Nancy shook her head. “I think that Sabrina could get anybody riled up if she tried.”
Mae and Amanda both laughed. “We’re trying to—end that,” Mae said. “And Amanda said that you said . . . something about not running Frannie’s anymore.”
Wait, they were going there? Straight there? Amanda rushed in, trying to soften it, but there was no way this didn’t just look like she’d been telling Mae all their business. “I didn’t just tell her,” she began. “I mean, we were talking—”
“It’s okay,” said Nancy. “You’re right. I said it. You said you might want to do something else, and I just thought—I don’t know what I thought. You started this, Amanda. And I know you were thinking we could grow Frannie’s, and you’re right, my Frank had big dreams in that direction. And I was excited. I thought I wanted that too. But then we got so busy, and there were so many more people, and I kept thinking, what if it’s always like this? What if the staff is always frantic, and I’ve got that many more hours to work every day . . . and then to do it, not just without Frank, but without you . . .”
She trailed off, and fortunately Mae had the sense not to interrupt. “I want you to figure out what you want to do with your life, Amanda. I really do. I guess I was thinking maybe I want to figure out what to do with my life, too. I like Frannie’s. I just don’t know if I want to do all that alone.”
Amanda wanted her to go on. They talked, they did, but never like this. Never about all this time, running somebody else’s dream. Somebody—two somebodies, who were never coming back.
Mae, though, had an agenda. “Yeah, I can see that,” she said, and Amanda could tell she was trying not to rush past the moment, but she just couldn’t help herself. Mae would always be Mae, and Amanda watched her sister lean forward, blue eyes sparkling, to touch Nancy on the knee, hoping her mother-in-law knew that Mae meant well.
“Because it would be a ton of work alone, right? And even if Amanda stayed on, you’d know her heart wasn’t in it, and that’s no good either. But it’s a family tradition—maybe Gus wants to run it, or Frankie—so you wouldn’t want to let it go, right? And I had an idea.”
Nancy looked at Mae speculatively, and Amanda had a feeling that Nancy could practically see Mae’s wheels turning, in part because Nancy’s own wheels turned much the same way. She had never seen it before, but Nancy and Mae were a lot alike. They were always thinking ahead and always making Amanda feel two beats behind.
Nancy was quiet a minute. Amanda expected her to brush Mae off—Nancy didn’t need anyone else’s ideas. But instead, Nancy looked at them both seriously. “It would be too much work alone. And I don’t want Amanda to do it if she doesn’t want to. I think some part of me thought that one of these days, Amanda would take over, and I’d do her job, and she would do mine. I like just managing the front of the house.”
Amanda tried to keep the surprise off her face. Take over the books and the hiring and the insurance and the—the taxes, and everything?
Nancy laughed. “I know,” she said. “I should have known better, right? But that was kind of my plan, and then I didn’t want to mess us up, now that we both seemed to be getting to be okay. I didn’t even mean for it to go on this long. I meant to talk to you about it. I meant for us both to figure out what to do with Frannie’s—how to keep it going, for Gus and Frankie, if we wanted to, or even how to sell it. But it was just never the right time.”
Amanda reached for Nancy’s hand. “Nancy—I didn’t know. I guess I never thought about you not wanting all that work. I’m sorry. I kind of did let you be the grown-up, didn’t I?”
“You had the kids, and things were hard enough,” Nancy said briskly, pulling her hand away and patting Amanda on the arm. “We both did what we had to do.”
“But maybe now it’s time to do what you want to do,” said Mae. This time, Amanda was glad she was willing to rush in where others might hesitate. She still didn’t know where Mae was going with this, but they needed a plan, and Mae had one, which was more than Amanda had. All Amanda had was a sinking feeling that she couldn’t leave Nancy stuck with Frannie’s alone—not now, and maybe not ever.
Mae, though, was beaming at them both. “Okay, here’s my idea,” she said. “We throw our lots in together and beat Food Wars at their own game. Partners, all of us, one single business. We run both restaurants, everybody does what they’re good at. My mom keeps running Mimi’s, Andy runs both kitchens, Nancy does the staff and the front of the house for both places, I keep track of all the details and ordering and stuff. Me, or maybe— Well, that’s another idea. But it’s covered.”
Actually, that was kind of brilliant. Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda checked Nancy for her reaction. She looked—intrigued.
Mae kept talking. “I don’t actually know if anyone wants to do this,” she said. “I haven’t talked to Andy. Or”—she raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together, conveying wry doubt—“my mom. But if we could all agree—what would you think? Do you think it’s possible?”
“I’d need time to think about it,” said Nancy. “Maybe. I’m not saying it’s a no. But it’s not something we can just do overnight.”
“But that’s exactly what we have to do,” said Mae. “Because right now, before anybody wins—it’s the only time we can do it and have everybody come in equal, no worrying about the loan or whose money is whose. If we wait, I just feel like we’re going to be back at Mimi’s versus Frannie’s again.”
Jay came out of the kitchen, followed by Kenneth, who was using his shirt to wipe his forehead.
“She’s right,” Jay said, pulling up a chair and planting himself firmly in the conversation. “Do you know we can hear every word you’re saying in there? I don’t know if you two ever brought dates out here in your misspent youth, but your mother was perfectly set up to spy on you. So—combining Mimi’s and Frannie’s. I’m not saying it’s a good idea or a bad idea. This is your baby, not mine. But Mae’s right that you have to figure this out today. You have a unique moment here.”
“Look at it this way,” said Kenneth. “Right now, everybody has pretty much the same shot at having a hundred thousand dollars and the Food Wars crown, for whatever that’s worth, and in terms of promotion it’s probably worth quite a bit. I know you disagree on who’s going to win—”
“Frannie’s,” said Amanda, at the same moment Mae said, “Mimi’s.”
But they were just kidding now, and Amanda reached her hand out for a high five from her sister. Nancy might not go for this, or she might. But Mae was right—it was a good idea, and if Nancy didn’t like it, well, maybe she wasn’t as unhappy running Frannie’s as she said. Maybe everything was, one way or another, going to be okay.
“Right,” said Kenneth. “So, once one of you actually wins, it’s different. Then it’s somebody on somebody else’s coattails.”
“It’s a classic negotiation scenario,” said Jay. “You have to decide what to do before they tell you who won, because otherwise, everything changes. It’s like the moment before somebody develops the bomb. The last chance to do something before the whole power differential shifts.”
“That’s pretty dramatic,” said Nancy. “I think we could do this even after we know who wins.”
“You think you could,” said Jay. “But you won’t.”
“If Frannie’s wins, Mom will think you’re trying to crush Mimi’s,” said Mae. “She already has kind of a thing about that. And if Mimi’s wins—well—I don’t know what you’ll think, but don’t you think you might feel different?” She grinned at Amanda. “You know how this works,” she said. “‘The only winning move is’—”
“‘Not to play,’” Amanda, Kenneth, and Jay all capped her quote in unison.
“This is our big chance,” Mae said. “Plus, I think it would really piss Sabrina off.”
“I’m not putting my family business into a part
nership just to piss off Sabrina,” Nancy protested, but she was smiling.
“And to let all of us build lives we want, instead of just kind of accepting our lots,” said Mae. “It really could work, Nancy. If we each had a defined role, and if we used the hundred thousand dollars—together—to rebrand and promote ourselves based on the Food Wars win—which, no matter who it is, is a win for everyone’s chicken, right?—we’d be the only Food Wars feud to ever end in a peace treaty.”
“You could build a good story out of that,” said Kenneth. “Between that and the history, Mimi’s and Frannie’s could become real destinations, at least in the Midwest.”
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘authentic American icons,’” said Mae.
Nancy turned to Amanda, then stopped and chuckled. “I don’t even have to ask you what you think, do I?”
“It does seem like a good idea to me,” said Amanda, suddenly aware that she was smiling. “But it’s not just that. I’m happy because—we’re all here, talking about it. Not fighting. It feels good for a change. Maybe I shouldn’t get a vote, though, because I’m kind of already there, in between.”
“You get a vote,” said Nancy. “I suppose we could always undo it, if it doesn’t work. Who runs the business part of it?”
“Jay,” said Mae. “That’s the other part of my idea. He’s been a restaurant consultant for chains and big hotels for years, and he hates it. He could wind that up—come here for a while—if he wanted to.” She glanced at Jay while she was speaking, and then looked out into the distance, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Amanda could see her sister’s hands clenched behind her, fingers dancing in an anxious, fidgety motion. This was what she hadn’t said, back in Mimi’s. The part of moving home Mae hadn’t talked about.
An hour ago, Amanda wouldn’t have put a dollar or a doughnut on the idea of Jay moving to Merinac. But watching him with Kenneth, seeing his weird ease with this whole situation—she didn’t know what to think.
“Actually, I quit last week,” said Jay.
Mae snapped her gaze away from whatever she was pretending to study in the distance and stared at Jay. She didn’t know, Amanda realized. Her sister’s eyes narrowed, and for a minute Amanda thought Mae was going to stand up and resume the fight they’d been having earlier, this time with Jay as her opponent. Instead, Mae blinked a few times, quickly. “Oh,” she said, and there was a long, tense pause, Kenneth on the edge of the chair behind Jay as if he didn’t know whether to back him up or return to the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me,” Mae finally finished.
“You’ve had plenty of surprises for me,” Jay said evenly. “You knew I wanted to quit. You just told everyone I hated it, which I did, or at least, I hated the hours and the travel. And now you seem to have lined up another job for me anyway, so it’s a good thing all around.” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Right?”
Amanda had a feeling Mae had not been fully ready to have her dreams granted quite so quickly. She got it, too—Amanda might not be as practical as her sister, but she knew how Mae felt about regular paychecks and health insurance and benefits. They both knew what it was like to do without.
Mae didn’t answer Jay.
“You really know what you’re doing, then,” Nancy said to Jay. “You could do this.”
“I’ve helped merge everything from massive chains to two tiny glamorous island hotels whose chefs hated each other, so yes. I could. If I wanted to.” He looked at Mae, but she was staring down at the ground, silent.
“You’re the one who says we don’t have time to think about it,” said Nancy. “Would you want to? Would Barbara?”
“I can’t speak for Barbara, but I’m more of a leaper than a thinker,” said Jay. “It’s the thing Mae and I both have in common. You would think she would want to think things through, with a bunch of flow charts or something, but she doesn’t, she wants to do things. And so do I. So—”
He was grinning, and although Amanda held her breath, she knew what he was going to say.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably. I’m probably in.”
Kenneth whacked Jay on the shoulder. “Come on, man,” he said. “Free coffee.”
“For life?”
“A year, maybe. Mae drinks a lot of coffee. She’ll put us out of business.”
“Let me just make Mae sweat a little, okay? Probably. You’ll have to settle for that,” Jay said.
“Then me, too, probably,” Nancy said. “But, Mae, you’ve got a job ahead convincing your mother.” She got up. “I hate to leave you all with that kitchen,” she said, “but I need to get to Frannie’s. Amanda?”
Amanda was still looking at Mae. Her sister was really upset, she could tell. Her frozen expression wasn’t her thinking; it was her holding everything back. She eyed Jay. Did he know it? She couldn’t tell, but she didn’t want to just leave them like that. “Uh, Mae?”
“Yeah?” Mae didn’t turn her head.
“Should I come with you to talk to Mom?”
At that, Mae did turn to her, but her face was still and even pale. “No,” she said slowly, and took a tiny breath in, as if she was scared to do more. “I think probably not,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Call me, then, after? After you all talk?”
Mae smiled a little, and Amanda felt lighter. It was just Jay quitting, but that had to be a good thing. Mae just wasn’t seeing it, for whatever reason. “Everything else is fitting right into your plans, right?” She looked hard toward Jay, willing her sister to see how great this was, and saw him looking at her, and blushed. Okay, she was not subtle.
“Yeah. I guess. I’ll call you.” Mae stared down at the ground again, and after a minute, Amanda followed Nancy off the porch. Mae would be okay. And Barbara had to see that this would work. She just had to.
What Amanda needed now was a little time to take all this in, but Gus was standing at the edge of the yard, holding his phone, and one look at him told Amanda that he was waiting for her—and that something was wrong. When they reached him, Nancy patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all going to be okay,” she said. “Really. We’re just figuring some stuff out.”
Gus looked up at the group still sitting around outside of Barbara’s house and nodded. “Yeah, okay—I mean, that’s not what—Mom, can I talk to you?”
Amanda gave Nancy a worried look but nodded, and Nancy kept going, on to the car, probably, but that was fine; Amanda’s car was here from this morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Right now, Gus’s expression had her a little panicked. “What? Is it Mom? Are you guys okay?”
“It’s not Grandma, Mom, she’s fine, she knows where I went. It’s just—I did something. And I think you’re going to be mad at me.”
Amanda looked at her son more closely. He looked guilty, yes, but also maybe pleased. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be that bad. And compared to the last few days—
“Spill it, Gus. If it’s worse than saying I stole a recipe or that we serve frozen biscuits, I’m disowning you.”
Gus smiled a little. Then he eyed the phone in his hand, started to speak, and instead, handed it to her, open to an e-mail from [email protected].
Gus, thanks for sending me the Carleen drawings. Most people are wrong when they think I’d want to see something, but you were right. Can you tell your mom to get in touch? Best, Bill
Bill—bhen72. Amanda stared at Gus, her mouth open.
“Bill Henderson,” Gus said. “You know, the guy with the kid and the penguin, the comic strip? You used to read it to me, and we have all the books?”
Why, yes, she knew. She gaped at her son, disbelieving. Bill Henderson? E-mailing him?
“The new art teacher graduated with him, and I asked him if he would— They were just in the drawer, Mom. And I was afraid you might throw them away.”
Amanda could barely find wo
rds for this. “You took—my sketchbook—and someone—”
“Showed it to him. Yeah. And he wants you to get in touch. Don’t be mad, Mom. It’s good that he wants to talk to you, right? Really good?” He looked at her, mostly smiling, still looking a little worried. “Plus, I think he still has it. You have to at least e-mail him to get it back.”
Slowly, Amanda handed Gus’s phone back to him. Then she hugged him, hard.
MAE
Mae took another tiny breath, and then another. Jay had just declared that he’d quit, and now he was picking up her plan and tossing it around so casually—I could do that, yeah. If I wanted to.
He was enjoying himself, damn him, and very at home here, in her mother’s trash-filled yard. Somewhere in the depths of the fridge he had found a can of light beer he didn’t seem to consider too old to drink, and he popped its top now, grinning at her.
Mae didn’t have one word to express how she felt, and it was probably a good thing. Because no matter what he had thought he was doing, he was here now.
She found, after another moment, that she could just about smile back. She nodded at the beer can. “Slumming?” Jay’s usual taste ran to the craft varieties, twelve bucks a bottle at a bar and six at the corner bodega. Tough to afford with no job.
“Beer is beer when it’s this hot,” he said. “Another advantage of your home state, maybe. Makes all beer taste good.”
Patrick came out of the kitchen and handed Kenneth another can. “No treasures,” he said. “And Frankie was born to throw things away, but I think she’s keeping that pink tinsel Christmas tree. I arm-wrestled her for it, and I lost.” He grabbed a chair and all three men made a big production of drinking, although Mae could feel Kenneth watching her. He knew, better than anyone, how desperately she craved control, and how hard it would be for her to have it suddenly taken away.
The Chicken Sisters Page 32
