be to read the boarding pass? The man and the flight attendant looked her way and then together came and paused at her row. Chilli stood to let the man pass but the flight attendant spoke.
“Excuse me madam, but may I see your boarding pass? I think you may be in this gentleman’s seat.”
Chilli dug into her handbag and retrieved the pass. She glanced overhead at the seat number and realised she was meant to be in the row behind.
Feeling the eyes of the plane upon her, she apologised and slid into the seat behind, but not before noticing that the gentleman next to her was none other than the green cufflink wearer. He cocked an eyebrow. “Having a few problems?” he asked.
“Just one of those days,” she said.
Nodding slowly, he turned his attention back to his magazine. She in turn gave all her attention to the brochures, acting as if it all was terribly interesting. This also worked to settle the nerves that reared their ugly head lately when she flew. Flying had not been the same for her since 9/11.
Within minutes they were underway and the customer service manager made the welcoming and safety announcement. Putting her reading aside, Chilli watched the flight attendant in front of her, noticing that barely anyone else was paying attention. She wanted to know exactly where her nearest exit was if anything did happen.
Exhaling heavily, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat. God, did she have to over-think everything?
*
It had been such a big year that she had hardly been able to take a breath. When life was sweet, time seemed to pass at an accelerated rate.
Fifteen months ago, her son Sam, a chef, had decided he wanted to open his own restaurant. And just three months ago his dream had come into fruition and Montgomery’s was born.
As a young chef, Sam had done a stint in a restaurant in Victoria’s high country. The woman that he had worked for had been a true mentor. What she had taught him had been invaluable; number one, to have the utmost respect for his ingredients, and number two, to understand where his food had come from. She told him to go back to the roots of the produce and see how it was grown, to feel the bond with the land. If he wanted to serve rabbit, then he had to see what the rabbit ate; that was how a good chef developed love and respect for food.
The Victorian restaurant was set on farmland and most of the kitchen’s ingredients were grown on site.
Sam had told Chilli that when they picked a lettuce in the late afternoon, they would have it on a plate within hours; the vibrancy palpable. He said he didn’t even have to eat it; he could see it and smell it. That’s what he wanted as a chef, that vibrancy in all the meals he served.
He had come back home to Brisbane full of enthusiasm, saying that when the time was right he wanted his own restaurant. He began working in a French restaurant in the city at night, and by day looked for a suitable location. For the past two years, he had been living in a house that Rob’s father, Harry, had left to him, in the leafy inner city suburb of New Farm, not far from where Chilli and Rob lived. After exhausting many possibilities, Sam phoned his parents early one morning and excitedly said, “Hey, when you guys go for your walk this morning, can you pop by my place?”
A breakfast of corn fritters and bacon stack, a favourite of Rob’s, was set up on the front veranda of the large, shabby, old Queenslander. Typical of the day, the house had undergone many renovations until most of the charm and character had been removed.
In the midst of them enjoying the wonderful food, Sam leant back in his chair and waved his arms around. “Well, what do you think of here?”
“What do you mean darling?” Chilli asked, taking another sip of the freshly squeezed pineapple and mint juice.
“For my restaurant,” he explained, looking from one parent to another. “For a start, I already own it.” Sam stood up, unable to contain himself any longer. “Renting out a few bedrooms to my mates is hardly profitable, a restaurant would be far better business. And the area is perfect. Remember I told you last week about that other property I looked at and the huge amount of rent they wanted. It got me thinking about here. I didn’t want to mention it until I had it clear in my mind.”
Chilli shared a glance with Rob. He shrugged, nodding his head. The truth was you couldn’t get a better position. With its already eclectic mix of multi-cultural restaurants, galleries and delightful Victorian buildings, seasoned with Art Deco and spiced with ultra modern architectural statements, it could well be the perfect location. She was surprised that none of them had thought of it before. After all, it was the cosmopolitan heart of Brisbane.
Chilli looked back at Rob. He didn’t have to say a word, she knew the look on his face, she had seen it plenty of times. That mind of his was going into overdrive, working out the figures.
“Well?” she asked.
He scratched his chin. “Sam could be onto something.”
Chilli began to walk around the house. One of her greatest skills was seeing beauty where others could not. She imagined tearing down walls and restoring elements of character. The possibility of creating a unique interior inspired her. A picture began to grow.
Rob was already on the same wavelength as her. His face had run the gauntlet of interest, excitement and was now looking cautious. “This is going to be a huge job mate. Do you think you are up to it? After all, it’s a slightly more ambitious dream than what we had talked about.”
“Look Dad, you’ve always said to break free of mediocrity and strive for greatness! Well, I am breaking free now.” He waved his arms around. “I know I’m young, but Grandad Harry leaving me this place was unbelievable. I think it’s meant to be and I know I would have his blessing with it. The finances are another story. I have to see the bank, but you said maybe you’d like to be involved.” He looked from one parent to the other. “And don’t say anything yet Mum, I want you involved as well, and Miranda. She’s gone to see her mother and will be back soon. I asked her to let me talk to you first.”
Stopping in her tracks, Chilli put her hands on her hips. “Darling, what could I possibly do in your restaurant? Surely you’re not thinking that I could wait tables?”
“Yes that was my thought!” Sam teased. “Of course not. Firstly, I would want your help with the fit out…” He hesitated.
“Of course darling. I did hope to be involved on that level. But do I sense a second thing?”
Sam started up at great speed, “Since you sold your business, I know you’ve been looking around for something else. As the house is rather large...” He paused briefly, and then dived headlong into it, “I wondered if you would be interested in doing something homey in it as well?”
“What do you mean homey?” Chilli frowned thoughtfully. “Do you mean homewares?” she said, imagining the idea as she spoke.
When she had sold her business five years ago, she found she still had a need to express her creativity, albeit in only the tiniest details. The world was such a kaleidoscope of wonderful materials that she itched to use them. Having studied at an art school and taken numerous workshops, she had joined Rob’s business as a consultant.
“Yes, that’s it,” Sam carried on excitedly. “This would be far too big for the
