I PULLED JANE’S CAR INTO THE FOUR SEASONS ROUNDABOUT and smoothed my skirt. I smiled as I remembered her comment. You’re so New York tonight. I forgot how intimidating it is.
She was right; I’d gotten awfully comfortable in jeans and a few borrowed sweaters and flannel shirts. Granted, they were J. Crew, adorable and slim-cut, but the shirts were still flannel. Not tonight. Tonight was game on in high Manolo black heels, a long patterned Armani skirt, and a sleek, carpaccio-thin navy cashmere sweater.
Paul crossed the lobby upon my entrance and kissed my cheek. He gently took my hand. “How is it?”
I slowly bent the fingers within his, then held it out. It was still pale, crisscrossed in red, and vulnerable looking. I had wanted to wrap it, but Cecilia said it was time to move it and expose it to the world—carefully. “Working well. See? Stitches out and everything.”
“Physical therapy?”
“No need. I didn’t do much nerve or muscle damage. Went straight for bone.”
Paul cringed. “I keep forgetting that none of that bugs you.”
I laughed because he was right. A chef can’t be squeamish around blood and bones. If you want fresh meat, poultry, or fish, you’re part butcher, part surgeon. “This almost had me on the floor, I’ll admit. It wasn’t pretty.” Nick immediately came to mind. I heaved him away.
“Let’s a have a drink, then walk to dinner.”
Paul directed me toward a barstool. I stopped before sitting. “You always prefer tables.”
“You always prefer the bar.”
I blinked. “I do. Thank you. I like to be near the action.”
“There you go.” He pulled a stool out for me. “I can’t believe you’ve been away so long. How are you?”
“How’s Feast?”
“It’s doing well and waiting for you.”
“Really?”
“Of course it is. I was never trying to push you out, Elizabeth; I was trying to save your dream. You lost your step.”
“I did, but it’s back.” I smiled and relaxed.
We chatted a bit more before walking over to Matt’s in the Market. It was on the second floor of a building right on the edge of Pike Place, looking straight at the iconic red-lit sign. We sat by the window, looking out on a darkening gray evening sky with sun igniting the tops of the clouds and only breaking through here and there like spun sugar beams. But it was the menu that absorbed my attention.
My mind started generating menu changes for Feast as I looked at all the fresh options, the bold pairings, and the construction of their menu. I started with the octopus with kimchi, daikon radish salad, and chili vinaigrette. Paul ordered the seared foie gras. When he held up his fork, offering me a taste, I froze—Paul never shared his food. He gently put the bite inside my mouth. Rather than comment, I closed my lips.
“I bet yours would be even better.”
“I used to make a seared foie gras. I haven’t in years.”
“You should.” Paul smiled warmly.
I then moved on to sturgeon, with fava beans, English peas, mint pesto, radishes, and wild greens. The plate was green and fresh. I smiled as I thought of all the wonderful produce in season—the spring vegetables that were just coming in when I left New York would now be in full bloom. I’d incorporated lots of greens and fresh purees in the food I’d cooked for Jane, but had hesitated to freeze some of the fresh local favorites.
What if I did? Pestos? Purees? Peas? Kales? Smoked, grilled, braised? Then frozen? Perhaps in separate containers as I had done with Tyler? I could even couple them with toasted seeds or grains. The starch would help them withstand freezing. And dividing meals into more discrete elements would not only allow for crossover and greater variety, but people with different side effects from chemo, different needs and tastes, might be able to pull from many of the same dishes. That was the element necessary to take the catering idea larger, to help more people and make it a commercial venture. Nick’s idea had consumed my imagination for days, and, while more precise consulting and individual catering work to patients would be the focal point, a provision store could help it float financially and broaden its base. That’s what Nick hadn’t considered—I stopped myself and flicked a glance to Paul, sure my face had betrayed that I’d completely left him and Feast, if only for a moment.
“You know, Elizabeth, you seem good here. You were right to take the time.” I simply nodded. Paul’s inflection told me there was more. “But . . . I’m delighted you’re coming home. I have a surprise for you.”
“You do?”
“I wanted to tell you months ago, but you were so distracted and I didn’t want to add pressure. But that’s not the case now. This is the Elizabeth I know. The beautiful, confident chef ready to take on the world.”
Part of me reveled in his description while another part wanted to protest that I was no longer that woman. I didn’t want to take on the world, just to make a difference in one small important corner, but the idea was so new, so fleeting, that I said nothing.
He pushed a small blue box across the table. I opened it and found a gold charm, a delicate chef’s hat.
“This is the charm you gave me when Feast opened, but mine is silver.”
“Gold for the next restaurant.”
“The next . . . restaurant?”
“I secured the lease on a small space in the Village about a year ago and took possession in November. Work is almost complete and it’s ready to go.”
“Another kitchen?”
“That’s the way this business works, Elizabeth. It’s not just about the food; it’s about a name and a presence. Murray was vital to that, but you’re the muse and it’s your food. That was one of the reasons I encouraged you to take the time here and recoup before we fired up the next one.”
“What’s it called? How big is it? What’s the menu? What’s—”
“Slow down. It’s small. Half the dining room of Feast. Very intimate. No name and no menu. That’s for you to decide.”
“I . . .”
“Don’t say anything. Just fly back with me tomorrow and I’ll show it to you.” Paul reached out his hand and covered mine.
“Tomorrow? I have reservations for Sunday.”
Paul leaned back, withdrawing his hand. “Surely two days can’t matter.”
“No . . .” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Of course they don’t, not really. But I want to say good-bye to the kids properly. I need to leave well, Paul. I’ve changed . . . I need to . . .” I drifted into silence. I didn’t know what I needed.
“Of course, I’m sorry I pushed. Take until Sunday. As I said, two days can’t matter. You can dream up names and the theme during that time. I’ll e-mail you some pictures. It’ll be fun for you.” He reached again. “And it will be, Elizabeth. We’ll have fun with this.”
“I know we will.”
Paul’s eyes flickered concern, and I knew I hadn’t offered enough excitement. “You’ve completely overwhelmed me, you know? I’ve never been good at surprises; I need a moment to process this.”
“I know, darling. It’s a lot, and I never meant it to be a surprise. Well, I did. I wanted to give this to you, but I thought I’d share it long before now. You seemed so lost and struggling. And now . . .” He leaned forward again, his eyes searching and eager. “It’s our time.”
“Our time.” I repeated the words, and my heart faltered. I knew what Paul was asking. I knew what he now expected. A business. A partnership. Me. Maybe it was time; maybe it was right. And yet in the past weeks I’d played with those same words, those same dreams—but they hadn’t included Paul.
I turned to the window. Night was falling but I could still see beyond the market. One huge shipping barge dominated the waterscape. Seattle drummed to a different beat than New York, and I understood it now. I had thought there was only one speed at which I could live, but there was a tenor to life here that resonated with me. Nick’s nickname for me flashed through my mind. New York. Was I still that too? I had to be. It was time to go home.
“You look miles away.”
“I was just thinking about my time here. It’s been good.”
“But you’re ready.” A statement, not a question.
“I did what I needed to do. I’m ready.”
Soon the conversation drifted to Paul’s other investments, his kids, and his ex-wives who were chirping with annoyances. I drifted back into my own world, where I hovered on the meals I’d created and the time I’d spent with Nick. It was like watching the good-parts version of a movie in your head after the show ends.
As we walked back to the Four Seasons, Paul put his arm around me. “I’ve missed you, Elizabeth. More than I think you realize.”
I looked up at him. “I needed this time.” I laid my hand on his cheek. “Thank you.” I reached up and replaced it with a small short kiss.
He turned in to me, capturing another before I stepped back. He clasped my hand, laying a kiss in my palm. “Anything.”
I looked beside us and found the hotel valet hovering. Without breaking eye contact with me, Paul handed him my ticket.