The Queen of Minor Disasters (32 page)

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Authors: Antonietta Mariottini

BOOK: The Queen of Minor Disasters
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The chef grabs a paper menu from the line and looks over it. “I went
through this with Lorenzo yesterday afternoon. He confirmed everything.” He
looks away from me and back at his chefs, who are all pretending not to listen.

           
“Oh I know, and it really looks delicious. It’s just that the bride is,
well, pregnant, and can’t eat anything on this menu.”

           
“All right, we’ll make her something else.” He clicks his pen, flips the
menu over and begins writing ideas down. “Does she like chicken?”

           
“She’s been so nauseous lately I don’t think she can eat it. The only
thing she’ll eat is mac and cheese.”

           
“We have a lobster mac and cheese on the menu. I guess I can make it
plain for her.”

           
Ok, I need to be tactful here. Sometimes chefs have egos and I don’t want
to insult him. “Um, it might be better to just make the boxed kind.”

           
The chef looks at me as if I’ve just damned him to hell.

           
“The what?”

           
“You know, the kind that comes in a box with the powdered cheese. Just
add milk.” I smile.

           
“Are you nuts? Do you think I’d serve that garbage in my restaurant?” I
see his face getting redder by the second.

           
“I know it’s an unusual request, but it
is
her wedding day,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t look amused.

           
“And I
said
I’d make mac
and cheese,” he says. “But if you expect me to serve some boxed crap to one of
my guests, you’ve got it all wrong.”

           
I see that he’s not going to give in, so I smile and thank him. Obviously
he has
no idea
who he’s dealing
with. As a restaurant manager, I know the customer is always right, even if it
means overriding the chef and going straight to the top.

           
I turn my back and exit into our private room. I see Roberto and Mario
talking and I brush by them and out of the private room. I hate to admit it,
but Roberto really is the perfect date. He just fits right in with my family.
Plus he’s easy to talk to, sweet, and, tonight especially, smokin’ hot.

 In the main dining room I try
to locate the manager, but can’t tell who’s who, so I walk back to the maitre’d
and give him a smile.

           
He ignores me. Doesn’t he remember me? I’m in the VIP room.

           
“I’d like to see a manager,” I say firmly and he quickly looks at me.
            “Is there a problem?”

           
“Yes, and I need to take care of it
now
.”
Where is this bitchy side of me coming from?

           
He frowns at me, and then walks off. A few minutes later, a tall man in a
shiny black suit approaches me. “Ms. DiLucio,” he says extending his hand. “I’m
Will Casper, General Manager.”

           
“Nice to meet you,” I say shaking his hand.

           
“Is there something I can help you with?”

           
I explain the situation with the mac and cheese and he softens. “Don’t
worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”

           
“Thanks,” I say.

           
“What brand do you prefer?”

           
“Kraft, with the
powdered cheese,” I say with a smile. “Use the powder from two boxes but the
pasta from one.”

 

           
After the second course is served I see the chef come through the kitchen
doors, carrying a platter covered with a silver dome lid. He places the dish in
front of Lucy who looks up at him in surprise. “Congratulations on your wedding
day,” the chef says graciously. He lifts the lid and the aroma of fake cheese
fills the table. Lucy’s eyes light up brightly. She looks as if he just
presented her the finest white truffle on earth. “Thank you so much.”

           
I smile at the chef, who doesn’t dare make eye contact with me. As he turns
to leave, I see the General Manager peering out of the kitchen. I’m sure they
had words, but in the end, just like at Lorenzo’s, the customer
always
wins.

           
Lorenzo looks at me confused. “How the hell did you get the chef to make
boxed mac and cheese?”

           
“I have my ways,” I say with a smile.

           
Lucy digs in and I know her wedding is now complete.

 

           
After the dishes are cleared, Lucy asks if I’ll help her in the bathroom.
We both excuse ourselves and walk out of the VIP room. She loops her arm
through mine and whispers, “Thank you,” into my ear.

           
I help Lucy into the stall then stand outside of it, holding the top of
the door, just like we used to do at grimy bars in Philadelphia.

Then it hits me.

We’ll never do that again.

 I feel another lump swell in
my throat and I might be going for a record. How many times can I cry in one
day?

           
While washing her hands, Lucy looks at me in the mirror. “Stell, what’s
wrong?”

           
“Nothing,” I say. “I’m just emotional about the wedding that’s all.
You’re married.”

She beams. Lucy looks at me,
then reaches up and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Tonight marks a new
beginning for both of us.” She looks me in the eyes. “Take this time to find
out who
you
are Stella. This is
an opportunity.” She smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“So how’s your date?” Lucy
asks casually.

“It’s going great, despite the
fact that he was forced to be here.”

“Stella, stop it. He wanted to
come. He’s been asking Lorenzo about you all summer.”

“Then why did his mother send
me flowers?”

“I don’t know. But I do know
that he’s perfect for you.”

Great, now even Lucy is in on
this scheme to get Roberto and me together. Why does everyone care so much? Why
can’t they just leave me alone? “There’s no such thing as perfect.”

“Yes there is. And he’s driving
you home tonight.” Lucy winks at me and heads for the door. As I follow her I
wonder if she’s right.

Recipe:
Mac and Cheese for a Knocked-up Bride

Yields 1 pregnant serving

 

Ok, so it’s not your typical
wedding dinner, but when you’re pregnant and nauseous, you must give in to
whatever you can swallow. It was either this, or another egg sandwich, and I
knew Luce would like this better. Plus, did you
see
the look on the chef’s face?

 

I actually don’t know the
recipe since I’ve never made this stuff, but I do know that Luce uses the
cheese from two boxes and the pasta from one. She likes it extra cheesy.

 

2 boxes Kraft Mac and Cheese

Follow the directions and
serve.

Chapter 17

 

We pull up
to
96
th
Street a little after 1:30 a.m. and my
head is spinning. I’m not sure if I drank too much, or ate too much or what,
but suddenly I realize I’m sublimely happy. Here I was thinking I’d never get
married, while I had the perfect guy right in front of me.

Ever since my talk with Lucy
in the bathroom, I’ve sort of let loose. Call it beer muscles (not that I’ve
been drinking beer, yuck) or whatever, but I’ve really opened up to Roberto. In
fact, this entire ride home I’ve been telling him all about my fears of not
having a job, and my overwhelming desire to just pack up and move to Rome. I
secretly wanted him to say “Let’s run away together,” but he didn’t. Come to
think of it, he hasn’t said much this whole ride.

 We wait at the red light, not
talking. Roberto turns to look at me. “Do you mind if we sit on the beach for a
while?”

           
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s go.”

           
He makes a right and drives toward 99
th
Street then pulls up
next to his house. We get out of the car and start walking towards the sand. I
try to hold his hand but stumble a little and graze his wrist instead. He gives
me a strange look. “Should we go sit?” he asks.

           
I nod my head and slip my feet out of my shoes. Roberto quickly takes off
his shoes then starts walking up the dunes and onto the sand. I follow closely
behind. When I turn to look at his house I can’t help but notice that it’s
totally dark. “Is your family home?” I ask suddenly.

           
He turns toward me. “Nope.”

           
My heart starts to pound and I muster up the courage to speak. “Roberto,”
I say looking right into his eyes. “Why don’t we go inside?” I run my hand down
his arm and feel his muscles tense up. If I were a feistier girl I’d growl or
something, but instead, I just stand there with a puppy love look on my face.           

He looks at his feet.

           
Oh God. Why did I just say that? Why?

           
Roberto takes a deep breath. “Stella,” he sighs. “I think we want
different things right now.”           

Suddenly, I feel like a fool.
None of this makes sense. Roberto has been giving me mixed signals all night,
and when I finally make a move he flat out rejects me. I don’t know why I even
bothered. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m standing here right now. “Can you
take me home?”

He nods and turns back around.

           
The sound of waves crashing onto the shore is usually my favorite sound,
but as we walk towards the car, I barely notice it.

           
Roberto doesn’t even bother to say anything, and when he pulls up to my
house, I don’t dare invite him inside. He moves to get out of the car, but I
let myself out. There’s nothing worse than false chivalry. If he really liked
me, I’d let him open the door, but I certainly won’t be a charity case. We meet
in front of his car, the headlights illuminating the awkward exchange between
us, and I can just imagine the neighbors looking out their windows, pining for
a goodnight kiss.

           
We look at each other for a few seconds. “Thanks,” I mumble.

           
 “Stella,” he looks
at me for a few seconds like he wants to say something else, and then moves to
give me an awkward hug, as if I’m a distant cousin or something. I pat him on
the back twice and break free of his embrace.

           
“See you later,” I say and walk up the driveway and to the front door. As
much as I want to, I will not look back.

           
After the stress of today, all I want to do is go to bed. And that’s
exactly what I do.

 

The problem is: I can’t sleep.

 I had no trouble
falling
asleep; staying asleep was the
hard part.

And when I wake up at 4:45
a.m. I know I’m up for the day. I take a deep breath. From my window I can see
the first glimpse of sunlight yawning across the sky. I bet it’s even better at
the beach. I’ve always wanted to see the sunrise on the beach, but in all the
years we’ve been living here, I never made it there in time. I think about
Lucy’s words from last night. This is a new beginning for me.

That’s it. I’m going to the
beach.

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