Lia McGregor seemed to have no such problem. She was still smiling warmly, and her eyes brightened at Tina’s name. “Ooh. You’re an MJ too? That’s perfect,” Lia enthused.
She continued chatting cheerfully, and Libby watched Tina closely during the exchange. Her friend, never one to immediately warm to new people, still looked distracted and anxious. But Libby knew that this time Tina’s anxiety did not stem from being forced to chat with strangers. She could tell that Tina’s mind was still on the unsent email. Libby couldn’t understand how Tina could have made such elementary errors just before their opening weekend. They both had so much riding on this restaurant, yet now—at the most crucial time—Tina seemed to be mentally and emotionally imploding.
And that terrified Libby. Unlike Tina, she didn’t have wealthy parents and an inheritance to fall back on, and she couldn’t help feeling a simmering pang of resentment at the other woman’s seemingly careless attitude toward her responsibilities. Libby needed Tina to recognize that she had staked Clara’s future on this restaurant. This could not become yet another one of Tina’s failed “projects.”
She feared that Tina was crumbling beneath the pressure, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to make things right. She only hoped Tina would find a way to cope. If she couldn’t, then they were both doomed to lose much more than just a business. Libby wasn’t sure their friendship would survive such a catastrophic loss. Not when she had left a stable—if unremarkable—job to do this with Tina. If it were just her, she would be able to brush off such a loss and move on, but she had a baby now, and everything she did was for Clara.
The evening wasn’t the disaster they had feared it would be. But it wasn’t the capacity crowd they were hoping for either. Still, it was a busy and tiring night for both women. Libby tried to maintain focus, but it was hard when she knew Clara was in Tina’s office in the back, with a young sitter they had found online. She was trying to gradually wean Clara off the breast, planning to pump milk for bottle feedings—a necessity—at day care and then to continue with breastfeeding in the evenings. She wanted to maintain a stable routine for Clara. But she felt incredibly guilty about it, as her original plan had always been to breastfeed for at least six months before even thinking of weaning. She hated losing out on those last two months. But in this case, head had to overrule heart.
At least she still had the evenings, and tonight she popped in occasionally to cuddle and breastfeed her baby and to make sure both Clara and her teenage sitter were comfortable and happy.
The sixteen-year-old girl, Charlie Carlisle, had been frank about the fact that she’d never sat for an infant before, but Libby had been desperate and had liked the no-nonsense teen immediately. Still, it made her feel better to know that they were close by.
At the end of the evening, Libby was relieved to call it a day. She knew Tina was disappointed by the turnout and wondered—not for the first time—how much money her friend had put into this venture. Tina had been secretive about the finances, telling Libby to focus on creating the mouthwatering, inventive dishes that Tina was sure would put MJ’s firmly on the map as a premium eatery.
Their new friend Lia McGregor and her immediate family had lavished the food with praise. But most of the other locals who had ventured out had been stingy with their feedback. Time would tell if word of mouth would generate new business and if the people who had come out tonight would turn into regular patrons. Come summer, tourists would flock to the seaside town, and there would definitely be an uptick in business then. But Tina and Libby knew that the only way the business would survive was if the locals took to it. Or they would go belly up before next winter.
Once the last of the patrons had left and the kitchen staff had the cleanup under control, Libby joined Tina in her office. Charlie was still there, putting her e-book and phone into a tattered denim backpack.
“Thank you for all your help tonight, Charlie.” She smiled at the pretty girl, found her purse, and dug through her wallet for the payment.
“She’s a darling, Mrs. Chapman. I enjoyed taking care of her.” Libby winced inwardly at the name, wishing she’d thought to introduce herself as Libby Lawson to Charlie. Now she was stuck with Mrs. Chapman, which was aggravating when she would rather not acknowledge the fact that she’d ever been married.
“Please, call me Libby,” she said hastily. “Clara seems to like you. How often do you think you would be available to sit?”