Linus raised both hands in the air. “Before you answer, what are we, gang?”
The servers said in unison, “We’re educators.”
He nodded his head and turned his gaze to Karen. “And, the winner for wine selection is?”
Karen grimaced. “A merlot?”
Linus pursed his lips. “Have I taught you nothing? Merlot for short ribs, no, no, no. It needs something bold to hold up against the meat and the only choice is a cabernet, or for the adventurous, a Syrah. As we talked about during training, suggest two different bottles, one on the less expensive side and one on the medium scale, unless you think they’re rich. And, do we remember how to discern if one’s patron is loaded?”
John raised his foot above the table and everyone called out, “Look at their shoes.”
Linus smiled and put his hand on his chest in mock reverence. “I’ve taught you so well.”
Lee stood, looking at her watch. “Alright, finish your dinners. We open in exactly seventy-seven minutes. Don’t forget to check your teeth for bits of basil.” She picked up her empty plate to head for the kitchen, but Linus caught her eye and, stepping next to her, whispered, “You’re hopeless.”
She shrugged and mouthed, “What?”
Linus put a hand in the air. “Before you all run off, I have a few words on behalf of our management staff.” He indicated to Annie and Lee with his water glass before pausing and looking around the table. “We realize most of you are either artists or this job is your secondary, how shall we say, less favored work, perhaps on your way to somewhere else. I’ve been in this business a long time and know this is the curse of restaurant staff.” He smiled and looked around the table at each face. “We thank you and celebrate you for your hard work these last few weeks, especially given that it’s not your dream job. And, on the cusp of my departure, I give you two last challenges for tonight and all the nights you work here. The first is to find joy in the doing of something with excellence, whatever your task. Know there is meaning in that pursuit of perfection, whether it’s pouring a glass of water without splashing, or gracefully taking back a steak to the chef even though it’s cooked to their specifications, or making a martini with the perfect amount of vermouth, or my personal favorite, opening wine tableside without the tacky pop of the cork.” He smiled at the servers. “The second is to notice the artistry in the ordinary, perhaps an image to paint later, a conversation overheard to use for fiction.” He gazed at John for a moment. “Choose something every night that inspires you, so that your time here is not just about money. Know this, my dears, beauty, inspiration, can be found in the most astonishing places.” He raised his water glass. “I toast you. As for your nerves, in the words of a good whore, fake it till you make it.” Everyone laughed and raised their glasses with cheers all around.
Lee raised her water glass, tears prickling the insides of her eyelids. She inhaled and steadied her voice. “Cheers.”
Annie wiped tears from her cheeks and stood. “This is a dream come true for me. Cooking is what I love and, well, thanks for all being here and Lee, thanks for believing in me.” Her face crumpled and she collapsed into her chair. “I’m just so happy.”
After everyone departed for their last-minute duties, Lee went to her office and closed the door. It was organized now into a tidy space, the desk bare but for her laptop and several bins for paper items. The files were tucked in their drawers, alphabetized and sorted between vendors, personnel files, and various other subjects. She sank into her office chair and closed her eyes for a moment. She thought about the money behind the desk.
There was a knock on the office door and Linus stuck his head through the opening. “Hiding out?”
“What? No, just gathering my thoughts.”
He closed the door. “Guess where I slept last night?”
“Please say you haven’t slept with one of the staff.”
He grinned and tugged on his ear. “John’s not my staff.” He flicked a piece of lint from his trousers and fussed with the starched crease.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“He’s a good person, Lee. I really like him.”
“Just don’t leave him with a broken heart.”
“Speaking of that, I have some news. I’ve decided to lease Mike’s building next door and turn it into a bed and breakfast. I leave tomorrow to fetch my things from Grace’s house in Chicago.”
“Funny.”
“No joke. Mike’s agreed to co-sign for a bank loan.”
Lee stared at him, speechless.
“Will’s been dead for ten years. Do you realize that?” His eyes drifted to the ceiling. “I was spared the virus and I thank God for that every day but I think there was a part of me that felt like I shouldn’t live if Will didn’t get to. Something about the last couple of months made me realize I haven’t really been living. Even Will’s mother has moved on. Did I tell you she finally remarried after being divorced for twenty years? Her new husband has two grown daughters and they call her their second mom. One of them has this toddler who follows Grace around like a puppy, crawling on her lap every chance he gets. Do you remember how she seemed like she’d crawl into the grave with Will at the service? Yet she lived to love again.”
Lee nodded, remembering too, how Linus had practically carried her back to her seat. “I remember.”
“I look at you, how you’ve blossomed into the person you’re supposed to be here, how you’re flushed with love. I want that too.”
Lee rubbed the goose bumps on her forearms. “But I may not be here. What if I have to run?”
He thumped his torso on the door and his voice was louder than normal. “Why don’t you just tell Tommy the truth and give him a chance to help you?”
“Tommy doesn’t have that kind of money.” She gazed at the desk. “If he knows, he’ll try to do something and it’s too dangerous. I cannot bear the thought of him getting hurt or worse, killed.” She nodded towards him. “Do I have to remind you what happened to you?”
He looked at her, hands on his hips for a moment. “No, you don’t.” His eyes glittered as he adjusted his tie. “Goddamn bastard.”
“Dan or DeAngelo?”
“Both.”
“I want more than anything to be free.”
His face softened. “Free to stay here. Free to stay with Tommy.”
She said in a soft voice, looking at her hands, “Yes, more than anything to stay with Tommy. And I don’t want you to stay without me.” She put her head in her hands. “I’m a terrible person.”
“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” He knelt, putting his hands on either side of her face. “We’ll get this guy paid off one way or the other. I have some things to take care of in Chicago but when I return we’ll sit down with Tommy and figure out a plan.” He opened the door an inch before turning back to her. “Lee, being truthful with the people who love you is the only way to be truly free.”
There was a soft knock and Mike’s voice came through the opening of the door. “You guys in there? I have great news. A reporter’s coming from the Seattle Times.”
Lee froze, chest tight. Linus stuck his head around the door, his face impassive, his voice even. “No pictures of Lee, right?”
“Just Annie and the restaurant,” said Mike.
Lee let out a breath. “Good.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Lee grabbed the Grand Opening sign and swung open the front door. She placed the sign on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. It was a Friday in early August, the air hot and dry, the traffic through town steady, with as many out-of-state license plates as local. She blinked, thinking the buildings seemed less turquoise than they used to be. Must be the way the sun glows this time of year, she thought. Linus was right that the town was charming, in its own humble way. A little facelift in the way of new paint on the businesses could do wonders. She would convince Mike to organize the effort, or maybe Ray. He needed a project, and the tow
n might flourish with a little love and care from such a kindhearted man leading the effort. Like her house, she mused, and herself for that matter, thinking of the way Tommy had held her for an extra moment that morning before she left his house for the restaurant. His arms around her made her feel cherished and filled her with warmth that lasted all through this busy day. She looked across the street at Ray’s office, knitting her brow—when had he changed his storefront paint to the attractive muted brown?
She stood for a moment, admiring the front of the restaurant and the portable We’re Open sign. John had given it to her for a grand opening gift, and, she suspected, to impress Linus. It was an A-frame wooden sign, made of cedar, decorated with fragments of his failed glasswork. “Riversong” was written out in cobalt blue, and around the edges were bits of yellow and green. In the last several weeks there were articles about Riversong in the Medford, Eugene, and Portland newspapers, plus a blurb in the latest Alaska Airlines flight quarterly magazine along with a small mention in the Northwest version of Sunset magazine. She gazed at the sign and said a silent prayer, “Please let them stop. Please, someone come.”
Lee grabbed a small bag of trash from behind the hostess podium and walked to the kitchen. Rock music blared from someone’s iPod. The garlic and butter aroma from Annie’s croutons filled the air.
The chef herself was at the stove stirring something in a large frying pan that let off the aroma of blackberries. Billy stood at the prep island, using a knife to julienne zucchini. He chopped with rapid succession, fingers wrapped around the zucchini and the knife moving a hair away from his fingernails, just as she’d seen Annie do. “Billy, the way you’re using that knife, you look like a real chef,” said Lee.
He looked up, adjusting his chef hat and grinning. “Annie taught me. I’ve been practicing with a bunch of potatoes every night before I go to bed.”
“Billy, I’m impressed.”
“I’m kinda impressed with myself.”
Lee walked down the back steps to dump the trash in the bins. There were two skinny young men standing behind it, smoking cigarettes with one hand while their remaining limbs twitched and jerked. Lee opened the bin and threw the trash in, holding her breath against the stench of rotting food and cigarette smoke. She turned to walk back inside, looking at the ground to avoid eye contact.
“What’s up your ass, lady?” They both laughed.
She walked towards the back door, feeling their eyes on the back of her head.
One of them called out to her, “Where’s Zac?”
She turned back to them. “He won’t be here anymore, so whatever you need, ask around town, because he’s no longer associated with this restaurant.”
One of them threw his cigarette on the concrete, stomping it with his ratty tennis shoe. “We need to find him.” He pulled on his ear and then bit the nail of his thumb.
“Sorry, can’t help you.” She started up the stairs.
“Tell him Arlie’s looking for him if you see him.”
She slipped in the door, slamming it shut and pulling the lock. She told herself as she walked to the front and opened the reservation book, just focus on tonight. There were eight names listed, all for parties of two to eight. Mike, Ray, Ellen, and Linus were listed but besides them, she didn’t recognize any of the names.
She heard someone come through the kitchen doors and turned to see Tommy, dressed in long pants and a dress shirt, carrying a wrapped present. “The place looks fantastic,” he said, putting his arms around her from behind. “I brought you something.” His hair was damp on her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her neck.
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.”
“You’re shaking.” He let her go and came around the front of the small hostess station.
“Just had a run-in with some guys out back,” she said.
“I’ll get rid of them.”
“They may be gone by now.” She gestured towards the stage at the other end of the restaurant. “You and the band ready for tonight?”
“Can’t wait.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’d give you a proper good luck kiss but I wouldn’t want the staff to talk.”
She smiled. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
He reached over the podium and found Ellen’s name on the list. “That’s Ellen and Verle and me. They took pity and invited me to go with them.”
“You’re crashing their date?”
“My girl’s busy tonight.” He grinned. “Open your present.”
She untied the bow and opened the box. Nestled on soft cotton was a silver chain with a row of small crystal stars. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He moved behind her and placed the necklace around her neck, his fingers brushing her skin as he fastened the lock. “Perfect. Muy bonita.” He reached over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, they’ll come. I’ll go scan the back, make sure it’s clear.”
He walked toward the kitchen and she turned to see a young woman, in black pants and a clingy knit blouse, come in the front door. “I’m looking for the owner. I’m here from the Seattle Times.” The woman’s collarbones and hipbones jutted against the clingy fabric of her clothes.
Lee stuck out her hand. “I’m the manager, Lee Tucker. The owner, Mike Huller, will be here in a moment.”
“Yeah, he’s the one knows my boss. He made me come down here as a favor to him. My name’s Sylvia. Sylvia Nox.”
“Welcome to Riversong. May I seat you in the dining room?”
“Wherever.” Sylvia studied her. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.” Lee looked at the floor and ushered her to a table by the front window. “You been doing this long?”
“No, I’m new to the paper. The food guy moved up to features, so they gave me the restaurant beat.” She had a petite face and short, spiky, bleached-blond hair, arranged in angry peaks on the top of her round head. “To be honest with you, I don’t know a thing about food. I don’t really eat.” She sighed and touched a plastered bit of hair that hung over her forehead. “I keep thinking, shit, I have a degree in journalism and I’m stuck writing about a restaurant in Podunk Oregon. No offense. I’m looking for a big story, one to show them what I can do.” She looked around at the empty room. “Guess I won’t find it tonight. My boyfriend and I both got hired out of journalism school but he gets assigned to the business section and I’m stuck writing about food. Sexism is alive and well, let me tell you.” She brushed sweat from the sides of her nose with her fingertips and wiped them on the top of the crisp white table cloth. “Christ, it’s hot down here and what’s up with all the fat people at the rest stops? The paper’s so cheap I couldn’t take a flight and had to drive. I drink diet cokes by the gallon.” She reached into her bag and plunked a pack of Marlboro Lights on the tabletop. “Can you still smoke down here in the wild west? In Seattle you practically get arrested for buying a pack of cigarettes.”
Lee cleared her throat, placing her finger on the twitch next to her right eye. “No, this is a nonsmoking restaurant. You can smoke outside if you want.”
Sylvia took a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in her mouth. “I’ll ask you a few questions and then take a little smoke break.”
“You should probably just talk to our owner. Our chef is busy getting ready for dinner hour. I’m just the staff, really.”
“Whatever. Let’s just make it quick. I’ve got to drive home tonight.”
“Will you be having dinner then? We’d love to have the opportunity to show off our menu.”
She waved her cigarette in the air. “Sure thing. Whatever you want to send out, is fine. Except, did I mention I’m a vegetarian?”
“Will you excuse me a moment?”
Lee found Mike in the kitchen, sampling the specials. “Reporter’s here. You ready to talk to her?”
He clapped his hands together. “Yeah, get Linus too. I want to make sure we tell the story the right way.”
She tast
ed blood and realized her teeth were clenching the insides of her cheeks. “Just leave me out of it.”
He took her hands and nudged her into the office. “Lee, you don’t have to tell me again to keep you out of the paper. You gotta learn to trust a little. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” He patted her on the top of the head. “I’m growing real fond of you and I don’t want you running off like a scared little bunny rabbit.”
She relaxed her shoulders and sighed. “Alright.” She pointed towards the dining room. “Just get out there and talk to the skinny reporter, or I could commit a murder before we sell our first steak.”
* * *
Tommy, alone on stage while his band took a break, was perched on a stool, singing an old folk song into the microphone. Lee nibbled on an appetizer at one of the tables, swollen feet on a chair hidden beneath the tablecloth, and listened to the music, feeling relieved. Then she walked to the bar and ordered a soda water from Cindi, replaying the night in her mind. The minute the first customer had entered, Lee didn’t have time to fret over anything but keeping up with the flow. By 7:00 every seat was filled, along with people waiting in the bar for a table to open. The local women were all turned out in full garb and make-up, the men in nice shirts. Several of the women thanked Lee for opening someplace nice they could make their husbands take them. Everyone raved about the food. At one point a couple called for the chef to come out to their table and when Annie entered the dining room, Ellen and Tommy stood and clapped and the entire restaurant followed. Annie, red-faced, tears in her eyes, took a small bow and returned to the kitchen.
Lee glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes after midnight, and the dining room had closed an hour ago. But the bar was packed with people ordering drinks and appetizers. Linus perched on a barstool, chatting with Cindi while she made drinks. Mike remained at a table in the dining room with a group of men, beaming at Lee from time to time. Lee assumed they talked business by the way they leaned their heads together and scribbled notes onto the paper bar napkins. She heard Cindi say to Linus, “Those guys with Mike, they ordered a 150-dollar bottle of wine. Think of the tip.” Think of the margin, Lee thought.
The River Valley Series Page 24
