Chapter 22
Still tired from her splashy first night at Coconuts, Cheri yawned. I’m glad we didn’t stay any later last night. I’d be shot today.
She padded through the kitchen, made hot tea, and sat at the dining room table overlooking Crystal Lake. Staring robotically at her computer screen, she knew she should be experimenting with new veal, veggie, and salmon recipes for the Manhattan Chamber’s upcoming gala but she couldn’t tear herself away from online dating sites. There has to be a decent guy out there.
Soon she gave up, logged off, and gathered her well-worn cookbooks. As a chef, she could throw ingredients together without a recipe but often found inspiration from other cooks. She piled her three favorite cookbooks on the kitchen counter as the phone rang.
“Hello, darling. It’s Mom and Dad.” Victoria spoke in her usual singsong voice. “We’re in Nice, France. It’s beautiful here. The weather, beaches, and food are fabulous, as always. You should join us, honey. Want me to send the plane?”
Cheri could picture her mother sitting on the balcony, sipping an afternoon martini, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Her tanned, toned legs would be outstretched and a book would be nearby in case a photographer captured the moment. Usually, the books were rarely opened. “How long will you be in Europe?”
We may fly back to Italy from here. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Florence and you know that’s my favorite city in the world. Oh, and Milan is calling me.”
Cheri realized she half-listened to her mom most days. Is it any wonder why I troll for dates? I want companionship. She snapped back to the present. “Yes, Mom, I know how much you love Florence. You’ve been there enough times. Have a wonderful visit. Eat some gelato for me.” Cheri glanced at her cookbooks, already antsy and ready to hang up.
“Your father wants to speak to you.”
Cheri waited until she heard his comforting voice.
“Hi, sweetie,” Thomas said. “How’s the sale of grandma’s house going?”
Slightly afraid to tell them her decision, Cheri braced for their reaction. “I’ve only been here a little over a week. I’ve been organizing Nana’s things and getting to know the neighborhood. I adore the wooded area and Crystal Lake is breathtaking.” She paused. “This may shock you but I’ve decided to keep the house. I can’t give it up. Don’t worry. I’ll buy it with my own money. After helping Grandma renovate it from New York, plus all of my childhood memories, I can’t sell her home. I hope you don’t mind.”
After a long pause, her father said, “Are you sure? I don’t know about the real estate market in Missouri. It might be hard to flip.”
Her mother’s inflection changed, barely hiding her disappointment. “Whatever is interesting about Branson or Crystal City? Aren’t they terribly small, boring cities?”
Cheri could almost feel her mother’s frown. “It’s definitely not Manhattan but I like it—a lot. A big plus is the fact I only had to deal with paparazzi when Gage drove me to a popular restaurant in Crystal City. Somehow the photographers got word I was in town. With cell phones, everyone thinks they’re a freaking I-reporter. But after that unfortunate episode, the cameras disappeared. I feel like I can breathe again.”
“I just don a big hat, sunglasses, and crappy clothes if I decide to wander around,” Victoria said.
“I’d rather be myself,” Cheri added.
“Are you happy?” Thomas asked.
“Yes, very.”
“Then buy it. Maybe you can even set up a satellite business for Fifth Avenue Catering.”
“I already thought of that, Dad. Thanks for your support.”
“Whenever you can break free, please join us abroad,” Victoria said. “You could even bring friends. Our plane will seat ten and it takes the same amount of fuel for one as for ten passengers.” Her mother laughed. “We miss you, darling.”
“Maybe next year I can think about a trip. I’ve got too much going on now. Sorry to cut you off but I’ve got to get some work done. Send me a postcard. You have Grandma’s address. Love you both.”
After exchanging good-byes, Cheri poured a glass of water and added sliced oranges. Relieved her parents approved of her buying the house, she stepped onto the deck for fresh air.
Small fishing boats dotted the lake. The wind had picked up and white caps now formed on the water. As the sky darkened and threatened rain, Cheri returned to the kitchen to make hot green tea and read her favorite cookbooks. She placed sticky notes on several recipes, which she inevitably tweaked, and made notes in her iPad for new appetizers, entrees, side dishes, and desserts.
Growing up in fashion-conscious New York, she had always eaten nutritious food and exercised. Instead of all-you-can-eat buffets, her catering menus included delicious, colorful, healthy meals. Her goal was to do her part for bulging waistlines. Maybe I’ll create a healthy cookbook someday.