Jud's eyes light up, and he almost hums with excitement.
"I've worked in restaurants for years, and the best part of being in the kitchen is when we change the menu completely because we can experiment with new combinations of flavors, cuisines, and work on giving our diners the best experience. We want them to come to us every few months to check out the new menu. But Burlington isn't Paris. You want people to come to the restaurant every week. Like the kind of family tradition you grew up with. So that, years from now, people will say,remember when we used to go to Maple Sky on Tuesdays?"
I can't stop touching Jud, but he's so animated, I don't think he's paying attention to my roaming hands, even as they get closer to his cute ass.
"Anyway, for people to come every week you have to change the menu more often, maybe once a month or every six weeks. It's not easy, and it requires a lot of planning. When I was at culinary school, we were taught how to create a menu that uses the same ingredients because it's more cost-effective, and it allows you to do more of some dishes without running out or having a lot of waste. Wouldn't you want to go to Maple Sky every week to try a new dish and take home a recipe card?"
He sits up suddenly. "I have another idea. What if people could bring a sample of the food they made using the cards? The chef would try it and score it, and once a week, the home cook with the best attempt would get a meal on the house."
"You want to build a community." It dawns on me. I'm not sure it's what Jud had planned, but that's the result. And I get it. The whole time he was in Europe, he didn't have his family or friends, his community. "I think it's a beautiful idea, baby."
He lies back down on my chest, and everything is silent again as it was when he was asleep. My heart feels like it's traveled up to my throat and is lodged there.
I like this, and I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to go make his amazing food for people in LA. I want him here with me, running Maple Sky, which, in a weird roundabout way, isourdream.
He sits up with a jolt.
"Oh, crap, I have to run. The film crew is going to turn up at my place any time now, and I'm not sure I want to let my mom loose on them."
He runs to the living room, where he left his clothes, and minutes later, he's on his way out after letting me kiss him stupid.
I get myself ready and make my way to the farm. I think that if I stay there tonight, I might sneak out to the bar and see Jud.
Shortly after arriving at the farm, I realize there’s no chance of that happening tonight because my dad has an accident out in the field and ends up spraining his wrist.
After a trip to the hospital, we're late on all the farm jobs, and I'm the only one around to do them.
"Hey, honey," my mom says, leaning against the gate.
I'm collecting cow manure to use as compost on my mom's garden. My back's killing me, and I want to be anywhere else but here.
"Hey, Ma. How's he doing? Painkillers working yet?"
"Yeah. He's going to be a pain in the ass for the next few weeks, but he's been a pain in my ass for the last thirty years, so I can't see what's different."
"Have you spoken to Miles?"
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. So no, she hasn't told him, because she doesn't want to worry him.
I can't blame her. Miles has a whole life of this crap ahead of him. He doesn't need to start it a day earlier. He'd drop everything to come back, and he's worked too hard on his degree to give it all up now.
"I was thinking we should see if Francis is still looking for work. I knew we shouldn't have let him go, but your dad wouldn't listen. You have the show coming up, and with your dad like this…"
She's right. "How's the account?"
"We can't afford him right now, but we're waiting for a couple of payments from milk buyers, so I think we'll manage."
"Do you mind calling Francis? And if those payments don't come through, you tell me so I can chase them."
"Okay, honey. I'll go back in to hit your dad with a stick for being silly and hurting himself, and I suppose I'll get dinner started too."
Everything might be going to shit, but at least the Wests never lose their sense of humor.
23
Judson
I'm talking to a customer about the differences between French and Californian red wine when I see Sky approach the bar.
