"That's so amazing," I whispered. "I was worried I hadn't done enough."

Kai broke through. "Carol Channing. Or is she dead, too?"

"So, here's the thing," Avery said, and I leaned in to hear his lowered voice. "They are having a private party at their new house outside the city next week. And they want us to cook."

Kai kept guessing. "I can't believe I didn't say this before. Of course. Mario Batali."

I could hear Kai evaluating his most recent theory, but I was too distracted to respond. All I could think about were the promises I'd made myself on the plane from Seattle to New York; how I'd told everyone-Carlo, Manda, even my mother-my singular goal with this cross-country move was to put myself in the position to be a recognized pastry chef. Kai's voice seemed suddenly distant, our little game something that was charming and sweet but that would also have to wait. I cleared my throat and took my hand off the phone. "Kai, I'm sorry, but I think I'd better go."

"Too close to the truth?" he asked, sounding victorious. "Can't hold your tongue any longer, eh? I knew it was Batali. Wow, I can't imagine having him stop into my restaurant. Did you freak out?"

"No," I said, hurriedly. "I mean, yes. I'm a little freaked out. But it wasn't Batali. And I can't really say any more."

"Oh," he said, subdued. "All right. I get it. What happens at Thrill stays at Thrill, right?" The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable and sudden.

I bristled. "That's not fair. You know I'm in a tough spot here."

He exhaled long. "You are. That's true. We both are."

We were quiet a beat, and I saw Avery do a little twirl with his fingers, prodding me to wrap it up.

"Listen," Kai said, more gently, "maybe discussions like this aren't best on the phone and after midnight. Let's shelve it and talk tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Sounds really good," I said, already letting my finger creep around to end the call. "Sleep well," I said and hung up while Kai's goodnight still sounded in the quiet air.

"They want us?" I turned fully to Avery and felt my eyes widen at the thought of such a personal request. "Don't they have their own chef?"

Avery shrugged. "Probably. But when you're that rich and famous, you don't need to get bogged down by little details like loyalty. They are having about seventy people, they said. The party is at their house in Medina. The place was in Architectural Digest last month, Charlie! They play backyard bocce with their neighbors, Bill and Melinda Gates! This is huge!"

He didn't need to tell me that, of course. We'd had our fair share of celebrities popping into L'Ombre when I lived in New York, and they always received undivided attention and set Alain into a dither every time. But the end of the meal was always the end of the relationship. n.o.body had ever asked Alain and Felix over for a playdate.

I felt a quickening in my pulse that pushed aside the clouds of my exhaustion.

"Well, come on, then. Let's talk menu." I grinned at him. "I'm never going to fall asleep now."

He grinned back. "Who says workaholics don't have any fun?"

17.

MANDA waved to me from under a giant, red metal sculpture. Actually, she shimmied while jumping up and down in some conspicuously new running shoes. Her hair bounced with each return to earth.

"Isn't this fantastic?" she said as she gathered me into a quick hug. "What a beautiful day! The sun is so warm! The Sound looks amazing! I love my new shoes! And there are no children anywhere around here that have pa.s.sed through my birth ca.n.a.l!"

I rubbed one clammy hand over my eyes. "I'm really trying to be awake right now, but last night was not my longest night of sleep. I'll just keep sipping and listening to you talk about this very large, very bright focal point of the Olympic Sculpture Park." I cupped my Grande Caffe Americano and let its caffeinated loveliness seep into my bloodstream. Manda could have launched into a dissertation on insects and worms, for all I cared. I was having trouble rousing myself after menu planning with Avery until four that morning.

Manda frowned. "Ten in the morning is not early. Your life is so bizarre."

"Agreed," I said gruffly into my coffee.

"This is called The Eagle. Iconic to this part of Seattle."

I squinted and gave it time but finally shook my head. "I don't see it. It looks nothing like an eagle to me. Not even remotely."

Manda nodded. "Me either. But I love the color and the shape. Plus, if you stand between his legs, you can get a great photo of the s.p.a.ce Needle. Let's do it!" She pulled me over to a s.p.a.ce between two red supports.

"This is vaguely obcene," I muttered.

"Oh, stop being so difficult. Let's try a selfie. I've never done it but I know all the young people do these things." She held her iPhone out in front of her and started rotating it very slowly, smiling the whole time.

"We are the same age," I reminded her, s.n.a.t.c.hing her phone out of her hand and pulling her head close to mine. It took us six tries, but we finally caught one that captured some red from The Eagle, our faces, and the s.p.a.ce Needle sprouting in a confident trajectory between us.

"Well, Miss Sophistication, you suck at selfies, too. So there." Manda zipped her phone into a small pocket on the back of her shorts. "Let's walk down to the water." She led the way down a path that angled toward Puget Sound.

"You would have been a good collie," I said when she put two sharp fingers on the small of my back to guide me around a sharp turn. "I feel very well herded."

"Sorry," she said with a short laugh. "I'm so used to accident prevention. I can't believe how easy this is! This walking without a stroller, without a diaper bag, without a bag of snacks, without extra changes of clothes for four people." She grinned at me and started pumping her arms. "It's so easy! Let's break a sweat!"

I groaned. "Let's not. Let's a.s.sume a leisurely pace." I tossed my empty coffee cup in a public bin.

Manda screwed up her face in disapproval, but she slowed down. "What happened to a-thousand-push-ups-a-day-or-the-day-is-wasted? You're the runner here, sis. I thought I'd be the one begging for mercy."

I shook my head. "I haven't gone running in weeks. In fact, I still haven't been on any of the trails I was so excited about when I read about them in New York. The closest I've come to an accelerated heart rate is when we have a packed house and I'm hustling between ovens and the walk-in."

"I wouldn't say that's the only time you've had a reason for your heart to race." I had to hand it to my best friend. She had waited an entire seven minutes to bring up the subject of my love life.

I felt my sullen mouth break into the start of a smile. "I'm so impressed with your restraint. I thought you'd holler, 'Does he use too much tongue?' when you saw me approaching The Eagle."

She laughed. "I don't even need to ask that question. Kai does not strike me as a sloppy kisser." She waited, and when I didn't rise to her bait, she said, "And this is the part when you tell me what kind of kisser he really is."

"He's perfect," I said, not even trying to hide the information because one of the many merits of best friendship is that there are no limits on honesty, tears, insecure lines of questioning, or bad karaoke.

"I'm not surprised," she said and did a little hop of joy. "He seems like he was made for you. I'm so excited!"

"He's smart, he's funny, he's incredibly good-looking, he loves his family, he loves good food ..."

"He doesn't break up with you when you can't ever see him and when you call him in the middle of the night and wake him up." She arched an eyebrow in my direction.

"How do you know these things?" I demanded. "Are you two dishing about me?"

"We are totally dishing about you." Manda rolled her eyes. "And I absolutely saw him this morning when he was taking out his trash and I absolutely interrogated him until he was so uncomfortable, he pretended he had something burning in the oven." She made a face. "Amateur excuse. He left for work two minutes later, so there was definitely nothing in his oven."

"You are unstoppable," I said, starting to breathe heavily with all the exercise. "I hope he doesn't think I'm a total freak."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. He seems to have jumped that hurdle and stuck around anyway."

I shoved her to the other side of the path. "I did wake him up. I really wanted to hear his voice. But the b.u.mmer is that I couldn't actually tell him anything."

Manda tsked. "I hope you appreciate how much I love you. Every fiber in my being wants to pepper you with questions about that show. We have never had secrets before, you know."

I sighed. "I really, really wish I could spill it all. It almost doesn't seem real since I can't talk about it with you."

Manda nudged us over to a bench that faced the water. We dropped onto the seat and watched in silence as a stately container ship moved seamlessly through the distant waves.

"Kai reminds me of Jack in some ways," Manda said, eyes still on the water.

I waited for her to elaborate.

"He knows himself," she said. "He's good. He's true. I'd be surprised if the boy could tell a lie without his head exploding."

I smiled, knowing she was right.

"Jack is like that," she said. "He loves me in a good, true way. He loves my quirks and my brokenness and even my big mouth, though I have to use that mouth often to apologize for what comes out of it." She laughed softly. "And he makes us get it right. When we were first married and we'd get into a fight, I just wanted to get in the car and drive to Tacoma. And he never let me, the stubborn mule. I remember he would say, 'Manda, I love you and you love me and we are in this forever. And neither of us is leaving. So we can keep arguing and being p.i.s.sy with each other for the next four hours, or we can just make up now and get back to being together.'" She shook her head, laughing. "Such an accountant. Always looking for the most efficient way to get something done, even if it's an argument with his wife."

"You got a good one," I said. "Other than having to teach him not to wear athletic socks with sandals, you really had very little rewiring to do."

She snorted. "Well, he did have that phase with all oatmeal-colored clothing. Not a good choice for anyone, especially those with Nordic ancestry."

We watched as a young family walked by, the dad pulling a little girl in a wagon and the mom struggling to rein in a golden retriever who appeared to think the leash was a polite suggestion, not a commitment.

Manda turned suddenly to face me. "All right, listen. I don't mean to be bossy or put my nose where it shouldn't be."

I looked at her, confusion settling on my face. "Why not?"

She ignored me. "But I just have to say this: I think you need to work less. There. I said it." She threw up her hands as if relinquishing a burden.

I squinted at her. "No offense, Manda, but you are repeating yourself. You have always thought I work too much." I felt a heavy stone of self-defense settle in a familiar place in my gut.

"I know, I know," she said, shooing the thought away with one hand. "But this time I'm serious. It's not just that you need to work less so that you don't develop hypertension or drop dead of a heart attack at age forty."

I winced.

"It could happen." She pointed with one finger at my chest. "But this time it's different. I'm up-close and personal this time, Char. You're not a million miles away in New York. I'm watching you this time, and I'm worried you're just not getting it."

"Not getting what?" I said, feeling my ire poke its head out of its dormant state. "I'm getting exactly what I've worked for, Manda. After many, many years of sacrifice." I heard strains of Margot's voice in my words, but I pushed on. "Of course I'm working too hard. Of course it's a lot of hours."

Manda nodded. She spoke quickly, each word chasing the next. "I just wonder if you're going to miss out on the really, really great things in your life just because you are on this locomotive and you can't seem to slow it down, even for a potty break."

I looked up at the water view, which didn't seem to inspire the same sense of calm it had moments before. "I will not apologize for who I am."

"Oh, give me a break," Manda said, slapping the bench with one hand. "You are not your job, Charlie. You are a talented, bright, beautiful woman who is missing her whole life because of her job. But you are not your job."

"Not fair," I said, jumping up and starting down the path again. Manda jogged behind me to catch up.

"What's not fair?" she said, her voice creeping up in volume and pitch. "I'm trying to talk to you, Charlie. I think you're not being fair by not using your listening ears."

"Whatever," I said, upping my speed to a powerwalk. "You're allowed to identify yourself as a mom. That's your job, and you wear it like a badge. In fact, you complain about it all the time." I shifted my voice into a whine. "'It's so hard, it never ends, I can't get a break, I'm too tired to have s.e.x, I never have time for me, I wish I could sleep for eight consecutive hours, my b.u.t.t is huge, I love walking without a stroller and fruit snacks.'"

It took me a good five steps to realize Manda had stopped walking. I turned and saw her standing still on the path, face crumpled and eyes big.

"Wow," she said, voice small, almost childlike. She shook her head slowly. "Is that what I sound like?"

I inhaled deeply and forced all the air out of my lungs, feeling my frustration deflate with a healthy poke of repentance. "No," I said, walking toward her. "You don't. Manda, I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry about it," she said, hand up to stop my words. "I get it. I shouldn't have pushed so hard. You do what you need to do." Her lips made a thin line. "You're a big girl, Charlie. I know you can handle this."

My shoulders slumped. "I thought I was. Handling this."

Manda didn't say anything for a moment. "Just be fair. Be fair to you, be fair to Kai. That's my only bit of counsel." She cleared her throat, and I thought the smile she mustered looked like a brave one. "Advice session officially over."

I put my arm around her. "I'm sorry. I think my social skills are deteriorating with time."

She sniffed. "You've always been a bit rough around the edges."

I fumbled my way toward penance. "Can I take you out for lunch? I don't have to be at Thrill until three today."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'd better get home." She stopped abruptly, and I hated to think of her editing her comments about what the rest of her day held with Zara, Dane, and Polly, just so I wouldn't think she was complaining. I didn't think I had it in me to hanker for a story about breast pumps and spit-up, but there I was, hankering.

"Hey!" I said, inspired. "Isn't Zara's birthday next weekend?"

Manda nodded. "Princess party on Sat.u.r.day at ten. Lots of girls wearing get-ups we certainly hope they mature out of. Clear heels are cute at age six, but they send an entirely different message at fifteen."

"Let me make the cupcakes," I said, getting excited. "I've always wanted to do that for your kids' birthdays, and I couldn't when I was in New York. How many do you need? Pink with pink frosting?"

Manda looked at me, hands on her hips. "I don't want to add more work to your schedule."

"Pshaw," I said, borrowing a word from my mother. "This is not work. This is fun. And," I said, playing my best card, "I'll call Kai and see if he'll help me. You'll be avoiding high fructose corn syrup and watching me have a life. Win-win. Come on. Let me."

She kissed me on the cheek. "G.o.d bless you. Yes, please." We turned on the path and headed up a ramp toward the sculpture park. "Thank you. And Zara thanks you. And Jack definitely thanks you because he won't have to pretend that the carrot-zucchini ones I usually make are edible."

I opened my mouth in horror. "You did not. Not for a birthday."

She shrugged. "Just be glad you came when you did. I might well have resorted to a date-and-fig flatbread I just bookmarked on my favorite blog." She turned to me. "Do you ever read Chemicals Kill, Kids Suffer? You might find some good ideas. She has a whole section devoted to sweets."

I shook my head and made the extremely adult decision not to say anything. I'd probably said enough for one walk.

We were standing at The Eagle again when Manda turned to me. "Just so you know, Sa.s.s," she said with a wry smile, "your little tirade? About how I say my life is hard, I never sleep, I can't get a break, I don't have time for me?"

I nodded, feeling sheepish.

"Other than the stroller and the big b.u.t.t, those are all things you complain about, too, my dear."

I frowned.