"Yikes," Eliza sympathized. "Shannon's a piece of work, isn't she?"
"There's got to be something more we can do," Mara said. "Something to really bring them back together, face-to-face."
"Their anniversary is next month, you said?" Eliza asked, looking thoughtful.
Jacqui nodded.
"What could we do?" Mara asked. "There has to be something Anna would want that would make her change her mind."
"What about a party?" Eliza suggested.
"For who?"
"The two of them. As a surprise," Eliza said, getting excited. "Maybe if they celebrate their anniversary, they won't want to split up. When my parents almost got divorced, my dad threw this huge party at the Frick for my mom. And because of that, they decided to stay together. My mom said that if my dad would rent out an entire museum to keep her, then he was a keeper too."
"I like it," Mara said. "It's romantic."
"Let's do it," Eliza urged.
"Okay," Jacqui said. "It's worth a throw."
"Shot. Worth a shot," Mara automatically corrected.
"Yes, yes." Jacqui nodded impatiently. "You know what I mean. I still don't know if it's going to work, though. We could
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throw the best party in the world--but what if neither of them shows up?"
"Well, we'll just have to make sure they have no choice but to be there. How hard can it be?" asked Eliza, ever the optimist.
The three of them put their heads together, talking way into the night. Party planners never worked so hard.
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is there more to eliza than just a pretty face?
GOING BACK TO WORK AFTER A FUN WEEKEND IN THE CITY was even harder than Eliza had thought. It wasn't that she didn't like working at Lunch--the place was fun, and she liked the camaraderie in the kitchen. They'd warmed up to her when they saw how hard she was trying to do a good job. Her co-workers were mostly Irish kids working
illegally or Long Island natives saving up for summer shopping money, like she was. She'd been assigned back to kitchen duty since they were shorthanded after a couple of cooks quit. Thankfully, this time she hadn't upset any soup pots or liberated any two-pound lobsters.
The work was repetitive and demanding--as a sous-chef, it was her responsibility to cut up all the vegetables needed for the varying soups and salads. Everything needed to be diced to the same exact size, and her hand was getting sore from leaning on the knife. Not that she was complaining--she was determined not to act like the princess Jeremy thought she was. She hadn't called him since they'd had their tiff at Mount Fuji, and she had been disheartened to realize he hadn't called her either. It was the longest they had ever gone without talking. All weekend she had
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checked and re-checked her Treo, but there'd been no missed calls from J. Stone.
"Order!" the waitress called, bursting in through the restaurant door just as another figure walked in through the back way.
Eliza threw some chopped onions into the chowder. When she turned around, she saw Jeremy standing by the metal sinks, his arms crossed.
"You can't be here," she said petulantly, even though her heart was beating with elation.
"Relax, I know these guys," Jeremy said, winking at the Mexican busboys.
"What do you want?"
"C'mon, let's go outside and chat," he said soothingly.