Big Time

Fourteen

John hadn’t seen his mother in nearly two months. She was a busy woman and, at 54, hadn’t slowed down—she was now a cookbook author and culinary consultant. Signings, cooking classes, restaurant openings, even the occasional cooking show appearance, and church on Sundays, combined with his work schedule, left them little time to catch up.

When Annie had been in Manhattan, John was sure to see his mother once a month. The truth was, he and his mother didn’t get along that well. There weren’t any major issues between them—it was just the way it was.

Despite this sometimes rocky relationship, John was taking Barbara to meet her. He would have preferred it if Annie and Hank were there to cut the tension, but a four-hour flight to New York with two kids was a lot to ask to help him prevent Barbara from witnessing a potentially awkward exchange. Like it or not, he was going in solo.

Barbara was delighted when he proposed the meeting. He could see the machinations in her head working overtime after he’d suggested it.

Both women were glowing after the introductions, as if neither of them ever expected to be meeting the other. They sat down at a table for four at one of his mother’s favorite new restaurants in the East Village—Assiette, a chic French brasserie located in the heart of Midtown. It had been written up in the Times as one of the best new restaurants and was packed to the rafters.

“I invited Christophe to even out the numbers,” his mother said, gesturing to the empty seat. Christophe was her former business partner whom she’d managed to stay friends with after their partnership dissolved. He was a bit eccentric and loved food. “And to save John,” she said to Barbara, smiling gaily.

John smirked at the truth. Apparently he and his mother were on the same page for once.

“So what do you do, Barbara?”

“I’m a publisher of children’s books.”

“Great. I’ve had three cookbooks published over the years and they were all rubbish. Maybe you can start publishing mine.” John’s mother said it as a statement rather than asking a question.

“That’s not me, but of course I would be happy to introduce you to the right people,” said Barbara naturally.

“It’s a hard game from what I’ve seen,” John’s mother continued.

“True, but we’re doing well for the moment.”

“Anyway,” said John, wanting to change the subject.

“John showed me some of the reviews of your books. They were great,” said Barbara.

She waved her hand dismissively.

Christophe arrived wearing a brown tweed jacket, a red shirt, and a blue cravat. “How are we all?” he greeted them, beaming his signature smile. He honed in on Barbara immediately. “You must be Barbara? You’re quite beautiful,” he said without pause.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing and offering her hand. Christophe gave her a kiss on either cheek instead.

Christophe sat down opposite Barbara. “What’s new with you, John?” Christophe asked.

John shrugged. “Not much—I’ve finally met a nice woman in this city.” John nodded toward Barbara and smiled.

After considering her for a moment, Christophe said, “Yes, she’s lovely.”

“That she is,” echoed John’s mother.

“And how’s work?” Christophe asked.

The last thing John wanted to do was share his recent work events with his mother—or anyone else, for that matter.

“Busy.”

“Of course.” Christophe nodded.

“But what about your boss retiring?” his mother asked.

Annie must have told her. Great.

“Rob’s decided to retire and an English guy will be running the team.” His mother stared at him, waiting for more. Barbara sat knowingly in her seat, also watching him. He looked back and forth between them. “What?”

His mother sighed. “This is like pulling teeth,” she said exasperated. “What’s this about you starting your own business?”

“It’s just a thought. A back-up plan,” John said.

“Starting up your own business isn’t easy. You have a great job most people would kill for. To throw your career away rather than wait a few years to become the boss, a partner, is absurd.”

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. “Well it’s still early. I’m just assessing my options at this stage.”

“Well, be careful. Working for a bank with a reputation like yours can open a lot of doors for you.”

“And at some point, you have to walk through one of them.”

Barbara took a sip of water—a long, purposeful sip as she squirmed in her seat.

“You think doors are open for you now? Well, just wait and see how many more will open if you hold out for partner.”

John sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. This was exactly what he didn’t want Barbara to witness. “I haven’t decided to leave Mother, but you don’t know what you’re worth until you test the market.”

Christophe and Barbara smiled at each other, waiting for the storm to pass.

“Those early years in my first restaurant were some of the hardest of my life,” she continued. “It wasn’t easy, you know.” She gave him a pointed look.

John’s mouth tightened. “I never assumed it was.”

“All I am saying is that starting your own business might look fun and exciting from the outside, but the reality is very different.”

“Let’s change the subject,” he proposed.

Glancing at Barbara, who was studying her plate, his mother said, “Probably a good idea. We can revisit this again later.” It was a command, rather than a suggestion. John could hardly wait.

“Kids these days,” said his mother with a smile to Barbara and Christophe. “Thinking they can just start up their own bank.” She laughed.

“I never said I was going to start up my own bank,” John snapped. His mother waved her hand, dismissing him. “Well, whatever. Every day I hear about another restaurant going to the wall. It’s not a good time to open a business.”

“It’s still possible to start up a business in this country, you know. Japan doesn’t build everything yet.”

“Well, not in food anyway—although sushi restaurants are becoming more popular,” she said, smiling at Christophe, who returned the gesture with a wink.

“Or finance,” John said firmly. “And just so you know, Mother, buying bankrupt businesses is my business. I know a little about the subject.”

She looked at John indignantly. “We went from middle class to downright poor, and you’ve managed to make it to a senior level in the world’s most prestigious financial institution through both yours and my hard work.” John leaned in, getting hot under the collar and ready to pounce. She didn’t seem to notice and continued, “Don’t throw it away on a whim. That’s all I’m saying.”

John opened his mouth to respond, but felt Barbara fidgeting next to him, so instead he sat back, took a breath, and picked up his glass of water.

“What do you like on the menu dear?” his mother asked Barbara, not skipping a beat.