The Restaurant (The Nantucket Restaurant #1)(11)

At a quarter to seven, she poured herself a glass of chardonnay and began sautéing the veal cutlets, which only took a few minutes. The sauce came together quickly and was a simple reduction of the pan drippings scraped up from the bottom of the pan and stirred into a bit of Marsala wine, butter and sautéed mushrooms. It smelled heavenly.

By seven, everything was ready, and there was still no sign of Cory. At a quarter past, she called his cellphone, which apparently wasn’t on as it went immediately into voicemail. By eight, the children were tucked into bed, the veal was cold and congealing and Mandy’s wine glass was empty. She refilled it, to the top this time, and grabbed an asparagus spear to nibble on. Finally, at almost nine, Cory walked through the door. Mandy glanced up and tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she said, “I was starting to worry about you.”

Cory shrugged his coat off and hung it in the front hall closet before coming into the kitchen.

“I had to stay late, needed to finish up a proposal for a client meeting first thing tomorrow morning. Something smells good.”

“It’s veal Marsala. When you said you’d be home by seven, I told you it would be waiting for you.” She grabbed two plates and reached for the veal.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I totally didn’t hear you say that. We were just crazed today. Kate ordered Chinese takeout for the office.”

“Okay then.” Mandy was fuming inside but trying not to show it. “Well, I’m starving so there’s all the more for me I guess.”

“I feel like an ass.” Cory looked truly sorry but Mandy said nothing in response, just continued to fill her plate. “How can I make it up to you?”

She smiled back. “Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”





Jill walked into her apartment a little after nine-thirty that night. She was bone tired and ready to fall into bed. Billy had wanted to go for drinks and dinner after work to catch up and talk through how they’d manage in the short-term at least until they both got used to her working remotely and probably fewer hours as she was going to be juggling her duties at the restaurant.

By the end of the meal he was still apprehensive but supportive and even a little bit excited for her about the whole idea. Especially when she reminded him that Grams’ house had four bedrooms. He’d been there a few times with her, but it had been several years since they’d gone.

“Maybe I’ll have to plan a weekend trip to Nantucket. You can show me around and I can do a quality check on the food at Mimi’s Place.”

Jill assured him that he was welcome anytime, but she wanted to give it a little time first, for she and her sisters to get their feet wet. She didn’t admit it to Billy, but she was a little nervous about actually working in the restaurant. Aside from some bartending years ago at a college bar, she had no other experience.





Emma stepped out of the cab into a seemingly solid wall of heat. It was one thing she wouldn’t miss. Even though it was a dry heat, a hundred and ten was still hot. Peter was home. His car was in the driveway and he apparently had company. The other car looked familiar, like Tom’s actually, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. She hoped not. She didn’t think she was up to seeing the two of them together just yet.

When she walked through the front door they were sitting side by side on her sofa. She thought of it as hers because shortly after they’d gotten married she’d picked it out and it was her dream sofa. A soft vanilla cream shade, it had big puffy cushions that you could sink into. It was a set of two. The other was a larger version and was where Peter usually sprawled out while Emma claimed the smaller one to curl up on. That was where Tom and Peter were sitting, on the love seat.

Peter jumped up as soon as he saw her and ran over to give her an awkward hug.

“I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon. I thought you’d probably stay a few more days to visit with your sisters.” He glanced back at Tom. “He just came in for a minute. We’re heading out shortly. We were just checking the basketball score.” Both of them were huge basketball fans. Emma had always been bored to death by the game.

“Hi Emma,” Tom said. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

“Thank you.” She turned her attention to Peter.

“I’m actually only back for a few days.” She told him about Mimi’s Place.

“You own a restaurant? On Nantucket? That’s so cool!” Peter seemed genuinely thrilled for her, and Tom, who fancied himself a gourmet cook, even seemed a bit envious.

“What an incredible opportunity. I’ve always dreamed of owning my own restaurant.” Tom was an accountant by trade, so this was news to Emma, though not apparently to Peter.

“If that’s what you really want to do, then you need to find a way to make it happen. That’s what I did. Do you have any idea how many people talk about writing a book, someday? I did it myself, for how many years?” He glanced at Emma.

“At least seven,” she confirmed. “Finally I told him he needed to stop talking about it, and to sit his butt down in the chair and just do it.”

“I found an hour a day, either before or after work and that added up to a finished book four months later,” Peter said proudly.

“Maybe I’ll look into an evening culinary school program,” Tom said.