from ‘thank you’ if you’re so inclined.”
“Thank you,” said Vivi, carefully folding up the jacket and putting it back in the box. It was beautiful, not a piece of clothing she would ever dare buy for herself. She glanced uneasily at Natalie, with her scarf, alligator purse, and pearl earrings, and again a small jab of pain came to her. Did Papa love Natalie so much more that he flooded her with riches?
Natalie glanced around the empty store with a frown. “Where are those thieves we hired?”
“Late, just as you were,” Vivi teased.
“Yes, but I’m not being paid an exorbitant fee for ‘quality craftsmanship.’”
“True.” Vivi took a sip of the store-bought coffee. Tahari, the present from Saks—it was beginning to gnaw at her, the mystery of Natalie’s days. “Are you enjoying living in the city?”
“Oh, God, yes. There’s so much to see and do. When are you going to come join me for a weekend? I’m getting tired of calling you!”
Vivi glanced away guiltily. Natalie had called her a number of times to come into Manhattan to see this film or that Broadway show, or go to this or that art exhibit, but Vivi always turned her down. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with Natalie but there always seemed to be something demanding her time. Plan out her menus. Call distributors to see what they charged. Apply for a liquor license. There were so many facets to preparing to open a restaurant that sometimes Vivi felt overwhelmed. She supposed she could ask Natalie for help, but part of her resisted, since she wanted to do as much as she could on her own. Their agreement was that Natalie would front the money, and Vivi would take care of the details. She didn’t want to change the rules now and risk inducing another “maybe we made a big mistake” attack in Natalie.
Still, how hard was it to spare a night or two to join Natalie in Manhattan? “You know what I would love to do?” Vivi mused aloud. “Check out different restaurants.” That interested her much more than going to see a play or a film.
Natalie looked noncommittal. “We could do that.”
“Good. It will be fun. Why don’t you pick a restaurant, and I’ll come into the city once a week to join you?”
“Only once a week? What do you do at night, Vivi? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“I cook,” Vivi said simply. Every night she cooked dinner for herself, and sometimes, afterward, she would experiment with different dishes, whether it be a new dessert or a twist on one of her standards. She was an alchemist, transforming simple elements into culinary gold. The kitchen was where she was her happiest. Why wouldn’t she want to spend as much time as possible there?
She had a brainstorm. “Why don’t you come out here a few nights a week and let me cook for you ?” Cooking for herself was fun, but really, the joy of it was in cooking for other people.
Natalie hesitated. “I suppose I could do that.”
Vivi deflated. “You don’t sound very enthused.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re a fantastic chef,” Natalie hastily assured her. “It’s just, well, after we eat, what is there to do in Bensonhurst?”
“Why do we have to do anything? Why can’t we just sit and talk, catch up on lost time?” There was so much she still didn’t know about Natalie, so many gaps in her imagination she wanted filled. Hours of conversation could fix that.
Natalie laughed softly. “If there’s one thing you should know about me by now, it’s that I like to be out doing, doing, doing. Papa always called me his Little Sparrow—always flitting here and there, never still.”
“Did he?” Vivi could imagine him saying it. Their father loved to tease. Ironically, he teased Vivi about the opposite, calling her his little House Mouse, thoroughly amused by what a homebody she was.
“Did he ever say anything like that to you?” Natalie asked shyly.
Vivi told Natalie the nickname their father had given her.
“Thank you,” said Vivi, carefully folding up the jacket and putting it back in the box. It was beautiful, not a piece of clothing she would ever dare buy for herself. She glanced uneasily at Natalie, with her scarf, alligator purse, and pearl earrings, and again a small jab of pain came to her. Did Papa love Natalie so much more that he flooded her with riches?
Natalie glanced around the empty store with a frown. “Where are those thieves we hired?”
“Late, just as you were,” Vivi teased.
“Yes, but I’m not being paid an exorbitant fee for ‘quality craftsmanship.’”
“True.” Vivi took a sip of the store-bought coffee. Tahari, the present from Saks—it was beginning to gnaw at her, the mystery of Natalie’s days. “Are you enjoying living in the city?”
“Oh, God, yes. There’s so much to see and do. When are you going to come join me for a weekend? I’m getting tired of calling you!”
Vivi glanced away guiltily. Natalie had called her a number of times to come into Manhattan to see this film or that Broadway show, or go to this or that art exhibit, but Vivi always turned her down. Not because she didn’t want to spend time with Natalie but there always seemed to be something demanding her time. Plan out her menus. Call distributors to see what they charged. Apply for a liquor license. There were so many facets to preparing to open a restaurant that sometimes Vivi felt overwhelmed. She supposed she could ask Natalie for help, but part of her resisted, since she wanted to do as much as she could on her own. Their agreement was that Natalie would front the money, and Vivi would take care of the details. She didn’t want to change the rules now and risk inducing another “maybe we made a big mistake” attack in Natalie.
Still, how hard was it to spare a night or two to join Natalie in Manhattan? “You know what I would love to do?” Vivi mused aloud. “Check out different restaurants.” That interested her much more than going to see a play or a film.
Natalie looked noncommittal. “We could do that.”
“Good. It will be fun. Why don’t you pick a restaurant, and I’ll come into the city once a week to join you?”
“Only once a week? What do you do at night, Vivi? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“I cook,” Vivi said simply. Every night she cooked dinner for herself, and sometimes, afterward, she would experiment with different dishes, whether it be a new dessert or a twist on one of her standards. She was an alchemist, transforming simple elements into culinary gold. The kitchen was where she was her happiest. Why wouldn’t she want to spend as much time as possible there?
She had a brainstorm. “Why don’t you come out here a few nights a week and let me cook for you ?” Cooking for herself was fun, but really, the joy of it was in cooking for other people.
Natalie hesitated. “I suppose I could do that.”
Vivi deflated. “You don’t sound very enthused.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re a fantastic chef,” Natalie hastily assured her. “It’s just, well, after we eat, what is there to do in Bensonhurst?”
“Why do we have to do anything? Why can’t we just sit and talk, catch up on lost time?” There was so much she still didn’t know about Natalie, so many gaps in her imagination she wanted filled. Hours of conversation could fix that.
Natalie laughed softly. “If there’s one thing you should know about me by now, it’s that I like to be out doing, doing, doing. Papa always called me his Little Sparrow—always flitting here and there, never still.”
“Did he?” Vivi could imagine him saying it. Their father loved to tease. Ironically, he teased Vivi about the opposite, calling her his little House Mouse, thoroughly amused by what a homebody she was.
“Did he ever say anything like that to you?” Natalie asked shyly.
Vivi told Natalie the nickname their father had given her.
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