Chapter 15
Cheri refilled her coffee, opened her laptop, and worked from her late grandmother’s kitchen counter. The leather from the bar stools felt cool on her legs as she opened multiple files and invoiced Fifth Avenue Catering clients. Her customers in New York covered the gamut, including posh, intimate private dinner parties, celebrity birthdays, ornate grand openings, corporate events, and Bat Mitzvahs where parents spent an inordinate amount of money—thousands—on their teens.
In less than a year, the socialite chef had established a successful, thriving business—not that she needed the money but she loved to cook and was career-minded, so it was a great fit. She knew her surname gave her a leg up in Manhattan. Because of the family’s name recognition, Cheri worked even harder to prove herself.
Many of her New York friends lived off their trust funds but Cheri wanted to prove herself and make her own way just like her father had. She refilled her coffee and considered how fortunate she was. I need to give back. I want to give back. Maybe I’ll find an opportunity in the Midwest.
The trilling phone interrupted her thoughts. The caller ID indicated it was Victoria Van Buren, her mother. “Hi, honey, it’s Mommy and Daddy. I see Grandma kept the same number all these years.”
“Hi, Mom. Yes, but I hate having a house phone.”
“It’s for security, darling. Otherwise, that expensive system we installed wouldn’t work.”
Cheri sighed. “I know. Thanks for that. How’s Europe treating you two?”
“Fabulous, as always. Last night we took a sunset gondola ride in Venice. It’s beautiful, darling. I wish you would join us here.” If nothing else, her mother was always in a good mood and a happy traveler.
“Mom, remember, that big talk you and Daddy had with me last year about how you wanted me to find my own way, learn the value of hard work, and not be a trust fund kid? I know we haven’t chatted much during your travel abroad, but—” Cheri hesitated, somewhat annoyed at the lack of attentiveness from her parents. “You do remember I went to culinary school, right?”
Victoria’s tone changed. “Of course, darling. We aren’t that distant from you, are we? Tsk. Tsk. What are you implying? Naturally, I remember. You graduated with honors. See, I listen.”
Cheri groaned inwardly. “I’m not implying anything. After I graduated and started my own catering company, I’ve been swamped 24/7 and haven’t had much time to tell you about it. My company is really taking off in New York, and now that I’m in the Midwest—”
“Oh, sweetheart. Wait a minute.” Cheri heard her mother call her father to the phone.
“Tom, Tom, come here. It’s Cheri. Let me put you on speaker so you can tell your father all about your exciting company.”
Cheri was very proud of her hard-working parents who were wildly successful in commercial real estate. They weren’t born with a silver spoon and never let her forget it. Victoria was a master at staging homes and businesses so they’d sell quickly. Cheri chuckled when she pictured her parents who were so Botoxed and groomed they looked more like her older siblings than her parents. She heard rustling in the background and then her father’s thick Brooklyn brogue.
“How’s my little girl?” Thomas Van Buren, II, asked.
“Hi, Daddy. I’m fine. I know you two have been busy working and traveling abroad and I’ve been inundated with work for months. I haven’t told you and Mom much about my new catering business.” Actually, she wondered why they hadn’t seen it in the New York society pages but let it go. They were busy, she told herself, just like she convinced herself when she was a kid and practically raised by her nanny.
“What’s the name of your company, honey?” her father asked.
“Fifth Avenue Catering. What do you think?”
Victoria spoke into the phone. “Love the name.” She gushed. “This is wonderful, darling.”
Her father immediately turned to business mode. “Have you lined up clients? Need help with contacts? I know a lot of wealthy people.”
Cheri laughed. “I know you do. Thanks, but I want to do this on my own. As a matter of fact, I already have almost more clients than I can handle, plus repeat business.”
“Fantastic. What have you catered, darling?” Victoria asked.
Cheri ticked off on her fingers, even though her parents couldn’t see her. “A wedding, several extravagant bat mitzvahs, an upscale hotel grand opening, a celebrity birthday, and an event for the Yankees.”
“The Yankees? That’s unbelievable for a fledgling business but you’re anything but a fledgling. You’re a Van Buren. It’s obvious you don’t need our help. I wish we were there to cheer you on. I’m proud of my little girl.”
“So am I. Bravo,” Victoria said.
Cheri grinned as she sipped her coffee. I think they’re truly listening to me and interested for once.
Her father continued, “I’m sure you’re branding your business. Do you need an attorney to set up an LLC?”
“Already done.” Cheri studied her navy nails and made a mental note to make an appointment. “I’ve got a website, a growing social media platform, culinary school contacts, other chefs on board, and of course, business cards and brochures.”
“What colors did you select for Fifth Avenue Catering?” Victoria asked.
“White and gold.”
“Perfect, darling,” Victoria said. “You always did have good taste.”
“I got it from you, Mom.”
Her father’s voice rose with excitement. She felt like a little girl earning—and loving—his praise. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Cheri. I know you’ll be a terrific businesswoman. I suppose growing up with a chef in the house helped instill your love for cooking.” He chuckled into the phone. “I can still picture you perched on a bar stool watching Julio prepare our meals.”
Cheri felt her cheeks flush. She had many fond memories—and fantasies—of their handsome Italian chef. She not only watched him cook but had a huge crush on him which she had never told anyone since he was at least fifteen years her senior. Julio always made cooking look like an art form—and fun. He would sing and dance the salsa while preparing meals. Occasionally, he’d grab Cheri’s hand and twirl her in the kitchen. As a teen, Cheri had secretly wondered what his mouth would feel like on hers. The entire affair of food was almost orgasmic to her because of Julio. And, if she allowed herself to admit it, she dreamed of one day serving him a fine meal . . . in bed. But she assumed he had either moved back to Italy or was working with another family since they hadn’t required his services in years.
“Cheri, are you there?” Thomas asked.
Snapping out of her daydream, she said, “Sorry. Yes, Dad, I suppose Julio did instill my love for cooking and preparing beautiful food.” Changing the subject, she asked, “How long are you two going to be in Italy?”
“Another few months. Wish you were here,” Thomas said. “I’ve got to run. My cell is ringing. Love you, honey. Well done on your business. Keep us posted. Bye.”
“Bye,” Cheri said to silence. Now, where was I? Glancing at her computer screen, she had lost interest in invoicing more clients. Instead, she loaded the dishwasher and devoured pineapple yogurt and a banana. I’ve got to get out of this house and have some fun. I’m going to see if Gage will take me to that Coconuts place he mentioned.