“She swore it was Grey Goose,” Joe said.
“It is Grey Goose,” Duncan admitted. His neck started to redden around the collar of his shirt. “We’re out of Finlandia. I can’t believe she could tell the difference.”
“She could tell the difference,” Joe said. “She’s a serious vodka drinker.”
“Tell her we’re out of Finlandia,” Duncan said. “We have the Grey Goose or Triple Eight.”
“You’re making me look bad,” Joe said.
Duncan threw his hands in the air. “What is this? Beat-up-the-bartender night?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said to Joe. “Lay off my friend here. His woman skipped town.”
Thatcher came up behind Adrienne. “The VIP order is up for your dad. Would you let Paco know we need three more?”
“Sure,” Adrienne said. She turned to Charlie and eyed his necklace. It was the dog tag of his stupidity. “Do you know what you’d like?” she asked. “I’m headed for the kitchen. I could put your order in.”
“I’ll have the steak,” he said. “Well-done. If there’s even a little bit of pink, I’ll be sick. I swear.”
“Well, we don’t want that,” Adrienne said. She checked, one more time, on her father. He waved.
The kitchen was ridiculously hot. Fiona was drenched in sweat. “We’re short our dishwasher,” she said. “Jojo went to see the Rolling Stones last night in the big city and hasn’t managed to find his way home. I don’t know why one of these clowns didn’t go with him, but they’ll pay. Paco, when you’re done with the chips, you’re dish bitch. And Eddie, I don’t want to hear one word about the weeds from you.”
Paco and Eddie groaned.
“Save the whining for your cousin,” Fiona said. “Maybe next time you’ll clue him in on how to find the bus station.” She glanced over at Adrienne, who was scribbling out a ticket for the bar: one steak, killed. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” Adrienne lied. She held up three fingers for Paco, who started slicing potatoes, muttering curses about Jojo. There was one order of chips and dip up. Adrienne took it.
“That’s for your parents?” Fiona asked.
“My father,” Adrienne said. The explaining was becoming tedious. “And his girlfriend.”
“His girlfriend,” Fiona said.
“Yes.” There, she’d said it, and it sounded a lot less bizarre than hygienist. Girlfriend, fiancée, did it really matter? Adrienne’s mother had been dead for sixteen years; her father deserved to be happy. Getting upset about this was as adolescent as partying too hard at the Rolling Stones concert and missing work.
“I’ll cook for them myself,” Fiona said. “They’re on twenty, right?”
Adrienne was confused. “Right. But… you don’t have to do that. You have other stuff. The expediting.”
Fiona took a swig from an enormous Evian bottle. “When it’s family, I like to do the cooking myself.”
“Even my family?” Adrienne said.
“Of course,” Fiona said. “Your family is our family.”
Adrienne reentered the dining room slightly cheered. She liked the idea of her father as a shared responsibility. Maybe she could send Fiona to her father’s wedding in her place. Adrienne delivered the chips and dip to her father’s table.
“Hand-cut potato chips with crème fraîche and beluga caviar,” she announced.
“Honey, this is too much,” Dr. Don said.
“No, it isn’t, Daddy,” she said. “We do it for people a lot less special than you.”
“Well, okay, then,” he said, digging in. “Thank you.”
Thatcher materialized at the table. “Everyone’s down,” he said to Adrienne. “You can have a drink with your dad and Mavis here. You can even order if you’d like.”
“I ate already,” Adrienne said tightly.
“You told me you haven’t eaten anything all day,” Dr. Don said.
“Sit and eat,” Thatcher said. He put his hands on Adrienne’s shoulders and pushed her into a chair. “I’m going to order you the foie gras and the club.”
“Please don’t,” Adrienne said. “I want to work.”
“You can work second,” Thatcher said. “Right now you should enjoy your family.”
Enjoy your family: For so many people this phrase was a paradox, as tonight it was for Adrienne. Still, she didn’t want to throw a tantrum or make a scene in the middle of a very full restaurant so she sank into the wicker chair next to her father, and Spillman brought over her drink.
“We should have a toast,” Dr. Don said, raising his glass. “To you, sweetheart. You’ve done it again. This island is beautiful.”
“And the restaurant,” Mavis said. “I always thought restaurants were, you know… a seedy place to work.”
“Risky, derelict, volatile, transient, goddamned make-believe,” Adrienne said. “I’ve heard it all.”
“But this place is special,” Mavis said. “As anyone can see.”
“Thank you,” Adrienne said.
They clinked glasses. Adrienne helped herself to caviar. Across the dining room, she caught Leigh Stanford’s curious eye. The curse of table twenty. Adrienne wished she had a big sign: this is not my mother!
“Thatcher is so charming,” Mavis whispered. “He really seems to like you.”
“He does like me,” Adrienne said.
“Do you have any long-term plans?” Dr. Don asked.
“Long term? No. Right now I’m celebrating my solvency. I paid you back, I paid my credit cards off, and I have money in the bank. You should be happy about that. I am.”
“Oh, honey,” Dr. Don said. “If you only knew how much I worried about you.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Adrienne said. “I’m self-sufficient. Now.”
“Of course you are,” Mavis said.
“I keep your picture in my examining room,” he said. “Everyone asks about you. And I tell them all about my beautiful daughter who lives in… Hawaii, Thailand, Aspen, Nantucket. They always ask if you’re married or if you have children…”
“And you tell them no.”
“And I tell them no.”
“But you want to tell them yes. You want me to be a soccer mom with everything in its place.”
“No, honey.”
“Well, what then?”
“I want you to be happy,” he said.
“I am happy,” Adrienne snarled.
“Good,” Mavis said, and Adrienne saw her hand land on Dr. Don’s arm. As if to say, Enough already, Donald! This was a sad state of affairs. There was no one to come to Adrienne’s defense except for Mavis.
“Anyway, how’s Maryland?” Adrienne asked. “You like it?”
“Oh, yes!” Mavis said, clearly relieved at the shift in topic. “You’re a doll to ask.”
“Business is good,” Dr. Don said. “And the eastern shore is something else, especially now that it’s summer. A few weeks ago we went to Chincoteague to see the wild horses.”
“We didn’t actually see any,” Mavis said.
“I think we might stay in Maryland awhile,” Dr. Don said. “Settle in. I’m too old to keep moving around so much.”
These words had the same effect on Adrienne as a drum roll. Just say it! she thought. She wanted it over with. Spillman approached with the appetizers. Foie gras for Adrienne, corn chowder for Dr. Don, the Caesar, no anchovies, for Mavis. Spillman twisted the pepper mill over everyone’s plates.
“Can I bring you anything else right now?” he asked.
“Kamikaze shot,” Adrienne said. She stared at him, thinking: Get me out of here! Then, finally, she smiled. “Only kidding.”
Spillman’s facade never cracked. The man was a professional. “Enjoy your food,” he said.
The sun was a juicy pink as it sank toward the water. Rex played “As Time Goes By.” The foie gras was good enough to shift Adrienne’s mood from despondent to merely poor. It was deliciously fatty, a heavenly richness balanced by the sweet roasted figs. Who wanted to be married and have children when she could be eating foie gras like this with a front-row seat for the sunset? Adrienne forgot her manners. She devoured her appetizer in five lusty bites, and then she helped herself to more caviar. She was starving.