Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5)

by Heather Wardell

  "Good, because I'm not going back to him."

  She ignored me. "It's his birthday Thursday, you know, and you should come home to help me with his party."

  While I struggled to find a response that didn't include any four-letter words, my heart skipped a beat as Kegan opened the restaurant's front door and stood looking at me. "Mom, I have to go."

  He shook his head and held up a hand in a "carry on" gesture. Sweet of him, but I so didn't want to carry on.

  My mother did, though. "So you'll be here then. Six o'clock."

  I'd probably still be holding my vigil outside Steel. "No, I can't."

  "Can't or won't?"

  Both. "He doesn't want me there. And even if he does—"

  "Mary, he's still your husband. And I know you'll work this out and he'll forgive you."

  "If there's any forgiving to be done, it goes the other—"

  "Mary Welland, you stop that right now. Charles is a good man and he didn't do anything wrong."

  How would she know? "I'm Mary Ralston now, Mom. I really have to go, so—"

  "Bring a chocolate cake on Thursday."

  "I will not be there on Thursday."

  I only got the full sentence out because she'd already hung up.

  I put the phone away, realizing too late I should have faked an "Okay, bye, love you" ending to the call so Kegan wouldn't know my mother had hung up on me. With everything he'd heard, though, that probably didn't matter. I took a deep breath, trying to push away the frustration my mother and her "poor Charles" attitude always caused, and turned to him. "Sorry."

  His eyes held unexpected sympathy. "No problem. Everything okay?"

  I shrugged, too tired to hide the truth. "Everything's typical. Is that the same thing?"

  He grimaced. "Parents, eh?"

  "Don't get me started."

  "Me either."

  Silence for a moment, while I wondered what his parents could possibly dislike about his successful life, then he straightened his back and said, "Look. It's not going to work, Mary. You're not going to change my mind."

  I didn't answer. Saying "Yes, I will" seemed inappropriate, and admitting I also thought it wouldn't work could hardly help my cause.

  He shook his head and walked away, and I began to pack up my books.

  "Hey."

  I turned toward him.

  "I'll be here tomorrow at five-thirty in the morning."

  His voice challenged, and I accepted. "See you then."

  He shook his head again, with a bit of a smile this time, and left for real.

  Chapter Three

  When I reached Steel at five-twenty the next morning, Kegan sat in my spot on the flower box. He stood as I approached, his face expressionless, then walked into the restaurant and locked the door behind him.

  Trying not to read too much into his total lack of response, when I'd been hoping he'd be impressed I'd arrived so early, I took up my place and set to work, willing myself not to yawn.

  As threatened, Brian had come over to talk at me about his job interview, and had stayed until nearly midnight, complaining about everything from the receptionist's disapproving look when he spent 'only a few minutes' on his cell phone in the waiting room to how he thought the courier uniform he'd have to wear should be redesigned to make him look better, moving from one minuscule issue to another without giving me a chance to get a word in.

  At eleven I'd tried to discuss my job woes, but he'd been so clearly uninterested I'd given up. I'd finally told him I had to be up early enough times that he deigned to leave, and then I was so annoyed I'd had trouble falling asleep. But I would fight through the fatigue. I had to.

  When the construction workers arrived at nine, all but one walked past me without a word. The one, though, stopped and said, "What are you doing out here?"

  I looked up, my eyes skimming over filthy jeans and a torn sweatshirt covering an overstuffed belly before they reached his faintly sneering face. "Reading cookbooks."

  "Why?"

  "Because I like reading them."

  "No, why here? And all day yesterday too."

  I looked around. "Why not? It's nice enough. Good to get some fresh air."

  "It's going to rain later."

  Ack, I hoped not. I didn't have an umbrella. "Then I might stop reading them."

  He shot a glance at Steel. "Are you trying to work for him? Don't. He's a nightmare."

  For this guy, Kegan probably was a nightmare. For me... "He's only a nightmare if you sleep on the job."

  The guy's face crumpled into confusion, an expression it seemed to wear often, and he took a breath to speak but instead jumped as Kegan opened the door behind him.

  "Jimmy, get in here and quit talking to her."

  "I just wondered why she was outside."

  His whining tone grated on me, and clearly on Kegan too because he said, "You don't need to know. Go work on the kitchen floor."

  Jimmy wandered into the restaurant, clearly in no hurry, and Kegan looked at me. "Mary, go home. Seriously. I can't have Steel delayed. Go. Now."

  His cold tone and set face made my stomach twist, but I shook my head. "I won't talk to him again, but I'm staying until you accept my proposal."

  He shut the door without a word.

  I cuddled myself against the crisp fall air and my sick nervousness. If I antagonized him too much, he wouldn't even hire me in January.

  But I couldn't wait that long anyhow.

  As I pondered, Kegan reappeared. He dropped onto the flower box next to me and said, "Take another job. Mildred's hiring at the café. Three months, and then come back here. Why does it have to be now?"

  "I came to Toronto to be a chef. A real one. I don't want to work at a coffee shop. I want this." I gestured to Steel. "I want the big time. I'm ready for it."

  "And you'll get it. Just not right now."

  I shook my head. "It has to be now."

  "Why?"

  Anger and fear and frustration tore through me and dragged the truth from my mouth. "Because I'm so close to what I've wanted forever and if I don't get it then leaving everyone I know and coming here was a mistake and I can't handle that!"

  His expression changed, moved from brisk impatience to understanding and sympathy, and I thought I had him, but then he stood up and said, "Maybe it was a mistake."

  Yeah, maybe. But I wouldn't admit that out loud, not even to him.

  When I didn't speak, he said again, gently this time, "Mary, go home."

  I didn't know whether he meant home as in Toronto or home as in back to my parents, but it didn't matter. My whole life, I'd let people bend me, dissuade me from what I wanted. I wouldn't let it happen even once more. I was finally standing on my own two feet, and those feet weren't leaving Steel until I had a job.

  I went back to my cookbook, pretending he wasn't there. I felt him watching me, his eyes burning into my bent head, for several seconds, then he went inside.

  Ten minutes later, rain began to fall, cold and hard, and I hurried to get my books safely stored in my plastic bags then sat huddled in my jacket. Unable to work, I had far too much time to think awful thoughts about what I was doing and what I'd do if it failed and how desperately I wanted to get up and go home.

  Eventually, when I couldn't sit another second, I decided hot tea might help me keep going. I pushed myself to my feet but nearly fell as my right leg cramped. I stomped my feet to get the blood moving then went to the café.

  As I paid for my tea with the twenty dollar bill I'd reluctantly withdrawn from my bank account, nearly a third of the money I had left, the cashier said, "Honey, what are you doing out there?"

  Unexpected tears filled my eyes. "I don't know. Nothing, from the looks of it."

  "All day yesterday, and now today too?" She shook her head, her round age-creased face full of concern. "You're not trying to get Kegan to do something he doesn't want to do, are you? You might as well try to move Steel an inch to the left."

  I blinked a
way my emotions and managed to smile. She obviously knew him well. "Yeah, that might be easier."

  She reached out her hand, its black skin turned gray by flour, and patted my arm. "He's a good egg, but good luck cracking the shell to get in there."

  I sighed. "I'm starting to see that."

  She gave me my change, then stuffed a chocolate croissant into a paper bag and handed me that too, brushing off my protests with, "If you're going to sit in the rain, you should at least have something good to eat."

  My throat tightened. "Thank you."

  She chuckled. "Just don't give him any until he does what you want. He loves these."

  I smiled and headed back to my flower box, feeling comforted by her kindness and by the paper cup's warmth against my hands. I sat, trying to ignore the cold wetness of the concrete seeping into the seat of my jeans, and drank tea and nibbled at the surprisingly delicious croissant for an hour or so.

  When Steel's door opened, my heart jumped but it wasn't Kegan. The blonde woman who'd frowned at me yesterday, now clutching an umbrella over her head, stopped in front of me and didn't share her umbrella's shelter. "Kegan says go home."

  I raised my eyebrows. "He sent you to say that?"

  She shrugged. "More or less."

  I wouldn't have expected him to do such a thing. "He's said it himself and it didn't make any difference. Why does he think sending you would work better?"

  She didn't bother answering. "I've worked for Kegan since he opened Steel, longer than anyone else here. So listen up. What you're doing is pointless. He'll never hire you. He said as much yesterday when we asked why you were out here."

  My stomach twisted at this revelation. He really didn't plan to hire me if he'd told his staff. But she'd probably pass along whatever response I gave, so I made myself smile and say, "We'll see."

  She rolled her eyes. "If you think he's going to feel bad because you look so pathetic—"

  "I don't think that."

  "Well, good, because he won't. He's especially cranky now because of the fire but he's always a hard-ass and you'll never change his mind. He just wants what he wants and right now he wants Steel fixed. That's all that matters to him. He does not want you."

  But it wasn't all that mattered. He longed to open Magma, and it seemed this woman—

  "What's your name?"

  She blinked. "Crystal."

  She didn't know how much Kegan wanted Magma to open. I did. I was the doorway to his dreams, and he was the doorway to mine. "Crystal, you can tell him I'm here until he changes his mind."

  She stood up, shaking her head. "God, you're just as stubborn as he is."

  A tiny bit more, I hoped.

  *****

  I again lingered at Steel until Kegan left, this time without speaking to me or even turning to look at me, before dragging my sad soggy self home. After a long hot bath I spent the evening reading on the couch with Saffron and trying not to think, then woke the next morning to the sound of rain smacking against my bedroom window.

  Marvelous. Another day, another numb butt from sitting on the flower box.

  Kegan arrived at five-fifteen, and actually laughed. "How early did you get here?"

  "Earlier than you," I said, smiling and trying not to show I was panting. I'd seen him in the café and rushed to take my seat before he finished buying his coffee.

  He squatted in front of me, holding his umbrella over us both. "I admire this. I do. But it won't change my decision. I can't open Magma now and that's that."

  No, it wasn't. I'd researched him the night before, in the bath trying to get warm with my ancient laptop balanced on the edge of the tub, spent ages reading all about him. "That doesn't go with your reputation."

  His eyebrows went up. "Really. What reputation is that?"

  "You opened Steel in six weeks. Nobody thought it was possible, or even reasonable, but you did it. And two months later it was already the hottest restaurant in Toronto, and it's stayed that way for two years."

  His jaw tightened. "True. But finish the story. What happened next?"

  I swallowed. "The kitchen caught fire last weekend."

  "Exactly. Do you know why?"

  I shook my head.

  "Because I wasn't here. My moronic chef showed up drunk, and I didn't know because I was off looking at locations for Magma. The guy spent his whole shift drinking, and then he apparently left a dish towel on a lit burner when he left."

  I sat silent, taking this in. Horrible, to be sure. But... "It could still have happened if you were here."

  He shook his head sharply. "I'd have known he was drunk, and I always check the place before I leave. If I'd been where I belong, Steel wouldn't have burned."

  "So, what, you have to be here every second?"

  "Ideally, yes." Before I could protest, he went on. "But I can't. But I can, and will, avoid taking on another full-time responsibility. When Steel's back together and running properly, I'll be ready for Magma. But for now, and with a new chef—"

  "Crystal?"

  He blinked. "How do you know Crystal?"

  Ignoring this, I said, "Is she your new chef?"

  "No. I promoted someone else. Isaac. How do you know Crystal?"

  I sat up straighter. "Nice try. You know how I know her."

  He frowned. "I might be able to follow this at six in the evening, but not now. What are you trying to say?"

  I said it slowly, almost insultingly. "You sent her out yesterday to tell me to leave."

  He leaned back and his eyes searched my face. "Describe her."

  "Blonde, skinny, mid-forties, wearing probably half her body weight in makeup."

  He nodded. "You did see her. But I didn't tell her to talk to you."

  "She said you did."

  He looked deep into my eyes. "Mary. Do I give you the impression I have other people do my dirty work for me?"

  I had a flash of wishing I'd met him socially instead of at work. The early morning light made his eyes unbelievably blue, and him unbelievably attractive. I pushed that aside, though. He was right. "No, you don't."

  "I did not send her to talk to you."

  "I believe you." And I did. I'd doubted it at the time, I remembered, had known he wasn't that way. I considered asking if she'd also made up the part about him telling the staff he wouldn't hire me, but was too afraid of the answer.

  He shook his head. "Sometimes she acts like she owns the place, not me."

  "She said she's worked for you longer than anyone."

  "True."

  "So why isn't she the chef instead of Isaac?"

  "For... a variety of reasons, none of which I'll be sharing right now."

  Had they maybe been together and now weren't? Lucky bitch. "I see."

  We sat in silence for a few moments, then he said, "Anyhow. As I was saying, I will get back to Magma. I know how it'll work, how it'll look... it's so real in my mind I can almost touch it. Trust me, I will not be holding back forever. Just for now."

  Every time he said he wouldn't go ahead with Magma my spirits dropped a little lower, and after three days of it they'd lodged in the soles of my wet running shoes. My desperation and frustration spoke before I could stop them. "It's too bad you pick now to be a coward."

  Fire flashed in his eyes, and he pushed to his feet and went inside without a word.

  Brilliant. Why didn't I kick him in the balls while I was at it?

  *****

  The rain poured down all morning. I couldn't read my cookbooks for fear of ruining them, so I just sat huddled in my jacket and grew wetter and colder and angrier at myself for what I'd said to Kegan. His decision not to open Magma made perfect sense. I hated it, but it did make sense. And even if it didn't, where did I get off criticizing him for being afraid to move forward? How long had I stayed stuck with Charles?

  A bit before noon, I couldn't stand sitting and sulking any longer, so I got up and dragged myself to the café.

  The cashier from the day before shook her head
when she saw me. "You look like a drowned rat, honey."

  A woman standing at the counter said, "Mildred! That's no way to talk to the poor girl."

  Kegan had mentioned Mildred was hiring. I hadn't realized I'd been talking to her yesterday.

  Mildred laughed. "Well, she does. And I think she knows it." She pulled folded dish towels from under the counter and handed them to me. "Go to the bathroom and get dried off, honey. Then come back for your tea."

  Alone in the tiny but spotless bathroom, I scrubbed my hair and did my best to smooth it back into a fresh ponytail then squeezed water from my clothes. As my poor chilled body began to warm, I started to shiver, and I found myself crying before I knew it. If a textbook existed on how to piss off a potential boss, I'd have been the prime case study.

  Unable to stop and knowing I needed the release, I let myself cry quietly, working on my clothes at the same time. When I calmed down, I was also nearly presentable. I swiped the last of my mascara from my face with my remaining tears, slicked on a bit of pink lip gloss, and headed back out.

  The customer at the counter had left, and the only other patrons were engrossed in their laptop computers or newspapers. Mildred smiled at me. "Good girl."

  "Thank you." I passed her the wad of wet towels, and to my shock she hung one up on an empty wall hook.

  She burst out laughing and pulled it back down. "Just wanted to see your face."

  I laughed. I couldn't help it. She was crazy but hilarious.

  "Now. Tea?"

  "Yes, please."

  I sat at an empty table and watched her putting together my tea, exactly how I liked it. "You remembered," I said when she brought it over.

  She sat across from me. "It's my business, honey. It impresses people when I know their order. Of course, it means I have to be here nearly all the time, but what else have I got to do?"

  The older black female version of Kegan. "I suppose."

  "Now, I'm old." Over my protest, she said, "Oh, come on. You're not blind, honey. I'm old and boring." She jerked her head toward Steel. "That one, though, is too young, and too cute, to be there all the time. I keep telling him, but he won't listen to me. Maybe he'll listen to you?"