Taste: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “Kenna, I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose your mother at such a young age, but I don’t see how her dying has anything to do with me being summoned home from Paris.” Kara took a very deep breath and wondered how her simple interview had gotten so off track. “Listen, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right and I’m sorry about that. Logan and I are . . . I honestly have no idea what we are, but he’s a grown man—”

  Kara stopped talking because Makenna was now looking at her as if she was crazier than she actually was.

  “Is that what he told you?” Makenna asked. “That our mother died?”

  “Yes.” Kara instantly felt something was wrong. “Well, I’m not sure if those were his exact words, but we were looking at pictures and he said she was . . . gone.” She caught the look on Makenna’s face.

  “Oh Christ. She’s not dead, is she?”

  Makenna shook her head.

  “She left him.” Kara put her hand to her mouth and remembered her rule about tearing up in public. “She left all of you?”

  “She did.” Makenna looked out at the playground.

  “I didn’t know. I guess I just assumed, but he didn’t correct me.”

  “She might as well be dead.” Still staring out, she grew suddenly cold. “I’m sure it was just easier for him, or he didn’t want the pity. We’re all pretty allergic to the sad little pity look you’re giving me right now.” She laughed.

  Kara shook her head, tried to find a different look, as if that was possible.

  “Anyway, wow, this took a dark turn, huh?”

  Kara laughed and turned to touch Makenna’s hand. She was a little shocked, but didn’t pull away.

  “This is really none of your business. I’m sure Logan would say that too, but I can tell you this: Logan was taken from me too. I didn’t leave him and now that we are . . . around each other again, I will be careful. That’s all I can promise.” Kara looked as far as she could into Makenna’s golden eyes. They were almost Logan’s eyes, but with more green.

  She let out a deep breath. “Good, he’s one of my favorite guys, so even though he will be majorly pissed, I’m glad I asked.”

  Kenna uncrossed her legs and checked on her daughter who was now squealing with her friends as the birthday girl opened her presents.

  “You know, gone or dead, people still don’t know what to do with you.” Makenna was still looking toward the party. “It’s such a strange thing. I mean, we all have grief, but when something tragic happens, it’s almost like it reminds people it could happen to them. I don’t know.”

  “What are we talking about now, Kenna?” Kara was trying to be gentle.

  Her eyes were a little glassy as she let out a slow breath.

  “I like you Kara Malendar.”

  Kara smiled and took her hand because it felt natural and honest to touch her hurt rather than pretend it didn’t exist. “I like you too Makenna, very much.”

  Both women sat, holding hands, in nothing but the buzz of children at play for a couple of minutes. She wanted to tell Makenna she knew about her husband. That she had read about the “devastating loss for the Rye family, owners of local Ryeland Farms” in the newspaper. That she had wanted to reach out to Logan and his grieving family she had never met, but didn’t know how back then. She wanted to tell her how proud her brother was of her and that she knew a little bit about being alone. Certainly not on Kenna’s level, but underneath all the details, alone was alone. Kara wanted to say so many things to the woman sitting next to her, but she didn’t. She just left it alone, grateful for the connection.

  She eventually got around to her interview questions when Makenna stood up and said, “Enough of this, let’s go get some coffee so I can tell you how horrible it is trying to manage three mule-headed men.”

  They spent an hour, Kenna with her coffee and Kara with her tea, splitting a piece of banana bread. She shared some great insights about Ryeland Farms and Kara had no idea they’d added on to the farm twice in the last five years.

  As expected, things led back to Logan and the restaurant. Makenna explained she felt it was Logan’s sense of taste, “his ability to know the flavors people want before they even know,” that set The Yard apart. Kara told her they spent two weeks at Le Cordon Bleu creating what Madame Auclair called, “a discriminating palate.”

  “Yeah, it could be that.” Kenna held open the door as they left the coffee shop to pick up Paige. “Or it could be he found that everything comes to life when you have someone to share it with.”

  Kara smiled and met Paige who was all dark hair and freckles like her mother, but her smile was different, unfamiliar, and Kara knew she was seeing little pieces of the love Kenna lost so many years ago. As she drove home, Kara felt jittery. It was the feeling of connection, sharing someone’s energy, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it could be. She would need some time to sort out everything she and Kenna had discussed, but it was nice to have things to sort and even nicer to have feelings.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Senator and Mrs. Patrick Malendar cordially invite you to their home in celebration of the New Year and all the promise it holds.

  The invitation was pinned to a board in Kara’s kitchen. It was on a beautiful light moss card stock and the font was twirly, but soft. Had she been one of the other hundreds of recipients of this invitation, she might have been impressed by the luxury of it and the perceived friendliness of welcoming friends in the aftermath of a busy holiday season. It was gracious, but Kara knew the only reason her parents were hosting an after-the-new-year open house was because Senator George, the other US senator from California, and his wife, “always did a Christmastime open house and holiday craft boutique,” according to her mother.

  Kara remembered because her mother’s “nose was out of joint,” as her Nana would say, years ago when Bindi Malendar was forced to reschedule her holiday extravaganza.

  “His wife is some kind of crafter, can you imagine? I guess she’s a retired schoolteacher. Heaven save us,” her mother had jabbed after a couple of mimosas at Easter Brunch. Steven George had won the seat left vacant by Henry Chartcraft who had backed out after a heart attack reminded him he was in his eighties.

  “I’m not sure what this boutique is like, but I guess it’s throughout her house and all of the money goes to animal charities. Of course it does,” her mother had continued, her rant complete with eye rolling and that low “people might hear me” voice she used.

  Kara had met Bethany George, the senator’s wife, and thought the event sounded kind of lovely, but she was certainly not going to say a word back then.

  “Anyway, she then says we can have ours the week after. First of all, your father is the senior senator and even if we agreed to that, it would put us too close to Christmas Eve. It’s ridiculous. I’ll just do something elegant after the new year,” her mother had said, smoothing her napkin on her lap and flashing her smile with a splash of sinister.

  That year, they had started their after-the-new-year tradition, and six years later, Kara was still asked to attend. As she ran her hand across the embossed lettering, she could hear her mother’s catty tone. All of that rested beneath the lovely invitation. Nothing was ever at face value. Even invitation paper had stories that protected an image.

  Kara walked out of her kitchen, looking down as her black peep-toed heels clicked across her slate tile floors. She stopped in the entryway and checked herself one last time in the mirror. Black A-line skirt, just past her knees, and a cashmere turtleneck. It was a beautiful sweater, but the damn thing was raspberry and it matched the toenail polish she’d had applied yesterday. She wore the woven pearl bracelet her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday and the pearl earrings left to her when her paternal grandmother passed away. Her hair was straightened, smoothed to a silky flaxen mane, and swept to the side with a small pearl clip. Just a hint of lip color. Kara pulled in and let out a slow steady breath.

  She’d looked the part of a sen
ator’s daughter since she was old enough to shave and now at thirty, she was a perfectly constructed shell of a woman. Kara knew it was the reason she didn’t date a lot. The media attention was a nuisance, but there was more to why she hadn’t settled in with some rising VP of whatever at ABC big corporation, who would load her up in the car every season and head to their house on Coronado. It wasn’t only the cameras she’d tucked herself away from, because on some level she knew that guy—the Brad, Alex, or Sebastian—would be the final piece. Once that piece slid into place, after the fabulous Hotel Bel-Air wedding, complete with hundreds of her parents’ closest friends, Kara would be her mother. A younger, hipper, Bunko-instead-of-Bridge-playing accessory.

  Kara laughed at herself. All of this introspection from a damn invitation. She needed to stop thinking this way if she was going survive the evening. She grabbed her purse, dimmed the lights, and the doorbell rang. That would be her driver. At least she had the backbone this year to get her own car.

  She opened the door to Logan in a dark navy suit and plaid shirt opened at the collar. He was showered, shaved, and incredibly handsome. While Kara was looking for her words, Logan beat her to it.

  “You look beautiful. Did you do something different to your hair?”

  “Thank you. Yes, it’s a side sweep thing. Why . . .”

  “Why am I here?” Logan asked smiling and Kara noticed the navy blazer brought out something different in his eyes.

  “Yes, why are you here?” she asked.

  “Because it was time.” Logan walked past her into the entryway. Kara was still confused. She peered out the door: no driver.

  “Excuse me?” she asked and closed the front door.

  “You’ve been to the farm, you came to the races, and you deal with me always being at The Yard. It’s time I did something.”

  “That wasn’t for you. It was part of my job and the races were a blind—”

  “Right, can I make my point here, princess?”

  Kara held up her hands for him to continue.

  “If you can get dirty and be in my world, work or not, I can join you for an evening in yours. There’s also the hope that after this party you will feel the need to thank me into the wee hours of the morning.”

  His look was playful and Kara smiled.

  “I like your world. I don’t mind being there and this”—she ran her hands along her skirt—“is not my world. It’s my duty, my one of six off-election-year events of my parents’ choosing. I think it’s very noble of you, but you’re going to want to get back in your truck and run.” She smirked. “As Grady likes to say, ‘You want no part of this shitstorm.’”

  Logan smiled and she was touched that he was in her doorway offering.

  “All the same, I think I do want in. You’ll be there. I’m all set, and besides, on my way up to your door I sent your driver home.”

  Kara shook her head.

  “Do you ever not get your way?”

  “Oh, it happens all the time, princess. An awful lot when you’re around, now that you mention it, but tonight, I’d like to be there for you. If you don’t mind. Should I have worn a tie?”

  Kara loved him. There it was. She had no idea how she was going to bring up his no-longer-deceased mother or how they were ever going to get past the games she was born into or the heartbreak of his childhood, but standing in her entryway, all of that seemed doable because she was in love with Logan Rye. He loved her too. He wouldn’t be there willing to tackle a shitstorm if he didn’t. Kara kissed him, took his hand, and the two of them headed to his truck.

  They arrived at the Malendar home and Logan wasn’t sure “home” was the right word. It was massive and on close to twice the land his house sat on, gardens included. The things he could do with this much land. He would get rid of all the grass and have a separate—Christ, take a break, Logan told himself as the gates closed behind them and they followed the circular drive.

  With the exception of a few survival tips, as she put it, Kara had been quiet the entire drive. He had no idea what was going through her mind and hoped his being there would help, not create more stress for her. She was all polished and beautiful, but caged was what came to Logan’s mind. She looked like a prime turkey, all decked out. Logan would keep that little metaphor to himself though. He’d learned at a very early age that farm comparisons, no matter how well intended, did not go over well with women. He once told his lab partner, freshman year of high school, that her hair reminded him of Penelope. When she’d asked who Penelope was, he had very proudly explained that she was their finest mare. His very pretty lab partner changed partners the next day.

  Stopping in front of the valet, Logan turned to Kara. She gave him a small smile and accepted the hand of the kid who helped her out of his truck. The guy seemed like he hadn’t seen an actual truck in a while. Logan glanced over at the lot on the side of the house and understood why. Not a truck to be seen. If that was a 1969 Porsche over there, and he was pretty sure it was, Garrett would be losing his mind. The valet handed Logan the ticket.

  “Thanks.” He joined Kara at the base of the stairs leading to the front door and placed his hand at the small of her back. He was relieved when she relaxed.

  “You’re sure you want to do this? It’s not too late.” She looked up the huge staircase as if she was seeing it for the first time.

  Logan had seen glimpses of polished, proper Kara Malendar, but this seemed a little extreme. He would admit it was a bit intimidating and he wasn’t sure how this woman and R. Kelly-dancing Kara could exist in the same person.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, I’m fine.” She took his arm.

  “Is there something I need to know about tonight? You seem awfully uncomfortable. Is it that bad?”

  “No.” She patted his arm. “It will be fine. I’m just tired.” She gave a little smile and Logan took in another breath, then let it out slowly as they approached the door.

  “I hope the food is good at least.”

  Kara laughed and right then and there he understood that she needed him.

  “Logan.” Senator Malendar crossed the room. “So glad you could join us. Happy New Year.”

  “And to you, sir.” He shook Kara’s father’s hand.

  “Sweetheart.” He turned his attention to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. “You look perfect.”

  Kara smiled and returned her father’s kiss.

  “Well, I’m sure perfect is exactly what she was going for, Dad.” Grady joined them and shook Logan’s hand.

  He leaned in to kiss Kara. “Jesus, sis, are you trying to get rid of this guy? Why would you do this to him?” he asked at her ear. Kara laughed and Logan saw her entire face change. Grady did that to her every time.

  “I volunteered.” Logan smiled and put his hand at Kara’s back again. Sometimes it felt as if he was keeping her from falling over.

  “Guys, will you excuse me, I need to mingle,” the senator said and before any of them could respond, he disappeared back into the crowd.

  “You volunteered,” Grady repeated. “Brave man.” He put his arm around Logan. “We are going to need to get you a drink. This is not for the weak of heart and should never be undertaken sober.”

  “Wait, I drove.” Logan laughed as Grady pulled him away from Kara.

  “Mistake number two, my friend.” Grady gestured to his sister that they would be back in a minute. Logan turned as some guy approached Kara and her face became animated.

  “Who’s that?” Logan asked as Grady brought him to the bar.

  Grady glanced over his shoulder. “That is our mother’s latest pick. He’s thirty-four, Georgetown graduate, new to my father’s staff, and an analyst, whatever the hell that is. He likes to play golf and probably eats chia seeds and yogurt, give it up for Stew.”

  Logan laughed at Grady’s introduction, but then his eyes were right back on Kara who was laughing too and touching Stew’s arm.

  “His name is Stew?”
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  “It is”—Grady handed him what looked like Scotch, really nice Scotch—“and it’s spelled like the comfort food, so you two have something in common.”

  He could tell Grady was trying to defuse his growing anxiety, but Logan grew less and less amused the more time Kara spent taking with this guy.

  “Um, does you mother not know that we are, Kara and I are . . .” Christ, what were they?

  “Together?” Grady helped.

  “Yes, thank you, together. Does she not know that? Has Kara not mentioned that we—” He turned to look at Grady who was doing a pretty crappy job of keeping his face neutral. “Oh, that’s it. She hasn’t. No one knows.”

  “I know.”

  Logan’s face felt warm, and even though he was trying for “Oh, that’s cool. We have an open thing going on,” he was sure Grady read the shock all over his face.

  “Kate knows and Kara’s friends know. It’s just the parents are a different animal altogether.” Grady sipped his drink.

  “So when your dad greeted me at the door?”

  “Totally surprised to see you and even now is probably trying to figure out why you’re here.”

  “Shit.” Logan finished his Scotch in two gulps as Kara stood still looking at the asshat’s phone. Something was funny, but that stifled, stuffed-inside funny, and Logan was about to find out what.

  Grady made a feeble attempt to keep him at the bar, but Logan was on his way to his date. That’s right, Stew, my date.

  As Logan approached the lovely couple, Kara sent what looked like an SOS to Grady.

  What the hell? Was Grady my damn babysitter now? Not in this lifetime, princess.

  “Logan,” Kara exclaimed in that country club tone that he couldn’t tolerate, “this is—”

  “Stew, yeah I already know. Nice to meet you, man.”

  Stew shook his hand, but seemed surprised and just as Logan decided that he couldn’t care less, the Scotch hit him. Hard. One thing about the Rye men, they tended to be lightweights, okay maybe that was only Logan because Garrett was a damn fish, but Logan and his dad were light. And after a few, there were no filters. Some of his most honest conversations with Garrett were over drinks. Logan’s face grew a little numb and he took Kara’s hand. She didn’t pull away, just stared at him.