Aaron laughs. "My mother never wore an ap.r.o.n. We had cooks. I lost my virginity to a cook."

"Me, too," Christopher says.

"Chrissie!" I swat a rag at him.

"What?" He moves out of rag reach. "I thought we were sharing."

"You have work to do," I tell him.

"Yeah, yeah," Christopher says. "Go tell it on the mountain."

Whatever chaos has ensued gets rehashed at the end of the night, which is 9 P.M P.M. on weekdays and 10 P.M P.M. on weekends. When the restaurant is cleared of its final customers, I turn on all the house lights and turn up the music to get the waiters through the drudgery of cleaning their tables and their workstations. In the kitchen, the San Padres turn on their Mexican disco to help get them through their closing work.

The waiters finish before the San Padres. As each waiter finishes, we congregate in the middle of the restaurant and chitchat about customers, ourselves, and the world. Whatever is most interesting. I cash out the waiters, exchanging real money for the tips left on credit cards. If all has gone reasonably well, both Cafe Louis and the waiters have made money. For the past two weeks, everyone has been happy. Including me.

Sally looks at me with sleepy headlights when I rouse her from her parking spot where she's been lolling all afternoon and night. I drive to Mom's townhouse, famished. The house is always dark, Mom already asleep. Quietly I invade the kitchen. What do I eat? A leftover-filled sandwich, of course. With mustard. Good mustard.

Sat.u.r.day Night Special At seven o'clock, the door opens. In walks a delivery man wearing a Hunter Farm T-shirt and holding three stacked boxes of produce. This guy is white; our usual delivery man is black. "Where's Eddie?" I ask the man as he hands me the delivery list to sign. His hat is pulled down over his face as he opens each box for me to quickly inspect.

"Eddie doesn't make Sat.u.r.day night special deliveries," he says. "Sorry to bring this through the front door. No one answered my knock on the kitchen door. I'll carry this stuff to the kitchen."

"Sorry about the mix-up," I say. Once again, I botched the ordering. "Please tell Joe that I apologize."

"Apology accepted." The man raises his head, and hat, and I see Joe Hunter. He hoists the boxes to his shoulder and walks toward the kitchen. "Be right back."

But he doesn't come right back. Fifteen minutes later, I abandon the hostess desk, to see what Joe is doing in my kitchen. Peering through the kitchen window, I see Joe talking to the cooks. Entering through the swinging door, I hear Joe speaking in Spanish to the San Padre brothers. "What's going on in here?"

Joe smiles and holds up a bunch of green herbs. "Lemon verbena. The newest thing in my herb house." Joe holds the lemon verbena out to me. "Smell."

Leaning forward, I put my face near Joe's hands and inhale. "Lemony."

Joe looks at my face intently. "Really good with fish."

"I bet."

"Thought you'd like to try it," Joe says. "A little present."

"Thank you."

Joe hands the bunch of herbs to Horatio, who says, "Gracias, amigo." "Gracias, amigo."

"De nada," Joe answers. Then he looks at me, and puts his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "So. How you been?" Joe answers. Then he looks at me, and puts his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "So. How you been?"

Glancing at the San Padre brothers, I see them grinning, looking from me to Joe. I point to the dining room. "I have to get back to work."

Joe follows me into the empty restaurant. "I can see that you're really busy."

Trying to look industrious, I walk back to the hostess desk and start rifling through the reservation book. Joe follows me. Quietly, he says, "I've been thinking about you."

I look at Joe and smile. But he doesn't say anything further. My boredom segues into frustration. I'm not interested in playing games. Aaron told me how he felt. Why can't Joe? Put up or shut up. "Thanks for the lemon verbena. I'll see you around."

"Kicking me out?" Joe asks with a smile.

"Do you want to stay? If you're hungry, you can have a seat at the counter."

Joe shakes his head. "That's why I haven't asked you out."

"What's why?"

"You're a hustle bustle. I'm a slow and steady."

I think about that for a moment, then say, "I don't get it."

"I like things to grow naturally," Joe says. "Let nature takes its course."

"Are you talking about relationships or farming?"

"Both." Joe takes off his hat and his hair flops into his face, just grazing his cheekbone. With a dirty hand, Joe tucks his hair behind his ear.

It's not that he is good-looking, I think. It's that he's earthy. Sensual.

Joe says, "I'd like to take you out. Someday. One day. Soon."

"You let me know," I tell him.

"I will." Joe smiles and heads for the door. "Good night."

"Good night."

Women After a particularly tiring Thursday, I park Sally in front of Mom's townhouse. Looking at Sally's clock, I see that it is only 11:30 P.M P.M. It feels like 3 A.M A.M.

"Mimi?" Following Mom's voice, I go into the den.

Sitting on the couch are my mother and a man. I stare at the man. "Who are you?"

"Mimi, this is Sid Weiss. Dr. Sid Weiss."

"Just Sid," he says. "It's nice to meet you." Sid stands and extends his hand. He's shorter than my father, and a lot grayer. Dr. Sid is wearing olive-colored pants and a white, short-sleeved polo shirt. He speaks in a quiet, educated voice.

I shake his hand. Then we stare at each other.

"Mimi, Sid is the man I told you about? We went to the Phillies game?" She's nervous, turning all her statements into questions. "We've been spending quite a lot of time together the past few weeks?"

"Great."

Mom waves at a vase. "Sid bought me flowers, see? Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yes."

"Tulips?" Mom squeaks. "My favorite?"

Sid clears his throat. "Your mom says that you are in the restaurant business."

"Yes, I'm working at my father's restaurant. He's-" I stop.

Mom raises her eyebrows. "Sid knows your father died."

"Right." I rub my eyes. "I'm tired."

Sid stands. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the restroom."

Sid walks straight to the bathroom without asking for direction. Has Sid been here before? While I've been at the restaurant?

Mom comes toward me and whispers, "I waited until you got home so I could tell you in person that I'm spending the night at Sid's. I didn't want to just leave you a note."

I stare at my mother.

She stares back at me. "You said you wanted to know where I am at all times."

"I just changed my mind."

"Mimi."

"Mommy."

"What can I say," Mom says, "to make you okay with this?"

She's not volunteering to stay home. What Mom is saying is that she's going, and she'd like to help me deal with it. But she's still going.

There's nothing Mom can say to make me okay with her spending the night with a man who isn't my father. I didn't want to know about Mom having s.e.x with Dad. I surely don't want to know about her having s.e.x with another man.

"Mom, you go do whatever you want to do. I'll be fine. We don't have to talk about it. Let's not get Oedipal. Anyway, Oedipus was a man. I'm a woman."

"So am I, Mimi. So am I."

Family Business, Part Two "The love of your life is sitting at the counter," Christopher von Hecht tells me.

"Who?" I peer out the kitchen window and see Aaron Schein.

"Chrissie, please." But Aaron looks particularly cute this evening. He's smiling.

Christopher leans over my shoulder. "He asked to see you."

Aaron smiles even wider when I come out of the kitchen. You know what? It's nice to be wanted.

"I just ordered dinner," Aaron tells me. "Will you join me?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh." Aaron's smile fades.

"But I'll sit with you while you eat."

"Yeah?" The smile returns. "Good." He pats the stool next to him. When I sit on the stool, next to Aaron, I catch a whiff of his cologne. Normally I don't like cologne on men. But it's something light and summery and it smells good on Aaron.

"Guess what?" he says.

"What?"

"I made a big deal today." Aaron shakes his head as if he's somewhat amazed at his success. "Can I tell you about it?"

"Sure." I expect him to chronicle the saga of the next great SHRED shopping center. Instead Aaron talks about residential development. Interrupting, I say, "I thought SHRED did commercial real estate development."

Aaron nods. "My father specializes in commercial. I've never been very interested in commercial properties. There's not a lot of room for creativity. As evidenced by almost every suburban shopping center. I worked on the commercial stuff to gain Dad's trust so he'd give me the freedom to branch into residential. Which is what happened today."

"The deal you made was with your father?"

"Yeah. It was just a handshake. But it was the biggest deal of my life." Aaron smiles. "Dad gave me permission to launch a residential division of SHRED."

"Congratulations," I say sincerely.

"Thanks." Aaron focuses his brown eyes on me. "It may sound silly to you, but I'm really excited about it."

"It doesn't sound silly to me. It sounds like an accomplishment."

Aaron blushes. How adorable is that?

"Well, Mimi Louis. You are speaking with the vice president of SHRED Residential. I am no longer a strip mall scion. Now I build homes. Quality homes for quality families. That's our motto."

Without thinking, I put my hand on his leg. "That's wonderful, Aaron."

Aaron raises his eyebrows. "See that? I'm going to tell our grandkids that you made the first move."

Removing my hand, I say, "Slow down, partner."

Aaron smiles. "When I want something, I get it."

"Do you want me or my business?"

"Both."

"I'm being serious, Aaron."

"So am I." Aaron takes my hand. "Mimi, you are going to sell SHRED the restaurant. That you are going to fall in love with me is an entirely separate matter."