Anything except helping her land a spot on the show is out of the question. Scratch that. I’ll add making her laugh to the list. And riling her up is just too much fun. It should be innocent enough. Unless it spirals out of control.
***
Alice
“Mark, table four is still waiting on their order. What’s going on?” I inquire, heading directly toward the chef, who is currently bent over the stove, frantically stirring in multiple pans at the same time.
“Sorry, Alice! Someone sent their order back and I had to redo it, so now I’m behind.”
I take one look at the sous-chefs around, and clearly not one of them is slacking. Tuesday is usually laid-back, but today, it’s a madhouse. Bending, I search in one of the supply closets where we stack fresh aprons. Throwing one over me, I step beside Mark. “Tell me what to do. Anything except chopping stuff.” I never could master the art of chopping anything at a reasonable speed, and after one too many incidents, which resulted in bloody fingers, I gave up.
Mark waves one hand in a dismissive gesture before stirring in a pan again. “Get out of here before your pretty dress starts stinking.”
“Mark, I’m the boss. Tell me what to do. We have unhappy customers out there waiting for their food.”
“Fine. Stir here continuously, and make sure you add cream in this one in four minutes.”
“See? Easy. I’m on it.”
“You’re micromanaging.”
“No, I’m taking care of the business.”
Ever since I opened the first restaurant, I became a jack of all trades, doing whatever has to be done. I personally greet guests and help out in the kitchen when it’s necessary. But I spend most of the time pursuing activities that bring us more customers, such as buying advertising and striking partnerships with tourist offices. Since opening the second restaurant, I rotate between locations. I’m not sure yet how I’ll manage once the third one opens, but at least Blake will be co-owning it. I’ll be able to rely on him.
***
At two o’ clock sharp, I step in the small backyard of the restaurant and dial my baby sister’s number. Summer is away in Italy, working at a museum. She’s a painter, and they have an excellent program there for young artists. I miss her terribly, which is silly because she visits often and we speak every other day at designated hours.
“Hi, Alice.” Just the sound of her voice makes me nostalgic. I swear, every time I speak to her I secretly hope she’ll say that she’ll cut her stay there short and return home.
“Hey, kid. How was the expo?”
As she launches into a detailed description, I can’t help feeling very proud of my sister. As a kid and even a teenager, she used to be shy with people outside our family, but once she found her calling in painting, she slowly broke out of her shell. She’s working hard, chasing opportunities and making the best out of them. I just wish I could see more of her.
I keep my ears peeled for any signs she might be in trouble. God, I’m such a pest, constantly worrying about her. When I think about my baby sister being in Rome, a million possible dangers spring to mind (not the least my sister falling for a hot Italian man and deciding to stay in Rome forever). I’m a closet mother hen.
“I still can’t believe I missed Mom’s birthday,” Summer finishes, regret dripping from her voice. The museum had an expo over the weekend, and she couldn’t take time off.
“Don’t worry, kid. She’ll have plenty more. You’ll be here for them.”
“Sooo… rumor has it Nate was at the party.”
“News travels fast.” I could try to brush the topic off because Summer isn’t the type who insists—at least not as much as Pippa—but the truth is I need someone to talk to and get it off my chest. In a few short sentences, I tell her about the conversation he and I had on Saturday.
“I knew it!” Summer exclaims. “Every time I’ve been in the same room with the two of you, I swear I saw sparks.”
“Well, the sparks aren’t helping our case.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course, I’m a big girl. I’ll go for a run later on. Helps me clear my
head.”
“Yuck! Sure you’re a Bennett? Who goes for a run voluntarily?”
I burst out laughing. “Can I tell you a dirty secret? I’m thinking of training for the marathon this year.”