“YOU KNOW HIM?”
Alaric crouched beside her.
“I thought that was you.”
Mom stared.
“You work here?”
He smiled faintly.
“I own Casa Verona.”
Her lips parted.
I looked between them.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
“Mom, how do you know him?”
Before she answered, the rude woman shoved her chair backward.
“This is absurd. Unlock the door.”
Alaric stood.
“In a minute.”
“You have no right to embarrass me.”
I almost laughed.
“You embarrassed yourself.”
She glared.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You were talking about my mother.”
“Claire,” Mom whispered.
I turned.
The anger drained slightly.
She looked shaken.
Not merely hurt.
Something deeper.
Alaric noticed.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He gave her a look.
“You always say that when you’re not.”
Mom stared at him.
Something passed between them.
Recognition.
Memory.
A history I knew nothing about.
I slowly sat down.
“Okay.”
I looked at both of them.
“Someone needs to explain this.”
THEY HAD KNOWN EACH OTHER MORE THAN FORTY YEARS AGO
Alaric glanced around Casa Verona.
Every table was pretending not to listen.
Nobody was convincing.
He lowered his voice.
“Your mother and I worked together.”
“At a diner,” Mom added.
“Before you were born.”
I stared.
“You never told me.”
Mom gave a small shrug.
“There are many things you don’t know about your mother.”
Alaric smiled.
“Eleanor saved my career.”
Mom immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“You did.”
“I was twenty-two and an idiot.”
“You were talented.”
“Both can be true.”
Despite herself—
Mom almost smiled.
Alaric looked toward me.
“I had just started cooking professionally.”
“No money.”
“No training anyone respected.”
“No connections.”
“I mostly learned by failing loudly.”
Mom interrupted.
“You knew more than you pretend.”
“Not much.”
She smiled again.
For the first time since the insult—
some life came back into her face.
ELEANOR WAS THE FIRST PERSON WHO BELIEVED IN HIM
Alaric continued.
“Your mother tasted every ridiculous recipe I made.”
“She stayed after closing while I experimented.”
“She convinced the owner to give me kitchen shifts.”
Mom looked down.
“He deserved the chance.”
“I got fired two months later.”
I blinked.
“That seems like a strange definition of saving your career.”
Alaric laughed.
“I deserved that too.”
Mom sighed.
“You argued with the owner.”
“He served spoiled seafood.”
“You threw a pan.”
“Not at him.”
“It landed near him.”
“I had terrible aim.”
Several diners laughed softly.
The room relaxed.
Even Mom did.
Then Alaric’s expression became serious again.
“After I was fired, Eleanor found me another kitchen.”
Mom shook her head.
“Anybody would have.”
“No.”
Alaric looked directly at her.
“They didn’t.”
Then:
“I never forgot.”
Mom’s eyes dropped.
“That was more than forty years ago.”
“So?”
His answer was simple.
“It still happened.”
