Sunny
Today’s Special:
Tossed Salad, Raccoon-Style
Meara sighedas she laced her fingers around her mug. “It’s not that I didn’t like it,” she said carefully. “I wasn’t right for the book. It was me.”
Muffy dropped her head onto her upturned hand. “I know, and I see the things that probably didn’t work for you.” She blinked several times as if she was fighting a rush of tears. “I just loved it so much. Like”—she pressed a hand to her chest—“I felt that book in my bones. It did things to me. And I needed you to love it the same way I did.” She slipped her fingers under the frames of her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I know that’s not fair. You’re allowed to love or not love whatever you want.”
“No, no, it’s fair,” Meara said. “We love nearly all the same books. I don’t think there’s ever been a time when our vibes were this far off. But now that it’s happened, it probably won’t happen again for years. If ever.”
I caught Beth’s eye from across the table and gave her awhat do we do now?glance before returning to my hibiscus tea. We’d dedicated part of this morning’s meeting to discussing our plans to launch a Read Naked book club this summer but that quickly dissolved when Muffy and Meara found themselves at odds over the book choice.
Thank god Beth and I were mood readers to the highest degree and too out-of-step with the reading list to have an opinion on the matter. The last thing I wanted was to take sides. A divided vegan café could not stand.
“I just don’t trust my recommendations for you anymore,” Muffy said. “I’m second-guessing all the other books I wanted to propose for Read Naked.”
The moment Meara shifted from patient and empathic back to her usual commanding self was obvious. “We aren’t doing that, Mathilda. We are allowed to experience a book differently without it changing the flow of recs between us.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing,” Meara interrupted. “You saw demisexual and ace love on the page—and saw it done well—and that hit close to home for you. What I needed from the book is irrelevant because the book wasn’tfor me. More importantly, my experience takes nothing away from your experience. Andthatis what we’ll take away from this.”
We’d had plenty of disagreements, the four of us. We had a lot in common and shared many of the same perspectives but we were quite the variety pack. Maybe that was why we worked so well together. It was also why we’d slam into walls on occasion.
“Next on the agenda,” Beth sang, “is the housewarming party! I’m so happy we decided to do this. I can’t wait to have the local food service fam over for a little get-together.” She grinned down at her notebook. “I talked to the fancy cheese shop people and the couple that runs that crazy burger place and most of the Little Star Farm folks too.” She pointed her pen in my direction. “Don’t forget to invite the oyster company crew.”
I nearly dropped my mug. “I don’t think so.”
A full week separated me from my dramatic performance in the Small Point kitchen, and my nemesis hadn’t pulled any new stunts in that time. I hadn’t seen much of him, save for all the pacing he did in the parking lot while talking on his phone and pulling at his hair or rubbing the back of his neck. Why he insisted on doing that with his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows was still a mystery to me.
Though I’d been riding high on my iceberg of resentment when confronting Beckett, it turned out the people working at Small Point lived for icebergish monologues. We’d made a lot of new friends in the past week and it was nice to know that not everyone over there begrudged our existence. In fact, most of them loved that we didn’t bow down and kiss the oyster.
“You are the right person for this job,” Muffy said. “The broody bossman is probably still burnt from the roasting you gave him, but Hale and Mel will spread the word well enough. Talk to them.”
I made a grumbling sound and scowled into my tea.
“If it’s a problem, I can do it,” Beth said.
Meara shot her a curious glance. “Many a night you’ve parked your sweet little bottom over there. Any updates for the group?” When Beth responded with only a slight shrug, Meara continued. “Nothing you’d like to share about a very pretty, very aloof front of house manager?”
Beth stared at her notebook for a long moment, her expression giving nothing away. Then she erupted into giggles and joy and a face-splitting grin. “She’s ignoring my entire existence and yells at the bartenders about not overserving me. She never speaks to me and refuses to make eye contact. It’s absolutely glorious. I’m dying.”
“I think it’s imperative we give you a reason to talk to Mel,” Muffy said.
“Probably best to wear the most outrageously pink lip color you can find,” I said. “It will make her head explode.”
“Don’t be surprised when she mauls you in a dark hallway,” Meara warned.
“Oh my god, I can’t wait,” Beth whisper-shrieked. “I haven’t been mauled in months!”
“That sounds unpleasant but I’m happy for you.” Muffy tapped the face of her watch, saying, “As much as I prefer the six a.m. team meeting to the nine p.m., I have dough to get in the oven.”
“And I need to get the juice bar prepped,” Beth said.
“And I need to take pictures of all that and post on socials,” Meara said.
I tucked my notebook under my arm and stood. “That leaves me to take care of the sidewalk signs and set up the patio.”
