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“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just . . .” The chair creaks as I lean back in it. “I never so much as took a cooking class. Grew up in the pizza business with two Italian parents who love to cook.”
“And the restaurant?”
“Something I’ve always wanted to do. I never wanted to just take over a business my father started. I wanted to make something of my own.”
“It’s doing well, from what I hear.”
This is exactly why Evie and I will never work.
“I can’t complain.”
Stalemate.
We drink, listening to the few remaining vendors pack up shop. This is the point where I should stand, apologize one last time for leaving her hanging at the wedding, and get a ride home.
But nearly two glasses of wine, and the fact that I’d like nothing more than to crush Evie against me to see if she tastes as good as she felt in my arms last week, stops me. Instead, I take another sip, and another, the companionable silence stretching but not awkward as it might be with two virtual strangers.
We watch each other, an understanding passing between us. If not for the conversation that led us to this point, the one that pits us against each other, there is no doubt what the rest of this night would entail.
And it wouldn’t be me going home alone.
11
Evie
“She’s doing it again. Phil, help,” someone yells from behind me.
I’m pretty sure that came from Maggie, my new general manager and onetime hostess of Leoni’s. My father would have something to say about someone not “properly trained” for the position, but the guy he had running the show with every qualification in the world turned out to be a crook.
So yeah, we might have agreed on a lot, but Dad and I disagreed on plenty too. If only he were still here to disagree with me now.
Although we aren’t technically open yet, patrons are already beginning to arrive, so I’m just checking to be sure everything is in order.
“Chef?”
I push Phil’s hand away as he tries to stop me from rearranging the condiments. Again.
“I’m being obsessive,” I admit, stepping away.
He gives me a look as if to say,Always.
“Ok, I’ll stop.”
Although my attention to detail can sometimes be a good thing, there are definitely times when I drive people around me a bit bonkers.
“So I like to be in control of everything at all times. Is that necessarily a bad thing?”
Both Phil and Maggie, who joins us at the front counter, laugh.
“Um, yeah, actually. It is.” Maggie leans against the counter next to me. “Speaking of being in control, I talked to the butcher this morning. I told him we needed the tri-tip steak for next week for a special occasion.”
“You decided on the Sicilian herb?” Phil asks, waving as one of the festival organizers walks by our tent.
“I did.”
After considering a handful of dishes for the Cucina judges, I decided on something simple.
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you. I was in New York two weeks ago and stopped by a little place that’s been getting really good reviews. They served grissiniat the bar, which I think was a nice touch. Can we see about getting them too?”
