Erica tried hard to put herself in Claudia’s shoes. “I can see that. Right now you’re angry. Upset. A bit wounded. But it’s important not to waste energy on emotion. Think of it as a problem to be solved. The best thing is to come up with a plan.” And plans were her forte. Even in traffic and snow, this was something practical she could do. “We can discuss your goals and what you want for the future.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“We can start by looking at your skills.”
“What skills?”
Erica was determined not to let Claudia wallow. “This is not the time to undervalue yourself. I’ve tasted your food. You’re an exceptionally talented chef.”
“That must be why they told me they no longer needed my services.”
This, Erica thought savagely, was why she’d set up her company—so that she was in control of her own future. Also because she wasn’t interested in playing office politics. She just wanted to get the job done, and done well. On her terms. “Where have you sent your résumé so far?”
“Nowhere. I haven’t put in any applications.”
“Because this just happened yesterday?”
Claudia hesitated. “Three weeks ago.”
“Three—” Erica breathed. “So why haven’t you made any applications?”
“Because I don’t know if I want to work in kitchens anymore. I’m almost forty.”
“What’s your age got to do with anything?”
“Turning forty feels significant. So does losing my job. I feel as if it’s a sign.”
“A sign?”
“A sign that maybe I’m not meant to be a chef.” Claudia turned to look at her. “Does that make any sense at all?”
“None.” Erica didn’t believe in signs. She didn’t believe in fate. She believed in deciding what you wanted and going for it, but she had enough experience with people to know she had to handle this in a way that worked for Claudia. “If you don’t want to be a chef, then what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Erica thought about the times she’d watched Claudia preparing food. It was like watching an artist at work.
“But you love food. You always have.”
“Yes, but I don’t love working in kitchens. I love cooking, but I hate kitchens. And sadly, if I want to get paid, the two come together.”
“You’re feeling this way because you had no control over what happened.” Erica came to a standstill in a line of traffic. “Have you thought of owning your own restaurant? Being the boss?”
Claudia leaned her head back against the seat and laughed. “I love you, do you know that?”
Erica stiffened. “Did you have a drink on the plane?”
“No, I did not have a drink on the plane.”
“Are you sure? Normally, you only tell me you love me after your third glass.”
“That’s because I know you’re uncomfortable with outward displays of affection, but today I’m appreciating what I have. My friends. You and Anna. The world is a scary place, and you make it seem a little less scary. You’re always so positive and brave, and right now I’m not either of those things.” There was a telltale wobble in Claudia’s voice and Erica felt like a fraud.
She wasn’t brave. Far from it. She had a nasty habit of avoiding anything difficult and of making sure she didn’t put herself in situations that threatened her carefully controlled life and sense of independence. She’d discovered that about herself only recently, when she’d struggled with the idea of taking this trip. But here she was, doing it. So maybe she was braver than she’d thought.
She focused on her friend. “I mean it, Claudia. You could set up on your own. I’ve tasted your cooking. I’d invest in you. I’d help you.”
“Even if I could somehow pull together the funds, which I couldn’t, I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my life cooking. I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re having this week away.” The traffic was moving again and Erica took the turn toward Anna’s house. “Operation New Future.”
“Honestly? I’d rather talk about books and forget my problems.”
Keeping her eyes on the road, Erica reached across and squeezed Claudia’s leg. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. This is a rough patch, but you’re going to come through it. And talking of books, did you read it?”
“Twice.” Claudia reached into her bag and pulled out the book. “I loved it, particularly the way she made his death look like an accident. Brilliant. I had some issues with the choices she made in the middle of the story, but overall I thought it was great. I’m looking forward to chatting about it. Has Anna read it?”
“I don’t know. She was grumbling about it being a crime novel, but was also intrigued that it was by Catherine Swift.” She glanced at the copy Claudia was holding. “Looks as if you dropped that in the bath or something. What happened to it?”
“I dropped it in the bath. Bath and a book is the closest I get to a hot date these days.”
The traffic was moving again and soon they were entering Anna’s neighborhood, driving along a wide, tree-lined road. All the houses were decorated for Christmas, their windows offering the curious a peep at sparkling Christmas trees and hearths draped in greenery.
Claudia snuggled deeper into her seat. “It’s magical. Reminds me of my childhood when Dad would string lights all around the house.” She gave a long sigh and finally smiled. “Okay, now I’m starting to feel Christmassy. Are you?”
Erica was pleased that Claudia seemed happier. She wanted her to stay that way. But the words magical and Christmassy simply wouldn’t leave her mouth no matter how much she tried.
“It’s great.” It was the best she could do, and fortunately, it seemed to be enough for Claudia.
“This place is so Anna, isn’t it? She lives in paradise.”
“I can see the appeal, although personally I prefer Manhattan.” Erica swung onto Anna’s drive and pulled up outside the house. “This place is great for a visit but it would drive me crazy to have to get in the car every time I want to go somewhere. I want to be able to walk, and leap on the subway when necessary.”
“She can walk to the village from here, and the waterfront.”
“But can she get to Saks and Bloomingdale’s? The Met? Carnegie Hall?”
Claudia grinned. “You have different priorities. Anna wants good schools and green space.”
“I know.” Erica killed the engine and sat for a moment, pondering the lifestyle twinkling in front of her.
Anna lived in a newly built stone-and-clapboard colonial-style home, surrounded by an acre of gardens bordered by trees. Lights glowed in all the windows and it wasn’t hard to see why Claudia had described it as paradise.
“It’s not the building, is it?” Claudia was staring at the festive wreath decorating the front door. “It’s Anna. Everything about her shrieks comfort. She could move into a barn and still make it cozy. Remember what she did to our room in college?”