Linda Lee - The Glass Kitchen: A Novel of Sisters

Portia only laughed. “The way I look at it,” she said, “he’s mine. The truth of a meal never lies. Seems only fair that I give back as good as I get.”

Gabriel wrapped her in his arms then and kissed her, a deep claim mixed with an even deeper love and respect.

“Get a room,” Olivia demanded with an amused smile.

“Seriously?” Miranda added.

“Sheez,” Ariel chimed in.

“Come, sit, Portia,” Cordelia said, taking charge. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

They gathered around the table and ate the meal, every last bite.

Later that night, Portia didn’t return to the tiny rented apartment on Columbus Avenue. She stayed in the garden apartment and crawled into the old bed Gabriel had restored for her. Joy filled her for the first time in weeks when the man she was meant to be with climbed down the fire escape and into her room.

“Girls in bed?” she asked, sitting up.

He nodded and lay down next to her, pulling her to him. “I’m never letting you leave again,” he whispered.

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

“Can you really live with me knowing things are needed before we know why?”

He rolled on top of her, his hands framing her face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then he kissed her, long and deep, and Portia knew she had truly found her home.

THE GLASS DOOR OPENED, ringing the old-fashioned bell over the entrance to The Glass Kitchen. But the café was closed, and the customer was told to come back the next day.

Miranda was doing homework, Portia frosting a cake. Cordelia was setting one of the long tables with old silver and mismatched earthenware, while Olivia was arranging flowers and playing around with some sort of new software.

Ariel sat hidden in a small area in the back that had yet to be organized. No one in The Glass Kitchen knew she was there. She hadn’t meant to stay out of sight. But when she came in through the side door, everyone was so busy that no one noticed her.

She sighed at the thought, hating the possibility that she would always be disappearing, an adjunct to these people, not ever completely a part of them.

But the minute the thought flitted through her head, she realized what the cake Portia was frosting was for. Her birthday. Today she was thirteen.

Ariel had sat down on an overturned plastic bucket, shocked. All these people were throwing a surprise party for her. So she stayed out of sight while they finished preparing, even though the brand-new cell phone her dad had gotten her kept vibrating because Miranda was texting her over and over, wondering where she was. Ariel watched and listened as they talked about making all of her favorite things.

Her life had changed so much in the last few months. As the New York Times food critic had written, “The Glass Kitchen, owned and operated by three Texas sisters who create magical food in a world that sometimes spins too fast, is a must for demanding New Yorkers.”

The original Glass Kitchen cookbooks were kept in a country cupboard near the old-fashioned register, and were going to be published next year. Portia might have hidden them away in a closet for the first months she was here, but now Ariel found her poring over them almost every day.

The bigger change had come when Portia married her dad and moved in with them. Slowly Portia was turning the whole place into what even Ariel could see was going to be a real home.

When she saw everything was ready, Ariel nearly chirped with excitement, pulling out her phone and finally answering one of her sister’s texts.

“Ariel will be here any minute,” Miranda shouted, excited in a way that was still hard to believe.

But Portia had pulled Miranda into her circle, which made Ariel wonder if all along Miranda hadn’t felt a little bit invisible, too.

“Is everyone ready?” Portia asked. She was rubbing her stomach again, the way she’d started to now that she was carrying around a baby in there.

At first, Ariel had been jealous, afraid her dad and Portia having a baby would crowd her out. But watching everyone talk about Ariel’s favorite things made her realize she wasn’t being as incredibly smart as she really was to think that.

She saw her dad walk over and pull Portia close, putting his big hand over hers. “Ready,” he said.

Ariel knew that was her cue.

She slipped out the side and started to run the short distance to the front door, but forced herself to calm down. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked the last few feet to the front of The Glass Kitchen and stepped inside.

The bell rang overhead. She watched as Dad and Portia, Cordelia and Olivia, Miranda, and Marcus and Stan, whipped around. Even her grandmother Helen was there, still sad that Uncle Anthony had moved to Spain, but sort of resigned. Dad, with Portia’s help, or maybe her insistence, had been trying to include Nana in more of their family dinners. Good luck with that, Ariel had swallowed back more than once.

At the sight of her, the whole crew’s eyes lit up.

“Surprise!” they cheered.

Ariel slapped her hand to her chest and gasped. “Oh, my gosh! For me?”

Portia raised an eyebrow, and Ariel knew that her new stepmom saw right through her. Ariel just smiled as everyone crowded around her, bellowing the Happy Birthday song, Marcus and Olivia doing a good job of hamming it up. As soon as they were done, Ariel’s dad came over and picked her up, twirling her around. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart. You’re now officially thirteen.”

She held on tight, relishing the fact that he was her dad. No one could take her away from him. They had legal papers to prove it.

He set her down and guided her to the table. All of her favorite foods marched down the center like an ordered list of prime numbers. Or maybe not, she amended. Maybe the dishes were lined up like grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, cupcakes, banana pudding. And watermelon. Mountains of wildly sweet watermelon littered with violet petals, and even a centerpiece made from those same purple flowers.

Watermelon and violets.

She felt her eyes get hot, because it was like Portia had made sure her mom was there, too. And then, proving the point, Portia’s arms went around her from behind and she said, “I’m so happy that she led me to you, sweetie.”

Ariel leaned back into her, holding on to her hands.

The day Portia and Dad got married, Portia told her that they were one big family now.

“We’re like a big pot of vegetable stew,” Portia told her that day. “All the better for the mix of different flavors, even if it’s messy.”

Everyone started talking to her at once then, asking her questions, handing her presents. In one way or another, all these people here in The Glass Kitchen, all of them mixed together, big and messy, looked at her, saw her. She realized then that Portia was right. This had been the solution to her problem all along, because a big, messy mix of family like this would never let her disappear.