“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Melissa. “Maybe we should just eat and get back to the office.” I was thinking about the stacks of work sitting on my desk. If Melissa had dragged me away from them, I would still be at my desk, plowing through the files. What was another late night after an another ten-hour day?
“Shush, Damon. You needed to eat. Besides, I want you to meet Harper.”
I just sighed. There was no sense fighting with the most important woman in my life.
Harper
“Hi, Mom.” I bent down to give her a hug.
She kissed my cheek and gave my neck a quick squeeze. “Harper, I would like you to meet my boss, Damon North.”
Smoothing back several stray wisps of hair and tugging on the bottom of my jacket, I attempted to make myself presentable in the scant two seconds I had before I turned and smiled at the man across from my mother. Of course he would be drop-dead gorgeous, and I would look like a bag of dog vomit. Sweaty and red-faced with my stringy hair barely contained by a stretched out headband, I was dressed in a limp white coat decorated with a splattered rainbow of spills and drips. I had been on my feet for ten hours already and it showed.
Still, I put my best face forward for Mom. “I’m Harper.” I held my hand out to him. “Lovely to meet you.”
“Harper, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mother has told me all about you.” He shook my hand confidently, his grip strong, his fingers long and graceful.
“You as well. Are you enjoying your meal?” I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to pretend, in front of the handsome man, that I was a composed professional who was master of her craft—not the failure I felt and looked like.
I desperately needed a cup of hot tea. I wonder if I could slip away for a few minutes without Nigel blowing a gasket.
“Absolutely!” He said, though I’d forgotten my own question. “It’s wonderful. I’d love to have your restaurant cook for me once a week. Let me know who I should arrange it through.” My mind snapped back to the present as Damon handed me a business card, his fingers lightly brushing mine in the process.
“La Maison would be happy to,” I said, tucking the card into my coat pocket and hugging my mother one more time. “Mom, I hate to run, but I’ve got to get back to work before Nigel gets upset.”
“Of course, Harper.” She put her hand on my arm and grinned. “We’ll talk later.”
With a nod, I rushed back to the kitchen, my face flushed. I couldn’t get away from my mother’s boss fast enough. How could she? She knew how badly things had gone with Nigel, and how awkward I always felt with handsome men. I scowled. That meeting was not about food; she was trying to play matchmaker.
“Where have you been,” Nigel barked at me as I walked through the swinging doors. “We are falling behind. People are waiting. Get back to work.”
No tea for me.
“I’m on it.” I settled at the grill station and began scooping vegetables and arranging them on a bed of risotto. Then I eased the grilled fish on top, garnished the plate, and slid it down the line. The rhythm of preparing attractive and delicious plates soothed me.
Damon
In my office the next morning, I reviewed the week’s meetings with the department heads of Synergy Energy Systems. They were all starting to blur together. Each was passionate about their role in bringing solar and wind energy to the masses and scared to see what I was going to do with their company.
I was convinced renewable energy would be the next big thing, which is why I had taken a chance on buying the failing company and sinking so much of my personal money into making it a success. North Enterprises didn’t have a big presence in wind and solar, so adding Synergy to our stable of holdings would bring us into a new, highly-profitable industry.
Truthfully, though, after almost six months of negotiating, closing the deal, and then taking over the company, I was exhausted. I wasn’t making good decisions anymore. I needed a break. As I made the decision to walk away for a little while, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.
To get the ball rolling before I could change my mind, I called Melissa immediately and asked her to make the arrangements. “Can you please contact Captain Michael and see if the boat is ready to go out this weekend? I want to take some time off.”
“Sure, Damon. Anything else?”
“I’m sure there will be,” I said. “Let me know as soon as you get in touch with the captain, please. Oh—and ask him to call me. Oh—and keep an eye on your inbox. I’m going to copy you on the emails I’m sending out with the projects I’m assigning.”
“Everything okay?” she asked, concern ringing in her voice.
“Everything’s fine. I’m just really tired. It’s time for a break.”
Leaning back in my chair, I thought about meeting Melissa’s daughter the day before. She was beautiful, in a fresh-faced, pure way with no apparent trappings. Face glowing from the steam in the kitchen, she exuded a calm strength. How had I worked with Melissa for so many years and never met her daughter before?
Buzz… Buzz…
I pressed the red button on my intercom. “Yes, Melissa?”
“Damon, I just spoke with Captain Michael. Everything on the boat is ready to go.
“Great! I’ll take off in the morning. I’ll stay late and rap up what I can tonight.” The relief I felt at the thought of getting away was palpable.
“Not so fast,” she said. “The boat is ready, but Tom broke his ankle last week and won’t be back to work for a couple of months.”
I sighed. There’s always a complication. “Thank you, Melissa. Would you please talk to Michael and see if you can find me a replacement. They will need to be available for at least two weeks.
I took my finger off the button, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and dialed Lupita. “Hey, Mom, can you let Sam know I won’t be by for a couple of weeks. I’m gonna take some time off.”
I tapped my pen on my desk as she chattered in my ear, her familiar accent comforting.
“Already?” I laughed quietly into the phone. “Okay. Tell her I’ll bring her the next book when I get back.”
Harper
Sitting at my kitchen table, staring at my empty apartment, I was at my wits’ end. Opening the restaurant had consumed my life the last two years, but since breaking up with Nigel the month before, he’d been freezing me out. It seemed he was bent on making my life so miserable I would walk away from my investment. Desperate to make sense of it all, I called the one person I knew could help me sort it out.
“Hey, Mom, I’ve got a few hours before work. You have time to grab some dinner?” It was a spur of the moment invitation, but seeing Mom always made me feel better. I picked up my mug and brought it to my lips before I realized it was empty, and then set it back down and spun it on the table while we talked.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” She sounded frazzled. “I’ll be working through dinner tonight. It’s been pretty crazy around here, and Damon just told me he’s taking some time off, so it’s just going to get busier.”
“You’ve got to eat. He can’t expect you to skip dinner.” She had never indicated Damon was that demanding before. “Can I bring you a sandwich or something? I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you a little more yesterday. You know how Nigel is.”
The line went silent for a moment before she replied, “I can probably take ten minutes if you can get here soon. It really would be lovely. I don’t see you nearly enough, sweetie.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll whip something up and be there in thirty minutes.” I hung up the phone.
Smiling to myself, I opened my overstuffed fridge and started pulling out ingredients. I hummed happily as I put a pot of water on the stove for tea and set to work. There was nothing that made me feel better than spending time in the kitchen creating something new.
“I don’t know what to do, Mom. I can’t keep working with Nigel.” I sat opposite my mother at her desk, several plastic
food containers spread out between us. “I thought I could stick it out.” I said between bites. “He keeps promising me part of the restaurant. That was the agreement when we started it, but I don’t think he’ll ever follow through.” I stabbed another chunk of roasted asparagus with my fork.
Mom just looked at me as she filled a plate with artichoke pasta salad, roasted vegetables, and the cold braised chicken I’d brought. “This chicken is great. Is it new?”
“Yeah. It’s something I’ve been working on in my free time.” I set my fork down and took a sip of water.
“Honey, whatever you decide to do, you know your dad and I will support you.” She reached across the desk and took my right hand in hers. “Will you be able to take your recipes with you? I adore that thing you do with fish.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He says the restaurant owns them since I created them while working there.” My left hand clenched the water bottle, crunching the plastic.
“I never did like that guy.” Mom patted my hand and let go to help herself to more chicken.
“I don’t know what to do.” I popped a piece of artichoke in my mouth. “I just can’t start over. If I leave, I’ll be starting from scratch on some lowly prep crew in some second-rate dive. You know Nigel will never give me a recommendation.” And that made me angriest—he claimed all my success as his own. I had been so stupid not to get anything in writing to protect myself.
“You can do it, sweetie. Your cooking is a work of art.”
“Thanks, Mom, but they don’t take recommendations from mothers. I’ve got to find a way out that doesn’t include restarting my career in the process.”
“Oh, Harper, I worry about you.” She paused, helping herself to more vegetables, licking her fingers after picking up a beautifully braised artichoke spear and nibbling on it. “You know, I may have an idea. Don’t say no just yet, but… um… have you ever thought about being a private chef?” She looked uncertain, and I wondered what she was getting at.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, cautiously. “I’ve thought about it, but people with that kind of money usually hire private chefs from fancy restaurants.”
“But it’s a viable option, right?”
“Well, unless you are the absolute best, you can’t turn it into a full-time gig, so it would be risky. Besides, I want to open my own place. You know that. I—“
“Well, what about for just a few weeks?” she asked, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Damon needs a chef on his boat. He wants to leave this weekend, and his regular chef can’t go.” She rushed to get the words out before I could argue, her eyes avoiding me as she spoke.
“Mom,” I protested, “Damon doesn’t want me. Besides, he can cook for himself. His cooking can’t be that bad.” How could he want me anywhere around after that embarrassing meeting? “Anyway, I can’t leave my job or be gone for two weeks. If I leave the restaurant, I will need to start looking for something new immediately. I didn’t tell you, but…” I bowed my head in shame. “…I loaned Nigel all my money to open La Maison.”
“Harper!” She was exactly as disgusted as I’d feared she’d be.
“I know, Mom, I know. It was a really stupid thing to do, but I was in love—or at least I thought I was.” I covered my eyes as they flooded with tears. “He promised me the world, and I believed him. Instead, I lost everything.”
She came around the desk and hugged me as I sobbed. “Honey, we’ll figure this out. Let me talk to Damon. I really think this might work for both of you.”
“Mom,” I cried, “why would I want to work for another man?”
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About the Author
Allison LaFleur is an explorer. When she is not writing you can often find her on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean, hiking volcanoes or the Appalachian Trail, traveling through South America, watching the wild ponies in the southwest, or searching for bald eagles in Alaska.
Allison currently lives in the Florida Keys with her family, and many evenings you will find her watching the sunset over the ocean, searching for the green flash.
Her love of art, music, medicine, and the outdoors have guided not only her career but also her writing.
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Mason: The Lost Billionaires, Book 1 Page 19