Lee leaned on the sink, filling a glass with tap water and drinking it in two gulps. “This pregnancy makes me hot all the time.” She heard Annie sniff and turned to see her wipe something from her cheek. “Annie, are you alright?”
Annie spread the cheese on the last crostini. “I broke up with my boyfriend, and the weird thing is I don’t feel that bad, and that makes me feel bad, like why did I waste time with him if I don’t even care when we break up? Does that make any sense?” Tears drifted down her flushed cheeks and she wiped them with the back of her hand. Her voice warbled and saliva caught between her tongue and her teeth. “Mostly, I just want this job more than anything in the world. I’m afraid to even think I might actually get the kind of life I’ve dreamt about, because things like this don’t happen to people like me.”
“Oh, Annie, what kind of person do you think you are?”
“A mess.” She grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose. “I’m always so emotional. They used to mark me down for it in culinary school.” She pulled a bowl of uncooked croutons out of the refrigerator, dumped them onto the empty baking sheet, and spread them over the surface of the pan with her bare hand.
A memory came to Lee of college. It was the last day of her junior year and Lee sat before the art professor assigned to judge her final project for the year. It was a series of ten paintings, the culmination of her year’s work. She needed a passing grade in order to remain in the program for her senior year. Her professor was a crusty man in his sixties and had taught at the school for at least thirty years. He sat behind his cluttered desk in his small office in the basement of the art school and peered at her over his reading glasses. His office, stacked with art books and papers, smelled of dust and musty paper. She sat before him, quivering with fear, praying silently that he would pass her. He shook his head and stroked under his loose chin. “I’ll pass you on for next year, but I’m disappointed in your work. It’s good technically and you obviously work hard and you have talent. I can see all that, even though it’s not reflected in the pile of crap you turned in this year. Let me tell you something, no one wants to see landscapes of some obscure little village in Oregon. It’s been done and no one cares. The modern art world wants edge, excitement, a unique point of view.” He took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the surface of the desk. His fingernails were long and there were dry irritated patches of skin around his knuckles. “You’re the type of student I find hard to teach—detached, insecure, shying around here like a scared little mouse, painting in corners. Your paintings are overworked and empty of anything real. Go out and get laid for Christ’s sake, instead of acting like a child. Find some goddamn passion to put in your work. Otherwise, there’s not much point. You’re just another silly bitch amongst hundreds of other silly bitches. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Not only had she not agreed, she had no idea what he was talking about. That afternoon she’d flung all her oil paints off the balcony of her campus-housing apartment and watched as they tumbled and splattered on the concrete into a puddle of brown. The next day she’d gone to the academic office and changed her major to business.
She shook her head and refocused on Annie’s face. “Women get accused of being too emotional in business all the time.”
Annie peeked up at her. “You too?”
“God no, not me. I was always levelheaded,
detached enough to make good decisions.”
“What were you thinking about just now, then, that made you so sad?”
Lee looked at her, surprised. Had she been that obvious? “I was just thinking about something one of my professors said to me about my work in college. I used to study art. I wanted to be a painter. Have I told you that?”
“No. What happened?”
“I gave up too soon.” She let criticism from an old, worn-out, bitter man determine her path. She gave away something she loved, her life work, because she believed what he said that day to be truth instead of one person’s opinion. “I was young, without anyone to tell me, ‘Stay in the game, fight harder, paint what you want no matter what anyone says.’”
“It’s never too late, right?”
“I used to think it was, but since Dan, I don’t know anything I used to think I knew. Lately, I keep thinking life is so unpredictable and no matter how hard you try to order it into something manageable, it gets ripped to shreds anyway, so you may as well do what you love while you can.”
“But, it’s not as easy as all that, is it? Look at me.”
Lee smiled and tugged at the sides of Annie’s apron, wanting to say she was perfect the way she was but something held her back. “I can’t wait to taste this dinner.”
Annie lurched forward and hugged her. Lee stood stiff for a moment but then put her arms around her in return. When she pulled away, Lee saw tears at the corners of Annie’s eyes. “I’ve never been this close to my dream before,” said Annie. “It kinda sucks.”
They laughed and Lee walked to the door, peering into the yard. She turned back to see Annie twist the knob of the largest burner to medium, place a large pot on it, and douse it with several streams of olive oil. Lee cocked her head, staring into the yard again. Her eyes were heavy, like she could fall asleep at any moment. The meat crackled and the kitchen infused with the aroma of bacon.
Lee sat at the table and popped a piece of the Parmesan in her mouth. The texture was grainy, the flavor nutty and salty. “Verle and Tommy are joining us.”
Annie turned the tenderloin with tongs, the cooked side crispy brown. She held the tongs in the air over the pot. “Tommy, from Los Fuegos?”
Lee felt her stomach flutter at the mention of his name. She kept her voice low. “Yeah, we’ve been kind of spending time together.”
Annie turned from the stove. “Like dating?”
“I guess. Don’t tell anyone. It’s nothing serious.”
“Holy crap.” Annie put her hands on her hips and wagged her finger at Lee with a teasing smile. “Be careful of his heart. I hear he’s the sensitive type.”
Lee’s eyes filled with tears and, before she knew it, she began to sob into her hands. Annie kneeled and put her arms around Lee. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”
She wanted to tell her the whole truth, but what came out was just part of it, but a bigger part than she knew until it tumbled out of her mouth. “I slept with him. Two nights in a row and it was really wonderful and I feel like I’m cheating on Dan. I’m pregnant and I’m falling for someone new. What’s wrong with me?”
One of Annie’s corkscrew curls brushed Lee’s cheek as she hugged her again. “Don’t you think you deserve to be happy after everything you’ve been through?”
Lee wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
* * *
Back on the porch, Lee watched Verle pull up in a beat-up truck with layers of dust covering other layers of dust. Stout, red-skinned, he reminded Lee of a photo of a Scottish sheepherder. He carried a bouquet of white flowers that looked like big cupcakes and reached into the back of his truck, pulling out two kitchen chairs. Tommy ran down the steps and took the chairs from him, murmuring something that made them both chuckle.
Tommy slapped Verle on the back and led him to one of the chairs. “Good thing you got here when you did. I wanted to eat your crostinis but Ellen saved them for you.”
Ellen sat in the other chair, back straight, legs stiff, smoothing the front of skirt with her weathered hand. “They’re cold now.” She sniffed.
“An old widower like me ain’t one to turn down food, cold or no,” said Verle.
Ellen’s eyes darted around, only stopping at Verle for a second. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Verle held the crostini close to his eyes. “That sure is a small piece of toast.” He put the entire crostini in his mouth and chewed in a round motion, closing his eyes and making a little appreciative grunt. “My, now, that is good.” He reached for another. “We always had goat cheese
when I was a kid and my sister and I wished we had orange cow cheese like all the rich kids. If only my mother could see how it is now, goat cheese in all the fancy stores and all.”
Alder darted by with a long stick in the air, screaming and running from a pretend foe.
Verle looked Ellen up and down, wiping his mouth with one of the paper napkins. “Something looks different about you.”
Ellen’s gaze was fixed on the yard, her hand playing with a tuft of hair. “Just a haircut.”
“Looks real nice,” said Verle.
Ellen smiled, waving her hand in the air and shrugging her shoulders as if the whole thing was an afterthought. “Figured after fifty years, it might be time to change it up a bit.”
Verle picked up another crostini, nodding his head and grinning. “Good not to get in a rut, that’s for sure.”
Tommy caught Lee’s eyes and she chuckled, feeling like a chaperone at a junior high dance.
* * *
It was dark now and the woods behind the fence were quiet. The candles threw shadows across the faces gathered around the table. Verle sat next to Ellen, Lee with Alder on her side, and Tommy opposite them. Annie brought the Caesar out in a large serving bowl and tossed the salad at the table. After dropping a generous portion of the dressed lettuce on each plate, she sprinkled slivers of Parmesan over the top. Using a pair of silver tongs, she placed a whole anchovy and seven croutons on each salad. They all stared at Annie. Lee felt transported by the artistry of Annie’s graceful movements and the quiet beauty of the candlelit table, enclosed next to its dark backdrop.
Annie stepped back, glancing around the table. “Go ahead. Eat.” She excused herself and headed back to the kitchen.
They all grabbed their forks and took a bite. “I haven’t had anything this good since I went on my honeymoon,” said Ellen. She took another bite and shook her head in appreciation. “And that was 1951.” The dressing was traditional, full of garlic, Parmesan cheese, hints of lemon, and strong overtones of anchovies. But the croutons were the highlight. Still warm, they partially melted the slivers of hard salty cheese, and the crusted outer layers were crunchy and tasted of garlic, salt, and Parmesan. The insides were soft and exploded with the green earthy taste of olive oil.
For several minutes there was only the noise of silver hitting the ceramic dishes as morsel after morsel disappeared into their mouths. Except for Alder’s plate—Alder said anchovies made him want to throw up—there was not a lettuce leaf left. Seeing that everyone was finished, Tommy jumped from his place.
Lee moved to help, but he touched his hand to her shoulder. “I’ll be the server tonight.” He gathered the plates and disappeared into the kitchen.
Alder whispered to Lee, “I think he’s nice. Not at all like asshole.”
“Stop saying that word.” She looked at him and wrinkled her brow, trying to be stern. “I mean it.”
“Sorry.” He continued to whisper but it was loud enough Lee knew both Ellen and Verle could hear him. “Are you in love with him?”
Lee blushed. “Never mind.”
“I think you are.”
Lee ignored the chuckles of Ellen and Verle and spoke through clenched teeth. “Just be quiet.”
Alder threw up his hands. “Okay, okay.”
Lee brought her napkin to her mouth to hide her smile and glanced across the table at Ellen, who gazed at Alder, eyes glistening with what might be tears. She’s thinking of her son, Lee thought. Heart constricting, she ruffled Alder’s hair. “Are you excited for your mom to be a real chef at a fancy restaurant?”
“Yeah, except for one thing.” He looked at his plate. “What about me? She told me she’ll be away more. Will I have to stay with you-know-who?”
Ellen shifted in her seat. “You can stay with me.”
Lee looked at her, surprised. “You?”
Ellen’s gaze focused on Alder. “You like puppies and gardens?”
“You have a puppy?”
“My boy used to have one a long time ago. Been thinking I might get one again. That interest you?”
“You bet!”
“You’ll have to help me with the dog. I’m an old lady.”
“Except for your wrinkles you don’t seem old.”
Verle chuckled and gazed at Ellen, with his face in the palm of his hand. “I agree.”
Ellen smiled but Lee saw a glimmer of the sadness still in her eyes. “It’s settled then. Your mom can help Lee and you’ll help me.”
He grinned. “Lee, does that mean Mom has the job?”
Lee shushed him with a finger to her lips. “Let’s announce it at dessert.”
Alder leapt from his chair, jumping up and down. “Yay.” He ran into the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind him. “Mom, Mom, Lee says you have the job and Ellen’s getting a dog.”
* * *
Tommy and Annie brought the second course, penne with shrimp and morel mushrooms. “This is a simple white wine and cream sauce, flavored with hints of rosemary and garlic,” said Annie. “The morel mushrooms are cooked with the white wine and cream so they soak up the flavor of the sauce.” Alder was wriggling in his chair and swinging his feet until Annie gave him a look to be still. “The shrimp are simply sautéed in butter and garlic,” she said, filling the empty wine glasses. “We’re serving a sauvignon blanc with this course, from a winery outside of town, that pairs nicely with shrimp.” She looked around the table at each face. “Thanks for allowing me to cook for you. It’s great to be back in the kitchen.”
Verle held up his glass to Annie. “This is a real treat for a lonely old man.”
Tommy held up his glass. “Here’s to the chef. Our compliments.”
Alder toasted with his milk. “To my mom, the greatest cook in the whole world.”
Everyone laughed as Annie slipped back to the kitchen.
Lee forked a shrimp, a piece of pasta, and a mushroom and brought it up to her mouth. The morel mushrooms seeped cream and white wine, the penne was al dente, the shrimp tender and buttery. As she took another bite she noticed Alder’s eyes were drooping and then his head flopped onto her shoulder. She shifted and guided his head to her lap. She felt him drift to sleep, his head resting there next to her baby.
Annie brought the next course. “This is a pork tenderloin with apples, dates, and baby potatoes. The tenderloin is pan fried and then baked wrapped in bacon and spiced with cinnamon, cumin, and garlic. I have two cabs for you to try with it, one from a winery in Woodinville, Washington, the other from Walla Walla. Enjoy.” Lee looked down at her plate. Three pieces of pork were arranged on the middle of the plate, surrounded with a mess of potatoes, slices of white onion, quartered apples, a thick whole date, and a small amount of sauce speckled with the spice. She took the first taste: a perfect blend of bacon, onions, cumin, and cinnamon mixed with the sweetness of the apples and dates.
Tommy caught her eye from across the table. “The girl can cook.”
“I’ll say.” Verle took a swig of water and stuffed another big forkful of pork into his mouth.
Tommy sipped his wine, regarding Lee from across the candlelight. “You may just pull this thing off.”
“Of course she will.” Ellen wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “She’s done harder things than getting a little restaurant put together.”
Tommy gave his attention to Ellen. “Like what, for example?”
“Raised herself for one. Took care of her mother for two. Got accepted to college at seventeen with an art scholarship for three. Earned an MBA from Wharton for four. Should I continue?”
Lee watched Tommy swirl his wine, the dark purple liquid like a small wave, the droplets catching the light as they crept down the inside of the glass. “Ellen’s exaggerating a little,” she said, moving a mushroom around her plate.
Ellen’s napkin snapped as she waved it in the air. “I am most certainly not. I didn’t know what a mess Eleanor was until I came over here one day after Lee left for college to se
e her drunk at eleven in the morning.” She looked at Tommy. “Make no mistake, this is one tough, smart girl.”
Tommy peered over his wine glass at Lee. “I can see that for myself.”
Lee sipped primly from her water glass and pretended to dismiss their compliments. “You guys have had too much wine.”
Ellen giggled. “Oh my, I do feel a little lightheaded.”
Lee wiped the condensation off her water glass. “It won’t matter one iota how clever or tough I am if this restaurant tanks.”
Tommy raised his glass. “You know what they say in my business, it’s always good to follow a bad act.”
Ellen hiccupped and grinned. “Here’s to second chances.”
“To second chances,” said Tommy as they all toasted.
“I’m naming the restaurant Riversong,” said Lee.
Verle pulled on his ear. “River what now?”
His eyes on Lee, Tommy said softly, “Riversong, Verle. She’s calling the restaurant Riversong.”
Ellen raised her glass again. “Here’s to you two kids. You’re perfect together.”
Tommy smirked at Lee and raised his eyebrows. “And why’s that, Ellen?”
“You’re the only two people in southern Oregon who don’t own a gun.”
They were all still laughing when Lee called Annie out to the table and gave her a glass of wine. Tommy stood and raised his glass. “Here’s to the launch of a beautiful partnership. To Riversong.” They all raised their glasses and toasted. “To Riversong,” they all repeated.
Chapter 18
Tommy rowed Lee across the river in his rowboat. His muscular arms pulled the paddles in a steady rhythm. A picnic lunch and a beach umbrella were at their feet. The water appeared like the surface of a green glass table, broken only by the ripples made from the paddles. It was early June and the river was full and clear of nature’s debris, no sticks, algae, or dead leaves like there would be in late summer. She wondered if she would still be here then.
The River Valley Series Page 20
