Chapter 8 Jessiah #2
“Anyway, I only own half of it,” I reminded Thaz.
When I assumed ownership of my dad’s restaurants, I’d offered all the long-term managers the opportunity to buy me out.
It was Taddeo and Leonora who did the work around here, not me, so it was only fair that they had a share of the place’s success.
And another reason why it was absurd that they felt they had to run the purchase of new equipment past me.
“So tell me—how did Helena react?” Thaz clearly remembered where we’d left off.
I gave a snort. “She told me who she was and then accused us of spreading lies about Valerie. Said I didn’t know Valerie, or even Adam.
It was a pretty short and sharp exchange.
And then she left.” Full of vitriol, evidently—and yet that surprised me.
The Westons never displayed any kind of emotion in public; it was something of a trademark of theirs.
No matter the circumstances, they all wore an impenetrable mask of politeness, arrogance, and social superiority.
Except Helena—I could tell exactly what she was feeling.
I’d seen both her grief and her rage, as well as her attempt to hide them from me. Without success.
“Wait… this isn’t going to be another Adam and Valerie, is it?” Thaz raised his eyebrows. “Your families were already at loggerheads back then. What do you think is gonna happen if you and Helena do a rerun? Shakespeare himself would rise from the grave and pay good money to see that show.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate your taste for theatrics, but it’s never going to happen. I’m not attracted to Helena.”
“Right. That’s why you went after her. Because you weren’t attracted to her?” Thaz nodded, pretending to be convinced. “Don’t tell me lies, JC. I know how rare it is for a woman to really pique your interest.”
“Okay, there was something there at first,” I admitted.
“But it was a mistake, okay? She wasn’t who I thought she was—and that something wasn’t what I thought, either.
Nothing piques my interest less than a spoiled society princess who blindly believes her sister was totally blameless for her own and Adam’s death.
You should have heard what she said about it.
” The last sentence came out as a snarl.
Two days later, I still bristled at the way her accusations had hit home.
“Believe me, we both made it very clear what we thought of each other. Anyway—can we please talk about something else?” It was already taking up way too much of my headspace.
“Sure,” said Thaz, changing the subject a little too readily. “I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”
“So serious? Now I’m intrigued.” I grinned, shaking off the shadow of Helena’s words.
“You should be.” Thaz took a deep breath. “I was talking to one of my coworkers today, who knows a girl whose brother is a friend of this guy who delivers gourmet ingredients to some restaurants downtown. Anyway, this guy got wind of the fact that Harper’s might be going on the market soon.”
“That’s not possible.” I shook my head. “If it was true I’d have heard about it.”
Thaz shrugged. “Seems it’s not a certainty yet.
Old Mick’s had a slipped disc for a long time and says he can’t be on his feet in the kitchen all day anymore.
And he and his wife want to do a round-the-world trip—but since that place lives and dies by him, if he decides to finally hang up his wooden spoon, he’s just going to close altogether.
” My friend leveled me a look. “You know what that means, don’t you? We have to go for it.”
I blew out a breath. “It’s the perfect location, for sure.
” The restaurant was right in the heart of the East Village, on the best street in the neighborhood.
Most of those places had belonged to their respective families for generations, and pretty much never came up for sale.
If you had the right concept, getting your hands on Harper’s would be like winning the jackpot, and Balthazar had been thinking about opening his own restaurant for a while.
“If you want to go for it, I’ll give you the money. And I’ll talk to Mick, if it’ll help.” It wouldn’t be easy—the old guy was ridiculously stubborn, but he was a friend of my father’s, so maybe I’d have some advantage.
“I don’t want your money, Jess,” Thaz said.
I played dumb. “What, then?” As if I didn’t know.
“You.”
“Hey, you know what we agreed,” I joked. “If we both hit thirty and we’re still single, then we’ll get married.”
“Don’t joke, bro. I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t want to open my own restaurant in New York.” The sigh I let out was a deep one.
“But you already have twelve restaurants in New York. What difference would one more make?” Thaz implored innocently, but I shook my head.
“You know what I mean. I don’t want to invest a whole load of work into another project, just to have to leave it behind when I take off again.
” I’d done that in Australia, and, for a long time, it had really hurt.
In fact, it still did. It wasn’t just the surf lodge and adjoining restaurant I’d had to give up, but also my relationship with a girl who’d meant a lot to me.
For a moment, I lost myself in memories of Mia…
then I took a deep breath and forced her out of my mind.
Thaz raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but when is that going to be? I’m sorry to be so direct, but Eli is a long way off being able to be left alone with your mom and Henry.
I know you don’t want to talk about how you’ve been feeling since Adam died, but you’re drifting around here like a zombie in a holding pattern.
And not to diss your projects, but they’re not your baby—they’re other people’s, trying to get their thing up and running.
You need something close to your heart. And since you don’t want to date a woman who might one day fit that brief, you’re just going to have to open your own restaurant. ”
I was familiar with this speech; it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it.
Normally, though, I pushed back in the strongest of terms. Yes, Thaz was right; I was putting my life on hold because I was waiting for the day when things in my family were stable enough that they didn’t need me here constantly.
I wasn’t going to pack up and vanish into thin air like I had after college, of course, but all the same—basing myself somewhere else was the end goal.
“If I put my heart and soul into something here, it means I’ve officially accepted I’m going to stay in New York long term,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, and?” said Thaz. “Be honest—you’ve already accepted it. Why don’t you at least try and make it fun?”
I leaned back against the bench cushion. “Let’s say I agreed to our opening a restaurant together. Which I’m not—this is just for argument’s sake. What would the concept be?”
Thaz grinned happily. It was the first time I hadn’t categorically refused his proposal. “The one we’ve been talking about for the last two years, of course.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean…”
“Yeah, that. The breakfast thing.”
“Thaz, that was a joke! We’d had too many drinks and were just messing about like a couple of idiots.
” It had been at a party at some club in Brooklyn.
An acquaintance of ours was holding a vodka-tasting event that went down as the biggest binge-drinking session in history.
At some point Thaz and I had sat on the roof terrace dreaming up the craziest foodie ideas.
Like a restaurant that served breakfast all day long—classics during the daytime, inspired by cuisines from all over the world—and dishes that doubled up as dinner options for the nighttime.
“As if it was a joke!” My buddy shook his head vigorously.
“Cut the crap, I know for a fact you’ve been thinking about it forever.
That place has Jessiah Coldwell written all over it, one hundred percent.
Your essence, distilled into a restaurant.
I mean… women go to bed with you just so you’ll make them breakfast the next day. Need I say more?”
“Is that right?” I replied, amused. “And here I was thinking they went to bed with me because they wanted to. My bad.”
Thaz shook his head. “I’m afraid not. It’s all about the breakfast.” He grinned.
But he seemed to realize that I wasn’t totally against the idea, so he quickly continued.
“Just think about it. Ideally before Harper’s goes to someone else.
” He picked up his menu. “Hmm. Should I get pasta or risotto?”
“It’s always going to be pizza in the end, though, right?” Bella Ciao’s pizza was one of the best in the city, and Thaz knew it, along with everyone else.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He flipped the menu shut. “Tell Leonora to surprise me, as always.”
“Will do.” I stood up to pay a visit to the kitchen, where Taddeo’s wife worked, and order our entrées.
On the way there I couldn’t stop thinking about scrambled eggs with truffles and spinach leaves; focaccia with avocado and tomatoes.
Along with a hundred other ways I could transform Harper’s into the perfect restaurant—the opportunity I’d been dreaming about since I was twelve years old.
Goddamn you, Balthazar Lestrange, I thought. But at the same time, at least one good thing had come of our conversation. It had taken my mind off Helena Weston.