“They had psychology 101 in culinary school?” Julia half teased, wholly deflected.
“I’m serious. I wish you would be.”
With one hand, she covered her face, fingertips pressed to the dull, persistent ache behind her forehead. Then she met her friend’s concerned gaze.
“I can’t go back. Not yet.” Maybe never. “You warned me. So many of the subs did. I have only myself to blame for not listening.” She went for light and conversational when she added, “But you live and learn and move on, right?”
Emily didn’t answer or smile. If anything, her frown deepened.
“Thanks for being such a good friend, Em. But stop worrying. I’m fine.”
The two-word denial she’d said too often lately came out automatically. Not entirely a lie. Not entirely the truth either.
Emily studied her for another beat, weighing something, but let it go with a small nod.
Julia knew her friend, however. It was only a pause.
An hour passed in a blur. Julia efficiently ticked items off her to-do list, confirming timelines and answering emails. She had to reread one twice before it made sense. But the routine helped. Almost enough to quiet the rest, but not quite.
“Hey, Jules?”
Tyra, one of the line cooks, hovered near the doorway, her expression apologetic.
“What’s up?”
“Charles just called. He’s sick.”
Julia frowned slightly. “How sick?”
“Bad enough that he’s not coming in tonight.”
Of course he wasn’t. It was Wednesday; he was supposed to run the service for her at Devil’s Pointe.
Emily glanced up from the line.
Julia didn’t look at her. “I can cover it.”
Tyra exhaled in relief. “I’ll go find you a uniform. The linens arrived.”
Emily wiped her hands again, slower this time. “I’ll do it.”
Julia shook her head. Emily was the owner, the creative force behind their success, and had hired her as manager to take care of crap like this.
“It’s my responsibility. Besides, on Wednesday and Saturday you’re a member, not a caterer. Isn’t that the deal you made with Alec?”
“He’ll understand.”
“Doubtful,” Julia quipped.
The club was open only two nights a week and on rare special occasions. Club members cherished that time. She had once, too.
“I’ve got no plans. Think nothing of it.”
“You’re sure?” Emily pressed. “What about after?”
Julia hesitated a second too long before she answered, “I’m not staying. I’ll oversee setup and service. Then I’m leaving. The others can handle the breakdown.”
Emily nodded once, reading everything Julia didn’t say.
