by Erika Kelly
“But you’ll let yourself down,” her brother said. “You have so much potential as a chef. You’ll never realize it at Da Nonna’s.”
More dirt gave way beneath her feet. “I don’t have anything else. If you take this away from me, what do I have?”
“You have talent.” Her brother reached for her, but those sturdy arms that had picked her off the floor when she’d had food poisoning, that had jerked her when she’d stepped off the curb in front of a cab, offered no comfort. “Now, you just have to find the best way to use it.”
Why hadn’t she listened to him? Just last week, she’d added three different cheeses to the pasta e fagioli, and her brother had steamed over to her, shaking the bowl so hard the soup sloshed over the sides. “This isn’t pasta e fagioli.”
She’d ignored him, confident she’d knocked the dish out of the park. It had happened too many times to count, and she’d never listened.
“Starting tomorrow, I swear on my life I’ll run the kitchen exactly how Dad taught me.” She watched her siblings carefully, waiting for even one of them to soften. They had to. They would. “Come on.”
Her sister looked sad but resolute.
“You guys?” This is not happening. They wouldn’t take this from her. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” her brother said. “You won’t be getting a franchise.”
Chapter Three
In her childhood bedroom, Delilah stared out the window into the darkness. The top corner of a brownstone in Greenwich Village, it afforded a view of the little gated park across the street. Clusters of teenagers hung out at the fountain, mostly obscured by trees, and late-night dog walkers hurried by.
She was in freefall.
What am I going to do?
“You okay?” Callie sat behind her on the blue velvet chaise longue.
Pressing closer to the cool window pane so she didn’t have to see her reflection, Delilah stared at the patch of light pooling around the street lamp. “I’m…” Lost. Totally and completely lost. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You’ve got two choices,” Marco said. “You either get a job in another kitchen—which won’t be hard to do—or you go out on your own. Start your own restaurant.”
“I don’t have any money.” Her mind raced ahead. “I need a job.” Because in that moment she knew she couldn’t go back to her brother’s kitchen. “I’ll start making calls in the morning. My friends from the New School, the Culinary Institute, NYU…someone will have a lead.”
“Well.” Callie got up. “There’s a third option.”
Delilah waited, tense with hope.
“Go to Calamity.”
Okay, so not what she’d expected. “You want me to go to Wyoming?”
Marco chuckled. “That’d be hilarious. Delilah in shitkickers and a cowboy hat.” He tipped his head back and laughed. “Delilah on a fuckin’ horse.”
“Calamity’s much more than that,” Callie said. “Though, at its heart, it is a ranch town, it’s also—thanks to Yellowstone and the Tetons—a vacation destination. We’ve got a huge artist population. Which means we’ve got great restaurants and shops.”
“I’m not…I can’t…” She loved her friend, but she really didn’t need to hear about her hometown right now. “I have to get my life on track.”
“Listen to me.” She tugged on the hem of Delilah’s blouse. “That networking you need to do? You’re not going to find better than what’s happening in Calamity this summer. You know how competitive the Bowie brothers are, right? So, instead of just hiring a chef for the spa restaurant, they’re having a competition. They’ve flown out five of the best chefs in the world, given each one a cottage for the summer and a stipend for expenses. It’s a big deal.”
“Why would a world-famous chef want to run a restaurant in Calamity, Wyoming?” Marco asked.
“They might not. The point for the chefs is the free PR. The judges are all food critics and travel writers, so there’s going to be lots of press around. But, also, they get to interact with other world-renown chefs and enjoy all Jackson Hole has to offer. It’s a vacation from their usual routine. Besides, the prize isn’t running the spa restaurant—that’s for the board of directors to decide. But, come on, how fun would that be? Hanging out with those chefs? And, you never know, you might hit it off with one of them—”
“Hey, now,” Marco said.
“I meant professionally,” Callie said. “I know for a fact that one of them runs a Michelin-starred restaurant in Italy. If you hit it off with her, who knows, she might offer you a job. What do you have to lose? Go to Calamity, hang out with the chefs for a couple of weeks, and make some new and interesting connections. If nothing else, you’ll have tried new cuisine and gotten some time away from here. Why not?”
“Because I need a job. I won’t be able to think about anything else until that happens.” But, even as she said the words, she thought of going downstairs and seeing her family. Of interacting with them tomorrow and the next day. She wasn’t going to sulk, but what was she supposed to do? Act happy? Pretend they hadn’t just shut her out of the only dream she’d ever had?
No, she couldn’t be around them right now.
“You’re standing in the childhood bedroom of the home you grew up in after losing a job in the family business,” Callie said. “You need to get out of the city and gain some fresh perspective. And it won’t cost a thing because you can stay in the main house for free.” She held up a hand. “And before you tell me you’d be imposing, think about growing up here. How many times have you offered this house to someone you’ve met on your travels? Did your family ever care?”
“Not at all.” They had six empty bedrooms, and they loved a full house.
“There you go. Same thing. Besides, there’re only three people living in that huge house this summer. The oldest brother, Will, his little sister, and Marcella, the house manager.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ll be there. I’ll just be this stranger eating their food and sleeping in their bed.”
“Okay, you know what? Cook for them. I know Marcella could use the break.”
“I could do that. Anything else? I want to pay for my keep.”
“Wait,” Marco said. “You’re seriously considering this?”
Callie turned thoughtful. “Actually, they’ve just gotten walloped with news of their own. They’ve got a sister they didn’t know about. She’s two, and they don’t have a nanny yet. So, throw in some babysitting, and they’ll be thanking you for staying with them.”
Between her six older siblings, she had about a thousand nieces and nephews. Babysitting and cooking she could do. Besides, she had nothing to lose. Literally. “I’m in.”
“Babe, stop.” Marco turned her to him. “You’re not going to Wyoming.”
* * *
White air billowed out of huge, fleshy nostrils, and Delilah jerked to a stop on the driveway. She’d seen a lot of things in her life, but this massive beast with a ginormous rack, beady, hostile eyes, and demon hooves was a first.
Growing up in the city, she came across sketchy types all the time. Basically, she maintained an easy confidence—as if she wasn’t the least bit intimidated—and went on her way.
But this guy…come on. He was next-level huge. If she took another step, would he charge her? She didn’t want to make a ruckus at midnight and wake the whole family, but should she scare him away or at least get the…ranch hands? Is that who lives on this sprawling piece of land? She imagined a group of hot cowboys outside their bunkhouse, roasting…wienies? Over a big campfire.
And why the hell was it so cold here? It’s June, for crying out loud. She wished she hadn’t stuffed her sweater into her suitcase. She was freezing.
Well, she had about ten more yards to reach the front door, and she wasn’t about to let a moose stop her.
“Hey, handsome. If I weren’t so pissed off at my family, about to pass out from exhaustion, and ready to plunge my feet in
to an ice bath, I’d actually take a moment to admire your majestic badassery. Unfortunately, I am all of those things, so how ‘bout you do you, and I’ll do me?”
She did not want to meet the business end of that rack, but she really did need to get inside, so she’d just treat him like any growly dog she passed in her neighborhood. Like they were besties. “You look like a Carlos. Can I call you Lo? Hey, Lo. How’s it hanging?” He did have a massive set of balls between his legs. Looked as uncomfortable as that weighty chandelier on his head.
Move along.
The wheels of her suitcase clacked on the asphalt driveway. She’d asked the driver to let her out at the gate, assuming the house would be right around the bend. Wrong.
But…what a house. The moon shone like a spotlight, casting massive shadows and reflecting off copper flashing and pipes. In spite of its size, the wide expanses of windows and the stone and wood construction made the house look almost part of the landscape. The air, scented with sage, smelled clean and fresh.
Side-eyeing Carlos on the lawn, she hauled her luggage up the porch steps and dropped her tote outside the door. As she slid the key into the lock, she hoped Callie had remembered to alert the household about her arrival. She didn’t want alarms going off.
The moment she let herself in, she dragged her luggage into the foyer. Kicking off her wedges, she shut and locked the door, then turned to take in the wide-open space of the first floor.
Unlike her very lived-in family home, this place was spacious and uncluttered, with a lot of leather and wrought iron. Supremely masculine, but with an elegant and thoughtful design.
Knowing she’d get in late, she’d stuffed her sleep clothes and some toiletries into her tote, so she wouldn’t have to lug her suitcase up the stairs and wake everyone up. Now all she had to do was find Callie and Fin’s bedroom. Up the stairs, down the long hallway, last door on the left—
“Hi.”
Nearly jumping out of her skin, Delilah whipped around to find the source of that sweet, little voice. Huge shadows loomed across the high-ceilinged room. She scanned the sleek couches, the coffee and side tables, but didn’t see anyone.
“Hi.”
She sounded so precious. “Hi, sweetheart. Where are you?”
“I here.” The kid made it sound like Delilah was the dumbest person she’d ever met.
Heading to the nearest lamp, she fumbled until she found the switch under the shade. The tiny pool of yellow light didn’t offer much, but it did allow her to notice a gate at the top of the stairs and tiny little fingers clinging to the top. Little eyes peered at her.
“Well, hey, there. You must be Will’s sister.”
“I Wooby.”
Delilah climbed the stairs to find a cute little girl holding a stuffed animal under one arm. A bounty of dark waves cascaded over her shoulders, and her rosebud mouth matched her name.
“Hi, there, Ruby. I’m Delilah.” She reached for the latch, then remembered the little girl didn’t know her at all. “May I open the gate?”
Big, wary eyes gazed up at her. “Wheel seeping.”
“Right. Well, we don’t want to wake him up. Which room is yours?”
The little girl glanced down a long hallway, lit only by a single nightlight. Man, that looked scary. Framed photographs hung on the walls, and most of the doors were closed.
Looking incredibly lost, Ruby rested her chin on the stuffed animal’s head.
Her heart squeezed for this little girl who’d lost so much so young. Maybe she should wake someone up? Ruby might be more comfortable with someone she knows. “I’ll get Marcella.” She was the house manager, after all.
“Cella seeping.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, do you want to show me your room? I’ll bet you’ve got lots of fun toys and awesome books to read. I could read you one.” When she babysat her nieces and nephews, sometimes they didn’t even get through one whole book before they conked out.
“No, fanks.” She stood there in her polka dot pajama short set and watched Delilah with anticipation, like she was waiting for her to break into a song and dance routine.
What’re you looking for, sweet girl? “Okay. Let’s just sit here and hang out.” Maybe she’d tell Ruby a story instead. After she fell asleep, Delilah would carry her to bed. She didn’t look like she weighed more than a cannoli.
Unlatching the gate, she stepped inside and sat down on the floor. She patted her lap, but the girl didn’t budge. That’s okay. She’d just sit here until Ruby got comfortable with her. “This morning, before I left for the airport, my brother made our dad’s famous Hawaiian French toast.” Because he felt bad for taking away my restaurant. As he should. Not this girl’s problem. “He makes it with Portuguese sweet bread and uses a ton of butter so it’s super crunchy on the outside and then warm and sweet and gooey on the inside. Do you like French toast? I could make you some in the morning.”
Gaze fixed on her, Ruby didn’t say anything.
“I like cooking. Like, a lot. Maybe we could cook together. My nephew, Ben, is my favorite sous chef. I even got him a hat and an apron. He’s just six, but he’s adorable, and he’s really into cooking.”
There was something in the way Ruby looked at her, anxiety brimming in those beautiful blue eyes. Delilah couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking.
The toddler stood close enough that Delilah could smell baby shampoo and feel the heat coming off her little body. She parted her rosebud lips and said, “Where momma?”
The simple question was as jarring as a sudden blast of heavy metal music, and it rendered Delilah speechless.
Clutching what appeared to be a chicken, its big, yellow, floppy legs sticking out under her arms, the little girl looked fragile…forlorn, and Delilah needed to find some words right the hell now.
“I—” The weight of sorrow cut off her ability to think, breathe, react.
How did a two-year-old process the fact that her mom wasn’t coming back? Delilah had been eighteen when her mom died, and she still reached for the phone every time she had something important to share. It was a fresh hit of grief when she remembered there was no one to call.
Maybe they hadn’t told her? Callie had said the mom died a few weeks ago—
Oh, my God. Ruby’s been waiting all this time for her mom to come and get her. She wanted to haul that little girl into her arms and hug her until she felt safe again.
But Ruby wouldn’t want that from a stranger. She wanted her mom.
“I don’t know where your momma is, Ruby.” It wasn’t her place to answer that question. “But you know what I do know?”
Ruby twisted first one way and then the other, using her whole body to say no.
Delilah didn’t know if she should engage in such an important conversation, but she certainly couldn’t ignore the question. Totally out of her element, she plowed forward with the only thing she would want to hear. “Your momma loves you with all her heart.”
What she would give to hear that voice in her ear just one more time, feel her mom’s arms around her, and know that everything would be all right just because she’s there.
The little girl’s shoulders relaxed, and she lifted the chicken to cover half her face. Those soulful eyes watched her over the white fur.
“You’re her sweet little angel girl.” Delilah scraped the hair off the toddler’s forehead, tucking it behind her ear. “Your momma loves you so much, Ruby.”
Those sad eyes glistened. “See momma?”
Okay, now she needed rain boots to slosh around in the overflow of her weepy heart, but she had to stay strong. The goal was getting Ruby to settle down, so she could fall asleep. “If your momma were here right now, I bet she’d hug you. Can I hug you?” Please?
Please let me comfort you.
But Ruby shook her head.
“I bet she’d carry you to your bedroom and get in bed with you with a big pile of books. Can we do that? Read some books together?”
“Want momma.”
Yeah, me, too. Well, she couldn’t just dump the little girl back in her bed, all alone in a strange room. She had to do something. She’s wide awake.
As a little girl, Delilah had had a hard time sleeping. Mostly, she’d hated missing out. Her siblings always had friends over, so her home had been alive with music, conversation, and bursts of laughter. It always smelled like popcorn or a mix of cologne and perfume. To get her to sleep, her mom would carry her into the kitchen and bake with her. There was just something soothing about the smell of vanilla and butter, the whir of beaters, the hum of the refrigerator, the heat from the oven, and her mom’s quiet conversation.
“I’ve been traveling all day, and I don’t eat airport food, so I’m starving. You want to bake some muffins with me?”
She nodded vigorously. “Wooby hongry.”
“Awesome.” She lifted her into her arms and headed down the stairs. “Do you like muffins?”
“Shock-let muffins.”
Delilah smiled. “Well, I make a mean dark chocolate banana—” Ah—weren’t the Bowies extreme athletes? They wouldn’t appreciate dessert for breakfast. Then again, this wasn’t about power foods. It was about calming a scared and lonely little girl. “You know what? We’ll go check out your pantry and see what we can come up with.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Delilah made her way across the living room to a gaping, arched doorway that led to the kitchen. “We just have to find the butter and flour and vanilla and sugar…all that stuff. This is going to be so yummy.”
“And shock-let. Scock likes shock-let, too. You like shock-let?”
Scock? “Have you seen these hips?” She said it with a big grin, until she realized the impact of her comment. A joke among her friends was one thing, but teaching a little girl not to eat because it might make her fat was a whole other ball game. “Yes, Ruby. I love chocolate. I probably should’ve been a pastry chef.”