Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [15]
“For how long?” he asked. “I’m nearly twenty.”
Forever, Miranda thought, but didn’t say it. Looking into Jess’s eyes, she knew now wasn’t the time to have this fight. Jess could be unswerving once he got his mind set on something. She hadn’t given up on getting him back to Brandewine, but failing that, she certainly wasn’t allowing him to spend precious time at some job rather than on his studies.
“Okay.” She blew out air, got up to pour herself another cup of coffee. “Give me one of those rolls.”
Jess handed over a raisinless cinnamon bun, and joined her at the table with his own. Miranda took a bite, but the sweet, doughy mass was hard to choke down. She ended up shredding most of it while she talked.
“Something is going on with you,” she said. When Jess opened his mouth, she cut him off with the patented Big Sister Glare. “Shut it. I’m talking now. You think I can’t see something’s up? You don’t want to tell me what it is, and that’s fine,” she emphasized, summoning up as much conviction as she could, considering every particle of her being shrieked at her to sit on him until he confessed everything. Sadly, he wasn’t fourteen years old anymore.
“If you can’t stay at Brandewine, then you did the right thing coming home. I want you here, in my apartment, where I can keep an eye on you. And it’s not just for a few weeks, kiddo. If you want to transfer to NYU, you live with me. And you let me pay your tuition. I won’t have you splitting your focus between some crappy minimum-wage job and your college experience. You have to promise me you’ll focus on your future.”
Jess clouded over, but Miranda held firm. “That’s the price you pay for giving up that scholarship.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “But I get a summer job and save up my earnings to help pay for books.”
“Deal,” she said, mouth twitching. “You drive a hard bargain. But it’s probably a good idea for you to find work this summer—I’m going to be busy enough for the next few months that you’d get awfully lonely sitting around this apartment.”
“Problems at work?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Challenges,” she corrected, excitement trickling back in. “Big changes, new goals. I’m going to write a book. I’ve always wanted to, and I finally have the perfect platform.”
She couldn’t contain the thrill she got when she said it out loud. Just the thought gave her a giant happy shiver, and she took another sip of coffee to settle down.
Jess’s eyes went wide. “Hey, that’s awesome. What kind of book?”
“Nonfiction, about my experiences in the kitchen at Market. It’s a new restaurant opening up across town.”
A plethora of recent books and articles had appeared, extolling the virtues of eating locally and seasonally—but was there another side to the story? How possible was it, really, for a restaurant to carry out a mission like Market’s? Would the menu suffer from or be exalted by the limitations imposed by Adam Temple’s strict policy of only serving local, organic food? There was a story here, Miranda was sure of it. Now if she could just convince a publisher of that . . .
“Cool!” Jess took on a calculating air, which made him look like a little boy trying to figure out how to scam an extra cookie at snacktime. “You think this place needs waiters? If they’re still getting started, maybe they’ve got slots to fill.”
“Maybe,” Miranda said doubtfully. “But the chef . . . well, let’s just say he’s not too overjoyed at the prospect of having a journalist observing him. I’m not sure being related to me is going to give you any kind of leg up. Possibly quite the reverse.”
Jess shrugged. “All I can do is try, right? You going over there today?”
She nodded. Claire had promised to call with a battle plan after she spoke to the editorial board, but whatever the outcome of that conversation, Miranda was determined to strike while the iron was hot.
Jess nodded decisively. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Miranda hid a smile behind her coffee cup. It wouldn’t do to let Jess see how much she