Ruined By My Stepbrother novel · Chapter 30 of 32

Chapter 30: The Card

I peeled the card off the glass.

The tape came away clean.

Inside, both sides were covered in the same small capitals, top to bottom, not one word crossed out.

I stood in the doorway under the porch light and started reading it to myself.

Then I stopped.

"Frankie," I said. "Come here."

She came, with a paper cup of champagne and her glasses pushed up in her hair.

Then my fry cook, then my grill cook, then Frankie's husband with a dish towel still over his shoulder.

My mother and Glenn turned around on their stools.

"What is it?" my mother said.

"I think it's a review," I said.

Glenn put down his champagne.

"Read it out loud," Frankie said. "All of it. I'll know if you skip."

So I did.

"Low Tide Comes In," I read. "Four stars out of four. By Barrett Ivers. Not for publication."

My grill cook whistled low.

"I ate at Low Tide, on Jackson Street in Cape May, on more than ninety nights this summer."

"I cooked most of it myself, which is unusual for a critic, and I recommend it to all of them."

Frankie snorted into her cup.

"The scallops are laid in a ring in a hot pan and not touched for a minute and a half."

"They are flipped by hand, basted three times in brown butter, and served on sweet corn."

"They come out of that kitchen tasting like nobody has to apologize for anything."

My fry cook put her hand over her mouth.

"The clam chowder is a scallop captain's recipe. Salt pork. No flour. The clam liquor strained through a coffee filter and added last."

"I have now finished it. Many times. Twice, to be fair."

Glenn laughed, one big bark, and my mother elbowed him.

"The front of house is run by a woman with red hair and glasses who tells the truth at the host stand."

"Listen to her. I didn't."

Frankie stopped laughing.

She set down her cup.

"The grill cook sings. The fry cook makes a beurre blanc that does not break."

"On the last night of the season, the dishwasher dried every glass like a newborn."

"He will not be asked back."

Frankie's husband said, "Hey," and everybody laughed.

My voice was going.

I kept reading anyway.

"I wrote that she was in over her head."

"She was not. She was the only one in the building who wasn't."

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