Book One, Page Eighteen. The Lunch Date Looms.
Jerry had to admit that his restaurant idea--serving the best dishes from famous restaurants around New Orleans--had a potential problem. What if the restaurants wouldn't let him do it? Or sued him if he went ahead with the plan?
He thought he'd check it out with the restaurant owner he knew best: Ralph Brennan.
"The second Friday in Lent isn't as bad as the first Friday, but it's still pretty bad," Ralph Brennan told Jerry and Julie, standing next to their table at Ralph's on the Park. "But we expect that. A lot of people start loosening their Lenten diets next week, the week after at the latest. Anyway, they can always eat seafood!"
To Jerry's eye, there seemed to be little to complain about. The restaurant was nearly full. "I'll remember that," Jerry said. "I'll need to, because I'm opening a restaurant."
Ralph edged back slightly, as if Jerry had just said he had the flu. "Why would you want to do that?" he said. "Don't you have enough to do as a vet?"
"Don't worry, I won't compete with you. Some afternoon I'll come in and explain the whole story. I want to do that anyway, because, A, I want to pick your brain about how to buy equipment and hire people and things like that. And, two, I'd like to serve one of your dishes in my restaurant."
"One of our dishes? Which one?"
"I'm not sure yet. The whole idea of the restaurant is to serve the best dishes of the best restaurants in town," Jerry said. "One from each. Yours is one of the best restaurants in town, so I hope you'll let me serve. . . well, what would you suggest?"
"I'm not sure about that," Ralph said. "Are you going to put our name on the menu?"
"I was hoping to."
"I'm flattered. But I need to think about that before I say yes. There might be some legal issues with trademarks if I let you use the name."
"Oh, sure," Jerry said. That made sense. But it wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.
During the conversation, and during Jerry's monologue after Ralph left the table, Julie tuned in and out. Jerry was babbling about which part of the design of this restaurant he thought would work in the old Roquette's Pharmacy building.
Then Jerry's focus shifted to the funeral. Specifically, Winifred Lancaster's eulogy. That caught Julie's full attention.
"Something about what she said, or maybe the way she said it. I don't know," Jerry said. "You should have been there. She could have been a TV anchorwoman. Her voice, her face--you couldn't take your eyes off her. She's not all that good-looking. Kind of overweight, actually. But something."
"I'm paying a lot of attention just hearing you tell about it," said Julie. "She must really have been amazing."
"Yeah. Amazing. Anyway, I also talked to Mr. Roquette, who looked a million years old. But I still recognized him, and he remembered me. I was just about to bring up the restaurant when the services started. So that was a waste of time. At least as regards the restaurant."
"I don't think you can look at a funeral in terms of what you get out of it," Julie chided. "It's about comforting others, Jerry."
"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, she said she'd call."
"Who?" asked Julie. "Winifred? Call about what?"
"Mr. Roquette wants to have lunch with me. He's her uncle. I hope they do call, because if they don't, I'll have to call them."
"Them? Or her?"
"I have to call her, because Mr. Roquette doesn't get around very well, and needs her to drive, I guess. You can join us, if you're jealous."
"Jealous?" Julie said, stiffening up. "Not likely."
She flagged down a waiter. "I think I'd like another Tanqueray martini," she said.
