Bending the Rules

by Margaret Watson

  He’d probably never get any answers. It didn’t matter now, anyway.

  Emma wanted to adopt Harley. For a lot of people, that would have been an easy solution. But Nathan would never forgive himself if he turned his back on his child.

  But, God. Why couldn’t this have happened a year from now? If he’d gotten this mess with the restaurant straightened out, if he’d taken his trip, he’d be able to focus on being a father.

  Now all he could think about was getting away from Mama’s. From all his responsibilities. And Emma had just given him another one—the biggest responsibility of all.

  It wasn’t Emma’s fault, he reminded himself. This was painful for her, too. She looked completely engaged with Harley, touching her hand, smiling at her.

  Lucky Harley.

  The overhead lights made Emma’s hair shine. She’d pinned the sides away from her face and the curls tumbled down her back. His fingers itched to feel them slipping through his hands.

  He transfered his gaze to Harley. When she’d walked into Mama’s last week, his first thought was that she looked nothing like a Devereux. Then he’d noticed her eyes. It had been spooky to see his sister in that unfamiliar face.

  After he’d gone home that night, he’d dug out his parents’ old photo albums. He’d been turning the pages, looking at pictures of long-forgotten great-aunts and uncles, when he’d found one of his father’s mother.

  Nathan barely remembered her—she’d died when he was young. But in a photo of his grandmother holding him shortly after he was born, her bright red hair had been as vivid as Harley’s and just as curly.

  He turned away from Emma and Harley as he pushed into the kitchen, but not before he spotted Harley talking to Emma, gesturing at her empty plate. Clearly discussing Marco’s specials.

  Phyllis was at the counter, collecting two pasta dishes. “Are those for the table in the corner with the three kids?” he asked.

  “Yeah, thank God. The parents are looking a little frazzled.”

  A pizza sat on the high counter surrounding the wood-burning ovens. “This theirs, too?”

  She nodded. “Be right back.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  As he carried the pizza to the table, he sneaked another glance at Harley and Emma. Harley was studying the walls, and her gaze had zeroed in on the autographed picture of Ron Santo, the Cubs’ Hall of Fame third baseman.

  He wondered if Harley was a Cubs fan. That would be something they had in common. Something to build on.

  After delivering the pizza, he strolled over to Emma and Harley’s table. They were the only ones seated in that small section, and he hoped he could keep it that way.

  “Hey,” he said as he reached them. “Did Phyllis get your order?”

  “She did.” Emma smiled, but she appeared nervous. “You’re busier tonight than I thought you’d be.”

  “The early rush—mostly families with kids.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, then nodded at the Santo picture. “Looks like you’re a Cubs fan,” he said to Harley.

  Harley glanced at the photo again and scowled at him. “My mom liked the Sox. I do, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nathan said, trying not to smile. “My condolences.”

  Harley rolled her eyes. “That’s so lame.”

  Nathan settled back in the chair. “Have you been to many games?”

  Harley kept her expression carefully neutral. “A few.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Emma said with a smile. “She can probably dissect every player on the roster and tell you more than you’d ever want to know.”

  “Emma, he’s a Cubs fan,” Harley said, disgusted. “They don’t care about that stuff. They just want to look good for the TV camera.”

  “Whoa.” Nathan bit his lip to hide a smile as he narrowed his eyes. “Are you talking smack about my baseball team?”

  Harley sneered. “Baseball team? Bunch of losers is what they are.”

  “At least they lose with style.”

  Harley snorted. “Right. Like you get style points in baseball. What are they, ice dancers?”

  Emma lifted the menu so it covered the lower half of her face. Above it, her eyes were laughing. “Harley, maybe that’s enough baseball talk.”

  Nathan swallowed a grin. “Wait until next year, baby.”

  “Like we haven’t heard that before.” Harley rolled her eyes, looking eerily like Frankie at the same age.

  Nathan’s smile faded. Harley was more than some kid in his restaurant he had to tease into a good mood. She was his daughter.

  Was he supposed to recognize her as his immediately? Feel some kind of parental bond? Fall in love with her at first sight? Because that sure as hell hadn’t happened.

  She’d charged into his restaurant and made a huge scene. After she and Emma had left, he’d passed out free desserts to every customer to apologize for the disruption, but the damage had been done. By now, everyone in the neighborhood probably knew about his surprise daughter.

  The front door opened again, and his shoulders relaxed. He could escape. “Maybe we’ll catch a game sometime this spring,” he said.

  “A Cubs game?” she sneered. “Big whoop.”

  “We can go to a Sox game if you’d rather. I’ll just bring a book for the boring parts.” He nodded toward the couple waiting at the podium. “Guess I have to get to work. I’ll stop by again when I can.”

  Several minutes later, while still at the podium, he watched Phyllis deliver Harley’s and Emma’s meals. Emma had chosen the brown butter sage ravioli. Harley had a plate containing portions of all three of Marco’s specials.

  Either she’d enjoyed them after all, or she was looking for more talking points. From everything he’d seen already, Nathan guessed it was the latter.

  The next time he swung through the kitchen, he called to Marco, “Hey, got a couple of comments on your specials.”

  “Yeah?” Marco turned away from the stove, his face red, sweat pouring down his cheeks. “Do they want to come back here and kiss me? And are they beautiful babes?”

  “I think she’s pretty. She doesn’t seem to have any interest in kissing you, though. She said that you’d browned the butter too long on the gnocchi, and the pasta with roasted veggies needs more basil in the sauce. And by the way, Bolognese sauce is so last year. The cooking shows have moved on.”

  Marco’s knuckles turned white on the spatula. “Who the hell said all that stuff?”

  “Your niece. Harley.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “HARLEY? THAT SO-CALLED kid of yours said all that shit about my food?” He pointed the spatula at Nathan. “What kind of crap is that?”

  Nathan stepped around the counter and yanked the spatula away from Marco. “First of all, she’s not my so-called kid. There was a paternity test. She’s mine.”

  “So all your talk about condoms when I was in high school was ‘do as I say, not as I do’?”

  Since he didn’t remember the event, he had no idea whether he’d used a condom with Harley’s mother. But that was none of Marco’s business. “Bite me.” He grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him away from the stove. “Javier,” Nathan yelled. “Take over whatever Marco was doing.”

  “You’re pissed off because I’m saying stuff about a kid you don’t even know?” Marco shoved Nathan’s hand away. “She is going to be a problem.”

  Nathan studied his angry brother. He could keep fi
ghting with him or defuse the situation. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, so he rolled his eyes and went for détente. “Right. Because no one in this family would know anything about being a smart-ass.”

  “Being a smart-ass is one thing. Some kid criticizing my food is something else.”

  Nathan hauled Marco toward his office. When they were in a quieter part of the kitchen, Nathan let him go. “Are you really throwing a tantrum because someone questioned your food? How do you know she’s wrong?”

  “She’s what? Twelve? Thirteen? Kids that age eat nothing but pizza and macaroni and cheese.”

  “For God’s sake, Marco! Grow up!” He scowled at his brother, wondering when he’d become so arrogant. “You were probably too young to remember, but Mom was just like Harley. She had extrasensitive taste buds. She’d taste all the dishes and would say the same kind of stuff to Dad. He’d get just as mad as you did. Then he’d calm down and fix what she said needed fixing.”

  Marco was looking less angry and more intrigued. “Yeah? I didn’t know that.”

  Nathan’s shoulders relaxed. “Patrick and I thought it was hilarious. But a little spooky, too. I mean, how could Mom tell that Dad had used a different brand of oregano in the pizza sauce?”

  “They’re called supertasters,” Marco said.

  “Who are?”

  “People who can do that. They have a bunch more taste buds than everyone else. I’ve met a few of them. Chefs, mostly.” He narrowed his gaze. “Still doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to that kid talking smack about my food.”

  “Maybe you ought to. Maybe she’s right.”

  “Everyone loves tonight’s specials. I’ve had a few orders already, and no one’s complained.”

  “I guess none of them are supertasters.”

  “Very funny. What do you want me to do? Hire the kid?”

  Nathan stopped smiling. “Of course not. But it might be a good opening for the apology you owe her. And Emma.”

  * * *

  EMMA PUSHED HER plate away and sighed with satisfaction. “I really liked that gnocchi.”

  Harley gave her a pitying look. “Yeah, I guess if you couldn’t tell the butter was almost burned, it would taste pretty good.”

  “Those were some snarky things to say about Marco’s food,” Emma said mildly.

  Harley ate the last bite of her Bolognese pasta and shrugged one shoulder in the way Emma was starting to find annoying. “They were true.”

  “You were trying to get a rise out of Nathan, weren’t you?” It was rude and ill-mannered, but Emma understood. She’d seen plenty of other kids do it when faced with a new situation. They acted out, pushed the limits, all to test how far they could go before being rejected. Nathan wouldn’t turn his back on his daughter—he’d made that more than clear at Oscar’s. But Harley didn’t know that.

  “Maybe,” Harley muttered. “I think he’s still mad at me.”

  “I’m guessing he is, a little.” Emma leaned closer and touched Harley’s hand. “Wouldn’t you be upset if someone made a scene at your school, in front of your friends?”

  “That’s different.” Harley stared at her plate, avoiding Emma’s eyes. “Kids aren’t the same as adults.”

  “Sometimes they are. Adults get embarrassed, too.” Emma was mortified about the way she’d acted at Oscar’s. “They get their feelings hurt. They say stupid things and regret them later.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “This might be a good time for that apology we talked about.” For her, too. She’d lashed out and said some things to Nathan she wished desperately she could take back.

  “He’s pretty busy,” Harley said. Two more groups had arrived in the past fifteen minutes.

  “Not that busy.” She rubbed Harley’s back. “Get it over with. You’ll feel better. And so will...Nathan.”

  Should Emma refer to him as Harley’s father? Use his first name? There were so many delicate issues to navigate.

  Her face heated as she remembered those moments at Oscar’s. The desire in Nathan’s eyes. The way he’d stared at her mouth.

  The way she’d stared back.

  Spending time with Nathan was going to be challenging for her as well as Harley.

  As if she’d conjured him with her thoughts, Nathan appeared next to the table. “Did you enjoy your meals?”

  “Mine was great,” Emma said. She glanced at Harley, who was dragging her fork through the sauces remaining on her plate.

  “They were good. Your brother’s an okay chef.” She poked at a piece of gnocchi on her plate.

  “I’ll tell him. He’ll be happy to hear it.”

  Harley looked up at him and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for making a scene here last week. It was really rude of me.” The words came out in a rush, as if she needed to get them said before she chickened out.

  Nathan sat across from her. “Thank you,” he said. “I was surprised when you showed up. Maybe I didn’t handle it as well as I could have.”

  Harley hunched her shoulders. “I was the one yelling,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, you were. But if I were in your shoes, I might have done the same. So let’s agree that it was a mistake and move on.”

  Finally she looked at him, surprise and relief in her gaze. “Yeah?”

  “Of course.” He reached toward her, hesitated, then drew back. “In the grand scheme of mistakes you can make, that was a pretty small one.”

  “Okay.” Harley’s shoulders relaxed and she sat up straighter.

  Emma wanted to hug Nathan. He’d said exactly the right things to Harley. Another example of his experience with kids. She was mortified all over again.

  Nathan cleared his throat. “Let me get those dishes out of your way.”

  “You’re the owner and you have to clear tables?” Harley asked.

  He stacked the dishes efficiently, then swept the crumbs from the table. “Owning a business means you have to do everything sometimes. Our busboy has a late class on Tuesdays and doesn’t come in until seven. Would you like some dessert?”

  “No, thank...” Emma started to say.

  “Yes, please,” Harley said. “Do you have cannoli?”

  Nathan studied her for a moment. “You like those?”

  “Love them.”

  “We have them, but after what you said about Marco’s specials, I’m afraid to serve them to you. They’re frozen.”

  Harley frowned. “Really? In a nice place like this?”

  Nathan smiled. “Thank you. I think. We can’t afford a pastry chef right now, so we buy from bakeries. The frozen cannoli are the best we’ve found.”

  “I’ll take a frozen cannoli, I guess.”

  Emma swallowed a bubble of laughter. “Don’t do Nathan any favors, Harley.”

  Nathan shot her an amused glance. “Nothing for you, Emma?”

  “No, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

  “Be right back.”

  As he walked away, Emma touched Harley’s hand. “Nice job. I think Nathan appreciated it.”

  “Whatever.” But Emma noticed she wasn’t hunched in her chair anymore.

  Before she could say anything else, Marco appeared next to the table. He was as tall as Nathan, with blue eyes and dark hair like his siblings, but lean and wiry. His white apron was spattered with red sauce, with a few dots on his white shirt. The back of his hand sported a pink mark that looked like a healing burn.

  “Hey,” he said, glancing from
Emma to Harley. “Okay if I sit down for a minute?”

  “Of course,” Emma said, moving her iced tea out of his way.

  He propped his elbows on the table. “I was out of line the other night, and I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I spoke before I thought. I know you’re not trying to pull anything. I was just surprised.”

  Before Emma could answer, Harley said, “You were a jerk.”

  Marco looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected Harley to be so blunt. After a moment, though, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

  Harley seemed taken aback. Had she expected Marco to deny it? To start another fight?

  “It was a rough night for all of us,” Emma said quietly.

  He looked at her gratefully. “And then some.” He turned to Harley. “Nathan said you had some comments about my sauces.”

  Harley watched him cautiously. “Yeah. I did.”

  “You want to come back to the kitchen and we can try them together? You can tell me what you think.”

  Harley’s eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “God, no.” Marco held up his hands. “Sounds like you’re a supertaster, and I want to see what you can do.”

  Harley scowled. “Like that song by They Might Be Giants? ‘John Lee Supertaster’? You are making fun of me.”

  “It’s a real thing. Swear to God. Supertasters are people who can taste stuff other people can’t.”

  “I thought that was all made up.” Harley studied Marco suspiciously.

  Marco shrugged. “Look it up online. In the meantime, come in back and try some of my dishes.”

  “I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing the kitchen,” Harley said, as if she was merely trying to be polite. However, Emma recognized the gleam of excitement in the girl’s eyes as she swiveled to face Emma. “Is that okay?”

  “You sure she won’t be in the way?” Emma asked Marco.

  “Nah. I’ll keep her away from the stoves and the cooks.”

  “Then it’s fine with me.” It would leave Emma alone out here, though. She should welcome the opportunity to talk to Nathan. But she wasn’t looking forward to groveling.