The Caterer

Chapter 2

T ABBY TWITCHED HER FOOT as Paul rambled on about their children to the interviewer. She tried to stay in the moment, but her mind kept going back to the discussion with Mo Mo before she left that afternoon. Of course, he’d wait until Friday afternoon when she was running late and rushing to get out of the office before bringing up something as significant as selling his shares. The man was spineless, had been since college, but he was loyal. “Just let me be a coder,” he’d said. He didn’t want to be involved in board meetings and decisions on whether they went public. Well, she told him again, they weren’t going public.

Paul touched her thigh, bringing Tabby back. She forced a smile, hoping she looked engaged and not bored. After six interviews that week, the process felt tedious. Yes, she appreciated the publicity, but couldn’t one of them ask an original question?

“What you are on the brink of is remarkable.” The interviewer glanced at her notes. “Already critics are hailing your website as a site to watch in 2009, calling it a game changer. Tell us more about Welcome Note.”

“Welcome Note lets the little guy into the hospitality space by enabling people to rent out their basement apartments, extra rooms, or rental houses to paying guests. With the downturn in the economy, people are looking for additional income. Some can’t afford a hotel or want more comfort when they travel. All we are doing is marrying a need with a resource.” She put on the politician smile her mother taught her. The interviewer laughed.

“And you are the visionary and heart behind TabiKat. How did you learn so much about coding?”

“I’m self-taught. I played with BASIC when I was younger and hoped to study game design in college. For the last few years, I’ve stayed home with our twins and, well, needed something to do once they went to school. But like I’ve said, the push to get into it sparked when I realized I could connect two groups of people who were desperate to find each other.”

“And there is an app coming out later this year? Is that what it’s called?” She looked at her notes again. People were still figuring out how to code for Apple’s new app store, the iPhone barely on the market for two years. Tabby already figured it out.

“Yes. Our app will be available for the iPhone by September, giving people easier access to renting and posting.”

“Remarkable!”

She led the woman around the apartment as they got images for the story, her life painted as Rockwell perfection, with Paul a successful lawyer with the EPA. They lived in a modest apartment in Alexandria, just outside D.C., with their twins—a boy and a girl—straight out of a Pottery Barn Kids catalog. The twins, starting fifth grade in the fall, were spitting images of their parents. Only her little girl, Annie, looked like Paul with her curly mahogany hair and close-set sky-blue eyes. Their son, James, or Mac as he preferred to be called, looked like Tabby—narrower face, straight hay-colored hair that fell to his chin, dark blue eyes.

Paul reminded her to smile during the interview, to keep her features soft. She wanted to ask if a man ever got told to soften his appearance, but she knew the answer to that question. So what if some found Tabby’s features stiff? Her chiseled chin, the lack of smile lines around her dark blue eyes or mouth, a hardness to her gaze. She preferred calling it determination to succeed in a male-dominated arena.

Finally, the camera lights went off and she could relax. Dozens of people milled around the apartment for the interview or to help prep for TabiKat’s party that night. A thank you and a celebration, the chance for Tabby, and the three friends from college who helped finance her vision, to bask in their accomplishment at the trendiest rooftop bar in D.C. Thank goodness sweet Alice got the owner to agree to close for the night. This was her moment, and Tabby spared no expense. She’d never admit it to Paul, but she felt more excited for the party than their wedding. Her mother utilized their big day at St. John’s Church to flex her political muscle, so nothing quite aligned with Tabby’s taste, whereas tonight everything was as she wanted it.

Tabby sat again in the dining room. The makeup artist moved in to adjust her look from camera-ready to powerful and in charge. Tabby closed her eyes when the woman told her to. Mo Mo’s comments were not the first time someone mentioned going public. Bigger tech companies offered to buy them out, but Tabby would not hear of it. She loved her company, her “third child” as she called it, and wanted to keep it private to use its success to bring her tech firm into the forefront. She already started coding her next app, BackDoor, that let employers access their company’s cell phone files from wherever they were. She wanted TabiKat to become an East Coast beacon for Silicon Valley. Her mother nitpicked all that time she spent alone in her room, learning to code. But it gave Tabby the competitive edge she needed to make her dreams succeed.

Alice opened the front door and called hello. Tabby glanced at her, huffing. Her sister needed to do something with that short mop of hair, and please stop calling short jumpsuits appropriate work attire. She wasn’t a mechanic! The Washingtonian dubbed her a rising chef in D.C. only a few years before, but you’d never know it to look at her now. Someday life would demand her sister take herself more seriously and stop bemoaning how a man pushed her out of her industry. If anyone understood sexism’s limitations, Tabby did, but she wasn’t hiding away and wasting her talent in a food truck.

No one would doubt that her sister was a Gibson. Alice and their mother had the same green eyes and thinner lips. Before their father’s hair went white, he and Alice shared the same dulled brown hair. She shared his build too, but instead of heft in her stomach, it seemed to all go to Alice’s chest and thighs. Why she got all the form when she didn’t appreciate or utilize it didn’t seem fair to Tabby, who found herself tall and flat like their mother.

“Is the interview done?” Alice asked.

“We just finished. God, you smell like oil and onions.”

“Why are you in a mood? I thought you’d be high as a cloud today.”

Tabby started to tell her about Mo Mo, but didn’t want to get riled up or risk the interviewer overhearing. She didn’t need rumors of dissent making the news.

“I left you a dress for tonight, and the stylist said she can do your hair.”

“I can dress myself, thank you very much.”

Tabby glared. “This is a big night for me Alice, just do what I ask!”

Alice started to object, but walked away instead. Tabby thought about calling after her. Her sister’s financial and employment status were the only reason she started the website for goodness’ sake! Living in D.C. was expensive, and her sister needed income to relaunch her culinary career. Tabby suggested leveraging their parents’ apartment in the city. They lived near the Pennsylvania border now, and only kept the space in D.C. for Alice to live in. She needed the funds, but didn’t want to advertise on less than credible websites with no way to track who people were. Tabby got tired of her little sister’s bemoaning and so went to some friends from college and came up with WlkmNt—as in what hosts left for those staying in their homes.

Only, plans stalled for Alice’s catering company. Another month and no business plan, no events. Carver gave Alice full access to his kitchen to work in, and yet all Tabby heard from her sister were excuses. Alice lived with them since the website became viable. The kids loved having their “Aunt A” close—but Alice was not supposed to be their au pair.

Get through the party and the website launch, and then she’d sit Alice down and make her pull things together. If Tabby could find time to create a website and launch a startup with two kids and a house to run, surely her little sister could find time between her work at the food truck and foraging with their father all over D.C.

TABBY TOOK A SIP of her drink and looked out over the rooftop bar. Just the right number of people there, conversation flowed. The servers were available, but unobtrusive with the menu of finger food Alice put together. Her cucumber mojito was heavy on the rum, not that she, or Paul, would mind later. The D.C. evening was hot without being excessive. She looked like a million bucks, and nothing was going to ruin her night.

Across the bar Paul spoke to Mo Mo, who still looked the part of a defensive tackle, still dressed like he did at USC—unruly black hair, oversized, short-sleeved plaid shirt. At least he’d replaced the board shorts with wrinkled brown pants. Still, stop screaming IT for a moment Mo Mo! Take a lesson from her husband who’d cut his curly toffee hair down again, just a small messy Mohawk on the top with a nice fade. Clean-shaven, he wore a dark, well-cut suit, a tie that matched her yellow midi dress. Even from this distance his wide smile made her heart race, those sea-blue eyes. Maybe if Mo Mo stepped up his game, he could stop bumming dates off their old college friends.

Paul reminded her on the ride in that tonight was only about good things. Tabby could deal with Mo Mo on Monday. Still, something about their conversation nagged at her. If she knew how wishy-washy he’d be, she never would have given him part of the company. But funding was tight as they were getting going so there was no money to pay him; it felt like a fair trade. Sadly, he was the investor she worried about the least.

A hand touched her elbow. Carrie Beaumont, another one of the investors, stood beside her with a man Tabby had never met.

“Tabby, this is Delany Clare,” Carrie said, her arm looped into his. God bless her best friend, fresh off her latest divorce. She’d hang onto any man who might keep her in the lifestyle her exes got her used to. She might be trying a bit too hard in her tight, low-cut red dress that did its best to revive the curves she flaunted in college. Kids changed most women’s forms, as did time, and sipping champagne around the world while your latest ex-husband made his fortunes on the stock market. Not that Tabby didn’t benefit from his investments that helped launch her company. Still, Carrie teased her blond hair a bit too much, her makeup a tad overdone over her lighter brown eyes. People often said they looked like sisters, though Tabby prayed she did not appear that exhausted. Maybe after the website launched Tabby could treat her best friend to a weekend in Mexico.

“Tabby Black. How do I know your name?” She shook Delany’s hand, the motion causing him to drop Carrie’s arm. He was attractive. Easily half a foot taller than her with skin like brown sugar. His dark blue blazer pulled on his T-frame, no tie, the top button undone on his white collared shirt. He wore pressed dark trousers, and a dark brown trilby. Wood-framed, square sunglasses hid his eyes. Here was a man who took himself seriously.

“I used to play basketball for the Wizards, ma’am.” His voice was smooth and deep. He could read a menu and it would be interesting.

“Ah yes, my father has season tickets. Didn’t you just retire?”

“Yeah, this spring.”

Carrie slipped away to speak with someone else. Tabby kept a certain distance between them. Delany leaned sideways on the balcony railing, giving them more space. Tabby smiled to herself. Carrie might have to look elsewhere for a bedfellow that night as this man seemed to have a bit of discretion.

“What are your plans now?”

“Well, I am getting into the day-to-day at my holding company, hoping to be able to do more charity work.”

“Using your time and talents well.” Tabby did a quick scan for her sister. There was not a ring on Mr. Clare’s hand, no woman appeared to be watching them. He was articulate and giving, sexy enough to melt a circuit board. It was time her sister went on a date again. She would never find Mr. Right hiding out in the apartment and that greasy food truck. Yes, her ex had been a mistake, as Tabby tried to tell her. One of these days her sweet sister would realize her life would run much more smoothly if she just listened to what Tabby said.

“I hear tonight is for you.” Delany brought Tabby’s attention back.

“Two years of hard work. The finish line is so close.”

Tabby raised her hand, Paul coming toward them. She introduced him to Delany and scanned the crowd, her sister standing at the railing alone. Leave it to her to miss a golden opportunity to network for her business. At least she wore the dress Tabby left. The merlot color would bring out her pale green eyes; it showed off her form without being clingy. Tabby told the men she’d be back. Time for a gentle push.