A New Foundation Rochelle Alers (read aloud .txt) 📖

the top of your class. And you’re talented enough to have secured a position at a Michelin-starred restaurant. Women executive chefs are still as scarce as hen’s teeth, while you’re dragging your feet about whether you want to become involved in your family’s business.”

“I don’t know if I have the personality to supervise a commercial kitchen. Besides, I need more experience. Right now, I’m waiting to be promoted from a line cook to sous-chef.”

“Stop making excuses, Viola.”

“I’m not making excuses, Sonja. Running a kitchen is a daunting task and at this time in my life I don’t feel confident enough to become an executive chef.”

“Do you realize how many times you’ve complained about your tyrannical boss who gets his jollies off browbeating his staff?”

A beat passed. “I suppose too many times,” Viola admitted. “But I’ve learned to tune him out.”

“You shouldn’t have to tune him out, Vi, when you’re not obligated to stay on once Bainbridge House opens for business. I’m looking forward to the grand opening when you and your brothers gather in front of the mansion for a ribbon-cutting ceremony—you in your chef’s whites with Bainbridge House, Viola Williamson, Executive Chef embroidered on your coat.”

“Why do you make it sound so over-the-top?”

Sonja smiled. “Because it would be. Food critics will be lining up to eat at Bainbridge House, and then writing about the food and service. And I’m willing to bet there will be articles in cooking magazines about you being an up-and-coming chef to watch.”

Viola laughed. “Maybe I should hire you as my publicist.”

“You don’t need a publicist, Vi. Your dishes will speak for themselves.”

“I’m not going to promise anything, but I’ll tell you what I told Taylor. I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long, Vi. Time will go by faster than you think.” Sonja wanted to tell her friend she’d short-circuited her own career when she opted to marry rather than complete her education. And while she hadn’t been able to make up for the lost years Sonja had made herself a promise to maintain her emotional wellbeing at the same time making her career a priority.

“I know. I can’t believe I’m having second thoughts even though I’ve always wanted to run my own kitchen. My real quandary is giving up my apartment and moving back to New Jersey. You know how much I love living in the Village.”

Sonja did not want to debate with Viola that moving across the river paled in comparison to the possibility of making a name for herself in a male-dominated field. “I know, Vi, but you have to think of yourself as a role model for not only women, but particularly women of color who want a career in culinary arts.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as a role model, but you always know what to say to bring me back to reality.”

“I learned it from you, my friend. When we first met, I was still healing emotionally. You listened to me go on and on about my ex and what he’d done to me. Then you told me that I had to stop blaming myself for someone else’s negative behavior.”

“I had a similar experience with a guy I’d believed was the love of my life. When I found out he was cheating on me I told him it was over. He pleaded and begged, said that it would never happen again. I forgave him over and over until I realized he would always be a serial cheater. The only way I could get over him was to go into therapy. It took more than six months for me to completely exorcise him not only from my life but also my head.”

Sonja was slightly taken aback with her friend’s revelation. Viola rarely talked about her past relationships. She’d mentioned occasionally dating yet never admitted to having had a serious relationship. “Fortunately, I didn’t have to lay on a therapist’s couch because I had you to give it to me straight, no chaser.”

“I know there are times when I’m a little too candid for my own good, and that’s when Taylor has accused me of not having a filter.”

“I’ve concluded it is better to speak up rather than remain silent.” Sonja knew she wasn’t the same woman who’d fallen under the spell of a much older man and married him. She didn’t hate men. She was just wary of their motives. However, it would be different with Taylor. They would be friends.

She chatted with Viola for few more minutes and then ended the call.

Last summer Taylor’s sister had hosted a Sunday brunch buffet at her apartment and Sonja had been amazed with what she’d prepared. The gathering was small—less than a dozen people—and included Viola’s waitstaff coworkers, her roommate’s colleagues and her neighbors. One of her neighbors that had taken an interest in Sonja, and everywhere she turned he was only a few feet away. Then he’d asked if they could go somewhere later that evening for drinks. She had turned him down politely with the excuse that someone was coming to pick her up at six. Of course, he didn’t believe her and offered to walk her down to the street. She was hard-pressed not to laugh at his crestfallen expression when she got into the car with Jaime. Her cousin had proved invaluable when it came to discouraging men attempting to come onto her.

She retrieved her camera, booted up her laptop and downloaded the photos she’d taken at Bainbridge House. Sonja had described the mansion as having a little dinge, which did not in any way diminish the graceful beauty of the architecture.

She had just enlarged the photos of moldings in the library and the smaller ballroom when her phone rang. Glancing at the screen she saw Taylor’s name. She tapped the speaker feature. “I hope you’re driving hands free.”

His deep laugh caressed her ear. “I’m not driving. I’m home.”

“How did you get there so quickly?”

“Stamford is only thirty miles from Inwood.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s it. Should I interpret your emoji to