At first, he’d just sat at the kitchen table and watched, used to sorta fading into the background. A week passed like that until Gran suddenly turned to him.
“Boy, you’ve blended into the wallpaper long enough. Now I need you to be my sous chef.”
“Me?” he asked, his voice cracking in excitement. No one had ever needed him for anything before. And what the heck was a sue chef?
“You see anyone else hanging around here?”
Ryan was always at some sports practice or game and usually got home late. Trav was out doing who-knew-what, getting into trouble. It was just him. He stood and crossed to her just as she slid open a drawer and pulled out a blue and white striped apron. She put it on him.
“Fits perfectly,” Gran said. “Turn around.”
He turned, and she tied it in back. “Used to be your grandpa’s. I don’t know if you remember, but he was a whiz at the barbecue.”
“Cool.” His grandpa had died when he was ten, and Shane had only ever eaten hamburgers when he’d visited, but he believed her. “What’s a sue chef? Is that a girl thing?”
“It’s a French term. Sous like s-o-u-s. It’s the assistant chef. You’ll do all the washing and chopping while I do the cooking. When I think you’re ready, I’ll let you do the whole shebang. First things first, every chef washes their hands before preparing food.”
He headed for the sink and scrubbed up.
“You’ll start with washing these carrots and potatoes; then I’ll show you how to peel and chop for the roast chicken I’m making.”
He’d quickly moved up to full chef. His hands were strong and sure from working with tools for years. Once Gran showed him the right technique, he peeled and chopped efficiently. He loved handling the fresh herbs and vegetables, many he picked that same day from her garden. The fresh scents and flavors were an awakening from what felt like a black-and-white existence into a full-color life.
Gran let him make whatever he wanted after school all by himself, reserving the dinner hour for the two of them to work together. He dove in with appetizers and desserts, saving entrées for them to work on together. Leaving the daily grind of school, where he felt like the odd man out, to the absolute freedom of total control in the kitchen had been nothing short of amazing. His family loved his cooking, and he knew he’d found his purpose in life.
Now he wiped the flour off his hands on the blue and white striped apron he kept for sentimental reasons. He’d had new aprons made just like it with Shane’s Scoops embroidered on the front for his staff, but this one was special, the original, the one that had started it all. He smiled at the memory and whisked the wet and dry ingredients together. He had just enough time to bake the batch before Ry came calling for their morning run.
He got back to work, at peace once again, just him and the dish he’d soon share with his family. That was almost as good as the cooking, the sharing. It was why he opened his own shop, to connect with everyone in town. It kept him from feeling alone like his mother had always said she felt. He knew he took after her—sensitive and introverted—it was why he was careful never to be alone for too long.
Food was life and connection. It was everything.
~ ~ ~
Shane had just taken a bite of muffin, the lemon zest worked perfectly with the blueberry, when he heard someone leaning on his doorbell upstairs. He went out the back door to tell his brother to knock it off.
“Oh, you’re up.” Ry rubbed his hands together and smiled. “Come on. Let’s get some endorphins going.”
Shane muttered some choice obscenities about morning people. Ever since Ry had gotten on a regular schedule with his job as a cop, he’d become unbearably cheerful in the morning. He liked it better when his brother slept until noon in his old job as a private investigator and never checked up on him until the afternoon.
They set off at a jog. The town was quiet except for the occasional delivery truck passing through. Mostly it was just the birds and the crazy joggers.
Ry picked up the pace, and Shane kept up. Five days of running and he got nothing but tired and sweaty from it. After what felt like twenty miles, but was probably only two, Shane stopped. “When do I get that runner’s high?”
“Just keep going, bud, you’ll get there,” Ry said, jogging in place. “You have to build up some endurance first.”
They kept going.
Shane finally broke the silence. “Rachel and I are business partners.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Doing what?”
“We’re opening a café next to Book It. I do the food and coffee; she runs the shop.”
“Shane…”
He sucked in some air as they went up that damn hill to the high school again. “What?”
“Do you really think she’s going to go out with you if you go into business together?”
He pushed himself hard up that hill. He’d conquer it today. “No,” he wheezed.
Obviously not or he wouldn’t be meeting Janelle tonight for drinks at Garner’s. He still couldn’t believe Rachel had set him up with a friend. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Janelle’s feelings when she called last night and invited him, so he’d agreed to meet her. He’d never given Janelle a second glance at Book It, always being focused on Rachel, but she was cute. A little young, but not too young, he’d checked. She was twenty-four.
Ry beat him up the hill. Shane joined him and took a moment to catch his breath, enjoying the view in the early morning sunshine over Clover Park. The trees in their full greenery, the tall white steeple of the Methodist church, the shops downtown, houses nestled in a grid.
“It’s just business,” Shane said.
Ry fixed him with a pitying look.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything. Race ya.” And with that Ry took off downhill.
“You win!” Shane called and sat down to enjoy not running. He was happy to be starting a café. The idea invigorated him. He’d been wanting to try out some new recipes for scones and breads and danishes. A lot of stuff he hadn’t had time to work on with the ice-cream business booming. This would be good. Even without Rachel in his bed. He shifted uncomfortably remembering the night he had been in her bed. And that towel dropping.
He stood and raced downhill, trailing behind his brother.
Ry stopped and turned, jogging in place. “Winners never quit, bud. Good to see you remembered that.”
Shane didn’t have the breath to tell his big bro to shut it, so he merely nodded and ran, determined to catch up to Ry. He wouldn’t quit on Rachel. He couldn’t. He was in deep in too many ways.
~ ~ ~
Rachel closed Book It on Friday and headed downstairs to the back parking lot, where her sister was picking her up for the short drive to their parents’ house for their family Shabbat dinner. The ritual was the one time her family seemed in perfect harmony. She’d often wondered why. Maybe it was because her mom had converted to Judaism and made a big effort to make the night special and all that effort reminded her dad of his wife’s good intentions.
Maybe it was just the wine.
The beige minivan pulled up with its three rows of seating and multiple car seats. Sarah’s husband, Mark, drove. Rachel squeezed into the backseat between baby Jacob and three-year-old Olivia. Leah, age five, and David, age seven, were in the row behind them.
“Shabbat shalom, everybody,” Rachel said.
“Shabbat shalom,” they chorused back.
“How’s the ankle?” Mark asked.
“Doing okay,” Rachel said. “I do these exercises the doctor gave me every day, and the swelling is finally gone. Still need the Ace bandage and hiking boots, but I’m getting there.”
“Good.” Then Mark barked out suddenly, “I’m with my family. Make it quick.”
Sarah pointed to her ear, indicating he was on his Bluetooth headset.
“I do exercises every day too, Aunt Rachel,” David piped up. “Wanna see?”
“Not now, sweetie,” Sarah said. “Wait for grandma’s house.”
“I’m not happy with that,” Mark said. “Run the numbers again. Call me back when you’ve got something workable.”
“Daddy’s mad,” Leah said.
“It’s just work stuff,” Mark said. “Not you guys. You’re angels.”
“I’m the best angel,” Leah said.
“Me!” Olivia screamed.
“You’re both stupidheads,” David said. “The biggest is always the best. That’s me.”
A chorus of insults were hurled back and forth. Someone from the way back seat tossed a shoe, hitting the baby’s arm, who started to wail. Rachel cringed, caught in the middle of kiddie chaos.
“Everybody quiet!” Sarah hollered, sounding very much the general in charge of the unruly brigade. “I don’t want to hear a peep until we get to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”
The car went silent, even the baby seemed startled into silence.
“Bet you can’t wait to have some of your own, huh, Rach?” Mark asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, yeah,” Rachel said. “The more, the better.”
“It really is lovely to be a mom,” Sarah said. “We love you guys.”
The kids remained silent. Sarah turned around. “You can talk if you have loving things to say.”
Rachel glanced behind her. Leah shook her head and crossed her arms. Olivia copied her sister. Then somebody finally spoke.
“Peep.”
Then louder, “Peep!”
Rachel giggled. That set the kids off.
“Peep!”
“Peep-peep!”
“Pee-pee-pee-peeeeeep!”
By the time they arrived at their parents’ house, the kids had moved on to chicken clucks and rooster calls, and Rachel joined in with a donkey hee-haw that had the kids in hysterics.
“Shabbat shalom, everyone!” her mom called, greeting them at the door. “Give Grandma a kiss.” She reached out and hugged and kissed each grandchild as they went inside. David wiped off his kiss as soon as he got inside.
The house smelled of brisket and potatoes. Rachel had brought a strawberry and rhubarb pie she’d picked up at Garner’s. Sarah and Mark brought the wine.
“How’re my girls?” her dad asked.
Rachel bit back a sarcastic reply. They were “his girls” exactly one night of the week. Otherwise, he was all work, all the time, the hell with the rest of them. Her dad was the CFO of a major investment firm.
“Good,” Sarah said, hugging him. “How are you, Dad?”
“Can’t complain.”
Rachel hugged her dad too. “How’re the Yanks doing?”
It was literally the only topic he would talk about besides finance. He’d grown up in Brooklyn and was a die-hard Yankees fan. Rachel could’ve cared less about baseball, but hearing him go off about work stuff was worse.
“They’re hanging in there,” her dad said. “Forty-two and forty. Here, have a seat on my chair. We’ll recline it so you can elevate your ankle.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m fine,” Rachel said.
“I insist,” he said.
“Just do it,” her mom said, “or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m just looking out for our daughter,” her dad said with a tight smile.
“She says she’s fine,” her mom sniped.
“Clearly she’s not fine, honey,” her dad said pleasantly. Though honey sounded more like you irritating shrew. “Rachel wouldn’t be hobbling around if she was fine.”
“I’m not hobbling,” Rachel said, sitting in the stupid chair just to avoid hearing them get into it again. Their fights flared and then quickly moved to a sullen, tense silence. Rachel had enough of that growing up; she didn’t want to hear it on the one night they usually all got along.
The kids got into a spirited game of Candy Land while Sarah took baby Jacob with her to keep their mom company in the kitchen. Then Mark stepped out to the backyard to take a call, so it was just Rachel and her dad.
Her dad turned on the TV and flipped to the Yankees game. Rachel pulled the lever on the recliner to put her feet up and closed her eyes. She still couldn’t believe she was actually going to open a café. If it hadn’t been for Shane, her dream would’ve been dead in the water. He was such a good friend. She’d make sure he didn’t regret his investment.
“How’s Book It?” her dad asked, startling her out of her thoughts. “In the black?”
It was always about the bottom line for her dad. He’d tried to talk her out of opening Book It. He’d said bookstores were dying and she should stick with accounting. It was like he didn’t even know her. She glanced at the TV. A commercial was on. She spoke fast, knowing he’d go back to the TV as soon as the Yanks came on no matter what was going on in her life.
“Book It’s good. I’m going to open a café soon next door. I’m hoping that’ll make Book It the place where people hang out and buy more books.”
He cocked his head. “You really think it’s wise to expand? You’re barely breaking even.”
Thanks for the support, Dad. Always could count on you to be in my corner.
“I think of it more as a diversification,” she said tightly.
Rachel stole that diversification idea from Shane, but thought it sounded pretty good.
“How much did you have to borrow?” her dad asked.
“Actually I got an investor. Shane. He’s more like a partner. He does food; I run the store.”
He shook his head. “Bad idea. I’d never borrow money from family or friends. Or lend it. Here’s why—” he ticked off the reasons on his fingers “—the person investing the money always wants to know what you’re doing with it, they always want to know if you’re being smart about the way you run things, and they keep checking up to see if you’re spending too much.”
“Shane’s not like that. Anyway, he said…” She stopped. He was already back to the game.
She blew out a breath. Why did she keep expecting more from him? When would she learn? She never should have told him about her latest venture. It felt like he’d dropped an ice-cold bucket of harsh reality on her still-fragile dream.
“It’s time to light the candles,” her mom called.
Her dad set the game to record and headed to the dining room. She followed behind, joining everyone around the dining room table set with a white tablecloth and their best china and crystal. Even the kids would be drinking out of crystal goblets. Her dad turned off the lights, and everyone quieted as her mom lit two candles in her dad’s great-grandmother’s silver candlesticks. Her mom waved her hands over the candles to welcome the Sabbath, then covered her eyes with her hands while she recited the blessing. She uncovered her eyes and looked at the candles, signaling the beginning of their Sabbath celebration. Her dad recited the Kiddush prayer while holding a full glass of wine. Next her dad removed the cover from the challah—two sweet braided loaves of bread—lifted the bread and said a blessing before passing it around for everyone to tear a piece off. Rachel loved challah bread.
They sat down for the meal. Her parents sat on opposite ends of the table, at the head and foot, while everyone else filled in between. The scary thing was, even when no one was here to join them for a meal, her parents still sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table. Her dad ate while reading the newspaper in front of his face. Her mom stared at the newspaper from afar, perpetually angry over the noncommunication but refusing to break the silence. It was downright creepy. Would it kill them to talk about it rather than live in tense silence day after day?
Rachel didn’t envy Sarah and Mark’s marriage either. Oh, they got along okay, but Mark was always working, and Sarah spent her days and nights elbow deep in diapers, runny noses, and noise. Her sister had been on the corporate fast-track before kids. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t like kids, she was crazy about her nieces and nephews, but she certainly didn’t want to feel like a single moth
er doing all the hard work by herself. Sarah didn’t seem to mind having a workaholic husband, but Rachel steered clear of that type.
She wanted someone who was dashing, brooding, arrogant, with barely suppressed passion just waiting for the perfect woman to bring him to heel with her love.
She wanted Mr. Darcy.
She sighed. There were so few of those to go around. Pride and Prejudice was her go-to comfort read, and she fell in love with Mr. Darcy all over again every time she read it.
The meal passed pleasantly. The kids took off to watch TV in the pajamas Sarah had brought along while the adults lingered over wine. The wine made her think of Shane and Janelle. Right about now they’d be meeting for drinks at Garner’s. Janelle had told her earlier today. Would they get a little tipsy and move things over to Shane’s place just down the block? Rachel suddenly felt sick and set her wine down.
Shane was free to see whoever he wanted. In fact, the sooner he was part of a couple, the better for their business.
The dinner conversation turned to the stock market, but all Rachel could think about was Janelle and her so-called seduction spell. What the hell did she do anyway? Rachel had never set out to seduce. Things just sort of went that way naturally after dating for a while. She’d never cast a spell. Was Shane vulnerable to that? Would he put out on the first date?
Rachel pushed up from the table. “I’ll get dessert.”
“Thanks, honey,” her mom said. “I’ll help.”
“Me too,” Sarah said.
They made short work of clearing the table. Rachel opened the pie box and sliced the pie. Sarah got out some dessert plates.
“So you and Shane in business together, huh?” her mom said.
“Dad told you?” Rachel was shocked. Her parents hardly ever talked. She always had to tell them news twice, once for her dad’s benefit and once for her mom’s.
Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Page 6