Tis The Season

Thanks to the holiday season, Monica felt like she was fighting a chef's cold war with one hand tied behind her back. These last few weeks, Chef James, who has no immediate family, has been working around the clock. Perfecting his craft, introducing new dishes, and solidifying his standing in the restaurant with the owner. He owes most of his recent success to a very favorable review Javu received on one the nights when he was running the kitchen. A review that raved about three of his special menu items in particular.

Monica, on the other hand, has been concentrating on her family. She hosted her first Thanksgiving in the new home, and was now planning their first Christmas with Jack and Erica. As a result, she has not been able to spend as much time in the city before a shift to work on new recipes, and she has fallen back on some of her more familiar dishes to get by. Seeing how well he has been doing in her absence, Monica fears that Chef James may be gaining an advantage on her. She hated to admit it, even if only to herself, but he may be winning.

The owners of Javu have repeatedly told Monica there was no competition, there was no "winning" or "losing" between the two of them and that they were happy with the work both of them had been doing. Despite these reassurances, Monica was certain that at some point, they would not be able to justify having two head chefs on the payroll, especially with January fast approaching, and the eventual downturn in business that would come with the new year. She was certain that this meant whichever one of them was having the most profitable nights, was probably going to be the one to stick around. She knew that this holiday season was her last chance at a final push to make a great impression, and she needed to focus on her job, but she also did not want to miss celebrating with her family. She had dreamt of sharing all the things that she loves about this time of year with her babies ever since they got that phone call from the adoption agency over a year ago.

Chef James on the other hand, has been ruthless. If she didn't hate him so much already, she might actually respect his tenacity as a competitor. Not only were his dishes well received but, there were rumors he knew when the food critic who reviewed the restaurant was coming in. Geoffrey had told her how he was not only in earlier than usual that day, but he also introduced some new specials and did most of the cooking himself. Putting the finishing touches on almost every dish that went out into the dining room.

There have also been some incidents which have Monica convinced that he is trying to sabotage her, deliberately subverting her own ability to thrive. Last month she came to work to find several items in the walk-in refrigerator past their expiration date. That has never happened before he showed up. And it has never happened to Monica in any restaurant she worked in. Her inventory system is meticulous and has never failed her. She was certain that it could only happen if Chef James was intentionally using food out of order. This caused her to make several last-minute arrangements most nights. Calling vendors for deliveries and sending staff out to buy replacement items took precious time away from getting the restaurant prepared for that night's shift.

Two weeks ago, all the hanger steaks were left out on the prep station, not only causing them to turn, but also creating a horrible stench in the entire kitchen that was impossible to remove. The scent of spoiled meat wafting into the dining room causing a few very vocal customer complaints. One week ago, the knobs for the flat top grills were removed. All that was left were the unattached wires hanging from the open front panel of the ovens. The idea that they almost had to face a lunch rush without a grill sent a wave of panic throughout the entire staff. It took her and the staff hours to finally find them in a box in the basement. Thankfully one of the line cooks had been a maintenance man in a large chain restaurant and knew how to get them back on.

Yesterday though, was the worst. She came in and the door handles to the walk-ins were broken. No one could get them to open, they weren't locked, but the handles were somehow not attached to the latches. It took them three hours to get a commercial kitchen technician in who could remove the old handles and install new ones. This not only caused the restaurant to open late, but she didn't have enough time to teach everyone the new special menu items she had planned for the evening. If she hadn't thought quickly, and found a use for all the monk fish she had arranged to be delivered that day, it could have been a devastating inventory loss.

Monica was distraught but she was still determined to put an end to this on her terms. She talked to the staff, at first desperate to find out why they would let him do this at the end of the night. Wondering if she was going to have to re-live the experience she had during her first few months at Alessandro's all over again. Constantly at odds with the entire crew. Yet, they were all just as angry as she was, and sincere when they assured her that when they left at closing, everything was in order. It seemed while Chef James may have been gaining favor with the owners, the rest of the staff hated him almost as much as Monica did.

For his part, Chef James blamed some of the bus boys and lower level staff. Without any type of obvious evidence to bring to them, Monica realized that it didn't seem like either one of the owners were interested in pursuing the truth. They were more apt to blame an inexperienced worker for incompetence than one of their head chefs of sabotage. Monica was certain that he was sneaking back into the restaurant in the middle of the night, wreaking havoc, slowing her down, causing her waste numbers to spike, and worst of all, getting people fired who no doubt had nothing to do with it.

Every time something went wrong or something was broken she cursed his name. Unfortunately, her bosses were not very sympathetic, and instead, when she called to complain, the owners made a point to mention that all of these things seem to happen on her shifts. Each incident costing them money. Each delay hurting their reputation. And they wondered, if perhaps, she was the problem. Every time she called Frank and Dave to explain what was going on, even when she had the staff back her up on what she found, they weren't quick to step in. Both men more interested in being hands-off when it came to the restaurant, using a proxy most of the time to conduct their business while they concentrated on other investments. This last call with them was the worst, and when she got off the phone after having to hear another lecture about food waste, she disappeared into the back alley and had a small private meltdown.

The only thing getting her through these last two months was the fact that in a few days, it would be Christmas. Jack and Erica's first Christmas. She was so excited every time she thought about it that she felt like she could burst, even as depressed as she was about her job. It did not matter. She was thrilled to finally be a mom during the holidays. Dressing her children up in festive clothes, the smell of fresh baked cookies filling every room in the house. Watching their little faces as they see the lights blinking from the tree. She had hoped that they would be lucky enough to get one of those gorgeous snowfalls right around Christmas. Where the flakes are big and chunky and everything get covered in a crisp, clean white blanket of snow. She could bundle up her babies and show them this wondrous wintry sight for the first time. Experience it all through their curious, wandering eyes. It was as if the dreams of that fourteen-year-old girl she used to be would finally spring to life.

She was able to put everything going on at her job out of her mind when she was home. Decorating the house in gorgeous greens and reds. Paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, ceramic statues of Santa and Mrs. Claus, stockings hung along the staircase, a miniature village spread out on a soft, white, cotton sheet, made to look like snow. The little windows of the houses and streetlamps lighting up and flickering a low, warm glow. The tree, perfectly decorated, displayed proudly in the den. On the opposite side of the room, a menorah, a Star of David, an over-sized dreidel, and a blue and white Hanukkah wreath decorated the mantle of the fireplace.

Chandler had brought them home from the city one day after work. Monica was nonplussed at first, she hadn't really properly observed Hanukkah in years. When he brought home the bag of decorations, he simply kissed her on the cheek and began to empty out the contents.

"This way Ross won't have to dress up like an Armadillo again. Plus, your dad will probably be happy to see it, and you're half-Jewish and that means the kids will have some of that in them too."

She could only respond the way she always had when her husband displayed his sentimental nature to her. She leaned in, wrapped her arms around his neck, and, in-between kisses, told him how sweet he was through her smile.

The memory made her face light up, and she smiled as she sat on the couch at Central Perk. Thinking about her husband had that affect on her. It's been a tough couple of months, but he could always make her smile. With his roguish grin, a sweet sentiment, a knowing look, a joke, a kiss at just the right moment in just the right spot. Just his presence. And now, that she was thinking about him, all she wanted to do was see him. She started to look out the window for him, knowing he should be there soon as she glanced down at her watch.

"What are you so happy about?"

Rachel's voice shook Monica out of her daydream and back into the real world. She smiled and shrugged her shoulder. She was happy to have the day off from work and arranged this little get together with Rachel, Phoebe and Mike at Central Perk. Chandler was working at the office, and her parents came over to watch the twins. They had enough time for a cup of coffee with their friends and then planned to drive back home together.

"Oh. Just thinking about Christmas."

Rachel, looking a little skeptical, shot a knowing glance at Phoebe before returning her attention to Monica. "Oh, because after you told us about yesterday at work, I didn't think you'd be in any mood to smile."

Monica twisted her face up in disgust. "Ugh! Please don't remind me!"

Phoebe tried to sit up, but struggled and gave up. She slumped back down on the couch and glared at her protruding pregnant belly. "Why isn't he getting fired again?"

Monica huffed and folded her arms tightly. "Because he's a man and the owners are men! It's like he's some master restaurant saboteur but they won't believe it because they all have penises!"

The three women shared frustrated sighs and then they fell quiet for a while. Rachel lifted her head up looked over at Monica. "Why don't you just set up a camera or something? Like a nanny cam. Ross put a couple of those up in our apartment. He is obsessed with them."

Monica straightened up and looked off to the side. "Really?"

"Yeah. Throw a bunch of those around the kitchen and catch that jerk in the act! Then you can be all 'I got you Chef Ass'." Rachel leaned forward and pointed her finger as if she were jabbing it into Chef James's face.

Monica looked back-and-forth between Phoebe and Rachel. "Can I do that? Is that even legal?"

Phoebe turned her head to look at her husband Mike, who was standing at the counter. "We can ask Mike when he comes back. You know, he used to be a lawyer, but he gave that up to pursue his dreams."

Rachel scoffed. "We know Phoebe."

"I'm sorry. What does your boyfriend do again?"

Rachel leaned back. "He does this." She quickly banged her arms together, gesturing at Phoebe with the Ross Geller middle finger.

Phoebe shared a playful, mock expression of offense with Monica as Mike slowly walked back with a mug in each hand.

"Okay Pheebs, I have your decaf with soy."

He stood up and smirked. "Hey. Do you think if soy spoke Spanish it would introduce itself as 'Yo soy Soy'?"

Mike started to snicker at his joke and looked around at the three women who seemed completely unamused. He gestured at them with his free hand.

"Get it? 'Yo soy Soy'."

He gave them one more look of encouragement before a dejected expression washed over his face.

"Never mind. Here's your coffee Monica. I'll just go back and get the other two drinks." Mike grumbled to himself as he stepped back awkwardly to the counter.

Monica watched him walk away and started to trill laughter as she pointed at Phoebe.

Phoebe looked at her with stunned umbrage. She knew she should be insulted by Monica's laughter, but she was not sure why.

"What? What's so funny?"

Monica, finally able to stifle her laughter, shook her head. "Mike just made a Chandler joke. I can't believe I've never seen it before, but he is just like Chandler. You married your own Chandler. All these years making fun of me for being with him, and you married one yourself!"

Phoebe stiffened up, clearly disturbed by Monica's observation. She looked over at Mike and her eyes widened in shock. "What? No, I did not…Mike is very…"

Monica cut her off. "Awkward? Makes bad jokes? Non-threatening? Kind of goofy?"

Phoebe started to become flustered. "Nuh-uh! "No! Mike is nothing like Chandler. Mike quit a job he hated where he made a lot of money and now does something he loves."

Monica's face radiated with smug glee. "I'm sorry, were you just talking about Mike or Chandler?" Rachel started to laugh at the two of them. Monica turned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't even get me started on your boyfriend."

Phoebe nodded along knowingly with Monica as Rachel allowed her smile to shrink down into a pair of pursed lips.

Serendipitously, Chandler entered the coffee shop and lifted his eyes as he saw Monica and Phoebe sitting on the couch. He walked around to face them and darted his eyes between Phoebe, who was slumped against the corner of the couch, and Rachel who was sitting in the chair next to her.

"Hello ladies." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the side of Monica's head as he slipped off his coat. "Hey babe."

Monica pulls her legs up underneath her and leaned over the arm of the couch. "I just talked to my mom twenty minutes ago and it sounds like they are doing okay. We probably don't have to head home for at least an hour."

Mike returned to the group with two more mugs in tow. He placed them down on the table and looked over at Chandler."Hey nice shirt!"

Chandler looked down at himself and realized that the two men wearing practically identical outfits. Untucked, button-down, chocolate-brown shirt with one pocket, both men also had the sleeves pushed halfway up their forearms. Each of them also wore faded blue jeans and white tennis shoes.

Chandler looked up and smiled as he nodded. "Wow. It's like we're twins!"

Monica looked over at Phoebe and started to laugh again.

Phoebe, clearly agitated, exhaled sharply in frustration. "Oh come on!"

She then winced and bit as her face contorted in pain. "Oooo. Oohhh. Ooohhh. Chandler. Dammit! I mean Mike. I think we may need to go soon."

Mike sat down on one of the chairs next to Chandler and looked back at Phoebe; his face riddled with confusion. "Really? Why? What's the matter babe?"

Phoebe took a deep breath and let out a long exhale as she tried to regain her composure. "Well, I am pretty sure I'm in labor. I've been feeling contractions for a while and that was the worst one."

Both Chandler and Mike jumped to their feet and hop around nervously. Their eyes darted around the room as they gesticulated wildly with their arms. Simultaneously they both blurt out. "Oh my god! We have to get you to the hospital."

Phoebe balled her hands up into fists and shook them at the Mike and Chandler as her face twisted in anger. "Stop doing that!"

"I can't believe Phoebe is going to have her baby!" Monica smiled broadly as she could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She reached over from the passenger seat of the car and gave Chandler's thigh a squeeze.

Chandler smiled over at her. "I know. It's incredible. Are you sure you didn't want to go to the hospital with them? I could have taken the train."

"No, no. We have to the twins to deal with tonight. I couldn't ask you to deal with them and my parents all by yourself. Besides, Rachel will be there for as long as she can and she promised to call me with any news."

Chandler nodded as he continued driving, his eyes looked ahead towards their house down the road. "Hey. Did your parents get a new car?"

"Not that I know of."

"There's a black sedan in the driveway."

Monica lifted her head to see the strange car in their driveway as Chandler pulled up and parked the Porsche behind their SUV. "Yeah, who do you think that is? Wait, there's somebody in the car!"

"What?" He looked over and saw a man slumped over in the driver's seat. He then turned back to Monica and shrugged his shoulders,

When they stepped out of the car, the two of them bent over to look at the man and he nodded at them, which only confused them even further.

The moment they stepped into the house, Monica started to slip off her coat.

"Mom? Dad? Is everything all right?"

Her father's booming voice called to her from the den. "In here sweetheart."

As she entered the room, she looked towards her parents who were sitting on the couch. "Dad, who's car is in the driveway?"

Her father gestured in front of him and Monica finally turned her attention to the direction her parents were facing, only to find Nora Bing seated in a chair, sipping at some tea.

"Hello dear! I've been waiting for you."

Chandler finally caught up with his wife and his eyes immediately fall upon his mother. She was dressed in dark slacks, a silky cream-colored blouse that was unbuttoned to the top of her chest. He was mildly surprised at the modest amount of cleavage than she had on display.

"Oh, hello Mother. You look positively conservative. Did someone die?"

"Oh Chandler. I love that dry wit of yours. No, no. I had a business meeting in town before I came here."

"Here. In Westchester?"

"Yes. Let's go for a ride." Nora Bing stood up from the chair and turned her attention towards Jack and Judy Geller. "You don't mind, do you?"

Jack, his eyes wide with suggestive salaciousness as his gaze lingered on Nora's curves, just nodded at her with his mouth agape. Judy elbowed him in the ribs, bringing his focus back from the brink. She shook her head and admonished Jack with a glare. She then smiled and turned back to Nora.

"Oh of course not. Go ahead. We can give Erica and Jack their last bottle when they wake up."

Monica looked over at her mother and wrinkled her brow as she appeared slightly puzzled. "What? Am I supposed to go too?"

Nora laughed. "Of course, dear."

The three of them put their coats on and stepped outside. Nora moved down the driveway with a confident stride.

"Chandler darling, you sit in the front. I want to talk with Monica on the way there."

He shot his mother a discerning look. "On the way where?"

"Shh. Now get up there."

She glided into the back seat and directed Monica to join her from the other side.

"Martin, can you give us some privacy. Chandler, you can talk to Martin."

Chandler eased himself into the passenger seat and turned to face the driver. "Well Martin. You drive here often?"

The driver rolled his eyes, almost imperceptibly. "We don't have to talk."

He then pressed a button on the center console and a barrier began to rise between the front and back of the car. Chandler turned to make apologetic eye contact with Monica before they disappeared behind the opaque wall.

"There dear. That's better. So, Chandler says you're having trouble at work."

Monica shook her head. "What? No. I mean, a little. Why?"

"Dear, in my day, women had to fight twice as hard as men to get where they wanted to go. The publishing world was filled with obstacles for me. It's why I never had another child. If I had gotten pregnant again in those days, I never would have achieved what I have. I was my own public relations firm because the publishing house focused most of their attention on the other writers. None of them half as good as me, and all of them men."

"I don't understand…"

"Monica. It isn't exactly fair to make women choose to either be successful or have a family. The rules never change. We always have to work harder than they do. Why just recently I negotiated film rights for two of my bestselling novels. I got a better deal than the firm had originally procured. And still they wanted to shut me out."

Monica nodded, but her eyes betrayed that she has no idea what Nora was talking about. "Okay."

"A big part of the reason why I was never around for Chandler when he was a child was because I was traveling everywhere to sell my books. Doing the work that the publishing company wouldn't do on my behalf. Soon enough though, it became a part of who I was. Nora Bing the salacious, romance novelist. The more outrageous I was, the more books I sold, but there was a cost. That cost was not being there for my boy."

Monica looked out the window and noticed that they were now driving through the Main Street strip of town. Darkened shops decorated the street as most of them were closed. She turned back to face her mother-in-law, still unsure of what was going on.

"Monica. I like you. You're smart and feisty. You must be a fighter because you made it very far in your chosen field. I know a few people in the high-end restaurant business. It is not easy for women to get ahead. It isn't fair that you should have to compromise what you want."

The car stopped and Nora smiled as she motioned for Monica to exit. She stepped out onto the street and looked up and down. She was familiar with this stretch of stores. There was a chocolatier on the corner with a coffee shop that served really great muffins next to it. A book store. One place that throws "princess parties", which Monica had already dismissed as much too expensive. Across the street was a jewelry store, a yoga studio, a hair salon, a cigar shop, a small local theater that showed amateur plays, movies and sometime had live music, a pizzeria and then, in front of her, an empty store.

Chandler stepped out of the passenger side. She looked at him and wordlessly questioned him, but all he could offer back was a shrug of his shoulder. Nora reached into her clutch bag and pulled out a key. She stepped up to the door of the empty store and opened it.

"This used to be a barber shop in the eighties. Then it was converted into a commercial kitchen. It was a Chinese food restaurant, then a place where they sold hamburgers or tacos. I'm not sure. Now, well, it can serve any kind of food you want."

Monica looked around in the darkened storefront. She could see a small kitchen tucked into the back-left corner. There was an old worn-out bar in front of it with a service window. It had a hallway that led to the back with what appeared to be two bathrooms. She looked around noticing the rest of the space was wide open.

"I don't understand."

Nora pulled Monica's hands into hers and dropped the keys into her palm. "It's yours. Merry Christmas."

Chandler gasped loudly and spun around. The room was dirty, the walls were bare, and tiles on the floor were loose; yet his expression was one of impressed shock.

"Mom, what?"

"Well, my financial advisor always tells me to invest some of my money in all kinds of things. So, I thought, if I am going to invest in something, it might as well be Monica. She is a sure bet."

Monica looked around the room, awestruck. She studied everything. Every inch of the room they were in was already embedded in her memory as images of where tables would go and what color the walls should be began to play in her mind.

"Well dear. What do you think? Are you ready to have your own little restaurant?"

Monica looked down at the keys in her hand and smiled. She then looked up at Chandler, he in return flashed her a dumbfounded half-smile. She looked over at Nora who was smiling at her confidently, and Monica noticed how her eyes radiated warmth. She looked down one more time at the keys and a forlorn expression overcame her.

"I think….I think…"

She looked up one more time at Nora.

"I think the answer is no."