My mother-in-law brought thirty-eight friends into my restaurant, ordered the most expensive menu on it, and told them she was paying. Then she started boasting about my husband’s new girlfriend — and I looked across the room at the young woman refilling their water.
At about half past four I took the bill in myself.
Twenty-three thousand two hundred and eighty-nine dollars.
And a folder, which I put down beside it.
In the folder: the bill. Then three years of comp slips, reprinted at menu price, with a total at the bottom. Then fourteen months of that supplier card, highlighted. Then one page on my own letterhead closing the Rook family account with immediate effect.
Constance opened it and read the top sheet and stopped smiling.
She turned to the second page and went a colour I have never seen on a person.
And then she looked up, because she had finally heard the silence behind her, and turned round, and saw the hostess.
Aurelie had put the water jug down. She was taking her apron off.
PART 5 — ALL STAYS IN THE FAMILY
Constance did not pay the twenty-three thousand. I did not expect her to and I did not chase it, and I have been told by three people that I am a fool about that.
