“First condition, if anything happens with Tony that you aren’t comfortable going to Perrin with, you come to me. That’s not optional.”
Tammy nodded but didn’t remove her hand from over her mouth.
“Second condition, I have no idea what to wear. You have to help me. Deal?”
“Total deal! I already picked it out. C’mon,” Tammy grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the front of the store.
Yep. A complete and absolute setup.
Chapter 8
“Why here?” Kari felt as if she was crouching under the umbrella in order to disappear rather than merely to stay out of the rain. And she never should have let Tammy talk her into heels; she had to clutch Richard’s arm to not go down on the wet cobblestones of Pike Place Market. Or had that too been Tammy’s plan.
Oh no!
“Wait, don’t tell me. Your daughter said something like, ‘Tammy told me about this amazing Italian restaurant named Angelo’s’.”
Richard’s laugh was warm and welcoming, deep enough she could feel it rumbling about under the umbrella they crowded close to share. “I believe that’s a direct quote. Why?”
Kari sighed and indicated for him to open the restaurant door, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over dinner.”
They stepped in and Graziella greeted them, “Ciao, Kari. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Kari smiled back at the hostess. “Or you wouldn’t have if Tammy hadn’t already called you.”
Graziella’s smile didn’t even flicker as she shrugged, “Oh, there might have been something about saving the nicest table, the one that sits close by the fireplace. But I wouldn’t know anything about that.” She took their coats, which raised a whole other issue.
“Oh...!” Richard simply stared at her.
The dress Tammy had chosen from the rack had been a simple drape of dark blue with a copper-red trim that accented lines and curves. It suggested and implied without revealing. It wasn’t blatantly alluring, because somehow Tammy knew she wouldn’t be comfortable in anything that was. But it certainly showed her figure to its very best possible form. It was a dress that she’d sewn dozens of for Perrin’s customers, but had never thought to try on for herself.
Graziella winked and escorted them in. Richard took her arm to escort her…after stumbling a bit, in a very satisfying manner.
“You look amazing,” his breath was a warm whisper in her ear as he pulled out her seat.
“I’m guessing that’s your one suit, but you look pretty amazing in it yourself.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever sat across from such a handsome man before.
“Lady’s smart as well as gorgeous,” Richard was studying her face intently.
Kari wanted to brush at her hair, but Tammy had insisted she should leave it loose over her bare shoulders.
“I’m guessing you’ve been here before.”
Kari looked around at the cozy Tuscan elegance. The fire was already warming away Seattle’s damp evening chill. She wanted to wrap herself up here and never leave. The air was scented with basil and citrus and red sauce. The music was a bright Italian dancing tune, lively but soft enough to be comforting.
“My first time. This is a little out of my range. But we get together for these amazing dinners every week at the owner’s mother’s apartment. Perrin is best friends with the owner’s wife and his mother.” It was one of the true tests of a man or woman entering the “circle,” how they fit in at Mama Maria’s dinners. Kari expected that Richard would be as hand to glove.
“So,” Richard reached across the table and took her hand. The warmth that spread through her didn’t only come from the fire.
“You were going to tell me a story about a conspiracy involving two teenage girls.”
Kari smiled, “You’re clever, Richard Nyberg. Figure it out and I’ll tell you where you go off track.”
Chapter 9
Richard didn’t realize quite how smart he was.
Not that first night when they had eaten pappardelle and laughed and flirted.
Not the fifth night when they had tumbled into his bed and both wept with the wonder of discovery.
His introduction to the entire crowd at Maria’s had been a huge shock and a wonderful one. Against his better judgment, he’d brought Lana as well—that was when he learned just how pointless it was to argue against a pair of fifteen-year-old girls with a plan. He’d been overwhelmed, but he’d watched Lana drink it in like a tonic. She needed family and friends—thrived on it.
By the time he took both gals—his daughter and his lover—back to Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante several months later, he thought maybe he was getting a little wiser. And maybe his daughter wasn’t the only one who needed family. A whole family, with a woman who truly wanted to be there for them.
He’d watched the bond grow between Lana and Kari over Tammy’s continuing fashion experiments. Richard had come to enjoy the sessions when he could get away to watch.
Tammy’s eye was very good, but sometimes it just flat out missed. Every now and then he’d be witness to his daughter the goof or the nerd—though Tammy thought that a few of the “failure” looks might work on another model. A couple of times the clothes had edged too far toward racy for his taste, but Kari had insisted these were safely conservative.
When he’d been dumb enough to argue, Kari had taken him to hang out by the parking lot a couple of times when high school let out—thankfully not his daughter’s so he could retain some illusions. Then she took him to a Nickelback rock concert with the two girls—and two boys who he hadn’t counted on but rather liked by the end—and even those few vague illusions had disappeared. He’d stopped arguing with Tammy’s taste level after that.
Lana had also taken to using the sewing machine beside Kari. Her first efforts were…first efforts. But she learned. She didn’t have Tammy’s eye, but she learned to sew, to fit, and eventually to craft.
That was the unique thing that Kari brought to her work. She brought craft. That came from passion. And she had a passion that flowed through her work with Tammy, her patience with Lana, and the way she always shared so openly with him.
Tonight he had a beautiful woman on each arm as they arrived at Angelo’s. The brightly lit ferry boats slid across Puget Sound looking like floating birthday cakes. He held the door and bowed for the women to proceed him.
Kari blushed and Lana giggled.
As he and Graziella took their coats, Richard could only marvel. Kari, who had revealed her casual side on most occasions, was once again dressed to kill. Instead of a classic simple black dress, it had been a simple, sleek red one—a dark dusky red that offset and warmed her skin. Open neck, sleeveless, and ending mid-thigh. A copper bangle on one wrist reminded him of that first dress; he’d wager it was a Tammy touch intended to do precisely that. In this dress, Kari wasn’t merely gorgeous, she was also as warm and welcoming as the Tuscan ambiance.
Lana was dressed back in that first look that Tammy had made for her. She was wrapped again in words of strength, joy, and—across the top of either shoulder—passion. He’d questioned that word on his daughter’s body the first time. He didn’t any longer. Her wrist bangle matched Kari’s. The two women looked incredible together.
They sat back at the fireside table; this time he had been the one to make the request. It was a table for two, but it didn’t matter—he pulled a third chair up to the side with his daughter to his left and Kari to his right.
As close as family.
Chapter 10
Tonight was different. Kari could feel it, and it wasn’t merely that they were at Angelo’s or that they were together. The three of them had eaten together dozens of times: at Richard’s house, at restaurants, or huddled backstage at the opera among lighting instruments and cables when Richard couldn’t get away for more than a few minutes.
Kari had found her hopes and her dreams, but she couldn’t ask for them to come true. Richard and Lana were the family unit—so
mething far too precious, too fragile to risk. It was in such perfect balance that she only dared sit on the outside and dream of being inside.
Like her clothing designs that had never excelled. She could breathe life into Tammy’s ideas, create an exciting collaboration, but she couldn’t go off on her own and find success. She was meant to be a part of something else, something bigger. But she didn’t know how to get there from where she was.
“Kari,” Richard’s voice was a warm caress. It reminded her of how it felt every single time he held her, or she held him. It was hard to tell holder from holdee anymore; had been since the beginning.
His voice was also rough as if he was having trouble speaking.
“Yes?” She tried to take strength from the moment, but just as when she’d sat with Perrin the moment before she’d been promoted to help create Tammy’s design label, the nerves were winning.
Richard opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. Sipped some water.
Lana rolled her eyes at him.
Finally, it was Lana who reached across the table and took Kari’s hands which were chilled with nerves she could no longer hide.
“Dad will recover soon enough. I think it’s kind of fun that women can have that effect on boys, don’t you?”
Kari nodded, unsure what they were talking about. Richard affected her the same way; speechless with the wonder of the man.
“I don’t want a mom.”
And now Kari knew. It was a death knell that rang inside her. Those foolish family dreams that had been fluttering about in her head a moment ago, sank leaden into her stomach.
“But I could really use a friend.”
“What?” The word stumbled out. She was suddenly feeling stupid.
“Having a mom didn’t work so well. But I think you’re great and once Dad recovers, he’ll tell you that he loves you.”
“Lana!” He managed a protest.
Kari glanced at Richard. She knew that look on his face. It was the look of seeing his daughter truly herself for the first time, or the shock over the scantily clad teens at concerts; the look of total confusion.
Lana didn’t look at her father, but her grin turned about as wicked as Tammy’s.
“Frankly, I think you two should have another kid, just the way Perrin did. I’d probably think of her like more of a niece or something than as a sister, but I’d be cool with it if you decide. I just wanted you to know.”
Lana let go of her hands with a final squeeze.
Kari was still trying to catch up.
And then she’d remembered Tammy’s question when Kari had agreed to help with her clothing line. One word that had covered a world of hope and joy.
She turned to Richard who still appeared to be stunned speechless by the daughter who had inherited her frankness directly from her father.
Taking confidence from Lana’s encouraging nod, Kari was the one to reach out and take Richard’s hand.
“Really?” she asked as loudly as she could manage, which was little more than a whisper.
He nodded.
“Say you love her, Dad,” Lana prompted.
He nodded again.
Then he clamped down on Kari’s hand as if to make sure she wouldn’t leave before he recovered his power of speech.
Not a chance.
Now that she knew where she belonged, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Where Dreams Are Well Done
Chapter 1
“What is wrong with you? I needed that fish three minutes ago. Did you learn to cook in a cave?”
“You needed it twelve seconds ago,” Sam shot back. And decided against telling Luisa Valenti that she wasn’t going to get it for another thirty seconds. Besides, the kitchen’s aboyeur was busy dressing the plate of pappardelle with wild boar ragù that he’d just handed across the line.
“Fine, then where’s my trio of sea scallops and squid-ink pasta?” She didn’t even stop for a breath. “Though why everyone at a table would order the same dish is beyond sad. Just keep cooking the way you are and maybe we’ll never see such dweebs ever again.”
“Open your pretty eyes, Luisa,” he teased her as his sous chef Marlys slid the three matching plates onto the warmer shelf that separated his station from Luisa’s.
She rolled those beautiful brown eyes at him, making it clear that she knew he was trying to distract her from the laggard glazed halibut.
A glance down the cook line either way told him that they were running a little rough, but okay. He dropped another two orders of orzo into a pot of boiling water to help out Valerie. He also passed a tray of stuffed and breaded squash blossoms from Tony to Valerie as she turned to the deep fryer, saving her three extra steps she didn’t have time for. He dropped the next two pieces of fish into pans for Marlys and accepted the two plates of sea bass ready for saucing.
He’d never have dared talked to Luisa that way while he was still a prep chef. He’d noticed her of course, there were only a dozen staff at Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante, including the three waitstaff, but his duties had mainly been in the morning before the restaurant opened. Angelo or Manuel would do the shopping at daybreak, then all of the proteins and produce would arrive for him to prep. When Manuel had shifted to Angelo’s new restaurant, Sam had been pulled into the lunch line.
Up until this morning he’d thought he was just being trained to fill in where needed. Tonight they’d dropped him instead of Marlys into the Executive Chef slot for dinner service because Angelo couldn’t make it. If he had time, he’d be freaking out right now, but he didn’t.
Over the last month he’d worked with Marlys the grillardin cooking the meats and Valerie at entremetier—the hot appetizers, soups, and pasta station, one of the keys to an Italian restaurant. He’d almost died at the sous chef position—keeping the saucier’s eight pans always filled with whatever had to be sautéed to perfection, because Angelo accepted nothing less, which required being part magician, part juggler, and part octopus.
As a prep cook, the menu had been drilled into this head. Yes, it was always changing based on what was freshest in Seattle’s Pike Place Market just out the back door, but there was a style, a flavor, a feel to Angelo’s cooking that made sense once he understood it.
He’d even done some turns as the Executive Chef for lunch service. The lighter fare becoming second nature with practice.
That was when he first bumped heads with Luisa.
There was no way to miss Luisa’s presence in the kitchen. It was the aboyeur’s job to expedite service and did she ever. Luisa had every order in her head, never having to check a ticket twice. And she was very vocal about not getting everything in the exact order she’d called for it. Table Seven had a simple ragù, a pan-fried swordfish on a bed of angel hair pasta with one of Angelo’s signature sauces that had to be made the moment before service, and a grilled lamb and baby asparagus with a Gorganzola cheese drizzle—and Luisa would throw a fit if they weren’t all ready in the same five seconds even though they took drastically different amounts of time to cook. Actually, in the same three seconds.
But with Luisa in charge, there was never an undressed plate or a missed order. She was just as amazing as she looked. And as dangerous.
He slid across the missing halibut with a honey-rosemary-chestnut glaze and the accompanying bowl of the wild boar ragù.
“Finally!” she huffed at him.
Being the sole target for her ire was daunting. Everyone on this side of the cook line answered to him, but he answered to the fair Luisa.
He still didn’t know how he’d landed in the Executive Chef slot through a dinner service. He’d entered the kitchen and Luisa had simply told him, “Angelo’s busy tonight. It’s your cook line.” He’d taken his first breath about an hour into the meal, but hadn’t had time yet to take a second one.
She finished dressing the plates with berry compote traced in an elegant line around the outline of the halibut. With immaculate tim
ing, Graziella breezed in from the front of house, barely breaking stride as she gathered the completed dishes, and whisked back out.
It was a shock every single time to see them together. Two slender, beautiful Italian women with golden skin and lush dark hair that reached the middle of their backs. They could have been twins. Except Graziella was as gracious and patient as her name, unflappable under even the most dire circumstances. Luisa’s heritage must be at least part Roman, as in Roman candle. Incendiary.
“What are you paying attention to, Chef?” she snapped at him.
Luisa hadn’t looked up at him, but he’d been watching her and not his line and somehow she knew. A quick glance showed him that his momentary lapse to admire his aboyeur had just caused him more trouble.
“Fire three halibut and two sea bass, a lamb, a beef tenderloin, and two scallop.”
Marlys grimaced, but hustled to get them all going.
It was too late, the next five tables were going to be all out of sync and he was going to pay royally for it.
Chapter 2
Luisa kept her head down to hide her smile.
She remembered her first day here, Angelo and Manuel purposely messing with her, testing her. Angelo would finish a fish and then sit on it for thirty seconds just to break her rhythm. When she’d chewed him out over the line, he’d merely smiled and handed it across.
Manuel had mixed up three different orders, just to see if she’d catch it, like she was that dense. She’d ripped him a new one and he’d told Angelo to hire her on the spot.
That had been a year ago and Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante was now a well-oiled machine, reproducing the chef’s magic to the table with class and consistency.
And at last it was finally turnabout, her turn to be testing someone else to Angelo’s stratospheric standards. Manuel had moved to run the new restaurant by the Seattle Center and Angelo wanted to focus on a third restaurant he was creating. She was the one who had suggested pulling Sam Walsh out of the prep role.
The Complete Where Dreams Page 107