It came on a Saturday.
Not dramatically — the significant things rarely arrived with the fanfare they deserved. This one arrived as a text from Jade at eleven in the morning while I was at the West Village location going over the April menu with Maya and arguing pleasantly about whether lavender belonged in a tart or was fundamentally a soap flavor.
Jade: Call me when you have a sec. Not urgent but — call me.
The 'but' was doing considerable work in that sentence.
I excused myself from the lavender debate — which Maya was winning, for the record, her argument about restraint and proportion being the kind of argument that was correct even when you didn't want it to be — and went to the back room and called Jade.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey," she said, and the quality of her
