by Melissa Hill
In any case if she did get a hunch of who it could be, she would seat them in one of the nicer booths at the back, the leather-backed ones with the best view of the dining area.
She’d already earmarked it as reserved, just in case one of the waiting staff gave it away to someone else.
Though the restaurant had been doing well since its first inception almost three years ago — mostly due to word of mouth and a dedicated following amongst the locals - Terri was always eager to grow their reputation as a must-visit Dublin dining destination. A positive mention from a discerning restaurant expert with such a wide reputation could be amazing.
She worried that while they had a good thing going, something like a negative critique in a major foodie publication could really undermine what they had built. The thought had terrified Terri to her core since receiving the call from the magazine’s lifestyle editor last week.
What had made it even more terrifying was that the eventual write-up would likely come right on the heels of the restaurant’s re-opening in a week’s time. Tonight was her and Rachel’s last night at Stromboli together, before Terri returned in five days time.
The short absence was to allow both co-owners time away for Rachel’s long-awaited wedding to Gary Knowles. The ceremony was taking place in New York, and while Terri was honoured to act as chief bridesmaid on her friend’s behalf, she wasn’t so enamoured of having to take so much time away from the restaurant, and travel all the way across the Atlantic to spend time in a city that for her held little appeal.
Or indeed enamoured of the groom but that was another story.
All the more reason that tonight, the head chef’s last before she zoomed off into the Caribbean sunset with her motorbike mad new husband, needed to be perfect.
But as always, Rachel had little appreciation of down to earth business matters, and was much more interested in the creative side of the enterprise — the food.
Amazing really, Terri thought, unleashing her best front-of-house smile on an arriving customer/potential food critic, that a dreamer and a pragmatist should make such a good team.
2
Much later, Terri personally escorted the last diners out of the darkened restaurant, wishing them well as she they drunkenly said their goodbyes.
She still had no idea who the critic was or even if he’d appeared at all, she thought worriedly.
She highly doubted that the lively couple throwing their arms around each other as they headed towards the Ha’Penny Bridge had anything to do with a highly regarded European culinary publication but you never knew…
Just their luck that the critic that could potentially make or break their little restaurant would appear when both co-owners were out of the picture.
As she watched the staggering couple make their way down the street, Rachel materialised at her side.
“So, all’s well that ends well,” her friend said, referring to her second-round lasagne which had gone down a treat. “But can we talk real business now?”
Exhausted, Terri followed her to their shared office at the back of the dining room.
Rachel had already brought back some panna cotta for the two to share. Eating leftover desert was a tradition the two had relished every day they worked together since the opening of the restaurant. Justin dropped off two small cups of cappuccino along with the other waiter’s order books and till receipts, and Terri began punching in numbers, calculating costs and sales.
Rachel on the other hand sat back, sounding a little exasperated. “When I said ‘business,’ this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Okay. What business did you have in mind?” She hated to admit it, but Terri knew all too well what her friend was up to. She watched as a devilish grin popped onto Rachel’s face. Her blue eyes danced and her full Sicilian lips curled.
“Less than a week to go and we still have so much to discuss!” Rachel grabbed her leather duffel bag, pulling out a large, thick binder from the depths. The binder’s pages were torn and bent from use as random pages stuck out and little pieces of fabric added to its weight. “Should we start with a to-do list for when we arrive?”
“How about you just tell me what to do, where to go, and how to stand and I’ll just follow along?”
Rachel rolled her eyes at her friend. “Great chief bridesmaid you are. Only four more days, Terri!” Her face was a combination of amused, overwhelmed and more than a little annoyed.
“I know, I know,” Terri laughed taunting her. “Four more days ’til the moment you’ve been dreaming of since you were a blob in your mother’s womb, or whatever.” She knew her friend was passionate about love and life in general, but especially so about her wedding, while she herself didn't understand how any grown woman could invest so much time and energy in one single day. Terri had no doubt in her mind that when Rachel was growing up, she probably had a binder filled with wedding ideas just like the one she carted around now.
But that was Rachel. She lived for nostalgia, festivity, and anything romantic.
“Go ahead and laugh, but you’ll miss these conversations when it’s all over. Heck, maybe it’ll inspire you to go through all this yourself.”
“You’re so right,” Terri drawled. “Your wedding of the century will be so fantastic and inspirational that I’ll probably go out the next day and grab some random New Yorker and get him to marry me just so that I can experience what you're going through. Of course, you make it all sound so appealing — what with the poking and prodding at dress fittings, the crash diets and phone calls with the snotty wedding planner…”
Terri had just barely touched on the gamut of drama that Rachel had brought upon her since she had begun planning her wedding to Gary a couple of years before. Although it reality it had been even longer, as they’d had that… false start the first time round.
Either way it felt like a lifetime. Terri had been Rachel’s springboard, her face of reason and calm, and, on one particularly nasty occasion—her bodyguard against a couple of other vicious brides fighting over a designer dress that had gone on sale at a famed Dublin bridal shop.
“Anyway you know my rule.” She looked back down at the stack of restaurant paperwork she still had to go through before she could go home and hit the pillows.
“OK, but can we just chat about one of the to-do’s on the list? We probably won’t get a chance to talk at brunch tomorrow — what with the others around.”
“Brunch? What brunch? And what others?” Terri pulled out her diary planner from the bottom of the desk, pulling up the date page for tomorrow.
Circled with a red marker was Rachel’s beautifully ornate handwriting: “Bridesmaids Brunch: 11pm sharp.” The word “sharp” was underlined several times—obviously Rachel’s attempt to keep Terri on point for once.
She looked up, her narrowed eyes lasering into her friend’s face. “When, exactly, did you write this here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a couple of weeks ago?” Rachel innocently waved her hand away as she estimated the date. Actually, it was more like a couple of months ago since she’d filled the planner with pre-wedding events she had mapped out.
This brunch was special though. It was the first time her chief bridesmaid and the others, her cousins, would get together to discuss the finer details of their duties, such as the hen party, and wedding day arrangements.
“Fine, fine, of course I’ll be there — how could I miss meeting the evil stepsisters?” Terri said, referring to Rachel’s relatives, her distant but only remaining family. She closed the diary and returned to her actual job. “Now, can you please go back to work, bride to be? I’m sure there's a very messy kitchen out there that needs to be sorted.”
Smiling, Rachel walked up and hugged her from behind as Terri resumed typing numbers into a calculator.
She turned to walk out the office door but then paused.
“Oh, one more thing. Don’t forget to bring good underwear. We’re doing the final dress fitting afterwar
ds.”
Groaning, Terri turned around to protest, just as Rachel nipped out quickly, shutting the door behind her.
She leaned back in her desk chair, rubbing her temple with her fingers.
It had been a long week, and now she was facing an even longer week of wedding palaver.
While she normally happily listened to such important details like what cake flavours Rachel had picked, and sometimes even participated in the debate between peonies and lilies, by now the wedding had practically taken over their friendship.
But she reminded herself that this would only last another week, less than that actually as the wedding was happening in five days time.
One more week and this would all be behind them. Then, once Rachel was back from honeymoon, she and Terri could get back to their normal friendship. More importantly, with her friend’s dream wedding finally out of the way, both she and Rachel could focus on the bigger picture, and finally direct both of their energies and attentions towards the restaurant for once and for all.
At least, that’s what Terri hoped.
3
Outside the restaurant, Dublin had fallen asleep. The city streets were dim as nearby city centre businesses shuttered their windows and turned off the lights. Even the late-night revellers, noisy college students and tourists who typically planted themselves outside nearby bars, had dispersed.
All that remained were people like Rachel and Terri—late night workers all striving to finish their jobs and get back to their homes and families.
Families…
Rachel thought about the word in the back of the taxi taking her home to her and Gary’s shared house a few miles away. As the driver navigated the narrow city centre streets, and passed over the bridge to the south-side of the city, she stared out over the River Liffey at the twinkling water below.
As a child, she had grown up in the country, in a tiny house with just her and her dad after her mother died when she was twelve.
Her father, Sicilian by birth was keen to pass on his family’s heritage and by sixteen, Rachel had built up an entire repertoire of dishes and desserts all straight from her great grandmother’s recipes.
When her father passed away while she was at college, Rachel felt that those recipes were the only part of the family she had left, and her interpretation of them in the restaurant day in day out, were her way of keeping that heritage alive.
It felt weird and more than a little sad to be planning a momentous day in her life like her wedding and not have anyone at all in attendance from her side of the family. Which was why she’d reached out to a couple of cousins on her mother’s side, girls around Rachel’s age who she didn’t know particularly well, but seemed happy to stand by her side on her big day.
Family was hugely important to Rachel, and those girls (and Terri of course) were the closest she could get on her big day.
Though, now she and Gary would soon be starting a new life together and soon after that Rachel thought, hugging herself at the very idea, starting a family of their own.
She couldn't wait to be a mum and knew Gary would be a great father, especially to a boy. He was a real lads’ man, and while he’d sold his beloved motorbike a couple of years before, he was still bike crazy.
As evidenced just then by the engine parts visible from the spare bedroom of their small terraced house, as Rachel let herself inside.
She smiled indulgently, and getting undressed just outside their own bedroom door so as not to wake him, Rachel slipped into the bed beside her beloved husband to be.
Gary murmured softly as she kissed him on the cheek, and wrapped her arms around tightly around him, hardly unable to believe that this time next week they’d be man and wife.
And not long after that maybe even parents.
Finally, she was getting her happy ever after.
The following morning, Rachel was got up early in the hope of catching her fiancé to chat about last minute wedding details, before he went to work.
Gary owned a small builder’s firm and while things had been slow for a couple of years, a recent resurgence in the Irish economy meant that work was starting to pick up at a fast pace and he was constantly on the go.
What with her late-night work at the restaurant, they rarely had a chance to discuss their nuptials in any great detail. Of course Rachel had taken charge of the majority of the preparations, but she was happy to do so — it was what most brides did after all.
“Can we just go through the itinerary for New York? I want to be sure that we’re all on — ”
“Ah, Rach, I’m late already. Do we really need to do this now?” Gary was impatient, not understanding why this kind of thing mattered so much to her, especially when he was on his way out the door.
“But our plane leaves tomorrow, hon. Once we arrive in New York, there won’t be time to do anything other than get married.”
“But isn’t that the point of a wedding abroad?” he pointed out. “We show up, the planner has everything sorted in advance, and we just go and do the deed on the day. No hassle.”
Rachel knew that he was dead serious, and truly believed that the wedding planner alone had arranged everything. The woman had done quite a lot yes, but only in very close consultation with the bride.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We have a meeting with Michelle when arrive, yes — but also with the florist, the celebrant, as well as the catering manager. Oh and while I think of it, don’t forget the final fitting you have for your tux later. Did you remember?”
“Yes, Rachel. I remembered. Six o’clock. Hopefully, the boys will be there as well.”
“Hopefully?” She looked petrified.
“If they can get off work on time. In our trade, it’s not as easy as just putting a closed sign on the door you know. Only joking,” he added with a grin, seeing her face. “I’ve put the skids under them, so it should be grand. But then after that, I want no more wedding blather until we arrive in New York. OK? Let’s try make our last few hours free of talk about flowers and cake and all that nonsense. You’re obsessed.”
Rachel swallowed hard. At this point, not talking about the wedding was nearly impossible, couldn't he understand that? Outside of the restaurant, it was pretty much all she talked and thought about these days.
Never mind, she thought, kissing her fiancé goodbye as he set out for work, she would just save it all for that morning’s brunch with her cousins and Terri.
“OK, I promise. But speaking of obsessed …” Rachel decided now was a good a time as any to bring the subject up. “Those oily engine parts in the spare room …”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. They’re Sean’s,” Gary said referring to his best friend and fellow petrol-head. “I told him I’d take a look at something for him — it’ll only be a little while — and anyway they’re not doing any harm there for the moment are they? We’ll be away for the next couple of weeks anyway.”
“I know, but we’ll want to get that room redone soon, so all that stuff will need to go.”
“Redone?” Gary looked blank.
“Well, as nursery of course,” Rachel laughed. “I was thinking the crib could go by the window, and maybe a little dresser on the opposite wall...” She could easily envision exactly where each piece of furniture would go. Thoughts of pastel blues and pinks danced into her head as she could imagine her and Gary putting their future child to bed. She couldn't wait to be a mum and planned on getting pregnant as soon as possible after their wedding.
Her fiancé did not have nearly the same enthusiasm for redecorating as Rachel though, and reacted rather like he did to talk of the wedding.
He ran his hands through his thick brown hair.
“Right. Listen I’d better get going. It’s late. See you later OK?” He planted a quick kiss on the top of Rachel’s head.
“See you later honey.” She smiled indulgently. Gary’s reaction was no surprise. She’d always been able to see right through his macho persona. Wh
ile he pretended an aversion to talk of weddings and babies, underneath it all she knew he was on the very same page.
Why else would Gary asked her to spend the rest of their lives together?
4
They swarmed like wild birds honing in on their prey.
Trapping her in her seat as she sat at the cafe table, their pink lipstick mouths pecked at her. Heavy makeup stained her cheeks and their perfume engulfed her in an overwhelming scent cloud of roses and alcohol.
All Terri could do was sit there with a pleasant smile as she greeted Rachel’s cousins for the first time.
“It is so lovely to finally meet you.” The first girl, aged in her late-thirties, whom Terri guessed was the older sister Linda, had an accent that was drawn out and exaggerated as if she was much more important than someone like Terri could ever hope to meet.
She extended her delicate, lotioned hand out across the table to grab hold of Terri’s, who attempted to play along despite recoiling at Linda’s slimy and totally unnecessary touch.
The younger cousin, dressed oddly similarly to her older sister in a yellow sundress with a navy cardigan buttoned to the top, took her turn doting on Terri.
“Rachel talks about you the whole time. You’d think that you were the fiancé with all the things she says. It’s all ‘Terri did this’ and ‘Terri did that.’ To meet the famous Terri in person is quite the honour. Though we should have really done this much sooner given how little time we have.”
Terri could not decide if this was a backhanded insult or just an innocent comment. As chief bridesmaid, she probably should have got the bridesmaids in the party together earlier, but with the pressure of the restaurant, she’d had little time or energy.
Plus, Rachel had painted her cousins as gossipy types who did nothing but judge and cackle at their own jokes. So while the younger sister Cora may feel that Terri had skirted her duties and ignored the two completely, now having met them, she silently congratulated herself for not doing this sooner.
