43. One Year Later
Chapter 43
One Year Later
Taylor
“ I f you just get that last dresser in the truck with me, Tay, we should be able to handle the rest of the boxes.”
I grunt and head back inside. I’m exhausted from a full day of loading the truck, after staying up until dawn putting the final touches on the kitchen, but I’m determined to be here as long as my parents need me.
My mom comes up beside me and tucks herself into my side, the way she’s done ever since I grew taller than her in the eighth grade. “It looks so strange all empty like this. I guess I should have pulled the sofas out more often. I can’t believe all the dust.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that as much in the new condo since there’s wood flooring.”
She doesn’t answer and I glance down at her, finding her eyes on me.
“It’s going to be alright, Ma.”
Her face softens and she turns back to the gaping blank spaces where her old sofas once sat. “I know. I just wonder if we’re making the right decision. Packing up and leaving after all these years. I read on the internet there are lots of mosquitos in Florida.”
I huff out a laugh. “There’s lots of mosquitos here.”
She’s still silent, and I relent. “You guys are going to have a great time. You deserve a little rest and sunshine. I’ve told you before you don’t need to stay another day. If you want to head right down after the moving truck, I’d understand.”
Her soft gasp brings a smile to my lips despite the heavy moment. “Taylor, I wouldn’t miss your opening night for anything.”
Ainsley
“Let’s get those samples up in ten, okay? We need all the servers to try the specials before we open,” I remind Taylor for the fifth time, choosing to ignore the side eye he throws me from where he’s working on the line, head down, chopping yet another pan of garnishes.
At our new restaurant.
“I just got the rest of the small arrangements on the tables. Is there anything else that still needs to be done?” Gem asks, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist.
“As long as the kitchen crew is ready, we’re ready,” I answer loud enough for Taylor to overhear.
He doesn’t disappoint. “Oh, we’re ready, lover boy.” He glances over his shoulder at the rest of his small staff, who are all working just as intently. “Isn’t that right, crew? ”
“Yes, Chef!” Seth, who Taylor poached to work the pantry line, is the first to chime in.
“Born ready,” another rockstar cook we found to work hot side calls over her shoulder.
Dom slams his fist down on the brand new stainless-steel prep table. “We’re going to kick some Seattle ass!”
Dom, who has been in this kitchen all week helping the crew prep, could not be talked into sitting in the dining room for opening night. Taylor put him on kitchen support, which, from what I can tell, mostly means washing dishes. Dom’s never been happier, though, and I love seeing the energy he brings to the kitchen.
The last year would have been wild enough, with flying back and forth to the New York apartment, Gemma’s new job as a remote acquisitions agent for Magnus Publishing, my dad and Vicki’s new baby, June, and their small, family-only wedding at the estate. But when a long-standing Irish pub closed its doors and this building came up for sale, we made the whirlwind decision to jump on it.
And Luna & Hearth was born.
It’s a far cry from where I thought I’d be even a year ago, when ‘real life’ was breathing down my neck and I was looking to the future with panic and uncertainty. The future is still far from certain, but in a good way. A crazy, chaotic, exciting way that makes every day feel full and vibrant.
We’re just opening for the public tonight, but over the last nine months, since we got the kitchen up and running, we’ve been cooking a hot meal once a week for We Heart Seattle, a non-profit serving our local unhoused population. We’re already expanding the program to include bag lunches for the volunteer clean-up days they organize around the city. Being connected to the social issues happening in my own community has opened my eyes to so many ways I can be of service, right here in my own city.
I did work with my dad to set up a foundation that funds boots-on-the-ground organizations in Asia, as well as Central and South America, with building and maintaining clean water infrastructure. He was thrilled to collaborate on the project, and I finally feel like we’re reaching a place where we understand each other.
Little June, my baby sis, has also helped with mending bridges. Her joyous, terrifying, spectacular entrance to this world blew all of our hearts wide open, and there’s no going back. We’re a family.
For the first time in my life, I don’t cringe at the word, picturing my father and me sitting alone at an enormous dining table. Dinners and events are filled with laughter and great food. My mind is so full of love for these people, I can hardly remember how it used to be.
The bell on the front door jingles, and I turn to see my father and the rest of my motley crew of uncles.
“Are we the first to arrive?” Avery asks, striding across the dining room and pulling me into a big hug.
All the guys flew over for the opening and it’s been fun, albeit a little distracting, to have them around all the time.
“We don’t open for another half hour,” I respond, pulling away to accept hugs from my dad and from Sam, the general manager of The White Sands.
“We’re just in time to help,” Avery offers, spotting Gem rolling napkins and posting up next to her at the bar.
Sam gets pulled into bar prep, leaving me and my dad, standing side by side, watching everything fall into place.
“Proud of you, Son,” my dad tells me for what could be the hundredth time just today.
I grin and lean sideways to knock my shoulder into his. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s true,” he responds.
I laugh in surprise and turn to him, arms folded. “Humble as ever, I see.”
He shrugs, smiling. “The girls will be here in an hour. Hope your chef put something on the menu for a baby.”
“Taylor’s been working on the perfect applesauce recipe all week.”
We’ve done two soft openings, but the frenetic energy of opening night is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. We’ve got a packed house, and I see someone I know at almost every table.
Gem’s roommates occupy the corner table for most of the night, sipping craft cocktails and letting the kitchen send them whatever they like. They’re joined by Gabriel, Marisol’s mysterious friend, who she always refers to as her only customer.
“The guy really can cook,” Eva muses to me as I set down a steaming bowl of mussels.
“And this way we don’t have to do the dishes,” Lana jokes.
Marisol gives her a sharp elbow. “As if you did the dishes anyway.”
The whole table laughs.
Gabriel smiles up at me, wisdom and a twinkle of something that could be life experience shining in his eyes. “This is an invaluable contribution to the neighborhood, Ainsley. Well done.”
I thank him with a handshake before I’m pulled away by the bell on the kitchen pass.
My dad and Vicki dine with baby June in the highchair we bought just for her, and it’s my favorite table to visit all night. They’re so happy, and so tuned into their little threesome, the family they created for themselves.
It’s a funny thing about shame. Sometimes we call it other names, like fear, or anger, but when it gets right down to it, only releasing the deeply rooted not-good-enoughs settles any of the other emotions.
I spent a lot of years avoiding emotions all together, avoiding family, avoiding any suggestion of responsibility, of commitment. I thought it wasn’t for me. I thought my greatest fear in life was turning out like my father.
It’s only now, surrounded by people who know and love me, people who see me for who I am and support my ideas and dreams, that I see the truth. It’s not that I never wanted any of those things, I just somehow, at some point, picked up the idea that I wasn’t good enough for it. That I’d screw it up and let everyone down.
I still worry, of course, but I don’t let it stop me. I take blind steps in the direction my heart leads, and trust that my people won’t let me crash and burn. That I won’t let myself crash and burn. That I have enough room in my heart to hold space for others. And for myself.
Gemma
I wave goodbye to the last customers and lock the door behind them, the little bell jingling in the sudden quiet of the dining room.
“We did it,” I say, mostly to myself, still in need of confirmation that this is all real.
I have the full-time job of my dreams, of course, but the restaurant is something else. It’s a creature with a pulse and breath.
It’s our first baby .
And I could not be more proud of the two guys who’ve been working tirelessly to pull it off.
Ainsley collapses into my arms, pressing me backwards against the glass door. I laugh and try my best to hold him upright as he goes ragdoll limp.
“Tired, sweetheart?” I tease, finally managing to prop him up onto his own two feet.
“Dead,” he responds, barely holding back a smile as he lets his head drop back.
I swat him on the ass and make my escape. “Get back to work,” I call over my shoulder.
It’s hours later when we’re finally all sitting around the clean restaurant, sharing drinks with our friends who stayed to help. Marisol and Gabriel stick around, as well as the twins, Dominic, Sam, and Avery. Taylor pours a whiskey toast to a successful opening night.
“This place is off to a great start,” Dominic offers in aggressively inarguable support that I’ve come to understand is his signature style.
“We’ve been open one night,” Taylor answers, the exhaustion from the long day of working—and fielding compliments—starting to show on his face.
Dom huffs and turns to Ainsley. “He always this enthusiastic?”
Ainsley turns his megawatt smile on Taylor, who brightens a bit. “Yeah. Taylor likes to play his cards close to the chest.”
“Well, if dinner tonight was any indication of what you can do, it won’t be long before you’re going to be looking over your shoulder for undercover food critics and awards judges.”
“Dom can tell you all about how that goes,” Avery tosses from where he leans against the gleaming dark wood and copper bar we inherited from the Irish Pub.
Another huff from the famous chef as he shakes his head. “I’m glad I have that Pendleton on my wall, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t a long road to get there.”
“You all can ask Reina for that story next time you’re on the island,” Avery jokes.
“That is, if you ever get to leave this building, let alone this city, again,” Sam adds.
The crowd laughs at what is probably a very true statement. We’ve already learned how short our leashes are to this place, and it’s only been open one day.
But I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life.
After too many years of feeling like the odd one out, like I need to prove myself for even the smallest scrap of affection, I finally feel settled in a family. My family.
The building I now stand in. The house we own just two blocks from here on a quiet Queen Anne street. The two men I’m proud and lucky to call my partners.
If those aren’t the miracles the cards have always been promising, I don’t know what is.
“You know, this street was once home to a famous speakeasy,” Gabriel starts, craning his head to squint out the large front windows. “That building right over there was a barbershop with a trapdoor. When I was a kid, they reopened it as an underground bar. Prohibition was over, but nightlife was still frowned upon, especially in a neighborhood like Queen Anne.”
We all turn to look. It’s a high-end skin care product shop now, but the brick fronting gives away the building’s age.
“This space,” Gabriel says, gesturing to the cafe space around us, “was the little corner store. They sold penny candy and had a soda fountain along the back wall. Mrs. Fischer…” Gabrielsmiles, eyes taking on a faraway look as he clearly pulls something from deep in his memories. “I can’t believe I remember her name. She owned the shop and worked every day, open to close. She’d chase us off when we didn’t have any pennies to spend, but she knew each of our names. And our parents. I spent many hours sitting on a stool right there at the front window, watching fancy dressed adults go into that barbershop.”
“I wonder if it’s still down there,” I muse aloud.
Gabriel just shrugs. “That was a long time ago. Probably wouldn’t be able to get permits for a basement bar like that anymore.”
“Did you ever get to go down there?” Lana asks, she and Eva both on the edge of their seats for more of Gabriel’s mysterious story.
A look passes across the old man’s face , and he seems to consider his words carefully. “Not until many years later.”
We all wait, but he seems to be done sharing.
“I’ll have to contact the building owner and find out if the space is still there.” I start, suddenly excited by the stories the old space could hold. “I’d love to?—”
“No new businesses for at least a few years, okay?” Taylor teases me from where he sits to my right on the booth bench, leaning most of his weight on my arm.
I turn to him, eyes narrowed playfully, and find happiness glowing in his eyes. I soften and smile. “Promise.”
Taylor
Doc greets us with a happy howl when I finally turn the key in our front door an hour later. I love the short walk between the cafe and the new house. As much as I lobbied to move into the loft space above Luna & Hearth, I’m much happier to have the little bit of separation this house allows. And offering the loft to Seth when he signed on was one of the proudest moments of my life thus far.
This is what it’s all about. Taking care of people. And taking care of yourself.
“I’m heading upstairs. I’m totally beat,” Ainsley announces, leaning in for a goodnight kiss from Gem and then from me.
Doc follows him down the hall, and I watch the two of them disappear into the darkness before flipping on a few lamps in our comfy living room and collapsing on the couch.
Gem curls up beside me. “I’m not far behind him. Tonight was amazing, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been so tired.”
I place a kiss on the top of her head and pull her in close. “I’m just going to take it all in for a bit out here.”
She turns and lays down with her head in my lap, looking up at me. “We did it, you know.”
I smile and nod. “Yup. Luna & Hearth is alive.”
She smiles back but shakes her head. “I don’t just mean the restaurant. I mean,” she pauses and glances around the room, “all of it. All of this. You and I knew we wanted more, and even though we were both scared of the future and unsure how it would all work out, we made it.”
I cock my head at her, smile turning sly. “You tried to run off on us.”
She shrugs, no stranger to my teasing. “Yeah, well. You rescued me. You rescued all of us.”
“You don’t think Ainsley rescued us?” I ask, suddenly serious.
“The Fool comes to help us embrace new beginnings and trust our intuition.”
“Oh, really,” I smile down at her, watching as she turns pensive in my arms.
“Yes, really. And he carries only his little pouch, helping us understand that we have to release our long-held burdens to move forward.”
“That’s my lesson, huh?”
“Would you say you’re worse off having let go of your albatross?”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Definitely not.”
It was a bittersweet day when my parents signed the papers with the county to sell the land the house was falling to pieces on. They’re building a park and promised to name it after our family as homage to my great grandparents. I know the land will be enjoyed by families for years to come, but I’m not sure how long it will take me to be ready to visit.
“The Fool also shows us that we can trust in the universe.”
“By dancing off a cliff?” I shake my head. “Little guy’s lucky that all worked out for him.”
It’s Gemma’s turn to smirk. “Well, that’s just the thing. We’re all so lucky. And these big leaps into the unknown are working out for us, too.”
I tuck her into bed beside Ainsley and spend another hour sitting awake in the chair in my own room, looking out my window at the bright half-moon smiling down at me from the dark sky.
I planned to spend this time alone reflecting on the first real service at Luna & Hearth. Going over and over each dish and how I could have done better.
Instead, I just let go. And, as keeps happening to me, I feel myself move forward.
And maybe that’s what the real lesson here is. We hold ourselves back with whatever anchors we choose. We decorate them and shine the steel chains until we’re proud as hell at whatever ill-conceived tether we’ve decided is what we can’t move past. But it’s the letting go that actually gives us whatever we’ve been trying to bleed out of that anchor all along. It’s the surrender to the unknown that serves up the bountiful miracles we’ve been searching for. After a lifetime of putting up with whatever specks of happiness we’ve been able to pickax off our anchors, we get to step forward and be free.
If only it wasn’t so scary to step into the unknown, we’d do it so much sooner. But I guess that’s the challenge. You have to come to terms with the fear. With possible failure. With the idea that you’re on a spinning planet in outer space and are in charge of nothing.
That’s The Fool. Dancing happily off a cliff, all of his worldly belongings in a tiny bag.
I wonder for a moment about the vastness of it all, the truly limitless number of possibilities that exist for my life and everyone’s life. The real miracle here is that I found them. My people. I found my path, not by forcing it to unfold the way I thought I wanted, but by letting some fool drag me into his messy, imperfect vision of how life could be.
By letting people love me.
I’d love to tell myself now that I’ve figured it out. Reached enlightenment. That I can just coast along on my happiness and surrender forever.
But even I know better.
Because The Fool isn’t the end of the story.
Even with my happiness and my partners and my restaurant and my newly unfogged windshield into the vastness of life, I know better.
The Fool is the first card in the deck.
Number zero.
The beginning.