“Good.” Britney smiles. “I will send you potentialdates, and we’ll see who is available to help us prepare the plan.”
I used to judge my sister for her involvement with different causes. All of them were in need, but her involvement didn’t feel genuine. Like she did it just to fill her time. Like many other wives of rich men, in my previous limited viewpoint.
And now I’m one of them, but I see a different angle: I enjoy the freedom of spending my time where it matters, because I don’t have to worry about making ends meet. Spreading kindness because I can and want to, not because duty calls.
“Let’s also plan a few activities for the holidays. We still have a few weeks to put something together,” I suggest.
“On it.” She salutes me. “Before you go, could I get your input on the menu for next month?”
We spend another hour talking about menus. For years at the bistro, designing the menu has been a chore—always looking for ideas that are economical and appealing at the same time.
Here, we’re looking for economical and nutritious ,while appealing to picky children, and none of it feels like a chore.
After I finish, I call Tessa. “Will you need me today?”
“Playing hooky again?”
“I want to review the manuscript revisions, but I’ll come if you need me.”
“I’m good. Go do your thing. I hope you show up for our opening.”
“When is that again?” I tease.
“Too soon if you ask me. So much work. You wouldn’t believe—” She launches into retelling me all her grievances with a carpenter, a furniture supplier, and the city approval process. Today, she also adds a few anecdotes from the interviews with potential employees.
I listen, grateful she tackles so much with pretended reluctance. Grateful she found something that makes her happy. And grateful I don’t have to deal with all of that.
Finding a small coffee shop, I order a latte and open my laptop. Time flies as I dive into revisions.
When I finally stretch, I find a message from Xander.
Xander
Do you want to grab lunch together? I’m free at noon. Just come by my office. Xoxo
I’ll be there. I hope you feed me well.
Xander
My cock is waiting.
I laugh and start packing up my things. The café is warm with the scent of cinnamon and ground espresso, bustling but calm.
When I lift my gaze, I see a familiar face. “Sanjay!”
I’m on my feet before I can think, a smile stretching across my face. God, it’s good to see him.
Of all the people who kept me sane during the last year at the bistro, Sanjay was my lighthouse. He believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. He was the first person who motivated me to even contemplate changing things up.
He startles at the sound of his name. “Cora?”
But his voice isn’t nearly as joyous as I feel. He steps back slightly, clutching a green apron as if it’s a shield, his knuckles white against the fabric.
I falter, mid-stride. “Do you work here now?”
He glances around, like he’s afraid someone’s watching. “I only came back because my sister is sick.”
Came back?
