Grandma Zehra was in the mix this evening, his eighty-two-year-old grandmother who was partially deaf and loved to oversee without actually helping. She was leaning over the workspace where Segal’s daughter Dina, the new head cook, was cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Uh, this dinner is vegan,” Noel said as came up to the work station. Dina sent him a stricken look.
“I know that,” Grandma said, waving her hand in his direction, as though dismissing him. “I want her to make the meatloaf anyway.”
“Meatloaf?” His brows shot up. “Grandma, we’re not having meatloaf tonight. That is so far out of the traditional line-up of foods.”
Grandma Zehra scoffed, and Dina looked trapped in the middle. Across the kitchen, Segal shouted Noel’s name.
“Make it for her if she wants,” Noel said to Dina, “But this can’t be on the menu.”
“And that tofurkey thing can be?” Grandma Zehra challenged. “Let’s just eat the real thing. The real American turkey. That’s what I want!”
Noel worked his jaw back and forth, moving through the bustle and fray of the kitchen to see Segal. He was beaming, working some dough into a ball.
“Things are better around here, aren’t they?” Segal looked around the kitchen, as though it might all suddenly look different to Noel too. “I told you that American would ruin everything. You’re lucky I found out before it was too late.”
Noel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That American. His American. “This turn of events has been surprising, to say the least.”
“You’re lucky you have my eye on your side,” Segal said. “Sometimes, getting involved can make us blind. When matters of the heart are concerned.”
Noel studied the floor of the kitchen, grimacing. “Thank you, Segal. Can you point me in the direction of the kitchen accounting books?”
“Of course.” Segal pointed the way, and Noel headed there before Segal could give any more self-congratulations. He snatched book up, opening it up on an empty work station.
This part had been gnawing at him. The way the accusation just didn’t match up with what he’d seen from Ana, day in and day out. He spent damn near all his spare time with her. In the month or so she’d been around, he’d thought he’d gotten to know her. That he knew her. That he…cared for her.
He opened up the book, squinting at the pages as he struggled to make sense of the various handwritings and numbering systems. The most recent dates and costs were shocking.
“You see,” Segal said, suddenly at his side, “These are the items she purchased, and the prices.”
Noel shook his head. There were limits to what palaces could afford, even among the opulence. And these numbers were quite frankly horrifying.
“I can’t believe it,” Noel muttered.
“This was her game,” Segal insisted. “She purchased rock bottom ingredients from the market for her actual meals, but had expensive items imported so that she could resell them at the market for a profit. Totally greedy. Horrible scam.”
Noel blinked a few times as he looked at the numbers, then he took a picture of the pages. Whatever the truth was, these numbers told a story that sounded a lot different than the Ana he thought he knew. This person was greedy, calculating, completely conniving.
That wasn’t Ana.
Even with the proof in front of him, he couldn’t totally believe it. He snapped the book shut, thanking Segal for his time.
As he left the kitchen, his mind went back to Ana, wondering where she was, if she’d boarded a plane yet, whether or not Linh was upset or excited to go home. His heart ached strangely, suddenly.
He didn’t want to close the book on Ana just yet. And before he did, he needed to look into a few more things.
* * *
“Good lord.” Ana sat back in the seat with a harrumph. Linh followed suit beside her.
“Way too expensive,” Charlie said, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“It’s highway robbery,” Ana spat. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching without really seeing the people streaming along the sidewalks as the palace sedan made yet another lap around the city center. She and Charlie had been in touch with every airline representative at the Maatkare airport, and not a single one could give them a return flight to the US that didn’t cost the equivalent of a kidney. With Christmas just days away, she got it: flights were in high demand. But most of these seats cost more than the check in her purse.
“Madame?” The driver looked at her through the rearview mirror, and his query was understood. What the fuck do we do now?
“One more lap,” she instructed in French, then turned to Charlie. “I might try calling some of them a second time. Just to see what they say now.”
“Ana, give it up.” Charlie sighed, looking dejectedly out the window. “They’re not gonna change their minds. It’s either pay it or don’t.”
Ana tapped her finger against the armrest, watching as they drove through a familiar part of town. Her gaze landed on Paz. Again. It was always Paz. She told the driver to stop the car.
Ana rolled down the window. “Paz! Hey, girl! It’s me!”
Paz turned, a smile blooming on her face as she spotted Ana. Just behind her, on the doorway she was headed towards, was a handwritten sign: Rooms for Rent.
The realization shuddered through her like lightning. She knew what the next step was. Even if it was totally crazy.
Ana told Paz to wait, then turned to Charlie. “Okay. I know Plan B.”
“What is it?” he sounded worried.
“You’re a wonderful friend, an amazing colleague, and the best babysitter Linh has ever had.” Ana paused, squeezing Charlie’s hand. “But I think I should stay in Maatkare. At least for now. Take this check, go home with it, and enjoy your Christmas if you can.”
Charlie’s mouth parted. “What the hell are you planning on doing?
Ana clamped her mouth shut, looking back out the window. Paz lingered near the front door of her home, hidden behind a long white wall adorned with taupe accents. Palm trees shot up from the property behind the wall. She could live in a room here, for a while, with Linh. It wouldn’t be all bad.
“I’m just not ready to leave,” Ana said, the confession tumbling from her mouth like bricks. “I don’t know what it is. Going back to the US right now seems wrong.” She sighed, rubbing at her face. “Maybe I’m going crazy. I don’t know. But I want to stay here.”
Charlie sat in a stunned silence as Ana pushed out of the car, beckoning for Linh to follow. She went around to the trunk, where the driver helped unload her bags.
Paz smiled warmly as Ana approached with Linh and their bags in tow. This felt right. She could barely explain why, but it did.
The car door slammed a moment later. Charlie was at the trunk, unloading his own bags.
“Hope you have more than one room,” he said testily, looking between Ana and Paz. “I guess I’m staying too.”
15
A few days went by for Ana in surreal clarity. It felt like each day, each moment, each second was designed for revelations. Understanding her purpose, her desires, her dreams. Unpacking why she had fought so hard for a restaurant in LA. Why she was suddenly not at all eager to return to that life.
“I had a plan for my life, Charlie,” Ana said, almost mournfully. They’d been walking along the city center with no particular destination in mind. It was actual Christmas back home, but here in Maatkare, the biggest celebrations came in early January. “And every time I struggle harder to achieve that plan, it falls apart just a little bit more. How am I supposed to get the money to start a new restaurant now?”
“Maybe a restaurant just isn’t your thing anymore,” Charlie said simply, shrugging. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, squinting out at the palms in the park they walked by. “I mean, you’ve already done it. You’ve been there. You tried it. You didn’t even particularly love it while you were doing it, I should add.”
Ana grunted. He was
right.
“You have Linh now. You have other interests. It’s okay for your calling to change. You’re still a chef. But maybe it’s time to say screw the Michelin star.”
Ana let his words hang heavy in the air as they walked back to Paz’s house. As they came up on her block, Linh’s laughter wafted from the open windows. It rippled through Ana. She and Charlie looked at each other, amazed grins on their faces, as Linh’s peals of laughter drifted out from the house.
“Now that is something I will never get tired of hearing,” Ana said.
“She’s never laughed that hard since I’ve known her,” Charlie said, pulling open the wrought iron door leading into the square of grass in front of Paz’s house. The gate clanged shut behind him. Through the window, Linh and Paz’s little girl were dancing homemade dolls, dressed in Maatkaran robes, along the edge of a couch.
“Now look at that,” Charlie mused. He crossed his arms, looking back at Ana. “What’s it gonna take for you to be that happy again?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Ana retorted, but his question sat heavy inside her chest. She’d been on a constant, unending treadmill, trying to learn more, do more, achieve more, get more approval. But in the throes of Mirage, she had had no time for Linh. No time for a social life. No time for quiet, contemplative walks through the city with her best friend.
Ana sat on the couch quietly, observing as Linh continued playing with her new friend. Charlie sent a mysterious smile her way and went up to his room.
If she started a new restaurant, it would be much the same. She’d be back to the ninety-hour work weeks, never seeing Linh, leaving the child rearing and precious moments to everyone but herself.
There was truth in what Charlie said. And truth be told, she’d had an inkling of a direction burbling inside her for a long time. She’d just been too afraid to go there.
Now, with everything in tatters around her, with her life quivering on a precipice she’d personally brought herself to the edge of, it was time to jump.
* * *
Noel pushed past some people in the crowded market place, the very place he’d accompanied Ana to purchase ingredients for the palace meals. He held a photo in his hand, going on his fifth vendor of asking whether anyone recognized the woman in the picture.
It was Ana, of course. Her soft brown hair, that sparkle in her eye. The beautiful, fun Ana he’d fallen for only for her to disappear as quickly as she’d come.
Part of him wondered if his mission for justice was his attempt to not feel swindled personally. Stealing from the palace was one thing, but he didn’t want to believe he had been such a bad judge of character.
So he wanted to find out. Personally survey the produce and spice vendors to see if they remembered a brunette Westerner coming in to resell ingredients. So far, every vendor query had struck out. Everybody knew Ana as a buyer, as someone deeply interested in their products. Nobody had purchased thousands of dollars of unique ingredients from her.
But finally, the sixth guy remembered the tempeh.
“There was a woman who came here, yes; she was selling tempeh,” the vendor said, his gaze continuously scanning the market behind Noel as they spoke. “But not this woman, no way. A little Maatkaran girl. She sold me fifty kilos of tempeh. Great deal.”
Noel stared at his phone for a while as he struggled to imagine who this person could have been. And then he remembered the new Maatkaran girl in his own kitchen. The little Dina, fresh culinary-school graduate, Segal’s beloved daughter. Noel scoured his phone for a picture of her, finally texting his brother Robel to send an emergency snap of the girl.
When the picture came in minutes later and Noel showed the vendor, the guy nodded. “Yes, that’s her. She’s the one.”
Noel’s limbs thrummed with energy as he made his way out of the market. This was it. This was the proof that Ana hadn’t been stealing. But he needed to structure his argument carefully. He called Robel, explaining the turn of events. His eldest brother was wiser in some ways, and much more stoic and practical.
While Robel took on the task of alerting their father and figuring out the consequences that would await Segal back at the palace, Noel set about finding Ana.
He searched the internet for information about Ana’s parent’s winery in California. It was a long shot, but it was probably his only chance. Ana had flown out days ago, and where else would a suddenly jobless woman go but home? He clenched and unclenched his jaw as he called the California number. It was damn near close to eight a.m. over there, but this was an emergency.
He needed to right the wrongs of not only her career, but also his heart.
A perky woman’s voice answered after a few rings. “Rizzo Wineries.”
“Hi.” Noel paused, feeling suddenly ridiculous. What was he supposed to say? Maatkare bustled and shouted behind him. He’d be lucky if she didn’t hang up on him. “My name is Noel. I know Ana…and I need to speak with her.”
There was a small snort. “Sorry, honey, Ana hasn’t been around here in a long time. Last we heard, she was out in the Middle East somewhere.”
His chest tightened, but he was afraid to call it hope. It had been several days since her departure from Maatkare, which meant she should have surely made it back to California by now. “She hasn’t come home recently?”
“Nope. Sorry.” There was a small sigh. “But if you find her, tell her her mama is worried about her.”
Noel roamed the market in a daze. His cells hummed with the knowledge that Ana might be close, perhaps far closer than he’d dared to imagine. But how could he find her? The palace phone she’d been given had been returned upon her departure. He didn’t even have her email.
Noel pocketed the photo of Ana, deciding instead to wander the paths they’d previously walked in the city. As though this might draw him to her, no matter how ridiculous a run-in sounded. The logical side of him told him that she probably wasn’t even in the country. “Close” might mean Europe. This could all be a fool’s hope.
He walked for what seemed like hours, lost in thought, occasionally receiving updates from Robel as his brothers worked to unravel Segal’s deceit. Finally, as the evening became dark and the market stalls started closing up, he spotted someone familiar.
Long black hair, a warm face, hand wrapped around her daughter’s.
“Paz!” Noel leapt from the bench where he’d been sitting, stumbling to catch up to her. Paz turned, startled, and relaxed slightly when she saw who it was.
“How are you?” He straightened his shirt, trying to recover his stature. “It’s been a while. Listen, have you seen Ana?”
Paz paused curiously, her gaze sweeping over his face.
16
Ana wiped her hands on the towel hanging from her belt loop and surveyed the kitchen spread. She’d been working for hours to prepare this meal, one of the most traditional Maatkaran dishes to come from her hands yet. This was the earliest fruit of her labor, since almost a full week ago when she’d decided to begin gathering local recipes and concocting a traditional cookbook by the people, for the people, with all proceeds going to fund the new Maatkaran campus of the Rizzo Culinary Institute.
She hummed to herself, sprinkling parsley on the edge of her dishes. She couldn’t help it. Old habits died hard. She didn’t turn as she called out, “Charlie?”
Her friend poked his head into the kitchen. “Yes, boss?”
“Are the guests here yet?” She checked the wall clock. Paz had personally set up this prestigious dinner with Maatkaran bloggers and even a few media representatives. This was going to be her grand launch into the sphere of influence. She needed investors to get her business off the ground, but it wouldn’t be hard once they tried her food.
Unlike her previous business ventures, this one felt solid and exciting in a new way. She was eager to take on this work. It didn’t feel like a heavy weight around her neck, condemning her to a life of repetition and exhaustion.
“Just sta
rting to arrive,” Charlie said. His voice drifted as he walked into the formal dining room of Paz’s house. The place was spacious and traditional, the most perfect setting to woo the influencers. Elaborate golden sconces hung in the corners of the dining room. A low, square table sat flanked by overstuffed scarlet and gold cushions. Champagne was already uncorked. This was going to be a home run.
“Oh, God,” Charlie started, but then he stopped suddenly. Ana looked over her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” His voice sounded strange, pinched. But whatever. She needed to focus on this dinner.
“I’ll bring out the dishes,” she called. Nobody responded. She just heard the soft undertones of finger cymbals in the music Paz had selected for the evening. She peered through the kitchen doorway, craning to get a glimpse of the guests.
A few dark-haired men in relaxed Western clothes were there. One held a laptop. Another flipped open a notepad.
And one had a lean, rock-hard frame that was cut from pure muscle and uphill climbs. Noel.
Her breath evaporated, and she ducked back into the kitchen. What the hell? Her heart raced as she paced the kitchen.
There was no reason for him to be here. Anger still sizzled through her daily, reliving the moment when he’d cast her out, refusing to hear her side. It was a heartbreak all its own. She’d cared for him. She still cared for him.
That was evident in the way her fingers trembled. Noel had burrowed in deep, without her even realizing.
Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she spun around to face the food, her back to the door. Goosebumps lit up her forearms.
“Ana.”
There it was. The voice. All she needed to know was contained in that word. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she didn’t know what to say, how to move forward. She swallowed a knot of emotion, staying rigidly still.
Christmas with the Yared Sheikhs: The Complete Series Page 10