A Table by the Window: A Novel of Family Secrets and Heirloom Recipes (Two Blue Doors) (41 page)

“Me?” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Not at all.”

That night Neil and I chatted about our respective days. I kept things breezy and light on purpose. Once again, our conversation ended much the same way. I wished him sweet dreams.

In reply, he said, “You too, Juliette. I love you.”

“Wait,” I said, before he could hang up. “Do you mean that?”

“That I love you? I suppose I do.”

“Are you sure?”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure. G’night, Jules.”

The next two weeks were even more of a flurry of preparations. Nico hired a line cook and a pair of dishwashers. After discussing the subject, we agreed that I would interview for waitstaff once I’d returned from the trip.

My travel plans were finally set in stone; I’d decided to do some sleuthing in France before moving on to Italy. Although my grand-tante Cécile suffered from Alzheimer’s, I had hopes she might be able to remember some of her late girlhood, before the war. I also wanted to search in Paris for records relating to G. Roussard and the jeweler S. Roussard. While it was true we lived in the Internet age, I hadn’t been able to uncover much from home.

In preparation for the trip, I used a bit of my nest egg to spruce up the holes in my wardrobe and make myself fit for Paris and Rome. I bought a lovely pair of heels on sale at Nordstrom, a navy sundress at Anthropologie, and a black short-sleeved silk blouse at T.J. Maxx. From Grand-mère’s bureau I set aside several vintage silk scarves.

Neil and I talked or e-mailed most days. I watched episodes of
Doctor Who
—starting with the Ninth Doctor—as I made meals, and Neil humored me as I mulled the intricacies of the plot lines.

“Just keep watching,” he’d say, refusing to let slip a hint, though we both knew I could take to Google in an instant to satisfy my curiosity.

I tidied the apartment and made arrangements for Gigi to attend doggy day care three days per week while Clementine was away from the apartment. The morning before my flight, I packed my suitcase while Nico worked in the kitchen downstairs. I heard a truck engine, followed by raised voices.

Nico’s, naturally, rose to the top.

A moment later I heard footfalls on the exterior stairs and a sharp rap at my door.

Nico stood on the other side, fuming.

“Potatoes!” he yelled, invoice in hand.

“Carrots,” I said, hands on my hips. “What’s this about?”

“You placed an order for twenty-three crates of potatoes to be delivered today. Why would you do that?”

I plucked the invoice from his fingers. It was for an order I’d placed with Haven Farms. I remembered the order, but there was no way I’d intentionally order twenty-three crates of potatoes …

And then it hit me. “Oh. Oh dear …”

I had placed the order. And then I’d gone back and updated it because I’d forgotten the potatoes. In my rush to correct the order, I’d hit both the wrong quantity—twenty-three, rather than two—and the wrong month. Which meant we had more than eleven times the expected number of potatoes, a month before the soft opening, two months before the grand opening.

“What am I going to do with twenty-three crates of potatoes? Potatoes are perishable, Juliette. They stink when they rot. I can’t have twenty-three crates of potatoes rotting away in my dining room—that’s right, the dining room. They don’t even fit in the kitchen. And they won’t take them back,” Nico added. “I already asked.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, arms folded protectively around my torso. “It was a clerical error, and I’m sorry.”

“You’re distracted. You’re distracted with that Neil fellow, and it’s twenty-three pounds of potatoes worth of bad business.”

“I’m sorry!” I repeated, my voice starting to sound shrill. “I don’t know what more you want me to say, but I think it’s stupid to bring Neil into this.”

Nico pointed at the invoice. “You ordered these the day after he left.”

“So?”

“Where are your priorities? If you’re going to go moony over a man, this isn’t going to work.”

“Lots of people have relationships and work in the restaurant business. Mom and Dad did it.”

“Mom and Dad worked together. Do you know what the divorce rate is for people who work in the restaurant business?”

“No, do you?” I shot back.

“Neil’s going to take you away from what you love. You know that, right?”

My hands balled into fists. I kept a tight rein on my temper, but Nico had really overstepped. “How is this Neil’s fault?”

“He’s a doctor in Memphis. You think he’s going to leave that behind and come here for you? I don’t think so. I thought you loved this business.”

“I do!” I yelled. “I’ve always loved it.”

“If you marry him, you won’t be able to do it. You’ll work opposite schedules, and something will have to give. Look at Alex and Stephanie.”

“Alex and Stephanie had their own challenges. Neil and I are different.”

“Isn’t that what everyone tells themselves?”

“Stop it, Nico. You’re being a bully.”

He sighed. “You’re my baby sister. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I don’t want to see this restaurant fail.”

“I don’t think it’s going to fail because of a bulk order of potatoes,” I evaded, but I understood his point. “I don’t want to see this restaurant fail either.” I glanced inside, where my packing waited. I had no idea where Gigi had gone off to. “I have to keep getting ready. My flight’s tomorrow morning.”

I closed the door and returned to my room.

Nico may have been a bully, but that didn’t make him wrong.

Where I had been packing neatly and methodically, now I angrily began to throw articles of clothing into my suitcase.

Gigi made a nest on my pillows and watched warily.

Of all the high-handed, condescending arguments I’d ever had with Nico, this had to have been the worst. And the very worst part? The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right.

Obviously, the potatoes were only a symptom of a deeper problem. And even if I never made another ordering mistake for the rest of my life, the fact remained that Neil and I were living in a dream world.

Our worlds were too divergent and careers too individually all-consuming. If there was a way we could work together, or that one of us worked less, we might be able to make things work—after solving the distance issue.

But all together?

I loved Neil. I knew I did. More than I’d loved Éric, though they were two different men, in different stages of my life. I loved him, but we were still new. Our love hadn’t grown deep, coiled roots, not yet.

Did we keep working at it, yanking and cutting on those roots down the road when things didn’t work? Or stop now, before things got too messy?

I continued to throw things into my suitcase, things I hadn’t intended to pack. I didn’t care.

I reached for my phone and looked at the time. Neil was on lunch, if he wasn’t working through it. I dialed his number.

“I was just thinking about you,” Neil said when he picked up, a smile in his voice.

My eyes squeezed shut. I loved his voice. I loved
him
. But he deserved someone who could be near him, who would be home when he was. Someone who would be around to hear about his day, and not just in a series of text messages, e-mails, and phone calls.

“Hi,” I said, my voice wavering.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the smile in his voice gone.

I poured out the story of the potatoes and my argument with Nico.

“That’s … the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “You can’t tell me there aren’t food banks in Portland that could use a cache of potatoes. Your brother needs to grow up.”

“He does,” I agreed, “but that doesn’t make him entirely wrong. I can’t afford to make stupid mistakes, not with this restaurant. How is this going to work? We had a wonderful long weekend together. It was amazing. But I keep looking at us, and at the distance, and at our jobs, and I don’t see how it can work.”

“What do you want, Juliette?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want in life? You stayed at a job that made you miserable until it made you ill. And now it sounds like you’re letting your brother dictate your personal life. Tell me what you want, because I can’t figure you out.”

I opened my mouth to tell him, but to my horror my mind went blank, and I realized the truth.

At that moment, I had no idea.

“I think we could be good together, Juliette,” Neil said when I didn’t answer. “But you have to want it too. I’m not going to guilt you into fighting for us or try to convince you of something you won’t ever be able to own in your heart.”

I could hardly breathe. “I’m sorry, Neil. I’m so, so sorry.”

With shaking hands, I hung up.

I sat on the bed and stared out the window.

I’d lost Neil.

For several moments, I tried to wrap my mind around that concept. Around never writing to Neil, never hearing his voice. I wanted to call him back, to tell him we could try again, that if we fought hard enough, we could make a way for ourselves.

But in my head I heard his voice asking me what I wanted, and the silence that followed.

That awful silence.

I tucked Gigi into her kennel, grabbed my purse, and got in my car.

Sophie was working in her yard when I pulled up outside her house, clad in dungarees and a wide, floppy sun hat. She looked ridiculous, but so content that I envied her.