The Caterer

Chapter 45

T ABBY RESTED HER HEAD on her fist, the Maryland scenery flying by as Paul drove. She set her jaw. It was time for him to get over himself. She had done nothing to deserve his ultimatum. He was taking the stress of the endless trial out on her. He didn’t appreciate all he’d asked her to do since they got home. It was easier to defend her sister than see she was miserable and floundering.

Annie watched the world outside her window. She had barely spoken to Tabby since they told the kids Alice moved out. Tabby was being polite in telling Annie her aunt moved home because of her job, not that she was a liar and unworthy of her time.

Her parents’ house came into view. Before Tabby could say anything, the twins were out their doors and running toward the other kids playing in the backyard.

“Can we pretend for the weekend that you still love me?” Tabby asked Paul when he started to get out of the car.

He stopped moving and sighed. “If you cannot see I love you dearly, then I have severely miscommunicated why I want you to get help before you push all of us who care away.” He got out of the car. Tabby got her emotions under control before she walked into the house overrun with people, the conversations overwhelming. Any other time, Tabby would have been all over this scene. Network, check in, be her mother’s junior hostess. Alice would be hiding out in the kitchen or with the kids, leaving it to the real adults to make their guests feel welcome. Instead, she got a soda and went to find her aunt who lived near Lancaster and always had fun stories to tell. Most times she found her father’s sister’s life too simple, but today she needed the uncluttered.

She sat with her aunt and let the morning pass. Paul talked to some friends, forcing a smile. Her mother fluttered in and out of the room. She would only land for a moment and yet people would claim to have her undivided attention. Tabby still didn’t know how she did it.

A group of kids ran through the house on their way to a cooler of juice boxes, small waters, and sodas set up just for them. Her sister walked through the kitchen, not in a jumpsuit for once, but in loose plaid pants and a white blouse. Tabby rolled her eyes and asked her aunt what was going on at church.

Alice came back in, telling Mac she had to work as a van pulled up beside the house. Carver and a younger man got out and propped the back doors open, carrying trays of food into the kitchen. Her mother had set the table for the thirty adults invading the house. The kids were set to eat in the living room, Tabby desperate to join them. Not that her kids were speaking to her. Tabby had told her mother about the twins’ behavior on the phone, who chuckled and said karma usually got the last laugh, as if Tabby was ever this insolent growing up. Tabby wanted to call her daughter out on her attitude, but then Annie would ask why she sent Aunt A away and Tabby could only tell her it was for the best. No one seemed as miffed by it all as she was. Even her mother—Ms. Remember Every Offense Ever—seemed okay with Alice lying to her.

She went to get another drink from the kitchen where a line of dishes waited on chafers, the room rich in butternut and garlic. Alice tore leaves and flowers she’d collected from their father’s garden, fresh honey in a jar beside her. Carver moved around her, slipping something into the oven. In the corner, the younger guy worked to set up a small cocktail bar. Tabby had never seen her sister in action except the wives’ luncheon, Alice truly in her element. Something had shifted in Alice since the summer. She was freer, happier. There was a light in her eyes. Her sister seemed to be at peace, whereas Tabby felt lost in chaos.

Her mother asked if everyone could come to the living room. Tabby went to find her aunt again. Alice leaned in the entry, Carver just inside the kitchen. Her father stood next to her mother who slipped her arm through his and kissed his cheek, her father smiling. Tabby never remembered her parents fighting; never remembered her father speaking ill of her mother. Her mother could look at her father across the room and everything else would fall away for him. She remembered the discussions when her mother was trying to decide whether to run. As a woman in 1979, what right did she have to try? Her father told her to get out there and let people see her passion. He’d fallen in love with her at a feminist march—that Maryanne Gibson could change the world. And she did.

Tabby looked at Paul across the room, unable to deny the sadness in his stance. How had they lost each other? What happened to the magic of Europe? She had been half-alive until she met Paul. Her mother cut her off after she graduated USC, saying it was time for Tabby to sink or swim. She used her mother’s connections to land a job doing marketing for a beef association and hated every day. She lived with five other women in a house on The Hill who were all so excited to be making it, but Tabby knew what life in D.C. should be like .

She started sleeping with a married exec at the beef association whenever he was in town. He gave her a credit card and keys to his company apartment. Tabby knew it would never last, but she wasn’t eking by anymore. A friend set her up with Paul. He was dorky and quiet, unlike anyone she ever thought she’d be attracted to. Then he confessed his favorite movie was Three Musketeers (hers, too!) and he loved R+B (her too!). He treated her in a way no other man had. He saw her and pushed her to dream big and chase it, just like her father did for her mother. But the one time she needed him to be in her corner, he told her to let things go. She didn’t need counseling; she needed someone in the trench with her.

“Thank you all for being here,” her mother said, “for my husband’s sixtieth birthday.”

The group hollered and cheered. Her father raised a hand, hating being the center of attention.

“I met this man in 1974, working the phone bank for our House rep. He impressed me with his kindness, his ability to get even the staunchest opponent to listen. We moved to D.C in 1977, so I could work on The Hill. Less than two years later I ran for my own seat.” She looked at her husband. “This man helped raise our daughters, got them to school and helped with their homework, all the while finishing his Ph.D. and finding ways to connect in our community. I often get the credit for seeing those around us, but I tell you it’s only because James saw them first and helped me to see the right thing to do. You are my light and my true north. I am so grateful for all these years with you. Thank you for being my compass and my best friend. I love you.” She kissed her husband, who rested his fingertips on her cheek. Tabby dabbed the tears off her cheek before she applauded with the rest of the room.

“Thank you for being here,” her father said. “Many of you have been there for Maryanne and me since the start. I am humbled by your friendship and continued support. Life is not what we do; it’s who we have around us. My wife tells me I was a lone ranger when we met. I didn’t think I needed anyone else. I’ve been blessed to pursue what I love and sit here today richer in friendship and community than I ever felt possible. To my daughters, Tabatha and Alice, you are my greatest joy. I am blessed to be your father. You are both so much more than I ever could have imagined.”

“To James!” a voice called out from the crowd. The rest of the group repeated the sentiment. Her mother motioned for Alice to come out and placed her between the two of them. Her father hugged her from the side and kissed her cheek.

“Today’s meal has been prepared by our culinary genius, who has come into her own this last year. I wish I had a thimble of your talent, maybe we wouldn’t eat out so much. But then again, we must support our local economy.” She raised her first finger, people laughing. “What are we having today?”

“We have a fresh greens salad with a homemade honey vinaigrette, a butternut and goat cheese side. There is a wild rice and shiitake mushroom sauté I learned in New Mexico and cannot stop making. All complemented with seared beef tenderloin seasoned with rosemary, garlic, and horseradish.”

“Bon appétit!” Her mother said in her best French accent.

Carver played bartender in the corner, the younger man bringing people their drinks. He handed Tabby another cucumber mojito. Paul sat next to her talking to her father, the men laughing. She took a long sip. Alice brought another round of platters of food to the table. Every seat at the table taken. Alice would eat in the kitchen with Carver and their staffer.

Alice walked past the main door, carrying a tray of grilled cheeses to the kids’ table. Tabby waited for her to walk by again, but she must be taking a minute with the kids. Surely the twins would want to keep her close. Tabby didn’t try to get into what was happening around her, instead she sipped her drink and waited for the meal to be over.

With the plates cleared, her father’s favorite, wild berry pie with homemade vanilla bean ice cream, was served. Carver stood at the head of the table explaining the berries were locally sourced, and he’d made the cassis using a local vodka. There was more at the bar if anyone wanted a full cocktail. Alice leaned in the door rolling her eyes, a smile on her face.

Tabby believed her sister could have gotten to the top without Delany Clare’s help. It didn’t make any sense that he would ask for nothing in return. If Alice told Tabby about the offer, she could have helped her see no one just opens their network. Everyone acted like he was a saint, but Tabby knew who he was.

At the end of the night Paul stayed with the twins to watch a movie in the living room. Tabby reached for a bottle of her father’s dandelion wine and went to their room. She loved the tiny balcony off the tall windows, her secret place. One summer night Paul tempted her onto it after everyone else was asleep. It was hot and illicit and happened many times since. They’d lay a blanket down and he’d push into her. She loved her husband’s body, how it felt when he was with her, how he’d tell her how beautiful she was and what he loved doing to her while he got her body to melt. Let them go back to those easier times when she knew who she was, and things made sense.

Her mother called her name. Tabby took another drink; just leave her alone.

“If you’re going to ignore me, at least pull the blanket back so I can’t see it.” Her mother’s head came out of the window before she worked her body through. Tabby took a long drink of her wine. Her mother took the bottle and smelled it, pulling back.

“Not his best year. But it does the trick, I see. ”

“Can’t this wait, Mom?”

“No, it can’t. You’re a teakettle, Kitty Cat. I am trying to avoid you blowing your top.”

“What did my sweet sister say in her defense?” She looked into the darkness, wishing her mother would give her the bottle back.

“I’m more interested in yours. Don’t you think this is a bit long to carry this torch?”

Tabby gasped and looked at her mother, ready to let her have it.

“Wake up, Tabatha. It’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“She lied to me!”

“I don’t care what your sister did or did not do, I’m talking to you. You and Paul have not said three words to each other all day. When are you going to let this go?”

“Let it go?” How her mother could say such a thing. If her mother’s rival did some underhanded trick to win an election, would she be so quick to forget? She remembered far too well when her mother wanted revenge. After Alice’s ex went off to elope with his pregnant side hustle, they donated all the overpriced furniture in his apartment, cleaned it out. He came back to an empty apartment and a broken bottle of his family’s mead on the floor. She heard her mother conspire against those who screwed her on The Hill like a bad TV drama.

“If you lose Paul, I don’t want to hear you complain. That man is the best thing in your life. If you don’t get over yourself quick, there won’t be very many pieces left for you to collect.” She moved off the porch. Tabby looked for the wine, but her mother must have taken it. She pulled the blanket closer. The flicker of anger she tried to stoke blew out under the weight of what she was getting ready to lose. For the first time since losing her company, Tabby pulled her body close and wept.