Together at the Table Read online

  The guests arrived shortly after; soon enough Sonnet and her fiancé stood at the front of the dining room between the windows, faces glowing, professing their devotion unto death.

  And for the second time that day, I thought of Neil.

  For a time, I’d wanted this. A wedding, a sense of belonging. That desire had driven me to online dating, to meeting Neil. And for a little while, it looked like just maybe we might have worked.

  A hand at the small of my back caused me to turn and look over my shoulder. Adrian looked down at me, smiling warmly. “Hiya,” he whispered.

  “Hi,” I whispered back. “All done in the kitchen?”

  “Everything’s ready. I missed you.”

  I smiled up at him, and we looked back to the front of the room in time to see Sonnet and Theo kiss before turning back to face their friends and families.

  My eye caught Sonnet’s mother, the look of joy on her face, the tears glistening in her eyes.

  My heart squeezed and I looked away. “Back to work,” I said, placing a kiss on Adrian’s stubbled cheek.

  I had food to serve and a champagne toast to prepare. Missing my mother so much I couldn’t breathe—that would have to wait.

  ~ BRUSSELS SPROUTS WITH BACON AND ORANGE ZEST ~

  4 slices bacon

  1 pound brussels sprouts, washed, dried, and halved

  2 tablespoons grapeseed oil

  1 teaspoon coarse salt

  ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

  Zest of one orange

  Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, and preheat oven to 425°F.

  In a large sauté pan on medium heat, cook the bacon until almost cooked through, about 2 minutes per side. Remove slices and drain before chopping into ¼-inch pieces.

  Toss the sprouts, grapeseed oil, salt, pepper, and bacon together in a medium-sized bowl. Bake for 5 minutes on lined baking sheet, toss, and bake for another 5–6 minutes, or until sprouts are crisp but not burned.

  Return the sprouts to the mixing bowl, and stir in the orange zest.

  Serves 4.

  Give me juicy autumnal fruit ripe and red from the orchard.

  —WALT WHITMAN

  Sunday afternoon smiled upon us; after heavy rainfall Saturday night, the skies had turned unexpectedly clear. I reveled in my morning off, slipping into church a few moments late as a result. I didn’t see any of my family members, so I sat by myself near the back.

  Adrian and I attended together often, but lately he’d taken to finding an early morning or evening Sunday service, allowing him to run the Sunday brunch and lunch shifts.

  For that afternoon, we’d planned a long walk together, in the company of Gigi and steaming hot coffee.

  I listened to the sermon and took notes, as usual, but the morning’s music selections poked uncomfortably at my already tender heart. The lyrics sang of unyielding faith and unending joy, but the truth was I knew my own faith to be shaky in the wake of my mom’s death, and joy in short supply.

  My sister Caterina and I had discussed the subject several times.

  “It’s grief,” she said once. “It’s real and it’s valid, but it’s not forever. Don’t worry.”

  But I did worry. I worried I’d spend the rest of my adult life with a heart that felt raw from loss.

  I slipped out as quietly as I’d arrived and filled the interior of my car with the soothing sounds of the latest Markéta Irglová album before driving home.

  Gigi greeted me upon my return, and I curled up with her in the oversized armchair by the front window until we heard the knock at my door.

  Adrian stood on the opposite side, grinning, oilcloth bag in hand.

  I smiled into his eyes and stepped back to allow his entry inside. “Hey, you.”

  “Hi,” he said, leaning in for a kiss before bending over and petting Gigi. “I know, it’s been a while,” he said as she rolled over for a belly rub. He looked up at me. “Nico told me to tell you that we need to increase our order of brussels sprouts.”

  “No shop talk today—I’m off duty.” I frowned. “When did Nico tell you this, anyway?”

  “Just now. He’s downstairs.”

  I ran my hand over my face. This was one of the problems with living ten feet above your place of work. “He needs to take a break.”

  “He does. We all need a break,” he said, standing and wrapping his arms around me to prove his point.

  I leaned into his embrace but pulled back as he tipped his head forward. “I don’t understand. How could we be out? I picked up those last crates myself, cleaned every one of them with these two hands.” I held up said hands, for illustration’s sake.

  “They’re good hands.” He caught one and kissed a knuckle. “And you didn’t have to do that, babe. That’s my job. Or Kenny’s job.”

  I shrugged. “You guys were busy, I had time, I washed the sprouts.”

  “With these hands,” he kissed a second knuckle.

  “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Is it working?” He opened my hand and kissed my fingertips.

  It certainly wasn’t unpleasant, but still…“Who is eating all of these brussels sprouts?”

  “The people who pay us for the brussels sprouts. I thought you knew.”

  My mouth settled into a firm line. “Of course I know. I just didn’t know they’d eaten us out of house and sprout.”

  “You’re funny.” He tugged on my hand, placing it around his shoulder. “And now you’re talking shop.”

  “I just…brussels sprouts.”

  “Hush. Remember what you just said about Nico taking a break?” He lowered his lips to mine for a kiss.

  I didn’t know who’d taught Adrian to kiss, and while I didn’t particularly want to know, I wondered if I owed her a thank-you note. My muscles relaxed, and my arms loosened before they wrapped around his neck. “Hmm.”

  Adrian pulled back. “Better?”

  “You,” I said, tilting my head, “taste like brussels sprouts.”

  “One. One sprout. Nico’s testing a recipe downstairs.”

  “You ate all of them!”

  “You’re crazy.”

  I let a slow smile spread over my face. “Yeah.” I placed another peck on his lips. “And you like it.”

  “You ready for our walk? Lunch is in the bag, and we’ll get coffee on the way.”

  “That sounds perfect.” I looked over to where Gigi was turning jumps and flips of joy. “Gigi’s ready too.”

  We stopped for coffee around the block and ate the hot panini sandwiches during the drive—my appetite had gotten the best of me. Adrian promised that there was dessert in the bag too but insisted that it wait for our walk.

  Every other resident of Portland, it seemed, had the same idea: take advantage of a rare, golden November afternoon by walking by the river. Gigi held her tiny stub of a tail high as she took in the sights and smells.

  Adrian and I walked hand in hand, enjoying the brisk river breeze and fresh air.

  We’d been dating, casually, since the beginning of August. And maybe dating wasn’t the right word—we spent time together at work and out. Lately, most of our hours had been logged behind the doors of Two Blue Doors. Now, after spending so many days in a restaurant full of kitchen smells, the riverfront felt like a revelation.

  We walked for about half a mile before finding a bench in the sunlight. Gigi hopped up to sit beside me, and Adrian unloaded the bag. “Hand pies,” he said. “Apple and ginger.”

  “Did you make these?”

  “Of course I did,” he said, looking wounded.

  I placed a placating hand on his arm. “Sorry, I didn’t have you pegged as a pie man.”

  “Pastry is food. Food is my thing.”

  “Fair enough.” I unwrapped one of the foil-covered pies. “This looks fantastic.”

  “Taste it.”

  I obliged, letting the hot apple-and-ginger filling coat the inside of my mouth, warming me from the inside out. “
That’s amazing.”

  He almost succeeded in not smirking. “Thank you,” he said, before reaching for a pie of his own.

  “I’m looking forward to hiring more staff,” Adrian said around mouthfuls of his pie. “It’ll be nice to have two days off a week. Kenny’s looking ragged around the edges.”

  “He is,” I agreed. “Nico’s the one I’m worried about. Someone has to pull him away from the stove.”

  “He’s certainly driven,” Adrian agreed.

  “It’s only been a few months. I hope it’s just temporary.” The breeze sent hair flying into my face; I shoved it back. “If he were anyone else, I’d suggest he find someone to talk to, a therapist, but…”

  “I don’t see him talking to a shrink.”

  I sighed. “Maybe a therapist could talk him out of adding new entrées at a moment’s notice.”

  “It’s an adventure!”

  I raised an eyebrow. “It’s murder on the ordering.”

  “You’re in the black, though.”

  “It’s true.” And it was, though I wasn’t stupid. Our location near the trendy Nob Hill area meant that we were guaranteed plenty of foot traffic from customers who enjoyed what we had to offer. I shook my head. “All right. No more work talk.”

  “Do you think we could talk Nico back around to adding the bacon-lentil salad?”

  I swatted his arm. “Now you’re just baiting me.”

  He grinned at me. “Maybe. What else do you want to talk about?”

  “We should go to a movie sometime. Catch a concert.” I reclined on the park bench. “See a play.”

  “You think so?”

  “We can get out of the restaurant world from time to time. They’ll let us back in, I promise.” I reached out and scratched Gigi’s ears. “I need to get her out more often too. Poor thing’s not getting enough attention.”

  “She’s practically feral,” Adrian drawled. “What about the holidays? Those are coming up.”

  I winced, feeling that familiar clench in my chest as I contemplated holidays without my mother. “Mmm,” I said. “I’m trying not to think about them.”

  “Your birthday’s coming up too.”

  “If I could fast-forward to January, I would.” I sighed. “Holidays, birthdays—just reminders that my mom is…that she’s gone. If I could escape Christmas, I would do that too.” I shifted on my seat. “Sandrine invited us out to the chateau for Epiphany, though. If we can swing the travel time, I’d like it.” I looked over to Adrian. “You should come.”

  His eyebrows furrowed comically. “It’s so weird there’s a castle in your family.”

  “Think of it as a fairly large, fairly old stone house.”

  “In France.”

  “Yes. There are some very grand chateaux in France, but this one’s more of an old manor house.”

  “You can talk it down all you want, it’s still a castle in France.”

  “But it’s an inn, now. Basically a bed-and-breakfast.”

  He shook his head. “Still weird.”

  “Lots of people own bed-and-breakfasts!”

  “Didn’t you tell me it has a ballroom?”

  “They use it for corporate events now.”

  He tilted his head as if deep in thought. “Nope. Still weird.”

  As if she’d tired of the subject, Gigi abandoned her nap and began to sniff in the grass.

  “Is she…”

  I tilted my head as Gigi circled, sniffed, and considered before arranging herself into a ladylike squat. “It appears so, yes,” I said, reaching for the roll of biodegradable plastic bags and hand sanitizer I carried in my purse.

  “She couldn’t have done that farther away?”

  I stood, dropping the hand sanitizer into the pocket of my jacket then turning the bag inside out to pick up Gigi’s leavings. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll give her a stern talking-to while I take this to the garbage can.”

  Adrian’s nose remained wrinkled.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, laughing. At least there was a can within sight, about three hundred feet away. “You stay here and guard the bench.”

  We retraced our steps along the river, Gigi and I. Bicyclists raced by, ringing their bells as they passed, while pedestrians smiled at Gigi or ignored us altogether.

  I was gazing off into the distance, taking in the river, when a figure caught my eye.

  It had to be because Neil had been on my mind recently. Had to be. Because the man standing with his back to us on the grassy riverbank, facing the bridge, looked strikingly like the man I’d met online, the man I’d fallen in love with. The man who’d broken my heart—and whose heart I’d likely crushed at the same time.

  Obviously, it couldn’t be him, but the stance was the same. The way the sun glinted rose-gold in his hair, his build—lanky but broad enough in the shoulder to appear solid.

  I didn’t realize I’d been staring until he turned and met my gaze.

  My breath caught in my chest; my feet faltered before continuing in their path. It was him.

  It was Neil.

  He’d shaved his beard, but his face, his eyes—I’d know them anywhere.

  Ten feet of muddy grass separated us; I raised my hand in a casual “hello,” only to discover that I still held Gigi’s bag in my hand.

  Oh yes, that was perfect.

  I flushed red and veered to the left in order to dispose of the waste once and for all, and squirted a little hand sanitizer into my palms.

  He’d begun to walk toward me, and we met halfway. “Juliette,” he said.

  His voice sounded the same. The same rich tones with shades of his southern upbringing.

  “Hi, Neil,” I said, breathless. A thousand questions ran through my mind. What are you doing here, why aren’t you in Memphis, how did this happen?

  Why didn’t you tell me?

  “Gorgeous day,” I said, trying to remain calm even as Gigi strained forward to say hello. “I…didn’t expect to see you.”

  “I’m working at OHSU,” he said, his eyes glued to mine.

  “That’s great,” I said, remembering that we’d met in person the first time because of a guest lecture at Oregon Health and Science University.

  “Somewhat last minute, just for the term.”

  His words sunk in. “Oh. So, you’re…here.”

  “I should have called—”

  I shook my head. “I could have e-mailed,” I said, thinking of the long list of unsent e-mails on my computer.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “She passed away,” I said. “September second.”

  He flinched. “I’m so sorry, Juliette.”

  “Neil! Hello!” Adrian’s voice called out from behind my left shoulder; I jumped at the sound of his greeting, my eyes pulling away from Neil’s face for the first time.

  “Adrian. Hello,” Neil said with a nod, stepping forward to shake the other man’s hand.

  “Neil’s teaching a term at OHSU,” I told Adrian, my gaze drifting back to Neil’s face.

  Adrian placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “That’s great. You can’t beat Portland in the fall.”

  Neil stood up straighter. “Not at all, not at all,” he answered, his voice forcibly casual. “Juliette was telling me about her mom’s passing.”

  “Gabrielle was a great lady,” Adrian said.

  The collection of thoughts and feelings and words written for Neil, but kept to myself, surfaced again. Faced with the man in the flesh, I had too many words to speak.

  I’m with Adrian now. I can’t imagine not missing my mom. You were right, you were wrong. I miss you, I’m still angry with you. I still don’t know what became of my grandfather.

  Why didn’t you tell me you’d come to Portland?

  “She was,” Neil agreed. “I only met her the once, but she’s a lady who leaves an impression.”

  I chuckled even as I felt the familiar prick of tears behind my eyes. “True,” I said, preparing to change
the subject and ask after his friends Callan and Tarissa in my next breath.

  Neil spoke first. “You two look like you’re out enjoying a day at the river, and I’ll let you get back to it.”

  So that was it, then.

  Adrian patted his arm. “It’s nice to see you, man. Stop by and see us at the restaurant sometime. It’ll be on the house.”

  Another careful smile from Neil that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I’ll have to take you up on that.” He nodded at me, stepping away. “Juliette, Adrian.”

  I raised a hand in farewell. “Good-bye, Neil.”

  With his arm around my shoulders, Adrian and I turned to walk back to our picnic bench, our stray crumbs having attracted the attention of a rogue seagull, much to Gigi’s delight.

  “You’re quiet,” Adrian said.

  “Sorry, it’s—that was unexpected.”

  “He didn’t tell you he was in town?”

  “We broke up July 26, the night the restaurant opened,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s been strict radio silence since then.” I looked out at the river and back toward Adrian. “I’ve come close to writing him several times,” I admitted. “Very close. The way we ended—it’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “He told you your mother was going to die,” Adrian reminded me, his voice flat.

  “I doubt that’s something he’s proud of either. And”—this was the part I hated most—“he wasn’t wrong.”

  I thought back to that night. It was three months in the past, but felt like three lifetimes. “We were friends,” I said softly. “Pen pals, really, before it got romantic. And while breaking up was the right thing, I’m sad it came at the expense of a friendship.”

  Adrian didn’t answer.

  I’d come so very close to sending the e-mail I’d written in the middle of the night. How might the afternoon have played out if I’d been brave enough to press Send?

  Neil’s strangely impassive face as we spoke…an e-mail probably wouldn’t have changed anything.

  Adrian studied my face for a moment as we walked, then squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, I think we lost our spot.”