Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)

by Jamie Beck

  “Gentry’s going to help me in the office and with our social media.” Colby exchanged a knowing glance with Alec.

  “Ah. Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, clearly relieved not to have to train her. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll be testing new menu items with the staff today.”

  “Good luck.” Gentry flirtatiously touched his arm before he made off to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, she shot a wide-eyed gaze Colby’s way. “He looks good.”

  “I think he’s finally coping with Joe’s death and losing Une Bouchée.” Colby hoped so, anyhow.

  “No, I mean he looks good.” The purr in Gentry’s voice grated on Colby’s nerves. “Hot!”

  “What about Jake?”

  Gentry shrugged. “Dad always says it’s important to keep your options open.”

  “Alec is off-limits.” Her staccato delivery caught Gentry off guard. In truth, it caught Colby off guard, too. “We can’t have coworkers getting together. That’s bad for business. Got it?”

  Her sister raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. But you’d better have an all-male staff if you expect that rule to be followed.”

  “I’ve hired mature, career-oriented waiters, and the two women cooks on staff are married.”

  “Phfft.” Gentry rolled her eyes. “As if that ever stopped anyone.”

  “When did you become so jaded?”

  “Not jaded. Realistic. Look around. Your parents divorced. Mine work more than they have any fun. You may have had a good marriage until everything with Mark and Joe happened, but not everyone is that lucky.”

  Good marriage. Lucky. The front she and Mark had put up in order to hide his diagnosis. Neither term applied, though, no matter how great of a snow job she’d pulled off.

  She’d tried to make it true. Given every part of her heart and soul to her marriage. Patiently cleaned up after he’d do things like spray down the entire condo with fire extinguishers in order to “reveal” the ghosts he believed haunted him. Clung to the shining moments of Mark’s generous spirit and surprising bursts of romance. Voraciously read about his illness and tried to implement different coping strategies, hoping he would be like many other bipolar sufferers and learn to manage his illness and his life.

  But in the murky places of her heart, she’d blamed Mark for not committing to treatment. Worse, she’d blamed herself for being unable to motivate him to stick with therapy and medication like other spouses in her shoes could.

  In that light, loneliness seemed safer than entrusting her future happiness to any man.

  Colby swatted the depressing memories away like flies even as they deepened her concern for her sister. “Promise me you won’t rush into anything.”

  “What part of keeping my options open suggests that I’m rushing into anything?” Gentry grabbed her purse. “I’ve got to run. I’ll read this report and come up with a plan. Maybe I’ll swing by the day after next and get some photos. I think it’s supposed to be sunny.”

  “Thanks, Gentry.” Colby stood and offered her sister a hug. “This will be good for both of us.”

  “Unless we end up like my mom and Hunter.” Gentry snickered. “Just kidding. See you later!”

  She flounced off, her little skirt swishing around her thighs, loose curls flowing down her back. Colby sat and drew a deep breath to quiet the fear that hiring her sister might be the best and worst decision of her week.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Alec barked at the sous chef, Chris, his voice reverberating off the metal surfaces in the kitchen. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry!”

  “Why?” Chris shot him a vexed look.

  Alec pointed at the meunière sauce smeared on the outer lining of the dish. “Does that look spotless to you? Do you think any customer wants to pay thirty-eight dollars for a dish and have it served looking so sloppy?” He whirled around on the chef de entremetier. “And do these first courses look consistent? Don’t answer. I will. They don’t. This one, too much sauce. This one, wilted chiffonade. That one isn’t properly seared!”

  “You didn’t even taste them.” Chris flipped his palms heavenward, defending his subordinate.

  “I don’t need to, because I wouldn’t let any of these items leave this kitchen. Look at them!”

  “No one but you would notice the chiffonade,” Chris challenged.

  Pressure built up behind Alec’s eyes. “What did you say?”

  “Most people toss that aside.” Chris shrank back a step or two.

  Clearly, none of these cooks had trained under the masters in Europe. They hadn’t worked eighteen-hour shifts on their feet for twenty grand a year and slept on hostel floors just for the chance to learn from the best.

  “How do you think a restaurant earns a James Beard Award, or, if Michelin ever expands its US review territories to include the Northwest, a star? By being lazy? By ignoring the little details? No. No!” Alec’s palm slammed against the metal counter. He needed each of them to adopt his perspective if he had any chance of making Colby’s restaurant the best, or of winning awards and proving to his dad and the world that his talent wasn’t a fluke or a joke. “Every single plate that leaves this kitchen must, must, meet the standard I set. It will be perfect. It will be clean. It will be consistent. No one knows which customer out there is a critic. You can’t afford not to be perfect every single time.”

  Chris dimly stared back at Alec, as if Alec were a madman. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Putain!” Alec turned toward the rest of the cook staff, voice tight and rough. “Do none of you have the passion required to be the best? To produce the finest meals in the area? Because if you don’t aim for perfection, then I don’t want you in this kitchen.”

  “Alec?” Colby’s voice cut through the room.

  He whipped his neck around. “Yes?”

  She offered a conciliatory smile to his staff. “Could I please see you out here for a minute?”

  Alec noticed Chris’s smug satisfaction. Whether intentional or not, Colby had undermined Alec at a critical moment. He forced a lid over his temper. “Of course.”

  He followed her into the dining room, counting to three in his head while she straightened her pencil skirt. For chrissakes, did she think he had time for a lecture? He didn’t need to be micromanaged in his own kitchen. Her restaurant, his kitchen, dammit.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “I heard you yelling from out here.”

  “The staff isn’t up to par, Colby, and I only have a couple of weeks to train them.”

  “Training? It sounded like screaming to me.”

  Alec inhaled slowly, reminding himself that Colby disliked conflict and had never once worked in any kitchen. She had no idea of the difficulty, the coordination, the trust and teamwork that needed to be pulled off, hour after endless hour. He resented the way she now looked at him with distaste. Her husband had been a loudmouth, so why Alec’s behavior bothered her, he couldn’t quite say. “I need them to do exactly as I say. Exactly. If they don’t learn to work like clockwork, you’ll have increased costs beginning with wasted inventory and ending with higher workers’ comp claims because of injuries. That means I can’t have you undercut my authority.”

  “Surely there’s a more respectful way to earn their respect and cooperation.” She folded her arms. “I told you, I want this restaurant to be a happy place for everyone.”

  “This is a restaurant, not a spiritual retreat. Surely you understand the difference.” When his remark caused her to scowl, he blew out a breath. “Sorry. But if you want to ensure that your guests have an exquisite experience from the moment they enter to the moment they leave, let me worry about the kitchen staff’s ‘feelings.’”

  “I don’t want to work in a war zone, Alec.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Now who’s exaggerating?”

  She looked him up and down. “When did you become an arrogant jerk?”

  “When did you become a fragile flower?” He reeled in his em
otions, reminding himself she was his boss, not his employee. “I can’t believe you’re offended by me after spending so many years with Joe and Mark.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Don’t change the subject. I’m trying to avoid a spate of harassment suits.”

  “Harassment?” He practically choked on the word. “I’m setting the standard by which they must perform. It’s your restaurant, but it’s my reputation on the line, Colby. No one cares who owns the restaurant. The executive chef gets all the credit or all the blame. So don’t tell me to relax—or how to do my job—when you’ve never worked in a kitchen.”

  “I asked you before not to belittle me.” Her voice had grown deadly quiet.

  He raised his hands overhead. “Since when is stating facts belittling?”

  “Since you keep dismissing my concerns as if I have no brain. I might not have kitchen experience, but I know poor management when I see it. I’m telling you right now, I won’t tolerate constant turnover. Maybe you had to endure shitty ‘training’ as a young chef, but I bet you didn’t like it much. Be a better man and find a better way.” Before he could respond, she twirled on her heel and stalked off, leaving him stewing in his own stomach acid.

  Seemed she now made a habit of quick exits after laying down the law, so to speak.

  Be a better man and find a better way.

  Those words echoed in his mind as he made his way back into the kitchen. No doubt the staff had overheard their discussion.

  For most of his life, he’d been considered weak. Quiet, thoughtful, a little shy. The kitchen had been the one—the only—place where he’d reigned supreme. Where he’d had complete confidence and control. If she expected him to go back to being that Alec everyone else pushed around or ignored, she’d better think again.

  She didn’t appreciate his style? Too bad. It had worked for generations of chefs, and had made Une Bouchée an award-winning establishment. His dad would respect it. “No holds barred” had been that man’s motto for as long as Alec could remember. No one had criticized Joe for taking it to heart, so Alec wouldn’t worry about Colby’s current perception. Securing his dad’s respect, reclaiming his reputation, making her restaurant the best. That had to be the priority.

  She’d forgive him once A CertainTea was featured in Bon Appétit.

  “So, tell me. Who isn’t willing to meet my standards?” Find a better way. What Colby didn’t know was that there was no better way. “It won’t be easy, but a year from now, you’ll be proud of what we’ll accomplish together. You’ll learn more than you’ve ever learned before, too, but it won’t come without some pain and suffering.”

  They all stared at him in silence. Some looked barely older than twenty-one. Good God, had he ever been that young?

  “Shall I take your silence as meaning you’re on board? That each of you understands that every single detail matters?”

  “Yes, Chef” came the reply in unison.

  “Good. Let’s try again, from the beginning.” Alec called out a number of orders from the menu in another attempt to create a real-time test. “The soft opening is only two and a half weeks away. Let’s be ready.”

  Yet despite his private pep talk, Colby’s words disrupted his concentration. Be a better man and find a better way.

  Chapter Six

  While in her office, Colby set down her pen and listened for another outburst from the kitchen. He’d fooled her these past several days, masking an egomaniacal temper with a soft voice and delicious pastries. More proof of her poor judgment when it came to people and, more specifically, men.

  Her phone alarm beeped, reminding her of her appointment with her former colleague Todd Martin. He’d agreed to bring the final estate paperwork here. Todd had been a true friend during her tenure at the law firm. Given that he’d started in family law before switching to estates and trusts, he’d also been the one person she’d confided in when she’d been considering divorcing Mark.

  She’d made those inquiries just prior to Joe’s accident. Even now a sense of disloyalty pervaded. It hadn’t been easy to admit that she’d no longer loved Mark the way a wife should love her husband. She disliked herself immensely for it, and yet he wouldn’t commit to a protocol, and she hadn’t been able to envision another forty or more years on that uncertain path.

  She hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Or abandon him. Or do anything to make his already-difficult life any harder or more isolated. To this day, Mark’s defeated expression when he’d discovered her change of heart gripped her throat like an angry pair of hands.

  “Colby?” Todd knocked on her office doorjamb, jerking her from the painful memory.

  A little on the short and stocky side, Todd reminded her of a teddy bear, with his boyish, dimpled face and light-brown curls. A teddy bear with tortoiseshell glasses, a pink-and-blue bow tie, and an encyclopedic memory.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” She walked around her desk to give him a friendly hug. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

  “No thanks needed. I love any excuse to get out of the office.” He sat in an empty chair and placed a manila envelope on her desk. “The place looks great, by the way. All this and you jumped off the billable-hour train.”

  “I don’t miss that!” she chuckled. “But I do miss the people.”

  “We miss you, too.” His warm smile helped her set aside disturbing comparisons of Alec and Mark. “Your replacement is competent, but she isn’t a team player.”

  “Sorry.” Colby grimaced.

  “No, you’re not.” He pursed his face comically while shaking his head.

  “I swear I am!” She grinned. Then her gaze landed on the large envelope, and she let loose a quick sigh. “So this is it.”

  “The last of the paperwork for Mark’s estate.” Todd’s voice turned sober, and his cheerful gaze softened. “I’ll witness everything and finalize the filings.”

  “Sometimes it’s still so unreal.” She stared at the envelope, toying with her wedding band. “How can these papers be all that’s left of someone who, at his best, was so energetic and charming?”

  “It’s not all that’s left. You have your memories. I know there were issues in your marriage, but there’d also been a lot of love. Hold on to the good memories, and let the rest go.”

  Like a slide show, she remembered their first date, when Mark had serenaded her with his guitar. How she’d lain in his arms for hours kissing and talking. Their wedding, when he’d gotten teary during their vows. His terrible home science experiments, the enormous bookcase he’d built and painted her favorite color (lilac), his love for Monty Python movies, the way he always sought Hunter’s and her father’s approval.

  But she couldn’t hold back the other memories. The sexts from other women. The annoying impulsiveness, like when she’d come home during a “creative” burst of mania to find he’d purchased a dozen expensive instruments he didn’t play because he suddenly planned to compose the world’s greatest symphony. The anger and exasperation and depression he’d display, no matter how much it frightened her.

  His illness had steamrolled straight through the center of their lives and her heart, destroying all the promise of their love.

  Love. For all the love Mark had professed for her, it had never been enough to convince him to stick with therapy when he’d crave the highs of mania. And at the end of the day, it hadn’t been enough to give him the will to live. It hadn’t even been enough to keep him from taking his life right in front of her.

  Her eyes watered. “Easier said than done.”

  “I know.” Todd shifted in his chair.

  “Sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes, wishing she didn’t still lapse into pointless musings about the past. “I’ll sign these and let you get back to your day.”

  Colby thumbed through the tabbed pages and signed where indicated, then handed everything over to Todd. He double-checked them before closing the folder and then heaved a short sigh.

  Leaning forward, he said, “This pl
ace is a solid fresh start, but you also need a little fun in your life. Come out with me one night before this place opens up.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not a good wingman anymore, Todd. I’ll just cramp your style.”

  Two red stains colored his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “No, not as a wingman. Let me take you out. Dinner. A movie. Whatever you want.”

  “Oh.” She froze, blindsided. She’d never thought of Todd as anything other than a friend. Had she missed seeing his interest in her? Probably. Apparently, she missed seeing most everything when it came to men. “Like a real date, or a friend date?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a little of both?”

  Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat while she stalled. A date. A date with Todd? She tried to picture it but couldn’t. She hadn’t been attracted to a man other than Mark in years. Well, except for Alec recently, which was obviously the height of stupidity. “I’m sorry, Todd. I’m not interested in dating anyone yet.”

  Honestly, she might never be ready. The flutters of attraction Alec inspired terrified her more than anything else. Panic didn’t seem like a good ingredient for a relationship.

  “Okay.” Disappointment marbled his benign expression. “If you change your mind, just say so.”

  “I will.” Would she? She didn’t know—impossible to think during an out-of-body experience. The small office closed around them, yet Todd sat there looking comfortable and familiar. Unruffled. Calm.

  Maybe a date with Todd was exactly what she needed. She’d known him for six years. He’d been consistent, levelheaded, and kind. The opposite of Mark in some important ways. And apparently the opposite of Alec, too. If she didn’t want a spinster’s life, maybe someone like Todd was the answer. Genuine—if friendly—affection couldn’t hurt her like passion.

  “You’re still coming to the soft opening in about two weeks, right? Maybe I should invite some of the gang, too.”

  “A little reunion.”