Before we knew it, the time to open the Star had arrived. We’d lived through four dry runs to make sure the waitstaff felt comfortable with the three special dinners we were premiering. The second one proved to be the one that put all of us to the test.
For some reason the gas cut off abruptly right before I threw the lamb chops on the grill. I hadn’t noticed right away because of the earsplitting crash of dinnerware coming from the dining room and an equally shrill yell, the kind heard as the monster corners the beautiful young woman in horror movies.
David had run into the kitchen shouting at me, “First-aid kit. Quick!”
Things went right downhill from there with one disaster after another, ending with our test group of friends eating off paper plates at around midnight after JoAnn, th
