The Caterer

Chapter 26

T ABBY WATCHED THE TV at her parents’ house, grateful for somewhere to take the kids. Being stuck at home over Labor Day weekend might have driven them all crazy. Paul was putting the kids to bed, her mother on a call with someone back in D.C. Her father tinkered in the greenhouse. Alice’s website waited on her laptop on her lap. Tabby wanted it ready to go whenever her sister got back, but still needed photos. She was tempted to dig through Alice’s bedroom to find her laptop or maybe ask Carver for some. How hard was it to give someone what they asked for? Didn’t Alice appreciate what she was doing for her?

The news started covering the various fires happening in the West. It showed footage from the one where Alice was, nothing but forests of red and destroyed homes. It looked like something after an apocalypse, scorched, and otherworldly. Families sifted through the rubble. Somewhere in all that carnage, all that darkness, all that chaos, her sister was cooking for people. Annie asked when Aunt A was coming home. With the fire barely contained not for a while, or maybe Alice would regain her senses and come back.

Her father sat on the couch and took a drink of his beer, dirt under his fingernails. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. At least it wasn’t lost under a sweat-stained Wizards baseball hat.

“Have you heard from her? Does this make sense to you?” she asked.

“She said it was a good opportunity. Who am I to tell your sister what to do.”

“You could have told her going into a disaster area was a stupid idea.”

Her father cocked his head, his brow drawn tight. “It’s not like she ran in with a flashlight and a backpack. She went with a group that knows what it’s doing. She’s safe. It’s okay.”

“How do you know she’s safe?”

“She called the other day. We couldn’t talk for long, but she sounded good.”

Tabby scoffed. “Nice of her to contact me.”

“She figured I would tell you.” He studied her. “Do you need to talk about what happened?”

“What do you mean—what happened?” Tabby caught her tone. If her mother heard her, she’d get yelled at for sure.

“Getting bought out. It obviously still bothers you.”

“That’s not what bothers me.” She shifted in her seat and put her laptop on the table. “What bothers me is my sister being allowed to run off into an area the military has to keep secured, and you, as her father, thinking that’s okay.”

Her father shook his head and looked at the TV again. Paul called her name from the doorway. They had a long-standing tradition of trying to have sex on Friday nights. The kids had gone down easy. Her parents would do nothing but watch TV until they went to bed. It was late enough they wouldn’t question them turning in for the night. They had done it at her parents’ house hundreds of times. But his reaction to her asking about another baby still stung. Plus, he’d been lost all week on this endless case and didn’t appreciate what she did to keep things running. He motioned his head toward the stairs and smiled.

“Not tonight.” She looked at the TV again.

“I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Paul sighed and went to the bedroom anyway. Tabby set her gaze on the TV. Her mother came and sat between her and her dad on the couch. Before she could speak, Delany Clare’s face filled the screen. Tabby reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

“Retired basketball star and business mogul Delany Clare is in New Mexico helping to feed those affected by the fires. Clare’s nonprofit, Comida, has groups working across the West, feeding 40,000 daily.” While the man spoke, images of Delany flashed across the screen. One showed him crouched down, a wide smile on his face, children clustered around him. “Clare has been critical of the government’s emergency procedures, asking why providing quality food to those who just lost everything is not higher on FEMA’s list.”

“That man just can’t resist the spotlight,” Tabby said. “What right does he have to be in places the locals can’t even get into?”

“You do know that is who Alice is with,” her mother asked. Tabby pinched her brow and looked at her mother, her heart racing. Her dad focused on the TV. “Comida is Delany Clare’s nonprofit. Their last CEO spoke to my committee about shifting how we do food delivery after a disaster. It’s remarkable what they’re able to do.”

No wonder Alice was so elusive about what she was doing. A pain radiated in her jaw. Tabby wanted to call her sister and demand she tell her what the hell was going on. How did she know the scoundrel ?

“How did he get her name?” Tabby asked. Her mom paused, her father squeezing his wife’s knee.

“It’s a small world, Kitty Cat,” her mother said. “I’m sure someone at one of her events knows Mr. Clare. Don’t forget, your sister can cook.”

“Premier chef in the city, so The Post said.” Her father added. Tabby scoffed and went to refill her water. Her chest tightened, a pounding built in her ears. She looked at the website. All this work to get her sister’s company noticed and she ran off with the man who orchestrated the coup of her company. How could Alice work with him?