On Lavender Lane

by JoAnn Ross

  The program was wonderful and he was clever at using it, helping her create a kitchen that would be both energy efficient and staff friendly—and would include Energy Star appliances, light sensors, and an electronically controlled double-door steamer that would make potatoes fluffier and fresher and use less power than boiling them in huge pots of water.

  But Madeline was envisioning the excitement and sensuality of voices shouting out “Fire”; hard, shining surfaces; big machines; wooden spoons; a dream wall of pots; fish searing in sauté pans over flame; the sweet fragrance of brown stocks kept at a simmer; the aroma of spices being roasted; mushrooms crackling in hot oil; and rolls of white towels making crescent swipes around the edges of beautifully plated dishes.

  “I thought I was good at multitasking,” Lucas said, as he added state-of-the-art antimicrobial shelving to the walk-in cooler to help prevent mold, which was always a problem with moisture. “But you’re answering every question I ask about how you want the place set up, yet at the same time you look a million miles away.”

  “I’m envisioning it all,” she said. “It’s going to be perfect.” Even as she said it, she remembered something. “I take that back. Thomas Keller, an amazing self-taught chef in Napa Valley, says that since there’s no such thing as a perfect food, only the idea of it, the real purpose of striving toward perfection is to make people happy. That is what cooking is all about.”

  “So that’s what you want to do? Make people happy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then marry me.” She should have seen it coming, but in still imagining the restaurant she was starting to think of as hers, she’d missed the warning signs.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are too many reasons to count. The first being that I’m still technically married.”

  “Sofia said you sent the papers back. You’ll be a free woman in just a couple days.”

  “That’s not the point. The other reason is that I already made one mistake, Lucas. I’m not going to rush into anything.”

  “I can understand that reasoning. But I do have one question.”

  “Why do I think I’m not going to like it?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s an easy one. How long did you know the Frenchman before you married him?”

  “A year.” It had taken her that long to wear Maxime down. Which should’ve told her something.

  “And how long did your parents know each other?”

  She saw where he was going with this. “You said one question,” she reminded him.

  “Humor me.”

  She knew that if she didn’t tell him, he’d merely ask her grandmother, who would. “Six weeks,” she muttered.

  “I didn’t quite hear that.”

  “Six weeks. Okay?”

  “And your grandparents?”

  “Less time than that.”

  “I rest my case. I also have a suggestion.”

  “What?”

  “Come away with me.”

  “Like, elope?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t object to that, except I think there are some people in our lives who might. I was thinking of going to Portland for a couple days.”

  “Why?”

  “For fun.” He played with the silver seashell earring, one of the pair she’d bought at the Dancing Deer. “You have heard of the concept, right? Where you put aside work and worries and problems and decisions, let your hair down, and just play.”

  “You just want to get away from prying eyes and have sex.”

  “The eyes don’t bother me. It’s not as if they’re all going to be pressed against the cottage windows, watching us.

  “As for the sex, I wouldn’t turn it down. But the apartment I inherited from my dad has three bedrooms. Where you sleep is up to you.”

  She knew where she wanted to sleep. But was it where she should sleep? Was she jumping straight from the sauté pan into the fire?

  Then again, didn’t she deserve a fling? After all she’d been through?

  “You know,” he said. “The city has a lot of antiques stores. Since play for play’s sake seems to be a problem for you, we could scout out some things for the restaurant.”

  “That is hugely appealing.”

  And practical. And Madeline had always thought of herself as an eminently practical woman. Hadn’t Maxime always said that? Though he’d often made it sound more like a flaw rather than an attribute.

  “But why do I suspect that spending a weekend antiquing isn’t anywhere on the top ten things on your bucket list?”

  “That would be true. Until I add you to the mix. Then it’s right up there on the top.” He gave her a friendly leer. “Okay. Maybe third from the top. After marriage. And the sex stuff.”

  “You really are impossible.”

  “I prefer to think of it as tenacious. Our timing was off the first time around, Maddy. If you think we’re going too fast, we can slow down. Set our own pace. Whatever you want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To be with you. Any way I can get you. And if that means following you around in every antiques store in Oregon, I’m up for that. Meanwhile, because we do have to eat, what do you say to taking a shower—”

  “Together?”

  “Saving water is good for the planet. Then afterward we can go into town and have dinner at Bon Temps.”

  She laughed. “I give up. And since I can’t remember the last time I had legitimate Cajun food, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  49

  Unlike the rest of Shelter Bay, which seemed much the same as always, Bon Temps had undergone a lot of changes. But two things remained exactly as Madeline remembered them: the delicious aromas drifting out of the kitchen and the feeling of welcome as soon as she walked in.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” she told Sax, who seated her and Lucas at a four-top next to the window, which offered a dazzling view of the harbor.

  “Thanks.” He put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and looked around the restaurant and dance hall with obvious pride. “The change in décor was Trey’s idea. We were picking out paint, and he decided Cajun red fit. After we went with that, the kid also came up with the Mardi Gras theme.”

  “It works. It just feels like a party as soon as you walk in.”

  “That’s the point. What can I get you to drink?”

  Madeline ordered a white wine, while Lucas opted for one of a surprising selection of microbrewed beers. Which was another change. She doubted there were that many restaurants in New York that could offer so many small labels.

  Throwing out any idea of water conservation, they’d spent a long, spectacularly hot time in Lucas’ shower, which had them arriving after most of the dinner crowd had left, allowing Sax to take them up on their invitation to sit down at the table with them while they worked their way through an order of fried Cajun shrimp.

  “These are delicious,” she said. “I love the way you mixed the panko bread crumbs in with the cornmeal for the breading.”

  “I’m not a fancy chef like you,” he said. “But these days, even a lot of people who come here are looking for something lighter and healthier. The panko gives a lighter, crispier crunch because it doesn’t soak up the oil.”

  “But it still picks up the flavor of the seasonings, cornmeal, and oil. Good decision.” It crossed Madeline’s mind that if she kept eating the way she had since arriving in Shelter Bay, she was definitely going to end up the size of one of Shelter Bay’s resident whales.

  “Gram and I are setting up a cooking school and restaurant at the farm,” she told Sax. “Which may end up becoming a new program.”

  “So Kara told me.”

  “Would you be willing to teach this? And maybe a couple of your other dishes?”

  “Maybe you’d better taste them first.”

  “You already have me convinced. So if the gumbo’s as good as I expect from the aromas coming from the kitchen, wou
ld you be interested? You’d be paid.”

  He rubbed his chin. “I wouldn’t mind teaching. But I’m no TV actor.”

  “Trust me. You get used to the camera. And if the network picks up the show, I’ll help walk you through it,” Madeline assured him. “It also fits with my theme. Cajun might be a lot hotter than the Greek and Italian food in my background, but for a lot of people, it’s comfort food. You could spread the word and get more people cooking it.”

  “I think Emeril’s pretty well got that covered,” he said.

  “You’re better.”

  He glanced over at Lucas. “And I thought Kara was stubborn.”

  “Maddy’s always had a mind of her own.” Lucas scooped a handful of the shrimp from the white bowl. “And I wouldn’t want her any other way.”

  “Yeah. That’s how I feel about Kara.”

  “I already mentioned it to her at lunch,” Madeline said, “but I’m glad to have a chance to tell you that while I’m sad about Jared’s death, it’s lovely to see you two together. You were always such close friends. Especially that year after Jared joined the Marines.”

  A shadow moved over Sax’s face. It came and went so quickly that had she not been paying attention, she would’ve missed it.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked carefully.

  “Nah.” He shook his head. Then raked a hand through his dark hair. “Hell, you guys are friends and it’s not as if it’s going to stay a secret forever.” He paused another, longer beat. Blew out a breath, then said, “Kara’s pregnant.”

  “Good going,” Lucas said, punching Sax on the upper arm.

  There was more. Although she’d never been to war, as these two men had, Madeline had a fairly good idea what it must feel like to cross a minefield as she gingerly asked, “Are we happy about that?”

  “Oh, hell, yes. I love Trey as if he were my own son, but yeah, we’d both like a big family, so this is beyond cool. Except for one thing.”

  “Which would be?” Madeline was a little uncomfortable talking about Kara behind her back, but Sax had brought up the subject.

  “She’s refusing to get married.”

  “What?” That was a surprise. “She adores you. That was so obvious at lunch when she was talking about how you and Trey have bonded, and how wonderful your lives are together, and how she’s looking forward to growing old together. I can’t believe she doesn’t want to get married.”

  “Oh, she’s not refusing to get married, period,” Sax said. “She just doesn’t want to be pregnant when she walks down the aisle.”

  “But she’s gorgeous,” Lucas said. “And I’m no expert on pregnancy, but doesn’t it take a while for a woman to show?”

  “Yeah. She’s got plenty of time on that. In fact, she looks just the same as always except that her breasts have gotten flat-out amazing.…Hell.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell her I said that.”

  “You’ve got it,” Lucas said.

  “I didn’t hear a thing,” Madeline agreed. “Let me guess.” Being a woman, and remembering when Kara left town to go to California to marry Jared Conway, she suspected she understood the other woman’s reasoning. “She was pregnant the first time she got married. She doesn’t want to repeat that experience.”

  “It’s not the same thing at all, dammit,” Sax complained, confirming her guess. “Jared was getting deployed. It only made sense for them to get married before he left. But I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Still, you represent a new start. A new life. It’s not surprising she’d want to do things differently this time.”

  “Maybe. Then there’s her mom.”

  “I thought she’d gotten to like you.” Madeline remembered that not being the case back when Kara’s mother had disapproved of everything about Sax Douchett. Especially the part about Kara and him being such close friends.

  “Yeah. I finally won her over. But here’s the thing: The night of Cole and Kelli’s rehearsal dinner here at Bon Temps, Kara suggested to her that the two of them have a double wedding.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah. I guess. But with the whole world seeming to be imploding or exploding or just going to hell in a handbasket, Faith and John have been kept busy with their medical-relief work. So they haven’t taken any time off to come back home. Kara’s set a couple tentative dates, then some other crisis pops up, and off they go.

  “Kara figures since she and Faith mended fences, after missing Trey’s birth, her mom will want to be here for her when her second grandchild’s born. So that’s the main reason why she wants to wait until after the baby’s born.”

  “It’s only nine months away.”

  “More like eight. But, dammit, it seems I’ve already been waiting a lifetime. Plus, I’ve been telling her what you and I learned,” he said to Lucas. “You’re only given so much time, and you never know when it’s going to end, so you can’t afford to waste a minute.

  “I don’t see any reason why we can’t just get hitched now. With all our friends. Then if she wants the big wedding with all the bells and whistles and rice throwing, we can do it again when her mom finally makes it back to town.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Lucas said.

  “Doesn’t it?” Sax agreed. “But you ever try to argue with a pregnant woman?”

  “No,” Lucas said.

  “It’d be easier taking on an entire horde of Taliban.”

  “Give her time,” Madeline suggested. “She could always change her mind.”

  “Yeah.” Sax looked a bit more optimistic. “That’s what I’m hoping. Meanwhile, I keep reminding myself that the only easy day—”

  “Was yesterday,” Madeline and Lucas said with him.

  The mood lifted, they were still laughing when Sax took their dinner order back to the kitchen.

  50

  Madeline had known Duncan Chaffee was internationally admired. But nothing could have prepared her for the penthouse apartment on the top floor of the glass-and-steel tower overlooking the Columbia River.

  “Wow,” she murmured as the private elevator opened directly into a foyer nearly the size of the Chaffees’ Shelter Bay cottage. She stared at the valuable works of art, seemingly having been collected on Lucas’ father’s travels around the world, scattered carelessly over tabletops some unseen housekeeper kept polished to a mirror sheen.

  Museum-framed blueprints, hung side by side with modern art, adorned the wall.

  Lucas stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and glanced around. “I guess it’s a little impressive at first sight.”

  “A lot more than impressive.” Her heels clicked on the black marble floor as she crossed the room to study a sketch that had captured her attention, drawn in what she guessed to be colored pencils.

  Done in mostly greens and creams, it showed a house and wall created of simple geometric figures. The leaves and grass were fragmented and the tree’s branches were both curves and sharp angles. Although she’d never been a fan of the Cubism Maxime’s decorator had forced on them, this was compelling.

  She leaned forward to read the signature. “Picasso?”

  “It’s an early working sketch of his painting House in a Garden,” Lucas said. “He did it in the early 1900s during his early Cubism period. The actual painting is in a museum in St. Petersburg.”

  “Why isn’t this in a museum?”

  Lucas shrugged. “It was a gift from a friend. That’s the part Dad valued. Not what it might go for at auction.”

  “A gift?” Surely he didn’t mean…“Pablo Picasso gave your father one of his sketches?”

  “The guy apparently got superproductive in his later years. So much so, his villa on the Riviera was supposedly overflowing with paintings. He invited Dad there to discuss building a museum on the garden grounds. During one of the visits, Dad noticed the sketch, commented on it, suggesting that it might be interesting to use it as a model for a simpler design, one th
at would fit into the garden and echo the simplicity of this painting.

  “The deal didn’t work out because Picasso wanted something a lot grander to go along with the sprawling stone villa, but he did give Dad the sketch.”

  She looked closer at some black squiggly lines at the top of the sketch. “And autographed it personally to him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow,” she repeated. “I knew your dad was famous, but I guess I never realized you were so, well…”

  “Rich?” Lucas filled in for her.

  Now realizing the wealth that the items in this single room could well represent, Maddy nodded as she stood at the window and looked down at the river. Every time she thought she had a handle on this man, she’d discover something new about him.

  As if sensing her confusion, Lucas came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her against him, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  “Dad was rich, Maddy. I’m just a guy who was, until a few days ago, out of work.”

  “I had no idea unemployment paid so well,” she said dryly.

  “Honest, I had no idea how much money he had until I met with his lawyers,” he said. “My first thought was that I could just give you the money for your restaurant, but I didn’t think you’d take it without thinking it came with strings.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d use it as leverage. But I wouldn’t have taken it.” She considered that another moment. “Although I might let you invest in it.”

  Which was the way most restaurants were funded. Even with all the money she’d brought into the business, Maxime had several wealthy investors. All of whom expected a return on their investments, which was bound to be easier now that he had those beer bucks.

  “Count me in.” He turned her in his arms. “I’m trying to figure out how to give most of it away.” His lips plucked enticingly at hers. “But I can’t think of anyone I’d rather invest in.”

  Her lips tingled beneath his. “You’re just trying to seduce me.”

  “Guilty.” He began nuzzling her neck. “Is it working?”

  The heat radiating from his body was beginning to make her head swim. Although the day outside the window was gray, the tenderness of his mouth was sending streams of warm, liquid sunshine through her veins.