Epilogue
Mia
Three years later
THE CONTRAST OF THE heat from the Elderflower Inn’s kitchen and the bitter January chill outside made my cheeks tingle as I barged in without warning during Shani’s dinner service.
I probably looked like a crazy person as I waddled in, panting heavily, with a toddler held against my hip and my phone brandished above me in my free hand.
“Shani!” I yelled, my voice high-pitched and shrill. “Oh my god, oh my god !”
My former sous chef, usually an unflappable anchor in the kitchen, whirled toward me so fast that she very nearly tipped a skillet off the gas range.
“Mia? What is it? What’s happened?” she said, taking in my unhinged appearance with wide eyes.
Everyone else in the kitchen had turned to look at me as well. They were faces I already knew... I’d taught most of them myself in the Hope Project’s culinary program. In my supporting grip, little Trixie laughed and waved an arm wildly, shouting, “Mama! Mama!” as I wiggled the phone.
“The new Michelin Guide just published!” I announced to the room at large. “Congratulations, Shani—you’re a Michelin Star chef, babe!”
Shani gaped at me for several seconds, uncomprehending. Then whoops and cheers went up around her, and she snapped free of her shocked paralysis.
“Are... are you sure ?” she asked, pitching her voice to be heard over the commotion.
I hurried forward through the controlled chaos of the line to show her the phone’s screen. The Michelin Guide logo topped the page; the friendly Michelin Man waving out at us. Below, the headline read ‘ St. Louis and surroundings: 1 of 1 restaurants .’ And then, a square photo of Shani’s signature osso buco, artfully arranged on a plate with its sides of parsnip puree and pickled greens.
The Elderflower Inn, St. Louis, USA. $$$ - Contemporary Cuisine, stated the caption beneath.
Shani stared unblinkingly at the little screen, her eyes resembling her own dinner plates. Then she let out a squeal that was so completely at odds with her normal imperturbable self that I couldn’t help laughing.
She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me and Trixie. She bounced up and down like an excited teenager, still shrieking in glee. It wasn’t a proper hug with my huge baby bump in the way, and I couldn’t bounce with her because I currently weighed approximately the same as a beached whale.
But I added my shrieks to hers, Trixie joining us as she bopped her little palm excitedly against Shani’s shoulder.
Then, abruptly, Shani pushed away and gasped, “Oh, no—my pan-seared trout!” But fortunately for someone’s expensive entrée, one of the line chefs—a kid named Marcus who was a genius with pastry—had slid unobtrusively over to Shani’s station to babysit the delicate fish.
“Can you all cover the boss’s station while I take her out to announce the good news to the dining room?” I asked, and received a chorus of “Yes, chef!” followed by another ragged cheer.
Pocketing the phone, I dragged a dazed Shani toward the front of house, where Ayden met us with a look of concern.
“What’s up?” he asked. “We heard shouting in the back.”
Maleeka joined us, looking equally confused. “Yeah, I was in the office running numbers. What’s going on? Are you okay, Aunt Shani?”
“Oh, Aunt Shani is fantastic ,” I assured her, handing Trixie over to her when the little girl reached out insistently. “It just so happens, we have an announcement about the restaurant!”
Maleeka jiggled Trixie against her hip until the toddler quieted, still looking confused. Then Ayden seemed to get it.
“Oh... you don’t mean—?”
I grinned at him and turned to the dinner crowd, where we were already garnering quite a bit of attention.
“Good evening, everyone!” I said loudly, raising my hand to request silence. “I’m thrilled to see the Elderflower Inn doing its usual brisk business! I have an announcement about the restaurant, and the talented chef who owns it. Can I please get a round of applause for St. Louis’ newest Michelin star chef—Shaniqua Jones!”
“Oh my god!” Ayden exclaimed, even as Maleeka murmured, “It’s about damned time ,” in a tone of deep satisfaction.
Around the large dining space, customers were rising from their seats, clapping and cheering. One very familiar group stood in the reception area, clapping louder than anyone else. I sent my pack a wink, grinning widely.
Shaniqua, clearly overcome, stood next to me with her hand over her mouth and tears in her expressive brown eyes. I nudged her forward.
“Take a bow, my friend,” I told her. “You deserve it.”
With a deep breath, she stepped forward and squared her shoulders, letting her hand fall.
“Thank you,” she said, waiting for the applause to die down. “Thank you all. I don’t think we’d be here tonight if it weren’t for my dear friend, Mia Dimitriadis. Not only did she found the restaurant and get its first Michelin Star, but she and her pack are also responsible for running the amazing culinary school that educated most all of our talented kitchen staff.
“Your meal tonight was prepared by a team of amazing young people who overcame challenges that most of us can’t even imagine, just to be here. Can I get another round of applause for them? Let’s make it loud enough so they can hear it in the back!”
She and I both started clapping, and we were joined by another enthusiastic bout from the customers.
With a watery laugh, she waited until it died down again, then called, “Right, that’s enough of that, everyone! Your food is getting cold!”
Laughter rippled around the warmly lit dining room, as people reseated themselves and dove back into the amazing meals they’d come here to eat. I turned to Shani, Maleeka, and Ayden, accepting Trixie back from Maleeka.
“Seriously, I am so happy for you all,” I said. “Congratulations. I don’t think anyone has ever deserved a star more than this place.”
“Aunt Shani’s not wrong, you know,” Maleeka said. “We wouldn’t be here in the first place if not for you and Nat.”
I smiled at the warm glow kindling in my chest.
“You can thank us with a table for eight tonight,” I said, knowing that was a pretty tall order since we’d all piled into the SUVs as soon as I saw the updated Michelin website, and we didn’t have a reservation.
Ayden didn’t blink an eye. “Two high chairs?” he asked, and I nodded sheepishly.
“Dinner’s on the house,” Shani said. “Obviously. Find me again after close, Mia.”
“I will,” I promised.
Her eyes twinkling, she leaned forward and planted a wet smooch on Trixie’s cheek, inspiring a loud giggle. She patted me on the arm. “I’d better jump back in the fray and make sure tonight runs smoothly. It wouldn’t do to mess up on our first night in the hoity-toity guidebook.”
“And I’d better go rethink the inventory for the next month,” Maleeka said. “I have a sneaking suspicion that business is going to be booming.”
Ayden grinned at me. “Come right this way, chef. I’ll just get you and your party seated.”
The late dinner only went to prove that Shani had earned that Michelin star, and then some. Several of my original dishes were still on the menu, along with a bunch of others that were pure Shaniqua.
Luca’s twins, Jules and Trixie, had managed to get more cinnamon-bergamot chocolate lava cake on their faces than in their mouths. Luca and Nat were fussing over them with wet wipes, while Zalen, Emiel, and Byron offered commentary with varying levels of helpfulness or snarkiness.
I ran a hand over my swollen belly, feeling the jab of an elbow, or possibly a foot. It was too bad my other internal organs—like, for instance, my stomach—didn’t have a bit more room left over. I was constantly hungry these days, but as much as I would have liked to gorge myself on the Elderflower Inn’s bounty, I knew from bitter experience that I’d regret overeating.
Around us, the place cleared out as closing time approached.
“No, no. Stay put, y’all,” Ayden said, when Zalen started to make noises about us getting out from underfoot. “Make yourselves comfortable. Mia, you can go on back to the kitchen anytime.”
After a period of fussiness when the cake was finished, both toddlers were now fast asleep—cradled safely in Zalen and Emiel’s arms. I heaved myself out of the chair, silently cursing gravity, my center of balance, and the universal concept of low back pain.
“Thanks, Ayden,” I said. “It was absolutely delicious, as always. Tell Maleeka we’ll see her at the monthly organizational meeting in a few days, okay?”
“I sure will,” he said. “Let me get you some to-go boxes for the rest of that oxtail stew and the roasted vegetables.”
I made my way to the kitchen, past the tail end of the night’s cleanup. Shani was waiting for me.
“Compliments to the chef,” I joked, and she chuckled.
“Like I always say, I learned from the best,” she said. “Thanks for coming tonight. You’ve made my entire year, and it’s only January.”
I sobered, meeting her warm gaze and holding it. “Enjoy this. You’ve worked hard for it. Piece of advice, though—don’t let a Michelin star become your entire life. Voice of experience speaking, here.”
Her expression softened. “I hear you, Mia. Honestly, though—I don’t think I could if I tried. My pack wouldn’t let me.” She tilted her head, regarding me closely. “Question for you, though. Are you okay? Are you... happy ? It can’t be easy, knowing that you did most of the work on this place, and now someone else is getting the credit.
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. “Oh, god , no. I lived that life for years, Shani. And don’t get me wrong—parts of it were great. But I’ve found more satisfaction teaching kids for the last two-and-a-bit years than I ever did getting featured in lifestyle magazines.” I hesitated. “But, y’know—totally say yes to the lifestyle magazines when they come knocking. They’re great for business.”
Shani smirked. “Noted.”
“Anyway,” I went on, “my point is that I’ve got better work-life balance right now than I’ve had since I graduated high school. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Her smirk widened. “Yeah... you come back here and tell me that after the triplets are born, kiddo.”
I rubbed a hand over my bulge, eliciting another kick. “Nah, I’m not worried. Luca’s found his true life calling in being a parent. I’ll make him do most of the hard work.”
Shani laughed and hugged me, coming in from the side to get a better angle around the obstruction of my belly.
“I’m so proud of you,” I told her, hugging back fiercely.
She kissed me on the forehead and eased away. "I'm proud of you, too, honey. More than you can know. Now, get back out there to those men of yours, and send me some new prodigies from your next class of graduates."
Stepping away, I offered a crisp salute. “Yes, ma’am. More prodigies, coming up.”
We grinned at each other. I clasped her elbow in farewell and turned back toward the dining room, where my family was waiting to take me home.
Back to our perfect, amazing life.
finis
Tony’s story continues in a new book: Knot Your Victim .