Carefully negotiating the cobblestones down to the colorful shops that occupied the old cotton market along the Savannah River, she pondered her next move. Moving back to her hometown of Baltimore was an option. Her folks would love to have her back. Only she'd built a life here, loved her little house and quaint neighborhood. Certainly, she could find another job in Savannah without too much difficulty, but it wouldn't be doing what she loved, creating healthy fare with flair. She'd just have to live with that.
But would she ever find love again? Did she even want to? One thing was perfectly clear. Billy Walker couldn’t be trusted to be straight with her. He'd continue gambling and hiding it, lying about it, no matter what he said.
She wandered along the tourist-crowded sidewalks, stopped at a candy shop for a fresh praline, but after a single bite, her stomach complained and she tossed the confection in a trashcan.
Somehow, she had to keep Billy off her mind. He'd never change and she'd never be able to live with his disease. When she finally arrived home hours later, she was infinitely relieved to see that his things were gone from the guest room. She sat on the bed, lifted a pillow to her face and sniffed. His piney cologne and the uniquely appealing scent of his skin permeated the sheets.
Traitorous tears spilled from her eyes. Curling into a ball on the bed, she hugged his pillow to her chest and let the floodgates open.
Chapter Seven
Billy left the Western Union office a little lighter than when he’d entered, ten grand lighter. At least now Big Earl would be off his case and would never come anywhere near Marissa again. Much as he wanted to believe he’d never get into this sort of situation again, he knew he had a disease. A disease he shared with a whole bunch of folks he was on his way to listen to again. Gamblers’ Anonymous wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
An hour and a half later he turned up his collar against the early chill in the air as he exited the fellowship room of Grace Covenant Church. His first Gamblers Anonymous meeting had made him question why he was there. He thought he had nothing in common with those people who'd found themselves on the street without a home or a dime to their name.
But this, his second meeting in as many days introduced him to a few guys much like himself, men who hadn't lost everything, but had managed to screw up jobs and relationships.
As he sat in the last row of seats, away from the group, he listened to the speakers recount how their marriages fell apart, relationships with family members and friends were strained from their frequent requests for cash. He sure could relate to that.
On his way to work, he drove past Marissa's house. Far out of the way, but if he were lucky, he'd catch a glimpse of her tending to her flowerpots like he had yesterday. But she was nowhere in sight. That empty feeling he'd had nearly every moment cinched his gut, made every muscle ache with loneliness.
She'd only been gone a few days, but it felt like years. At least Joel was speaking to him. Fortunately, Joel had offered his guest room, for a while anyway. Although Marissa's place was his home of choice, she refused to even take his calls. God he missed her.
When he arrived at the restaurant, Ross greeted him with a wave. "I picked up some gorgeous catfish at the market," he said. "I can't wait to taste that new recipe you told me about."
Billy nodded, but even the prospect of serving a brand new innovative dish didn't excite him anymore. He wanted Marissa to try it, yearned for her lukewarm reviews accompanied by the telltale glint in her eyes that let him know she loved it. Ross' effusive raves weren't nearly as inspiring.
Pulling on his chef's jacket, he looked up at the plaque hanging over the door. Marissa's Kitchen. He froze, guilt and regret swirled in his stomach. "Joel here?"
"Sure," Ross said. "He was in his office a little while ago. Probably still is."
With purpose in his stride, Billy marched down the hall, knocked on Joel's door.
"Yeah?" boomed Joel's deep voice.
He went inside, didn’t wait for an invitation to sit before taking a seat and dragging the chair toward Joel's desk. "This is all wrong."
Joel looked up from his paperwork. "What is?"
"Me working here." He threw his hands in the air. "In Marissa's kitchen."
"She quit, remember?" Tossing his pen across the desk, his cousin scowled. "Hated to lose her. She's one hell of a chef, but she'll never come back."
Billy shook his head. "This isn't right. She's lost the job she loves and it's completely my fault."
Joel didn’t dispute that, just lifted an eyebrow. "Water under the bridge."
"I know I've got no right to ask you for a damn thing, but I'm going to anyway." He leaned toward his cousin, fixed him with a stare that he hoped conveyed his conviction. "Go to Marissa, tell her the job is hers if she wants it. I'll walk away, leave town if that's how she has to have it."
Joel started to object. "You can't—"
Billy cut him off with a hand in the air. "Yes, I can. She told me a few days ago that she'd made this place her own and you know what? She's right. I walked into town like it belonged to me and that was so wrong, bro." Much as he loved this restaurant, enjoyed what he did, he loved her more. And he owed her for all the shit he'd put her through.
Joel stared at him a long moment, pursed his lips and nodded. "Have it your way. I'll go see her, make her an offer."
Billy returned to the kitchen and started working on dinner. Even though he might be searching for a job soon, he knew he had to make this right with Marissa. The very least he could do was to restore her to the kitchen where she was meant to work. Whether she'd ever forgive him remained to be seen, but now was as good a time as any to start doing the right thing by those he loved, even if that meant walking away from the most important person in his world.
***
Marissa sat on the floor in the parlor, surrounded by mementos Billy had given her over the years and photo albums chock full of pictures of their life together. Time had come to box up all those memories and put them away, at least until it no longer hurt to look at them. She ran a finger along the lace covered wedding album her mother had made, untied the bow holding it shut. Cinnamon butted his head into Marissa's hand, egging her on.
"Hellooooo." Her neighbor Tina trilled through the window.
Marissa rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to deal with company right now, least of all, the neighborhood gossip. Mentally chiding herself for the mean-spirited characterization, she crossed the room, pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. "Tina, what a nice surprise."
In a too-short miniskirt, halter top and high heels, Tina looked ready for a night on the town. "Hey, darlin' girl." She craned her neck to see inside. "You alone?"
More alone than ever. "Just me and the cat. Want to come in?" She prayed Tina would keep her visit brief.
"For a minute. Clyde's takin' me to a company party when he comes home from work. Says they’re using a new catering company specializing in authentic Southern cuisine, my favorite." She stepped around Marissa into the parlor and sat on the sofa beside Cinnamon. "What's all this stuff?" She pointed to the boxes littering the floor as she smoothed the cat's fur.
"Packing away a few things." She picked up the wedding album, closed it and set it in a box.
"I saw that handsome husband of yours here last week. He sure looks fine." She crossed her legs, waggled a perfectly arched blond eyebrow.
"Ex-husband," Marissa corrected. "He's gone now. For good." The hole in her heart ached.
"I'm so sorry." She patted Marissa's knee. "I thought maybe you two were back together."
"No, we're not." A lump lodged in her throat.
"Too bad. You seemed so happy when y'all were married." She gave her head a heavy shake. "I hate to see you moping around like you've been since he left last year."
Moping around? "I might have been a bit down in the dumps for a month or two after we split, but no more than that."
"Oh, honey. You used to laugh all the time when you
were married." She pursed her hot pink lips. "I haven't seen that pretty smile of yours in ages. Until I saw you come home with him a few days ago." She lowered her voice. "I peeked out my window when I heard your car pull in."
Had she really been unhappy the entire year after she broke it off with Billy? Perhaps she'd grown so used to her loneliness that she’d stopped noticing it.
Tina scratched under Cinnamon's chin. "Well, I ought to get goin.’ Give me a holler soon and we’ll do lunch."
She nodded. “Sorry I’m not very good company now.”
Tina waved away Marissa's apology. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
"You bet." She showed her out just as the phone started ringing.
Joel’s voice made her smile. She missed him. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “In person."
“Why don't you stop by after the restaurant closes?"
"See you then."
She busied herself in the kitchen, baking a cauliflower soufflé to calm her nerves. As she thought about her conversation with Tina, something struck a chord. Tina had mentioned a catering company. So many people loved southern food, but with all the fat and calories, it was such a poor food choice. That was why Joel’s restaurant was so busy, their healthy spin on southern cooking. Why couldn’t she start a catering company that specialized in her brand of healthy gourmet food? She really wouldn’t be competing with Joel since the restaurant did no catering. She’d run it by him first, of course. He’d been so good to her over the years. The last thing she’d ever do was step on his toes.
When she heard a knock at the door, she gave the parlor a spray of vanilla room deodorizer. "Coming." She hurried to answer and relaxed a little when she saw Joel's familiar profile through the glass. This was her friend, after all—her dear friend.
Kissing her cheek as she let him in, Joel sniffed. "What the heck are you cooking? It smells like vanilla and stinky vegetables."
She chuckled. "Cauliflower soufflé. The vanilla was supposed to mask the odor."
"Didn't work." He followed her to the sitting area, lowered his hulking frame onto the couch. "So, how are you, sweetheart? Can’t tell you how much we miss you at the restaurant."
The simple sentiment caught her off guard. Words stuck in her throat. She coughed, held up a finger, then marched to the kitchen and took a swig of water. Grasping the counter, she sucked in a calming breath. "How would you like some port?" she called.
"You and your sweet wines," he said. "Sure, why not."
She poured them each a glass, carried them to the parlor and handed one to Joel.
He lifted his and tapped her goblet. "To you."
The wine's sweet warmth soothed her. Taking a seat across from him, she fixed him with a pointed stare. "What’s up, Joel."
His brow crinkled as he tried the wine. "This stuff tastes like sweetened vinegar. I expect more from you."
“Sorry.”
"You know, I love you and Billy." He raked thick fingers through his hair. "I hoped that if the two of you would be able to work together again, you’d remember what a great team you made. That’s why I locked you two in the wine cellar.”
“You?” She was speechless, completely dumbfounded.
"I suspected a night alone with no possibility of escape would force you to hash out your differences."
She buried her face in her hands. Joel rushed to her side, wrapped a powerful arm around her shoulder. "My heart was in the right place. You have to believe that. I may have gotten a little carried away, but the end result was that you and Billy did settle your differences."
"Hah! A lot of good that does us now." She leaned against his shoulder.
"I know." He exhaled loudly. "But he's committed to his recovery now. He's been to Gambler's Anonymous, twice."
Maybe Billy had told Joel that, but she wasn’t buying it.
"He's a changed man. Told me he'll give up his job so you can have your position as head chef back. He'll walk away."
She looked Joel in the eyes, knew he was being straight with her, finally. Her heart squeezed knowing Billy had started getting help for his addiction and that he'd volunteered to leave the job he loved, all for her.
“What do you say?”
"I'm not finished being mad at you for locking us in the cellar." Her anger over the whole sordid affair was already subsiding, but she'd make him squirm a little.
He dropped his head, folded his hands and gave her puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry I had to resort to such underhanded tactics, but you must understand my motives. You and Billy are meant to be together. I had to make you both realize what you were throwing away."
She inhaled sharply. “Okay, Joel. I forgive you. And I have something to ask you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay.”
“How would you feel if I opened a catering business dedicated to healthy southern cuisine? I wouldn’t use any of the recipes I developed at your restaurant, so no conflict there, but I wanted to run it by you.”
He held his fist against his mouth, but said nothing for several second. “I like the idea. In fact, I want in. Are you willing to take on a silent partner?”
“Only if you’re that silent partner.” She hugged him. And realized she wanted to tell Billy about her idea. She missed him, but she wasn't sure yet if she could trust him. It sounded like he’d changed for the better and seemed to be moving in the right direction now. But how could she be sure? Or was it like so much in Billy’s life, merely smoke and mirrors. She could hardly lay a foundation on a muddy slope.
Only time could judge.
***
A passing car sped through a deep puddle and sent a torrent of muddy water splashing all over Billy's white chef pants.
"Thanks!" he shouted at the driver, who was already long gone. "Just freaking great." Could his day get any worse?
When his cell rang, he checked the display, saw his auto mechanic's name and braced himself for more bad news. "Yeah, Mario. What's the problem?" He ducked under an awning to escape the afternoon drizzle.
"Timing belt," the man said. "Gonna run you in the neighborhood of three-fifty,"
Perfect. More money he didn't have. "Can you hold off a few days? Wait until I'm flush?" Where he'd come up with the money, he had no clue.
The mechanic huffed. "I guess so, but no later than Tuesday. Otherwise I start charging you a storage fee."
"Yeah, okay." He shut the phone, continued on to work. Joel would probably bark at him over his mud-splattered pants and who could blame him if he did?
A black sedan screeched to a stop at the curb and the window rolled down. "Hey, Billy boy."
He bent to see inside.
His old bookie, Kenny patted the passenger seat. "Need a lift?"
A clap of thunder rattled his teeth and the rain picked up. He thought about making a run for the restaurant, but with another six blocks to go in a downpour, Kenny's dry car looked awfully inviting. He could handle a five-minute ride with the guy, couldn't he? "Sure, thanks." He climbed inside. "I'm headed to work."
Kenny nodded. "Hell of a storm, huh?"
"Yeah." He glanced out the window, hoped they'd get to the restaurant quickly. Hadn't the speaker at the last gamblers support meeting said he had to cut all ties with people like Kenny? A few minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. Better than walking in a thunderstorm, taking his chances with lightning.
"Too bad about the Dolphins game last week, huh?" He stopped for a red light. "We all lose every now and then, huh? I felt real bad taking your watch."
Sure you did. "Whatever. Water under the bridge now." Twisting his wrist, he winced at the tan line the watch had left. Should have thought of another way to pay the debt.
"I still have it if you want to make a deal, win it back."
Billy fisted his hands in his lap. "A deal?"
"Yeah. I got a line on a few of the games for tomorrow tonight. What do you say?" Kenny slid a stick of gum into his mouth. "I'm trying to quit smoking. Wife says this'll help."
Billy's heart pounded and his mouth grew dry. A droplet of rainwater dripped from his head onto his arm.
"How about the Packers over the Vikings by six?" Kenny went on. "You don't want the watch, how about some cold, hard cash? Four to one odds. What do you say?"
Billy thought about his car. It would be so easy to float a bet, win the repair cost. Just one bet.
Joel had so much riding on him now that Marissa had left the restaurant. He'd given him a place to stay and a second chance. Hell, this was his tenth chance but he knew if he ever hoped to convince Marissa he'd changed, kicked the gambling habit, he had to first convince himself he was through with it. But he could taste his winnings. They'd never find out.
Kenny stopped at the curb in front of the restaurant. "Last chance to score, Billy. What'll it be?"
Palms sweating, Billy squirmed in the seat. Marissa's tear-stained face flashed before his eyes. No. He couldn't let her down. Meeting Kenny's gaze, he fixed a smile on his face then took out his wallet. “I owed you another sixty for that last one, right?” He counted the bills in his wallet. That was all he had. He pulled out the money. “It was a gift.”
Shrugging, Kenny swiped the money then handed him the watch.
"Thanks for the ride." When he put his watch on, his mood lifted for the first time in days.
Kenny nodded. "Call me."
As he climbed out of the car, he chuckled. "See you around." He marched toward the alley past the front windows of the restaurant as the sun peeked through the clouds.
***
Marissa sat at a table near the window in the restaurant and watched Billy get out of his bookie's car. Her hopes for a future together washed away with the rain. For all Joel's talk of Billy's efforts to quit gambling, nothing had really changed. Shaking her head, she stood and started toward the front door. Maybe she could get out before Billy came inside.
Joel intercepted her. “Where are you going? I thought you wanted to run your marketing plan by me.”
She glanced toward the kitchen. “No, I don’t. I can’t today. Sorry.” Shoving past Joel, she unlocked the door and hurried through. She marched toward the alley to the parking lot and threw herself into her car. A few tears slipped out as she started the motor.
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