Cocktail Hour by Tara McTiernan

Author:Tara McTiernan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Contemporary, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781482735963
Publisher: Bramblevine Press
Published: 2013-03-08T06:19:09+00:00

Chardonnay

"Oh, how fabulous!" Flo said, looking around the commercial kitchen Lucie and Erin had secured part-time and throwing out her arms with enthusiasm. "Just fabulous! This is where you'll become famous. I can feel it!"

Lucie turned to look at her father who was less easily impressed. "Dad? What do you think?"

Donald Scott shrugged, still glancing around. "It seems like a lot of money for so little. You're only getting this space part-time, right?"

"But prime time for catering! Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Plus we get refrigerator space full-time. Over here," Lucie said, realizing that he'd given voice to the same doubt she'd expressed to Erin, one Erin had steamrolled with her usual bullheadedness. And Lucie had given in. As usual.

Trying to shake the return of her unease about the excessive expense, she moved forward with her tour, leading them into the room filled with huge stainless steel refrigerators. Some had chains with combination locks on them like bicycles in a public bike rack.

Her father walked over and took one of the dangling locks in his hand. "What's this?"

"Oh," Lucie said. "Some people that rent here are paranoid. They lock up their food. Like someone's going to steal it." She almost wanted to do her silly impression of a food robber she had done for Ryan when she had shown him the space over a week ago and he'd asked the same question. That was back when they were still speaking. Before she said what she said. What couldn't be unsaid.

It had all gone downhill after a seemingly routine Sunday brunch at the Greenwich Hyatt with her father, Flo, and Erin. Donald Scott loved brunches at the Hyatt. The soaring space of the hotel's atrium filled with full-size trees, flowers, waterfall sounds, and birdsong was embellished on Sundays by a live jazz pianist tickling the ivories and champagne flowed freely for those who paid the astronomical per-person charge for the hotel's lavish buffet. At every brunch they enjoyed there together, Lucie's father leaned back in his chair, smiled in the direction of the pianist, took a contented sip of his champagne, and declared in a hearty voice, "Now, this is living."

As was routine at their get-togethers, Flo quizzed Erin on her career, but this time Erin was evasive rather than forthcoming. Lucie and she had agreed to hide the truth from their parents until Erin had made a few "wins", as both Flo and Donald liked to call them, on one of the fronts where Lucie and Erin were trying to make some headway with the business: either something on television or a cookbook. Gaining clientele, Erin's original goal for Petite Soiree, had turned out not to be a problem. Ever since Lucie secured her first few jobs, the referrals from them had started coming in like clockwork. Evidently, word of mouth really was the key.

"I'm....still figuring it out," Erin said, reaching for her mimosa before realizing she'd already drained it. She glanced at Lucie furtively before plastering a nonchalant look on her face and turning back to her mother.

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