Rachelle guessed that Valeria was very pleased about that. Sometimes Rachelle wondered what had happened to that iconic wedding gown, if they’d sold it or kept it or what.Maybe the next bride would fit into it, Rachelle thought darkly, although it felt sort of like a curse.
She reminded herself to wish them well, no matter what. It was the right thing to do.
Two days after she’d seen the For Sale sign, Estelle picked Rachelle up at The Jessabelle House, and they drove to the Historic District to meet with the real estate agent and see thecolonial that was ready and waiting for a new restaurant. The agent said she was surprised the place hadn’t sold yet. Inside, the wooden floorboards gleamed in the soft winter light. The kitchen was less than stellar and would need a refurbishment to suit Rachelle’s high-cuisine taste. But as she and Grandma Estelle stood in the front of the restaurant, gazing out at the street, where a horse and buggy clopped past, Rachelle couldn’t help but feel it was about as perfect as they were going to get. She wanted to make an offer today. “You don’t want to see more places?” Estelle asked her when they got back in the car. “You don’t want to wait a little bit?”
“No!” Rachelle said. “I’m ready. I want to start as soon as I can.”
Estelle made an offer on the restaurant, and the sale went through by New Year’s Eve. To celebrate, Rachelle popped bottles of champagne at The Jessabelle House. She sang and danced with her niece and nephew and thanked her grandmother endlessly. “Honey, it’s my pleasure!” Estelle told her. “It’s not every day I feel like I’m on the ground floor of something spectacular. Something that will change the next decades of Nantucket as we know it.”
Rachelle wasn’t sure if her grandmother was exaggerating. But it was true that an iconic restaurant could shift the dynamics of a place as small as Nantucket. Rachelle was determined to try to make that happen.
But Rachelle knew that the next few months would be intense, that they’d require a great deal of work and thought on her part. But if she wanted to turn a profit by summer and become someone great, she had to lock in.
It was hard to believe she was doing it again: writing a new menu, imagining a new space, and creating a new brand. Over the days that followed, she spent hours alone in her head, writing and rewriting, trying out new recipes, ripping potentialmenus apart. When Darcy hadn’t heard from her for a few days, Darcy came over to The Jessabelle House and demanded to know why Rachelle was being so quiet. Darcy found her lost in thought, muttering about saffron and peaches.
“Let’s go down there together,” Darcy insisted, because she hadn’t seen the space yet.
Rachelle and Darcy entered the colonial and lay on the bare floors, staring at the ceiling. Outside, it was blizzarding hard enough that it meant they’d have to head home soon. But Rachelle felt a sense of coziness being in her new restaurant with her sister. It was then that she understood she would need more help than she’d initially realized. Maybe Darcy was the answer.
“You’re a business-minded person,” she said to her sister, propping up her head with her elbow.
“Don’t insult me like that,” Darcy teased.
Rachelle laughed. “Seriously. I need someone to do all the hard work so that I can get really weird and creative with the menu. You learned so much from Uncle Reese about, like, businesses and putting yourself out there. Can I hire you?”
“You can’t afford me,” Darcy continued to tease.
Rachelle shoved her lightly, laughing.
“No, but seriously,” Darcy corrected herself. “It would be my pleasure to help out. I’m doing okay with money. The insurance covered everything for Remy, thank goodness, and the apps I sold a couple of years ago have tided us over. But I need something new to dig myself into.”
Rachelle fluttered her fingers to show off that bright, new space—a space they could fill with brilliant food, a space that demanded gorgeous evenings with iconic Nantucketers, a space that demanded artistry and love. “Let’s make it happen,” she said.
Darcy tookRachelle’s offer seriously. Within the week, she’d set up a website and social media profiles for the restaurant, which they’d decided to call “Jessabelle” in honor of their Great-Aunt Jessabelle, the librarian who’d passed on the house to their mother and launched their branch of the Coleman family back into the fold. Rachelle had initially wanted to call it Coleman, in honor of the restaurant she’d had back in Italy. But she’d decided it was better to start fresh.
In February, Darcy and Rachelle hired a small team of contractors to fine-tune the kitchen and make it precisely what Rachelle needed as a haute cuisine chef. The team came highly recommended by Derek, Sam’s husband, and was led by Jack, a handsome carpenter with massive hands and a calm, stoic face. When Rachelle first met him, she felt as though time stood still. Her breath caught in her throat.
Jack didn’t get up the nerve to ask Rachelle out on a date till mid-March. By then, the kitchen was nearly finished, and Rachelle had fine-tuned her menu for the soft opening—slated for mid-April, right before the start of the tourist season. Rachelle had almost given up on Jack asking her out, so when he did, she thought she’d misheard him.
“I beg your pardon?” She smiled at him.
He looked deflated. “I mean, would you? Like to grab a drink? After work?”
Rachelle’s eyes widened. “Oh! Of course.” She grinned madly.
That evening over beers near the boardwalk, Rachelle and Jack gazed into one another’s eyes and told each other all of their secrets. Jack had been engaged before, like Rachelle, althoughhe’d broken things off when he’d realized that his fiancée’s morals didn’t align with his.
Rachelle said she’d broken things off for similar reasons.
“I’ve heard it was a little more complicated than that,” Jack said, smiling.
“Are people gossiping about me?” Rachelle asked.
“People on this island talk. You know that,” Jack said.
Rachelle blushed. “What are they saying?”
“They’re saying you turned down an Italian prince to come home,” Jack said.
