autographs while doing the table, as April moved around the room, greeting the guests. There were always lots of children in the restaurant that night, and April gave them chocolate turkeys that she made herself. The atmosphere in the room was always friendly and festive. April in New York seemed like a perfect place to spend Thanksgiving, and many of her regulars did so every year. There were several long tables set up for families, and they accommodated as many people as they could.
The group at April’s own table was the same every year. Her mother, father, stepmother, two half-sisters, and April were seated at a round table in the rear of the room. Ellen and her family came in every year at six o’clock, and were leaving just as the assorted Wyatts arrived. April had introduced the two families to each other several times, and as they left, the Puccinelli children looked drunk on food, clutching their chocolate turkeys in their hands. It was hard for April to imagine, as she looked at them this year, that in a few years she would have a child herself, and on the following Thanksgiving a baby in her arms.
She and Ellen exchanged a knowing look, as April kissed them goodbye. Ellen had been thinking the same thing about her, and was truly excited for her friend. She felt a proprietary interest in her pregnancy now, since she had been the first to guess. The two women exchanged a few whispered words before they left, and April smiled. Her mother had said nothing further about her pregnancy in the past three weeks. She had been too busy to think about it, and for the moment she preferred to have denial than focus on her coming grandchild. One thing at a time, she told herself. And April had been too busy to think about it much either. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be visibly pregnant, when her apron would barely go around her waist. For the moment, at thirteen weeks, nothing showed. She was three months pregnant, with six months to go.
April’s father and his family arrived as she was chatting with her mother, and looking at the photographs of Valerie giving her assistant the tiny Yorkie puppy. Marilyn had cried and named him Napoleon right on the show. He looked adorable and the ratings on their show were through the roof even before the Christmas segment aired.
April was excited to see her sister Annie, whom she hadn’t seen since she’d gone back to school in Boston in late August. Annie’s dream was to have a job in government one day, using her extraordinary math skills. Her mother always said that she had obviously been switched at the hospital at birth, since no one in the family could add or subtract or keep their checkbook straight, although April was very competent with the restaurant’s books. Annie had been a math whiz since she was six. Annie and April looked very much alike, and Annie could easily have been related to April’s mother, but both Maddie and Valerie had very similar features. The entire group had a family look, and it was hard to tell who was what to whom. Maddie was younger than Valerie but looked more her age at fifty-two, and the two women could easily have been sisters. They were a talkative, congenial group. And as they sat down to dinner, Maddie was asking Valerie’s advice about serving goose at a New Year’s Eve dinner that she and Pat were planning for some of his colleagues. Valerie was helping her construct an interesting menu to go with it, and commented positively on the way Maddie was doing her hair, and although she didn’t say it, she thought she should get rid of the gray. In some ways, Maddie looked older than April’s mother. Although they had similar features, she had none of Valerie’s glamour. All five women at the Wyatt table were tall, thin, and very striking. And Pat, as the only male in the family, was a big, burly teddy bear of a man with kind eyes and a warm smile. He enjoyed being with what he referred to as “his women.” There had been no grandparents on either side of the family since April was very little. April had taken a seat between her father and Heather, her younger sister, who was a senior in high school and hoping to go to Columbia, like April. At sixty-five, Pat had been a professor there for almost forty years.
“Let’s hope you stay there longer than I did,” April teased her, with an apologetic glance at her father. She knew how upset he had been when she dropped out to study cooking in Europe. He had had academic aspirations for her, but that had never been what April wanted. His younger daughters were much more likely to follow in his footsteps, and both were good students. His second family was of a far more academic, intellectual bent than his first. But he and Valerie were still enormously fond of each other and acted more like brother and sister than ex- spouses. Even now he was still startled by the immensity of Valerie’s career. When he had been married to her, he had been totally overwhelmed by her ambition and drive. He could laugh about it now, but at the time he had felt completely inadequate and unable to keep up. It had taken them both several very unhappy years to admit to themselves and each other that he was not the man for her. He was much happier now, and for twenty-one wonderful years Maddie had been the kind of wife he needed. But he had nothing but warm feelings for Valerie and their daughter, and enormous admiration for what his first wife had accomplished. She was a legend and a star, and she looked like one even at a quiet family dinner. She had worn a soft beige angora sweater with gold threads woven through it, with beige suede pants, high-heeled sexy Italian boots, diamond earrings, and perfectly cut blond hair. Maddie had worn a very conservative brown velvet suit. There was nothing flashy about her. And the girls had worn short skirts, heels, and pretty sweaters. Pat looked proud and happy as April had him sample two of their new wines, to see which one he liked better. He was always impressed by the wines she managed to bring in from Europe and Chile, at prices her patrons could afford. She always sent him a case of whatever he liked.
The dinner April served them that night was better than ever. The conversation at the table was animated, and Heather said she had a new boyfriend. Annie had had the same one for four years, another brain, who was at MIT with her, and April was starting to wonder if they were going to get engaged and married early, although her sister denied it. Pat was always startled that there was no man in his ex-wife’s life. She was such a beautiful woman, but her career had been her first priority for so long that he thought she had given up a lot for success and fame. At sixty, she was alone. He didn’t want the same fate for their daughter, and worried sometimes that it could happen. April was so focused on her restaurant that, like her mother, she seemed to have no private life at all. She never talked about a man, which was hardly surprising since she worked a hundred-and-forty-hour week at the restaurant.
They were still sitting at the table at eleven, as the restaurant began to empty. Annie and Heather had gone out to the kitchen to talk to some of the sous-chefs and kitchen staff they knew, particularly an especially cute boy from France. April had just poured her three parents an extremely good Napa Valley sauterne, which her mother said was as good as Chateau d’Yquem, or very close. Her father readily agreed, as he toasted their daughter, and the two older women joined in.
“Thank you for another fantastic Thanksgiving dinner.” He smiled warmly at April, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, smiling almost shyly.
“I think this was the best one so far,” he said proudly. He was always grateful that Valerie had helped her to open the restaurant. He couldn’t have done it, but could see easily how talented she was. And he was thrilled with every positive review he read of April in New York. He was always happy for her. There had been only one bad one in September, and the reviewer had sounded like a pill and a snob and clearly didn’t know good, wholesome food when he ate it. But other than that, Pat had never read anything negative about her restaurant. All he wanted for her now was to see her with a good man in her life. He didn’t want her to end up alone like her mother, having given up everything else for her job. It wasn’t too late for Valerie either, he knew, but he could no longer imagine his ex-wife accommodating herself to any man, and she hadn’t for him either. She was very set in her ways, and had been for a long time. She was such a perfectionist in everything she did that few men could measure up to the standards she set for herself. April was far more relaxed in her style, and less demanding, but she had no time to meet anyone either. She was always working, and owning a restaurant was a huge commitment. Unless she got involved with one of her sous-chefs, the sommelier, or a waiter, or one of their wholesale suppliers, Pat didn’t see how she was ever going to meet a man. He said something to her about it again, as they finished the sauterne.
“Are you taking any time off to play and have some fun?” Pat asked her with concern. April drove herself so hard, but she seemed to thrive on hard work, just like her mother. His second wife was far more relaxed, and her priorities were different. He was a happy man.
“Not lately,” April admitted. She always enjoyed working.
“Don’t you think it’s time? The restaurant is full every time we come here. People tell me it takes three weeks to get a reservation. You couldn’t get more people in here with a crowbar.” He knew the restaurant was making money, and she was making serious inroads in repaying her mother. “Why don’t you take a trip one of these days? A vacation back in France? Something. You can’t work
