Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [36]
I refuse to think about what Jake is doing this year and wonder instead about my father, who is presumably eating his turkey with a woman I have never met, a woman with enormous fake breasts who owns a pair of leopard pants and who might not be much older than me. I’m suddenly sure it’s a serious relationship, because you don’t just have Thanksgiving with anybody. It implies a certain level of commitment.
My relationship with my father, I realize, is a disaster. It must be, because otherwise he would have told me about her. The doorbell rings, and I hear Richard greeting Hope and waxing enthusiastic about the delicious rolls he had for breakfast this morning. The turkey will be ready soon, and I still need to cream the onions. No time now to think about how I’ve managed to screw up my relationships with the two most important men in my life.
chapter 9
On Friday after Thanksgiving, when the rest of the civilized world is out beginning their Christmas shopping, I’m at the restaurant preparing lunch for what is sure to be a good-sized crowd. Spending money always makes people hungry. Hope and Richard have taken Chloe to the Bronx Zoo while I’m working. I linger a bit after lunch, hoping to run into Jake so that I can touch base on a few things, but Tony tells me he called to say he won’t be in until after five. Too late to hang around, so I call his cell, but he doesn’t pick up and his mailbox is full. I’m hoping to follow up on the items I had sent home with Nicola earlier in the week, including making sure he had phoned in the meat and fish orders for next week. Finally, I call him at Nicola’s. No one is there either, so I leave him a message.
On Sunday morning Richard lets me sleep in. When I awake, it’s well after nine, and I can hear Richard and Chloe in the kitchen. I tiptoe down the hall to find them sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Richard is calling out clues to Chloe from the Times crossword puzzle in a high squeaky voice, while Chloe painstakingly picks up Cheerios between her thumb and forefinger. I’ve seldom seen Richard around children, but he genuinely seems to be enjoying Chloe, who, in my totally unbiased opinion, is an exceptionally likable child.
“What’s a seven letter word for ‘foundation garment’? Righto, Chloe, bustier, it is!”
I stand there quietly for a moment, taking advantage of the opportunity to observe them: Richard in his paisley bathrobe and Chloe, her delighted gaze fixed on Richard. She’s clearly over her stranger anxiety, smiling and cooing at Richard and occasionally even offering him a soggy Cheerio, which he gobbles down to her delight. I sneak up behind Richard and put my arms around his neck. “You can’t leave. Do you realize that I have not slept this late since Chloe was born? Thank you,” I whisper in his ear, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
He pats my arm and gives it a squeeze. Then, extricating himself, he gestures for me to sit down. He brings me fresh coffee, French roast by the smell of it, along with a pitcher of warm milk. “Coffee, madame?”
There are warm rolls with marmalade and mascarpone cheese. Chloe clamors for my attention, and Richard brings her over and then sits down next to me.
“Why don’t you come home?” he says, pouring milk into my coffee.
“Home? I am home.”
“To Pittsburgh.”
I don’t say anything for a minute. “I can’t, Richard. I have a life here. Chloe is in a great day care. I have the restaurant to run. There are a million reasons I have to stay.”
“I’m sure there are, but probably not a single good one. You know, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull back a bit. You’re running yourself ragged, not to mention that you’re subjecting yourself to a very unhealthy situation. No wonder you’re having a