I sat at the end of the counter, the only customer in the place. Gus served me one of his famous grilled cheese sandwiches and I chowed down. I savored the sharp tang of the cheese, the perfect crunch of the bread. It was the taste of my childhood and my current existence. My life had come full circle, the past united with the present.
That couldn’t happen for the surviving members of the Rabble Point set. Caroline had been the one to use the words “cast out of Eden,” but they all had lived for years in a state of exile. Their lives had been varied and rich. Some had successful professional lives, some loving families, some both. All had been in long-standing marriages that were, to all appearances, loving and supportive. But when they’d had the opportunity, they’d returned to the place where they’d felt they belonged. As Caroline had articulated it, where they’d felt known.
One of those people, I was convinced, was willing to kill to keep the past in the past and prevent it from destroying the now. And maybe, I was beginning to believe, not to cover up their own culpability but that of a beloved spouse.
But which one? I’d spread a lot of misery today. I’d forced people to tell me things they didn’t want to talk about, remember times they’d tried to forget. I’d made grown-up humans cry. It didn’t feel good. I hoped the guilty party would take the bait I had so carefully laid out at a high cost to everyone else.
Chris arrived as I took my last bite of sandwich. Gus finished cleaning and turned the place over. Because the restaurant had been so busy the night before, I set every table in the dining room, cut up extra fruit for behind the bar, washed more lettuce for the salad station. Livvie came by at four and dropped off the evening’s desserts—blueberry cheesecake and chocolate mousse. “We’re coming for dinner tonight,” she said. “And bringing Mom.”
I ran up to my apartment and changed. While I was there, I fed Le Roi, who tried to feign indifference but at the last minute couldn’t hold out and ran for his bowl. Then I headed back downstairs.
The restaurant was busy again that night. In addition to the couples and foursomes, there were families. For the first time, I seriously considered a children’s menu.
Mom, Sonny, Livvie, and Page arrived around seven. Forewarned, I’d kept a big booth in the dining room open for them. Page greeted Chris with her usual enthusiasm, calling from across the counter.
“Hey, squirt,” he responded, but didn’t have time for much more because we were slammed.
Kendra Carter was there with her husband and their two kids. “I hope we’ll see you Tuesday night at the Sit’n’Knit,” she said.
“I don’t know. I’m such a terrible knitter.”
Kendra leaned in close. “It’s not about the knitting,” she whispered.
Exactly what Livvie had said. Maybe they had a point.
By seven thirty the place was full, and a couple of tables had even turned over. I finally found my way back to the bar, where I attempted to tidy up before I had to rush off again. The restaurant was noisy from the people and their chatter. In the center of it all were the members of my own family. Mom’s face was animated, the tiredness of the long shifts at Linens and Pantries washed away. She, Livvie, and Page laughed at some story Sonny told.
I walked across the room to where Chris stood, momentarily caught up with the cooking. I put my arm through his and turned him toward the room full of people enjoying the food and celebrating the weekend. “We did this,” I whispered to him. “We did all of this.”
“Thanks to Gus,” he said.
“Yes, thanks to Gus. And to us. We’ve worked hard. We need to enjoy it.”
“Yes, we do.” His lips grazed my cheek.
I spotted a table that needed to be cleared, a dessert order to be taken. Another group signaled for their check. I was off and running again.
The crowd around the bar lingered, and it was after midnight when the last couple left. I cleaned up and checked on the state of the restrooms. Chris finished battening down the kitchen. I heard the walk-in door open and rumble shut, though the food had been put away hours before. I knew Chris was making a final check of the premises, just as I was.
“Going upstairs!” he called to me. “You coming?”
“One minute.” I made one last circuit of the restaurant to make sure it was shipshape for Gus in the morning, dousing the lights as I moved around. I shot the shiny, new deadbolt across apartment door at the bottom of the stairs.
“Everything okay?” Chris glanced at me as I came up the stairs. He was on his way into the shower after a sweaty night of cooking.
“Fine.”
“Because you seem a little distracted.”
“Do I? Sorry. Long day.”
While Chris was in the shower, I tried a variety of activities—book, TV, computer, but none held my interest. I changed into the old Snowden Family Clambake T-shirt I slept in, pulled the covers up, and put my head down on the pillow. Not long after, Chris climbed into bed and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
As soon as I was sure he was asleep, I slipped out of bed.