Rab looks up at him and shrugs. A tiny smile appears. “Yeah. It’s no’ easy, but it makes people happy, eh?”
Susan used to say something like that, Chris recalls. And Elliot too.
“You do seem to have a talent for it,” Chris observes. “I’d say your short crust puts even Martin’s to shame. And that mousse you made the other day …” He glances at Calum, who nods in emphatic agreement. “We’ll see about getting you more training, if that’s what you want,” Chris promises. “But we can’t have you banging around in here after hours.”
“Can’t you practice at home?” Calum wonders.
Rab gives him a rather withering look. “I have four younger siblings, and the kitchen’s the size of this closet,” he answers, indicating the storage cupboard.
“Fair enough,” Calum allows.
“Come on,” Chris says, patting the boy on the shoulder and getting him to his feet. “You can come to my place. Get your practice in there, or at least get a good night’s sleep, and get here bright and early tomorrow morning. And I’ll see what I can do about finding someone who can train you. And also, maybe get you out of the kitchen here for a bit, and we’ll see what you can really do.”
Rab’s face brightens. “Thanks, Chef!”
“Ach, it’s after hours. Call me Chris.”
Chapter Fourteen
Oh, Kay
“Darlings!” Kay folds first Susan, then Julia into tight embraces as soon as she’s through the door at Moray Place. “And Bernard! You’re looking unnaturally youthful,” she adds, offering up a cheek for him to kiss.
“Kay, how lovely you look,” Bernard declares, peering a little too closely into her face. “How do you do it?”
“It’s not so difficult,” Kay replies. “I walk, Bernard. And I work. Amazing how rejuvenating some honest, hard work can be. Just look at how wonderful Susan’s looking these days.”
She gestures to Susan, who blushes. She doesn’t think she looks all that great—she hasn’t even bothered with makeup, beyond a hurried slick of mascara. And she’s been so busy she’s sure she looks worn out. But neither Julia nor Bernard offer any arguments, so maybe there’s something to it.
“Well, do walk this way—we’ve got a beautiful little pinot grigio waiting on the terrace,” says Bernard, offering her an arm with a flourish. “Unless you want a tour first? How do you like the place?”
“Oh, very nice. So roomy,” Kay replies, giving the entryway a once-over as she straightens the flowered silk scarf draped around her neck. “You seem to have changed your style, Julia,” she notes.
“I haven’t had time to work on this. I’ve been busy at the restaurant,” Julia announces.
Kay crooks a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Have you indeed?”
Julia’s almost childlike in her eagerness. “I’m doing the whole thing over. It needs it.”
“Oh, you clever girl,” Kay says, glancing in Susan’s direction.
“Thank you,” Julia replies. “Just wait until you see it! But you have to wait until it’s finished. It’s been such a fuss, really—there was an issue with the lighting fixtures, and I had to rethink my whole concept, and Susan’s always on me about the budget, which is impossibly tight, but I’m managing despite her.”
“I’m sure you are. Your patience, Julia, is remarkable.” Kay pats Julia on the arm, and Julia glows.
“Shall I tell you about the—”
“Later, dear,” Kay says to Julia, slipping a hand around Susan’s waist. “I want to hear all about what Susan’s doing at the restaurant. Shall we go open that wine, and you can tell me all about it?”
Julia droops and Bernard pats her on the arm.
“Yes, the wine, excellent idea,” he says, leading them all toward the terrace. “Kay, I do wish you’d stay here with us. I’m sure we could squeeze you in. You didn’t have to go taking that little flat for the month.”
“Oh, Bernard, you’re a dear, but you know how I like having my own space,” Kay excuses as they emerge into the sunshine. “Besides, the flat is much nearer the theater, and I’m going to be very busy there for the next few weeks. Rehearsals start in two days.” She leans over to examine the platter of snacks Susan has put together. Olives, four different types of cheese from Mellis’s in the Old Town, cured meats, and an assortment of homemade chutneys and flavored crackers. Susan also baked a focaccia that morning, spongy inside and crisp outside, topped with garlic and sweet cherry tomatoes, and lavishly drizzled with olive oil. Kay spears an olive and helps herself to a slice of the focaccia.
“Now,” says Kay, settling back with her snacks, “tell me how the restaurant’s getting on. New chef all settled in?”
“She seems to be,” Susan answers. “We hope to reopen in a few weeks, and Gloria and I are doing a competition at the Foodies Festival next Saturday.”
Kay’s eyes widen. “Are you? That sounds fun! Who are you competing against? Not each other?”
“No. Chris Baker,” Susan answers. She pretends to be very interested in her glass of wine as she glances through her lashes at her aunt. Kay is looking right at her. Serious. Getting a read on what Susan’s feeling.
Am I such an open book, Susan wonders? Can Kay really suss out what I’m feeling, when even I’m not sure?
“Well,” Kay murmurs, exchanging a meaningful look with Bernard, “there’s a name from the past. I had no idea he was here.”
“Just opened his first restaurant,” Julia supplies. “It’s good. I had dinner there the other night.”
Susan’s astonished. “You did?”
Julia shrugs. “Sure. Everyone’s going there. And it’s good to know the competition, isn’t it?”
“What was the food like?” Susan asks. “What did you have?”
“It was all right. Looked nice. I only had a salad, and it wasn’t that memorable. Someone else had the fish; a couple of people had puddings and seemed to like them. I was mostly looking at the design of the place. Inspiration, you know. Oh, Dad, you’d love the wine list.”
“Everyone has a good wine list these days,” Bernard responds curtly. “That’s hardly a reason to go to a restaurant. Kay—tell us about this play of yours.”
“What, Oedipus? It’s hardly new, Bernard.”
“Yes, but it’s new to us,” he insists. “We’ve never seen it with you. And Philip Simms—did he fly up with you?”
“No, no, Phillip’s been up here for a while now. He came for the Film Festival and just stayed on. He’s never been to Edinburgh before and says he loves how down-to-earth it is. Hardly anyone bothers him. Refreshing for him, I take it. He’s a darling; I’ll have to bring him round, or have everyone over for drinks or something.”
Bernard glances at Julia, who shrugs. “Sounds nice,” she drawls. “Is there more wine, Dad?”
Bernard hands her the bottle.
“What a pretty garden you have here!” Kay declares. “Is that a lilac over there? I do love a lilac. Susan, let’s go look at it.” She rises and strolls toward the lilac bush in the far corner of the garden. Susan obediently joins her.