Adam, Bruce, and Bella approach them. “Dude, that is some crazy shit,” Adam says.
Bella has tears in her eyes as she reaches out and hugs Gemma. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” Gemma says. “My head was just so messed up and—”
“No, you don’t have to apologize,” Bella says. “I’m sorry for not realizing something was off.”
“No one should be sorry for anything,” Mebel scolds. “The only person who should be sorry here is Alain.”
“Hear! Hear!” Adam says.
“What a prick,” Bruce says.
For a moment, they stand there looking dazed at one another. “What do you think’s going to happen now?” Gemma says after a while.
“Well, I don’t know how the law here work,” Mebel says, “but I imagine Alain might be busy defending himself from lawsuits.”
“I wonder if the school will get shut down,” Bella says.
Mebel’s mouth closes. She hasn’t thought of how the school might be liable in this case.
“Yeah, if I were a victim, I would sue the school for a shit ton of money,” Bruce says.
Bella rolls her eyes. “Bruce, can you stop being yourself just for once?”
“No, he’s got a point,” Gemma says. “I think the school should be liable.”
That sounds so unlike the usual, mousy girl that Mebel has come to know and love that she stares at Gemma, pleasantly surprised.
“It failed to protect its students,” Gemma says simply. “And Alain is a shareholder of the school. I think the business isdirectly liable for his actions.” She sees everyone’s startled expression and shrugs. “I mean, it just seems to make sense to me.”
“Are you going to sue the school?” Adam says.
“I don’t think I’d do it on my own,” Gemma says slowly, “but if the others want to band together and do a joint suit, then…maybe. I don’t know, I’m still kind of trying to process the whole thing.”
Mebel pats Gemma on the shoulder. “You take your time. You can figure out slowly what is good for you. You work on your own timeline, not others’.”
Funny, Mebel thinks to herself,how it’s easy to give advice to others without realizing how appropriate that same advice would be for yourself.
Epilogue
The London School of CulinaryArts is much bigger than the Saint Honoré School of Culinary Arts. As an added bonus, it isn’t located in Cowley, England, but in Ealing, which is to the west of London.
“I think is lying when it says, ‘London,’ ” Mebel says as she and Gemma walk out of the tube station and make their way to the school. “This is very far away from actual London.”
“Close enough,” Gemma says cheerily.
“Very far,” Mebel grumbles.
“I mean, this entire place is technically still London. What is it that constitutes London to you?”
“Harrods,” Mebel says without hesitation.
Gemma grins. “Of course. Well, that’s only a few tube rides away, so I think we can just about manage. It’s far better than Cowley, at least.”
And at this, Mebel has to agree. It’s their second week ofclass here, and Mebel has gotten used to the new place. The school has a lot more students enrolled, and because it is London, the student body here is a lot more varied, with people from all around the world. Most of them are in their early twenties like Gemma, but there is a handful of older people—people in their mid-thirties who decided they would like a career change. There is even a woman in her fifties who told Mebel that she had enrolled in the school because when her kids went off to university, she found herself at a loss for what to do. It warms Mebel’s heart to meet others who, while not quite in a similar situation as hers, at the very least, are going through something adjacent.
It is the third week of January, and though it is one of London’s bleakest seasons, even the gloomy English winter is unable to take away from Mebel’s deep sense of joy. So many things have happened over the last couple of months, and Mebel feels like a whole new person.
