia of her life-altering plans. They’d both been in pain over the loss of their parents, but Julia had expected Ginny to stick around and weather the storm right alongside her. When Ginny announced that she’d quit her job and would stay in Arizona with Olive, it hurt.

  Julia couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her sister’s actions. Blindsided, even. Now, reflecting, she felt a hint of regret for how she had behaved. Her wants might have been selfish. Despite this admission, she was also irritated with Ginny for acting the martyr and then never really explaining herself. For acting as if Julia were some sort of stranger to whom she owed little clarification. In one fell swoop, she’d shut Julia out.

  As a result, Julia’s wounds, though tucked away, were still raw.

  She stood facing Ginny now, reflecting. Another equally painful memory surfaced. Ginny hadn’t been all that supportive of Julia’s swift rise up the corporate ladder. Julia hadn’t ever figured out if it was jealousy or real concern coming from Ginny, but her sister’s outward disapproval had smarted.

  “Don’t forget,” Julia said, the volume of her voice increasing. Pinpricks of anger made their way along her skin. “You accused me of selling out. Something about me losing myself to the lure of the limelight. You called me self-centered and, if I’m not mistaken, said my big head was stuck so far up my ass, it was no wonder I couldn’t see anyone but myself. So I’d say you aren’t exactly innocent in all this.”

  It felt good to get it out, to finally unleash the anger she’d suppressed all these years. It was like a cork had been popped.

  Ginny tensed, her lips forming a taut line.

  Julia wanted to press her further, to step forward and force an admission of her sister’s wrongdoing. She’d waited three years to have this conversation.

  “Our parents had just died, Julia,” Ginny seethed. Her jaw clenched. It was apparent she was barely containing herself. “And instead of putting things on hold to mourn them and honor their memories, to help tie up the loose ends of their lives, you pretty much brushed the event aside and went full throttle into promoting yourself with all the subtlety of a carnival barker. I couldn’t take it. You did everything you could to get the attention put back on you. It was so obvious. I mean, who doesn’t take even one sick day off from work when her parents die? Who doesn’t care about helping pack up their stuff or making sure the house sells after they’ve gone? Instead, you slapped on lipstick and high heels and trotted yourself out in front of the cameras like it was any other day. Seriously, Julia. It was embarrassing. People who knew Mom and Dad were watching. I was watching.” Ginny’s chest was heaving; whatever wrath she’d been subduing now surged like an angry red tide.

  Julia guffawed, her lips curling into a sneer. “Oh, come on. Your memory is distorted. You’ve always been so high and mighty. You chose to take it all on, without any input from me. Remember? I did nothing wrong and you know it!”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh. You were so self-absorbed it was disgusting.” Ginny’s tone was cruel. “Not much has changed, by the looks of it.”

  Julia recoiled. “You make me sound like a monster. I was doing my job, Ginny,” she spat. “One that I was contractually obligated to do. That’s what news reporters do, they show up. No matter what. Don’t blame me because I was good at my job. And just because I worked my way through that period of our lives doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me.”

  Ginny rolled her eyes. Julia was so sick of her sister’s condescension. She’d had enough.

  “You can be so judgmental.” She jabbed her finger in Ginny’s direction. “Would you rather I curl up in a fetal position and just take it all lying down? Slink away out of town because I can’t face hardship? Give up a career I’ve worked unbelievably hard to obtain? All just for the sake of appearances? Get over yourself, Ginny!”

  Ginny scoffed. “You don’t know what I went through. I lost more than you did.”

  “That’s not true!” How could she? Julia’s eyes blurred. The rage she felt for Ginny, old rage that had been lying dormant for so long, rushed forward and felt as if it might split her wide open. If Ginny wanted a confrontation, well, she was getting one. Who the hell did she think she was, telling Julia she hadn’t mourned correctly, or as much as she had? As though this was a pissing contest.

  Ginny’s voice cracked slightly as she dropped her arms. For a flash, Julia got the sense that her sister was giving up on her. “Julia, I lost my partner, the father of my child. My coming out here was the final nail in the coffin of our dying relationship. My parents had been ripped from my life. I gave up everything to return home and clean up the mess. Without hesitating. I think I deserve a little understanding. My life was turned upside down. Coming back here wasn’t a choice. Someone had to do it, and I didn’t dare ask you. If you couldn’t see what needed to be done and step up to the plate out of a sense of duty and love, I couldn’t force you to. So I don’t appreciate you throwing my actions back in my face like I was some weakling. What I did took strength, whether you want to admit it or not. And I’m not going to change my perspective just because you can’t wrap your head around that.”

  Julia folded her arms. All of her ugly emotions wound themselves into difficult knots. The anger still loomed. Yet she couldn’t walk away. She’d come so far just to try to reconnect. Was it really worth it? She wasn’t sure.

  Part of her still wanted to try.

  “I came here because I needed to escape my life, if it makes you feel any better,” Julia said, more evenly now. She caught Ginny’s gaze shifting. “To get a better perspective on things. Go ahead and gloat if you want to. But at least I had the courage to stick around and try.” Her shoulders fell. She’d had enough. She’d been a fool to think they might have moved past all this.

  So Julia had chased her broadcasting dream and allowed herself to be molded into what the job demanded of her. Was she really that terrible a person? She didn’t think so. Yes, she’d gotten her hair and makeup done a certain way, changed the lilt of her voice, and put a great deal of effort into losing unwanted weight for the cameras. Those sacrifices, along with hard work, had landed her on GBN. It was one of the most powerful news networks in the world. Surely Ginny would have to give her credit for that much.

  But studying Ginny’s contorted face now, it was difficult to tell. Too much had been said.

  Ginny’s sigh was edged in weariness. “I don’t need to gloat, Julia. It doesn’t make me happy to see you suffering. Despite what you might think, I do have a heart, you know.” Ginny’s arms went back across her chest. She was insulted, but she wasn’t walking away. This was new.

  Julia saw this as a kind of olive branch, she supposed. Even if only a temporary one. She wondered what Ginny was thinking—if she wanted to work through their differences or if she just needed Julia to stay in order to help with her business. It was difficult to tell.

  They needed one another, for reasons neither could admit.

  “I know you do,” Julia answered. She decided to take the first step. “That’s part of why I came. I was hoping that despite our rocky past, you’d see it in your heart to let me stay for a few days. And you have. Everything else aside, I’m grateful.”

  Ginny’s arms loosened slightly. The inflamed color of her cheeks faded some. “And I’m grateful for your help in Olive’s absence.”

  Julia nodded. Maybe it was best to leave the rest of this conversation for another time. There had been progress. Not a lot, but she’d take it.

  “Where is Olive, anyway?” Julia asked, wanting to change the conversation. “Does she make a habit out of running off whenever you two argue?” Like mother, like daughter, Julia thought.

  Ginny shifted, her gaze floating into the distance. It a
ppeared she was considering just how much to reveal. “Olive takes off sometimes, yes. But she always comes back. I’m guessing she’s staying with one of her friends. But she doesn’t usually stay away this long. So I’m a bit worried.”

  “Shouldn’t you call or text or something to make sure she’s not lying in a ditch somewhere?” Julia’s pulse began to speed up once more. Had something bad happened to Olive? She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for not stopping her when she’d had the chance the other night. But how could she have known?

  “She’s fine,” Ginny said. “I have been texting her. Olive likes to keep me hanging by only responding with one-word texts. But she confirmed she’s still mad at me and she confirmed she’s safe.”

  “Huh.” Julia didn’t know what to make of it. Ginny seemed somewhat resigned to the fact that her daughter liked to keep things vague. A part of her understood that this might be a young person’s desire to strike out on her own. To push against the confines of a small town and yearn for something bigger. It was what Julia had done when she’d first left Arizona, after all. Perhaps her niece was feeling the same way. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why not hire someone else to take her place? I mean, you must be pretty desperate if you had me fill in. We all know I’m more than rusty when it comes to service.”

  “Ha! You’ve got that right. But yeah, you could say I’m desperate.”

  “So?”

  “So, I can’t afford to hire new help. I’m strapped as it is.” The arms were back across her chest. The invisible wall was up.

  Julia frowned. This wasn’t necessarily the answer she’d expected. Surely life out here in the desert had only a fraction of the high cost of living in New York. Didn’t it? And Ginny had established a business. If you could call it that.

  “Can’t you use whatever it is you pay Olive for a new person?”

  “No.” It came out in almost a whisper.

  “No?”

  “I don’t exactly pay Olive in a consistent manner,” Ginny said, her gaze drifting to the ground. Julia detected the shame in her sister’s response. “I don’t have the money for that. Not now, anyway. Olive gets free room and board in exchange. And some cash on the side. That’s pretty good for a twenty-one-year-old. She gets to eat and sleep here for free.”