Read Online Nantucket Red (Nantucket Blue) by Leila Howland - Free Book Online
Authors: Leila Howland
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Room. I’ve only been to New York once. For the day.”
“Improvise! Do you want to get the job or not?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, you’d better hurry. And a little mascara never hurts, yeah?”
I made it to Three Ships by ten fifty-nine, in my neatest-looking shirt and skirt, combed, damp hair, and a little mascara.
“You must be Cricket,” said a handsome man who looked like he’d just stepped off of a sailboat.
“And you must be Charlie,” I said. We shook hands and he led me to a table by a window.
“So, tell me all about the Russian Tea Room,” he said.
“It’s an extraordinary place,” I said, doing my best not to lie. I’d Googled it on the way there and memorized a few details. “It’s so centrally located. So opulent. So famous.”
He smiled, tapped his pencil on the table. “What was your favorite dish?”
“The chicken Kiev,” I said, maintaining cheerful eye contact.
“The Kiev, huh? How would you describe it?”
“I would describe it as delicious.” I closed my eyes as if imagining the experience. “Just so, so delicious.”
“How many tables were in your section?”
“Twenty?”
“You must be some waitress.” He smiled, leaned forward, drummed the table. “Did you really work at the Russian Tea Room? The opulent, famous, centrally located Russian Tea Room?”
“I’ve never even been there,” I said. He laughed, so I did, too.
“Do you have any restaurant experience?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But I’m going to Brown in the fall. So I’m a really quick study.”
“Impressive.”
“And I’m on the lacrosse team, so I’m quick on my feet, too.”
“But that also means you’d take off before Labor Day.” I shrugged. “I can’t hire you. For what people spend here, I need a professional staff. We get slammed. Tonight we have almost two hundred covers and…”—he paused, tilted his head—“You don’t even know what that means, do you? Yeah. I’m not looking for someone to train from scratch.”
“Do you know anyone who might be?” I asked. “Because the thing is, I really need a job this summer.”
“Have you thought about retail? A lot of girls like you do that in the summer.”
“Girls like me?”
“You know, Ivy League, blond, Daddy’s got a place in town.”
“You’ve got me all wrong. Girls like me need to make real money,” I said and sat up a little straighter. “I may not have a lot of waitressing experience, but I worked at the Cranberry Inn last summer six days a week. I served breakfast every morning at seven a.m. sharp and cleaned rooms all day after that. I wasn’t late once, and when a guest asked me for something, I always did my best to make sure I got them what they needed. I even ended up with an internship with one of them, a famous writer. And I’m not afraid to clean a bathroom. I’d rather not. But I will.” I wrote my name and number on a napkin and handed it to him. “If you hear of anything, please pass on my number.”
I walked toward the door, but Charlie’s voice stopped me. “Well, I feel like a first-rate asshole. You look the part, but I shouldn’t have assumed.” He grabbed two bottles of fancy carbonated lemonade from behind the bar, uncapped them with some unseen device, and handed one to me. “I still can’t hire a waitress without fine-dining experience, but my buddy Karla is still looking for someone and she’s a little more open-minded.” He wrote Breezes , Jefferson Road on a cocktail napkin. “Tell her I sent you.”
“Thanks.” I was going to mention that I’d already had a phone interview with Karla and she’d rejected me, but I changed my mind. Sometimes you have to take a few shots on goal before you score.
Breezes was about a mile outside of town, right on the sand. From the outside it looked like a beach house. I could smell the ocean from the wooden-planked pathway. The restaurant name was etched in gold above a bright blue door. It was the restaurant
“Improvise! Do you want to get the job or not?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, you’d better hurry. And a little mascara never hurts, yeah?”
I made it to Three Ships by ten fifty-nine, in my neatest-looking shirt and skirt, combed, damp hair, and a little mascara.
“You must be Cricket,” said a handsome man who looked like he’d just stepped off of a sailboat.
“And you must be Charlie,” I said. We shook hands and he led me to a table by a window.
“So, tell me all about the Russian Tea Room,” he said.
“It’s an extraordinary place,” I said, doing my best not to lie. I’d Googled it on the way there and memorized a few details. “It’s so centrally located. So opulent. So famous.”
He smiled, tapped his pencil on the table. “What was your favorite dish?”
“The chicken Kiev,” I said, maintaining cheerful eye contact.
“The Kiev, huh? How would you describe it?”
“I would describe it as delicious.” I closed my eyes as if imagining the experience. “Just so, so delicious.”
“How many tables were in your section?”
“Twenty?”
“You must be some waitress.” He smiled, leaned forward, drummed the table. “Did you really work at the Russian Tea Room? The opulent, famous, centrally located Russian Tea Room?”
“I’ve never even been there,” I said. He laughed, so I did, too.
“Do you have any restaurant experience?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But I’m going to Brown in the fall. So I’m a really quick study.”
“Impressive.”
“And I’m on the lacrosse team, so I’m quick on my feet, too.”
“But that also means you’d take off before Labor Day.” I shrugged. “I can’t hire you. For what people spend here, I need a professional staff. We get slammed. Tonight we have almost two hundred covers and…”—he paused, tilted his head—“You don’t even know what that means, do you? Yeah. I’m not looking for someone to train from scratch.”
“Do you know anyone who might be?” I asked. “Because the thing is, I really need a job this summer.”
“Have you thought about retail? A lot of girls like you do that in the summer.”
“Girls like me?”
“You know, Ivy League, blond, Daddy’s got a place in town.”
“You’ve got me all wrong. Girls like me need to make real money,” I said and sat up a little straighter. “I may not have a lot of waitressing experience, but I worked at the Cranberry Inn last summer six days a week. I served breakfast every morning at seven a.m. sharp and cleaned rooms all day after that. I wasn’t late once, and when a guest asked me for something, I always did my best to make sure I got them what they needed. I even ended up with an internship with one of them, a famous writer. And I’m not afraid to clean a bathroom. I’d rather not. But I will.” I wrote my name and number on a napkin and handed it to him. “If you hear of anything, please pass on my number.”
I walked toward the door, but Charlie’s voice stopped me. “Well, I feel like a first-rate asshole. You look the part, but I shouldn’t have assumed.” He grabbed two bottles of fancy carbonated lemonade from behind the bar, uncapped them with some unseen device, and handed one to me. “I still can’t hire a waitress without fine-dining experience, but my buddy Karla is still looking for someone and she’s a little more open-minded.” He wrote Breezes , Jefferson Road on a cocktail napkin. “Tell her I sent you.”
“Thanks.” I was going to mention that I’d already had a phone interview with Karla and she’d rejected me, but I changed my mind. Sometimes you have to take a few shots on goal before you score.
Breezes was about a mile outside of town, right on the sand. From the outside it looked like a beach house. I could smell the ocean from the wooden-planked pathway. The restaurant name was etched in gold above a bright blue door. It was the restaurant
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