by Jamie Beck
“No. It’s the right thing to do.” His mother’s words echoed in his head. “My mom wants to help. My dad will have to accept it at some point. We just need to stay the course.” He gathered her into his arms to reassure her and himself. “Stay strong.”
She melted into his embrace. A week ago, he would’ve thought this kind of moment impossible. If he wouldn’t look stupid, he’d pinch himself now to prove it wasn’t a fantasy.
“I don’t always feel strong.” Her voice resonated against his chest, warm and rich.
He forced her to meet his gaze. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“The way I snapped at Gentry tonight proves I’m not even strong enough to take a little heat.”
“That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ve both stumbled a bit on our own, but together we’ll be stronger. I promise.”
“You sound certain.” Faint wrinkles fanned out from the corners of her cat eyes when she smiled.
“I am,” he lied. That fib didn’t make him feel bad, though. Anything that helped her believe in herself again couldn’t be wrong.
“Okay, then.” She eased away and led him to the sofa, where her laptop sat open on the coffee table. “I’ve given more thought to the environmental causes you wanted to consider. If we start a broad nonprofit foundation, we can accept grant applications from diverse causes and then divvy up our money as we see fit. What do you think?”
“I like that idea.” This kind of drive and enthusiasm was exactly like the “old Colby” she believed to be gone. He hadn’t helped his family heal, but he was helping Colby.
“Good. If I didn’t say so before, I want you to know how much I love this idea. And I love that you thought of it. I know you have regrets about Joe, but I also know how much he and your family mean to you. Eventually your dad will see that.”
Because this was another step along the path to redemption, he accepted the compliment.
“I’m psyched your mom wants to help.” Colby slung her legs across his lap. “Since tomorrow’s Tuesday, I asked my mom and Sara to meet me at the restaurant at one o’clock for an informal meeting. Can your mom come, too?”
“I’ll ask.” He tugged her closer to his chest. “I’m surprised you included Leslie. I thought you wanted a break from her.”
Colby scrunched her nose. “She needs something to focus on now that Richard’s out of the picture.”
“What happened to Richard?”
“He learned the truth about Snickers.”
“How?”
As Alec listened to Colby explain the breakup, her sympathy for Richard’s logic made him a little queasy. Her mother’s white lie paled in comparison with his omission.
“Richard overreacted,” Alec insisted.
“Maybe, but trust is a fragile thing.” Her gaze wandered off with her stray thoughts.
“The Snickers lie didn’t hurt anyone,” he argued. “Not all lies are wrong. Some are told to protect people. Truth isn’t always absolute.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“I always liked Leslie,” he teased, dropping this conversation to avoid a direct question he didn’t want to answer.
“That alone makes you a keeper. Not many men would go out of their way for her just to satisfy me.”
“I’d do just about anything for you.” He cupped her jaw and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Besides, your mom’s lived alone a long time. Can’t blame her for being a little needy.”
“I guess not.” She kissed him. “You’ve always been sweet to me, even when I was young and dumb.”
“You were never dumb.”
“Well, you know, oblivious and in my own world.”
“You mean you were a teenage girl?” He feigned shock.
She chuckled. “A million years ago.”
Not to him. He remembered her that way as if it were yesterday. Lying out in her backyard, listening to the radio. Passing him in the high school hallway with her gang of popular girls—flicking him a quick, sunny hello. Buying him DVDs of shows set in France for his eighteenth birthday, a gift Joe had mocked.
“Ignore Joe, Alec. He’s just jealous because you’re going to end up working at some fabulous French restaurant and meeting all kinds of pretty French girls,” Colby said.
“That last thing is the only part that sounds good.” Joe tossed Chocolat on the counter, shaking his head.
“Big surprise.” Colby snorted and then smiled at Alec. “I’m proud of you. When you’re famous, I hope you’ll still cook for me once in a while. If I get to study abroad, maybe I’ll visit.”
She’d never studied abroad or visited, but he’d cherished the confidence she’d shown in him that day.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes since then,” she said as an afterthought.
“Me, too.” He closed his eyes and cuddled her against his chest. “But every bad decision brought us here, so let’s not judge them. Maybe learning from them is enough.”
“I like that idea.” She kissed him again and then got a funny look in her eye. “I’d hoped A CertainTea would make me happy, and it has, but not for the reasons I expected. Even if the restaurant operates in relative obscurity, it won’t matter, because it brought us together.”
Gratifying sentiment aside, he did care about acclaim. “We don’t have to settle for one or the other. We can have it all.”
For the briefest second, he saw a flash of some emotion—anxiety? disappointment?—cross her face. Rather than give voice to it, she hugged him. “Should we finish what we’d started before your mom interrupted?”
“Absolutely.” He started to unbutton her pajamas but stopped when her phone rang. Late-night calls usually meant bad news. “Do you want to check?”
“In case it’s Gentry.” She lifted the phone then set it down.
“Not Gentry?”
“Todd. I’d left him a message asking if he’d be a board member.” She must’ve felt him stiffen. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought this was our foundation.”
“It is. But we need a board, and it’s important to have at least one outsider involved so people won’t be suspicious when donating.”
“There are lots of smart lawyers. Why him?” He couldn’t help himself.
“Todd’s smart, diligent, and civic-minded. He’ll assign first-years to do pro bono work if we need it. It also helps him to have board memberships on his résumé. Plus, I trust him.” Again with the emphasis on trust, which Alec couldn’t offer absolutely. “We always worked well together.”
He eased her off his lap and stood, needing to move around. “Because he likes you, Colby.”
“And I like him.” She watched him, wide-eyed.
“Don’t be obtuse. He likes you. He asked you out, brings you flowers, and I’m sure is still hopeful that you’ll change your mind.”
“He buys the wrong flowers and never sends me funny videos.” When he didn’t laugh at her joke, she asked, “Are you jealous?”
“No.” Another lie. “But I’m not stupid, either. No guy wants his girlfriend working closely with another man who wants her for himself.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Now she looked hurt.
“I don’t trust him.”
“He’s just a friend.”
“So was I.” Alec’s hands fell to his sides. “I just wish you’d talked to me before you asked him.”
“It honestly never occurred to me that you’d care.” She came over and rubbed his biceps. “I’ll rescind the offer. I’ll say you’d already asked someone else.”
He was being petty and childish. Colby wasn’t likely to admire his insecurity any more than his own father would. “No. It’s fine. You’re right. I’m overreacting.”
“I’m really sorry I didn’t think to ask you first.” Colby began unbuttoning Alec’s shirt and kissing his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”
Anytime she touched him, the twin pulls of desire an
d gratitude caused him to lose focus. Why was he arguing when he could be making love?
“If you insist.” He knew one way to make sure she wouldn’t be tempted to look in any other man’s direction.
Lifting her off her feet, he carried her to her room, where he did some of his best wooing.
“You summoned.” Gentry tossed her purse on Colby’s desk and adjusted her strapless minidress, causing the multitude of gold necklaces she wore to jangle. “You do remember I quit, right?”
“Thanks for coming.” Colby gestured toward a chair and moved the bud vase aside before Gentry could break it with her purse. “Let’s talk.”
“Oh, joy.” Gentry plopped onto a chair and stretched out her hand, offering Colby the floor.
“First—and this is not me smoothing things over to avoid conflict—I’m sorry about lashing out. You’re my sister and I love you, even when we don’t agree. I want us to be closer, which is why I asked you to work with me in the first place.”
Gentry shook her head. “Dad asked you to hire me. It wasn’t your idea.”
“Dad suggested it; it was my choice. I thought it was working out well, too. So, do you really want to quit, or did you just say that in the heat of the moment?”
Gentry chewed on the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Despite her expensive jewelry and couture wardrobe, she looked terribly young. Young and lost.
“I’d like you to stick around, but I won’t beg.” Colby added, thinking it might prompt a response.
“Fine. I’ll come back.” Gentry then tapped her fingernails on the chair. “And I’m sorry I insulted you, too. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about being too nice.”
Colby let the “too nice” remark slide. Things with Alec had left her optimistic, which went a long way toward making her feel magnanimous.
“Great. Next, Alec and I are starting a charitable foundation in Mark’s and Joe’s names. Would you be interested in helping? I’ve asked Sara, my mother, and Mrs. Morgan to meet today to start planning our first fund-raiser. We could use some help spreading the word.”
“Hold on.” Gentry edged to the front of her seat, expression tight with frustration. “Yesterday you said your marriage sucked. Now you’re telling me you’re going to canonize the cheater?”
“Gentry, I shared that with you in confidence, so I hope you won’t throw it in my face or tell others. And I didn’t say my marriage sucked. I said it was troubled. We had challenges, and I was unhappy toward the end. But my marriage began with love, and it ended, in part, because I gave up on Mark. I’m starting this foundation to heal, and to help the Morgan family heal.”
Her sister sat back in the chair, shaking her head. “I don’t understand you, Colby. Honestly, I don’t.”
“I could say the same to you. You’re young, beautiful, and you’ve been given every advantage, yet you hold on to grudges and anger.” Colby wanted to reach across the desk and shake her. “Don’t you get tired?”
Gentry lowered her gaze. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
Finally! A small step toward honesty. Colby would take it and run. “Perhaps working with this foundation can help you, too.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Gentry slouched.
“So you don’t want to be involved?”
“I’ll help. Just don’t expect miracles, that’s all.” She sat up and clapped her hands together, clearly ready to change the subject. “In other news, I heard through the grapevine that the Trib’s restaurant critic will be here the last Saturday of this month.”
Colby stilled, wishing there were no such things as restaurant critics, James Beard Awards, and Michelin Guides. Reading about how so many master chefs’ lives were destroyed because of an unhealthy obsession with those accolades had increased her concern for Alec’s mental state. Didn’t he realize that he was more than a chef? He was a son, a friend, a lover—all of which were more meaningful than anonymous critics’ ratings. “Do you know that for sure?”
“No. It’s a rumor, but a fairly reliable one, I think.”
“The timing’s not great.”
“Why not?”
“We’re telling the staff about our relationship tomorrow. I’d rather not have that coincide with Alec becoming more demanding, which will happen if he’s focused on that information.” She tapped her pencil on the desk and thought.
“Why do you have to tell the staff about your sex life? It isn’t anyone’s business.”
“It’s not just sex,” Colby corrected. “And this affects them. They might not feel comfortable coming to me with complaints if they think I’m biased. I need to reassure them.”
“Have they come to you yet?” Gentry pulled a face.
“No, but I think it’s because I hold daily meetings where Alec and I offer positive feedback to counterbalance his criticism.”
Gentry chuckled. “See? Too nice.”
“Smart, actually. I want people to be happy here. I don’t want high turnover or employee lawsuits. Raising Alec’s anxiety based on a rumor could be a mistake with a potentially wide ripple effect. Get me confirmation, then I’ll tell.”
“I’ll never get that. It’s unethical.”
Colby considered the pressure Alec was already under with his dad, and thought about the staff. “Alec says he treats each dish as if it were being served to a reviewer, anyhow. No need to spread rumors and have him fixate on a date that might not be real. It could also backfire if the staff thinks they have that much time to prepare and the critic shows up sooner.” Colby felt 90 percent sure this was the right decision. “Let’s get back to the foundation. Everyone will be here in ten minutes. Can you stay?”
“Did you leave my mom out on purpose?” Gentry smiled, taking too much delight in the perceived slight.
“Your mom has a full-time job. I didn’t ask her, Dad, or Hunter for help.”
“You have a full-time job, too.”
“It’s my foundation. Mine and Alec’s.” Keeping Alec involved with the foundation would remind him of the world outside his kitchen. She tuned out the fact that such maneuvering was eerily similar to how she’d managed Mark’s moods. “Actually, it was his idea.”
“How cuuuuute,” Gentry teased. “You work together here. Now you have a foundation. And you get to have sex with the hot chef. Tell me, which is the best part?”
“Stop.” Warmth flooded Colby’s cheeks.
“Oh, come on. Tell me something juicy. I bet he’s even hotter naked. He’s got a cute butt, and those scars on his hands are sexy. Jake doesn’t get scars from the cart. Well, except one steam burn on his forearm.”
Colby barely heard the stuff about Jake because her thoughts had latched onto her first comment. “Quit looking at Alec’s butt!”
“Just sayin’.” Her sister shrugged.
As if conjured by Gentry’s curiosity, Alec entered the room. Gentry leaned back in her chair and made a show of eyeing Alec’s butt. He glanced at her and then at his butt. “Did I sit in something?”
“Nope.” Gentry grinned. “Just proving a point to my sister.”
“Do I want to know?” he asked Colby, and she shook her head. He smiled at Gentry, then turned back to Colby. “My mom’s here. I’ll go throw together a snack for the table. I assume your mom and Sara will arrive soon.”
“They’d better if they don’t want to get on her bad side.” Gentry hooked a thumb at Colby.
“That’s never made a difference to you,” Colby rejoined.
“I like to live dangerously,” Gentry snickered before leaning back to ogle Alec’s butt again.
With that, Alec beat a hasty exit. “See you out there.”
He disappeared and Gentry grinned. “This’ll be fun.”
Fun—her sister’s only goal in life. “Gentry, can I give you a word of sisterly advice?”
“Like I can stop you.”
“Spend less time teasing me and complaining about your parents, and more time figuring out who you want to be when you grow up.
” Colby watched for any glimpse of the candor with which they’d begun today’s conversation, but that moment had been an anomaly.
“Who says I want to grow up? You all make it look tedious.” Gentry shot to her feet, necklaces clinking. “I’ll meet you out there after a stop at the ladies’ room.” With that, she strutted from the office, dismissing Colby and her advice.
Colby drew a deep breath, steeling herself to work with Mrs. Morgan and her mom. Thank God, Sara would be there. Of course, last night Sara had been rather worked up, too. Why did it seem like everyone else was falling apart just as Colby’s life seemed to be coming together?
In the dining room, Mrs. Morgan was checking her phone.
“Good morning.” Colby crossed to join her at the table. “Thank you so much for helping. We can really use your experience.”
“I’m happy to be involved, for both of my sons.”
Talking about Joe jarred Colby, especially because she and Mrs. Morgan hadn’t done so since he died. Now wasn’t the time for Joe stories, though maybe one day they might laugh and cry about him together.
“Your support means a lot to Alec.” Colby smiled. “This is his brainchild.”
“He told me.” Mrs. Morgan had never been effusive, Colby reminded herself. The woman sat now with a polite smile, obviously as apprehensive as Colby. “Have you decided on a name?”
“No. I was thinking we’d keep it simple. Perhaps the Morgan-Baxter Foundation?” She’d intentionally put Joe’s name first.
Mrs. Morgan nodded but didn’t appear enthused. “Didn’t those two refer to themselves as the mavericks?”
A crystal-clear memory of Joe and Mark emerged. Young, handsome faces burnished by the sun. Broad smiles and laughter while they stuffed backpacks in her living room. They’d been drinking beer and planning their first weekend-long mountain-bike excursion. Joe had wanted to attack the more extreme trails of Black Rock Mountain, while Mark had voted for the scenic beauty of McKenzie River Trail. “We can’t be mavericks if we’re sightseeing like pussies!” Joe barked. Mark had caved, and they went to Black Rock. Ever after, they’d referred to themselves as the mavericks.
“Colby?” Mrs. Morgan asked, reaching across the table to jar Colby back to the present.