Cooking Up Love

by Cynthia Hickey

  Strange how it took her leaving to show that Adam held her heart. Sad, that she discovered her feelings for him too late. Depressing that she would have to choose between a career and the love of a man.

  * * *

  Dear, God, please open Tabby’s heart. Adam reclined against the outside wall of the restaurant and stared at the stars. With her absence, he’d lost his zeal for his job. His heart ached with missing her.

  Like a coward, he’d stayed around the corner and watched as she boarded the train and it pulled away. He should have gone after her, swept her into his arms and kissed her. He should have made her promise to come back.

  Almost a week had passed and he’d heard nothing about whether she would return. Sometimes girls left to fill in and sent for their things when a permanent position became available. What would he do if that happened with Tabby?

  He’d pulled away, and hadn’t told her of his feelings, only hinted at them. He needed to tell her that he loved her and then let God handle her response. Please, let her answer be favorable.

  “Still missing your gal?” The new manager, Richardson, came around the corner. “Not that it’s affecting your cooking, but even a stranger such as myself can see your heart is no longer with us.”

  “No, sir, I reckon it isn’t.” Adam straightened. “I believe I’ll be pulling out soon. Possibly next week.”

  Richardson nodded. “Not sure we can find a chef in that time, but we’ll try.”

  “Then I’ll wait until one arrives, but not a day later.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “San Francisco. My family and I are going to open a restaurant. Pa sold the family farm, and all they’re waiting on is me. I’ve enjoyed my time here. The Harvey company is a fine establishment, but it’s time for me to move on.” Especially if Tabby returned. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t stay even if she remained away. The place held too many memories.

  No, he’d follow through with his dream, even if he did so without her by his side. “Think I’ll turn in now.” He gave a nod to the manager, then pushed through the kitchen door.

  Most of the time he enjoyed his private accommodations, and particularly on that night. Not having to explain his mood to a roommate was priceless. He wanted to wallow in his self-pity alone and away from prying questions or solicitous words of advice.

  Tomorrow, he’d send his family a telegram and tell them of his plans to meet in Kansas before heading west. He liked that idea much better than meeting in California. He didn’t relish taking the trip alone if Tabby rejected him. He gave himself a mental shake. Why borrow trouble early? The moment his family arrived, Adam planned to jump on the train and proceed with his life. Hopefully not alone.

  * * *

  After four days in the small restaurant located in Raton, New Mexico, Tabby wanted to be back in Topeka. The girls, while friendly enough, knew she was only temporary and often stayed to themselves. Loneliness assailed her on a daily basis.

  She forced yet another smile and poured coffee for a man too engrossed in his newspaper to bother looking up to thank her. When she finished with him, she moved to the next and then the next, until she thought she’d scream.

  A glance out the front window showed a dust storm thick enough to obscure visibility. There’d be no walk after work if a storm followed, and the early-evening stroll was the one bright spot in Tabby’s day.

  She missed Adam and so wanted to tell him that. Close to tears, she shoved into the kitchen for fresh coffee.

  “Good morning, Miss McClelland.” Mr. Sullivan, the chef, wore his ever-present grin. Orange hair peeked from beneath his tall hat.

  “You’re mighty chipper this morning, Chef.” Tabby grabbed the handles of a cart on which sat full carafes of freshly brewed coffee.

  “I am.” He waved a sheet of paper. “Didn’t you tell me that you came from the Harvey House in Topeka?”

  Her heart gave a stutter and she grabbed for the paper. “What happened? Is someone ill?”

  “Of course not, silly girl. Why would they tell me if that was the case? It’s my new assignment.”

  Of course it wouldn’t be bad news. If it were, the man wouldn’t be grinning. Wait. His new assignment could only mean... “Will the restaurant have two chefs?”

  Please say yes. She couldn’t bear it otherwise. What if Adam left before she returned? Why did it matter? Oh, she wanted to run away.

  “Nope, the present head chef is headed to California. They’ve already got my replacement, and he arrives in a couple of days. Day after that, I’m headed to Kansas.” The chef folded his letter and stuck it in the pocket of his apron. “Been waiting on an opportunity like this for a long time.”

  Mere days were left before Tabby would no longer be able to see Adam, talk with him about her day, admire the way his muscles rippled when he hefted large pots, see the understanding and compassion in his eyes after a particularly rough day of work. She had no swallow large enough to dislodge the lump in her throat. No words of comfort could heal her heart. She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent at the waist.

  “Are you all right, miss?” The chef looked into her eyes. “Want me to send someone for the wagon boss?”

  “No. I just need some air.”

  “Go on, then. I’ll have one of the kitchen gals deliver the coffee.” He clapped and waved a hand.

  “Thank you.” Tabby straightened, then dashed outside. She hefted her skirts and ran to the end of the street, disregarding the curious stares of bystanders. Chest heaving, tears streaming, she leaned against the wall of the livery.

  Adam would be leaving soon. If not before she returned to Kansas, then shortly after. Confusion clouded her mind. She wanted to hop the next train back to him, but fear seized her heart in a fist of ice. Her heart told her Adam was a good man, a godly man, but her mind told her she wasn’t yet ready to throw away her other opportunities.

  She was caught in a whirlpool of indecision and couldn’t locate a lifeline. Wiping her tears on her apron, she headed back to work. A few days remained for her to find a solution to the dilemma in front of her. God willing, she’d find it before it was too late.

  “Feeling better, miss?” Chef Sullivan cast an anxious glance her way as she entered the kitchen. “I told the wagon boss you were indisposed. She wasn’t pleased, but they covered for you.”

  “Thank you.” Smoothing her hands down her dress, then poking her hairpins back in, Tabby prepared herself to return to work. She couldn’t do anything about her feelings for Adam until she returned to Kansas, so she might as well do a good job in New Mexico.

  After all, she heard rumors she might become a head waitress herself within the year. She had a difficult and important decision to make, and today was not the day to make it. She needed a clear mind and stable emotions.

  She forced her mind to still as she went through motions as routine and common as sleeping. Smile, pour drinks, move to the next table. She had a stable job with a good income. A girl could ask for little else. Maybe if she told herself those words often enough she would actually believe them.

  She splashed coffee onto one of the white tablecloths and scrubbed as hard as she could to prevent the liquid from staining. Pay attention, Tabitha.

  She caught the eye of the head waitress, and mouthed an apology. As the day wore on, she barely held the tears at bay. By nighttime, she trembled from emotional exhaustion. Her nerves twanged so loudly she couldn’t concentrate on her nightly prayers, except to say, “Help me, God.”

  Which she whispered over and over into her pillow.

  Chapter 20

  Adam froze as Tabby crossed the street. Now that he’d made up his mind to propose, he found his tongue as tied as the bow on the box he carried.

  The hem of her royal blue skirt blew in the autumn wind. The breeze teased at s
trands of hair fallen free of her hat. She made the prettiest picture he’d ever seen.

  He almost dropped the box of chocolates he’d purchased. He wanted to give her something when he told her of his feelings, and there were no flowers left from summer. The ring he someday intended to give to his bride was safe in his mother’s hands. If he bought a woman other than his wife an article of clothing, his mother would arrive on the next train to kick his behind. Candy should be safe enough, and he knew Tabby enjoyed chocolate.

  A large gust almost blew her hat from her head, and she reached up to hold it in place. With the other hand clutching her reticule, she increased her pace until she disappeared into the restaurant.

  The urge to dash after her left him breathless. Soon, he’d tell her of his love and about Marilyn. Surely, she already knew about his feelings and would accept his offer of marriage.

  His steps faltered. His heart skipped a beat. She could very possibly say no. Maybe all the signs he’d given her were only in his imagination. His palms sweated, leaving smudges on the candy box.

  Images of Marilyn on her deathbed, face pale and drawn, filled his mind. He shook away the thoughts. He could keep Tabby safe in California. She was small but had already proven hardier than Marilyn, whose frail beauty had been no match for farm life.

  Again, he reminded himself that Tabby’s life belonged to God. He could only do his best with the gifts given to him. He entered the restaurant and searched the main dining room. When he didn’t see her there, he headed to the kitchen.

  Tabby stood in the corner, folding tablecloths. He grinned. The woman couldn’t be still for a moment. With her having arrived only moments before, he thought for sure she might relax a little. Possibly somewhere quiet where they could converse in private.

  “Welcome back.” The box dented where he clutched it. He relaxed his grip. “May I speak with you outside for a moment?”

  “Certainly.” She set the starched coverings on the counter and brushed past him, leaving the fresh scent of rose toilet water in her wake. Her manner was a bit cool, not that he blamed her after all. He hadn’t had the nerve to see her off at the station. Instead, he’d hidden like a small boy from a scolding.

  Nerves already on edge, they twanged now with the brush of her skirts against his leg. Once outside, he took a deep breath and thrust the candy at her. “I bought these for you.”

  She accepted the gift. “Thank you.” Her eyes widened. “Did you sit on it? The box is crushed.”

  His neck heated. “No, just a too-tight grip.” He rubbed the back of his head where it met his neck, trying in vain to release the tension. “I’m sorry, Tabby, for not being at the station the other day, but...”

  “It’s no problem.” She averted her gaze. “Please don’t concern yourself.”

  “But it is.” He laid a hand on top of hers.

  She clamped her lips and stepped back. “We’ve gone over this, Adam, until I can’t breathe with it.”

  “I was hoping you’d...”

  “Chef.” One of the kitchen helpers called through the open window. “I think something’s burning. Well, maybe not burning, but rather boiling over.”

  “Well, take it off the stove.” Must he do everything? He turned back to Tabby. “I need...”

  “It’s the soup for lunch, and it’s running onto the floor.”

  “Go,” Tabby said. “You’re needed. Thank you very much for the chocolates. I will enjoy every piece.” Her eyes softened. “We’ll talk later, I promise.”

  “Uh.” Hopefully, the note nestled inside the box would work on her heart until they could talk uninterrupted.

  He barged into the kitchen where golden chicken broth spilled over a pan and onto the floor. “Did no one notice before it reached this point?” He refused to become one of those temperamental chefs clichés were made of, but when a man had intentions to propose to a beautiful woman, he did not want to be disturbed with kitchen disasters.

  With a snap of his fingers, two busboys grabbed rags and knelt to wipe up the mess. Adam turned down the heat on the stove, donned his apron and prepared his mind to focus on the task at hand. “We need more broth to replace what boiled over. Someone check the bread so it doesn’t burn. We don’t need to add another fiasco to the morning.”

  Some days he wondered why he bothered with help at all.

  * * *

  Tabby set the candy behind the lunch counter. If not for the timely interruption, she feared what Adam wanted to say to her, and how she would have to break his heart again. She hadn’t made her decision yet about whether to renew her contract. Did she want to be one of those girls who threw away the promise of independence and placed her trust in a man? Could she?

  She covered her face with her hands. Why was the decision so hard? Either she wanted Adam or she didn’t. Her flip-flopping wasn’t fair to either of them. Oh, why couldn’t a woman have both a family and a career? Something other than just a husband to give her value?

  Three cowboys sauntered into the restaurant, pulling her thoughts away from Adam. They plunked down at a table assigned to her and carried on a loud conversation, colored by cursing, with each other.

  The manager, Mr. Richardson, rushed to their table. “Please, gentlemen, lower your voices. There are children present.”

  One of the men, a tall bulky man with a dark beard, leaned his chair back on two legs. “Looks like they might be addin’ to their vocabulary before we’re gone. How long does it take to get any grub around here? We wanted to eat over at the saloon but their cook is out sick.”

  Tabby wished they’d stayed away. She grabbed some menus, took a deep breath, and marched in their direction. “Welcome to Harvey’s. How may I serve you?”

  “Hey, pretty thang!” Dark Beard grabbed her around the waist and tried to pull her onto his lap.

  “This is not that type of establishment.” She elbowed him in the nose, wincing at the sound of a crunch, and yanked free. Why didn’t Mr. Richardson refuse them service? Surely, he didn’t expect her to take these ruffians’ orders.

  The man laughed and grabbed for a napkin to stop his nose from bleeding down his shirtfront. “A real fiery filly. We might have to come here more often, boys. The scenery is a bit more classy than our usual haunt.”

  “I think not.” Tabby tossed the menus on the table and whirled to leave.

  Dark Beard grabbed her apron ties and tugged. “Eat with us. The saloon gals do.”

  “Leave her be or answer to me.” Adam stood with fists clenched and a muscle ticking in his jaw. His narrowed eyes and dark tone showed he meant business.

  Grateful for the diversion he caused, Tabby tore from the man’s grasp and dashed around the counter.

  One family stood from their table and hurried from the restaurant without waiting for their food. Another man placed himself in front of the woman with him.

  “You talking to me, fancy boy?” Dark Beard shoved Adam into a nearby table, sending plates of salad crashing to the floor.

  Someone screamed.

  One of Dark Beard’s buddies pulled a gun from his waistband.

  Adam came up swinging, and connected a right hook to Dark Beard’s jaw. The man cursed and wrapped his arms around Adam’s middle, taking him to the floor in a huddle of cursing, flying fists and flailing legs.

  The gunman stepped around the table and headed toward the brawling men. Tabby clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. Adam was in trouble, with no one to come to his aid.

  She grabbed the pistol under the lunch counter and circled the room. She needed to be where the customers would not be in the line of fire should she need to pull the trigger. Oh, she hoped things wouldn’t come to that. She wasn’t a very good shot.

  “Stop right there.” She planted her feet shoulder width apart and aimed the gun at the gunma
n. “I’m warning you.”

  The men continued to fight. The man with the weapon inched closer, his hand raised to land a blow to Adam’s head. “Stop, cook boy, or I’ll knock you across the room. I said stop.” He fired into the ceiling, raining plaster.

  A child cried, and people crowded the front doors.

  “Please!” Mr. Richardson raised his hands. “This is not the place for this. Mr. Foster, I insist you get up.”

  The gunman whacked the restaurant manager behind the ear. He collapsed to his knees then scrambled for cover under a table.

  Tabby’s hand shook. She needed to stop the craziness before someone was seriously injured. She could shoot, but not very well. She needed to aim to the left of... She pulled the trigger and staggered back, blasting a hole in the lunch counter.

  Time froze.

  Adam shoved his assailant off of him. Dark Beard lost the battle to keep his shirt blood-free, and the stunned gunman turned to face Tabby. She lifted her chin and aimed the gun in a more direct line to a spot on his stained vest.

  “Hey, little lady, I wasn’t really going to shoot anyone.”

  “That’s a sure thing now.” She fought to keep her hands from shaking. “Drop the gun and kick it toward me.”

  Adam moved to her side. “Let me have that.” He pried her fingers off the weapon, the corner of his mouth twitching. With the back of his other hand, he wiped blood from his lip.

  Later, she’d find out what he considered so funny. In the meantime, she was too busy trying not to vomit. She moved behind the counter and slid to the floor. Light shone through the bullet hole in the wood counter. Miraculously, none of the lunch girls was injured by flying splinters. Tabby couldn’t say the same for Adam’s gift.

  It lay in blasted bits of chocolate and white cardboard. The pretty blue ribbon dangled from a shelf like a forgotten ornament. Tabby’s emotions lay as shattered as the candy.