Page 4 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

Dr. Alberta Wallis had wanted Georgine to be a scientist. Georgine wanted to cook. I was happy about that and so said yes, please, make every day bring-your-child-to-work day. There was a small office right off the kitchen that became Georgine’s, and we turned half of it into a wonderland of educational toys and books. And yes, there was a TV in there, but there was nothing wrong with the occasional Disney movie. I had watched Finding Nemo with Cami far too many times.

Now, three years later, Cami was in first grade, and her school was close to La Belle Vie. Georgine had added four of us on the pickup list: me, Darcy, Xola, and Conner. Whoever was free when Georgine was busy would go get her. The little girl preferred anyone but her mother because the rest of us stopped for snacks, drinks, and ice cream in the spring and summer months, and hot chocolate and beignets in fall and winter. Only her mother walked her straight back to the club for freshly cut fruits and vegetables. With me, we normally split a muffaletta with homemade sweet-potato fries and had strawberry sodas. There was also the occasional cookie. Georgine would give me the look of death when her daughter was dancing around the office when we got back.

I told Georgine often, because I never wanted to hold her back, that if she wanted to take any of the many people up on their offers to open her own restaurant, she had my blessing. Always, she would smile at me kindly and say, “Yes, I know that, Christopher.”

Her name was on all our advertising, on a plaque on the wall above the bar so you couldn’t miss it and so you were sure who was making your meal, as well as in all our press packages and announcements on social media. She set the menu, hired her own people for the kitchen, and her budget was separate from the club’s.

“You trusted me and had faith in me,” she’d always say. “Plus, you love my kid. If you were straight, I’d have married you years ago.”

I smiled when I remembered that.

“Are you listening to me?” Simone snapped.

Back from my trip down memory lane, I smiled big at Simone.

“Okay, could you listen now?”

“Absolutely.”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that we could change over to a restaurant completely, still keep everyone on, showcase Georgine even more, plus Darcy and Xola, and with some small cosmetic alterations to the interior, have a brand-new place.”

I nodded.

“I prefer us as we are now, sitting on the same street with Bamboula’s and the Spotted Cat and Blue Nile, and no, we’re not a jazz club, but I like that too.”

“I agree.”

“I love that I can just walk out our front door and over to the Frenchmen Art Bazaar at ten at night and that every year those wacky old women with the book bus⁠—”

“The Hook’s Traveling Book Nook,” I said, chuckling. “How old are Cybil and Jane?”

“They’re in their seventies, aren’t they?”

I grinned at her. “They’ve been together a long time, and yet, when I saw them on the street getting daiquiris, I saw Cybil pinch Jane’s ass.”

“Aww, that’s cute.”

“Is it? I was a bit horrified.”

She laughed. “Don’t be such a prude.”

“That whole bus is filled with romance novels and fairy tales.”

“It’s adorable. Jane said she and Cybil always know when someone is about to fall in love.”

I squinted at her.

“They do. Both of them told me at different times that Michael was quite smitten and was going to ask me to move in. That’s pretty good.”

“You probably told them you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“Please. All someone has to do is look at you to know you’re not single.”

“What are you talking about?”

I gestured at her.