A beat of silence passed, and the air grew still.
Gabe gestured to Em and Michael. “You guys voted against us? My own cousin? Em?” he said, feigning outrage.
Michael wrapped an arm around Em. “Hey! I just had a baby. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Em cocked her head to the side. “You had a baby?”
Michael took his wife’s hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “My amazing wife delivered our baby. However, under the circumstances, I was in no state to enter into a contract.”
“Always a lawyer,” Nick and Gabe said at the same time then broke out into laughter.
“And if you were wondering,” Monica said. “The babies were wonderful.”
“I can tell how wonderful by the state of Gabe’s shirt,” Em said. “How many times did he spit up on you.”
Gabe gave her a sheepish grin. “Too many to count.”
The timer went off, and Gabe pulled the bubbling macaroni and cheese masterpiece out of the oven.
Em, Michael, and Nick gathered around Gabe as he described the dish, but Lindsey hung back.
“Sometimes, I can’t believe how lucky I am to be here. I’m so glad our paths crossed again, Monica.”
That sliver was back, needling its way into her heart. Could she have it all? Friends, love, a life running the bakery? She glanced at Gabe. “Me, too. It’s so good it almost feels unreal.”
“I’m glad we decided to walk home. I don’t think I’ve ever been this full,” Monica said, lacing her fingers with Gabe’s.
They had stayed at the Kincade’s to enjoy some of Gabe’s gourmet macaroni and cheese, but just after they finished up eating, the babies woke, and their impromptu late-night snack with friends was cut short.
“I wouldn’t have made it through tonight without you,” he said.
They turned onto Mulberry Drive, and Monica stopped. The bakery had just come into view, and a man stood at the door. As they got closer, she recognized him.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening. A chill passed through her. “Agent Glenn, what brings you here?”
It had been well over a month since his visit. With all the commotion of planning the festival, running the bakery, and nights spent tangled in bed with Gabe, she hadn’t even thought of her life in California. She’d settled into a rhythm here in Langley Park. That part of her life didn’t even seem real.
“I apologize for the late hour. Do you have a moment to chat?”
“Is something wrong? Did you get a break in the case?” Gabe asked.
“I have a few questions for Miss Brandt. It won’t take long.”
Monica retrieved her keys and opened the door. “Of course, come in.”
The man followed her to the work table. She sat down, and agent Glenn settled himself across from her, just like he had the first time he’d come here. A disorienting sense of déjà vu took over. She gripped the table.
The agent glanced at her hand. “I didn’t come here to frighten you, Miss Brandt.”
Gabe took her hand. “Has there been a break in the case.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Glenn answered.
Relief washed over her. “Do you know what happened that night in Portola Valley? Were you able to catch that cyber-criminal?”
“There’s been a possible sighting of Alexsey Strazds.”
Her relief switched to fear. “He’s not dead? He wasn’t the one who was shot?”
“Where was the sighting?” Gabe asked.
“New York. But the intelligence came in a few days ago. He could be halfway across the world by now—if it even was him. We’ve had plenty of false sightings. I just got the call tonight.”
“Then why are you here, Agent Glenn?” she asked.
“It’s just a precaution. I wanted to see if you noticed anyone hanging around or saw someone that resembled Alexsey.”
“You could have called,” Gabe countered.
Agent Glenn smiled. “The FBI always prefers a face-to-face visit. Believe me; I hate to bother you. Have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary?”
She looked at Gabe. He shook his head. “No, Agent Glenn, I haven’t noticed anyone.”
Glenn nodded. “Do you still have my card?”
“Yes, it’s in the office,” she answered.
He handed a card to Gabe. “Here’s one for you, too. If anything seems out of the ordinary, call. Even if it seems like nothing.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Do you know if the person I heard get shot made it?”
Glenn crossed his arms. “That’s the other reason I’m here. The FBI believes they’ve got records from a Russian hospital from when Alexsey had his tonsils removed when he was a child.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Gabe asked.
“We believe we know his blood type. The team found trace amounts of blood in the pool house. But it wasn’t a match for Alexsey.”
“But they know someone was shot, right?” Monica asked.
The agent drummed his fingers on the table. “Besides a trace amount of blood, there’s no indication that anyone was shot.”
“I know what I heard, Agent Glenn. It was a gunshot. A sharp pop.”
“And I believe you, Miss Brandt. But right now, you’re the only link between Alexsey Strazds and a possible shooting.”
Gabe squeezed her hand. “Is Monica in danger?”
“There’s no indication anyone is targeting Miss Brandt, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t come to you with this new information.”
“What do I do, now?” she asked.
The agent stood. “Keep on living your life, but let us know if anything seems out of the ordinary.”
Ordinary?
Her life had ceased being ordinary the minute she entered that party. She thought of Lindsey’s words: It just took some difficult twists and turns for us to get here. Was this the universe’s way of making her pay for leaving Gabe? Is this what she had to endure in return for having him back in her life?
Gabe shook the agent’s hand, and they walked him to the door. Monica locked the door behind him and rested her head on the glass. “Am I crazy, Gabe? I know I heard a gunshot. I know I saw blood.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re not crazy, Mon. Maybe it wasn’t a gun you heard?”
She turned to meet his gaze. “What about the blood?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Mon.”
22
“Do I have to wear this?” Gabe looked at himself in the mirror. He’d never—ever—considered wearing leather shorts.
“The lederhosen?” Monica called from the bathroom.
“Yes, the lederhosen,” he answered, pulling up the suspenders of the traditional, Bavarian clothing.
Oktoberfest was here.
It had been a week since Agent Glenn’s late-night visit. Monica had been upset. She’d barely slept that night, but the sheer amount of planning and loose ends that needed to be tied up this week had been a blessing. Instead of worrying about some cybercriminal who may or may not be in the United States, they’d visited vendors and sponsors, picked up the tents, and secured the final permits—all on top of running the bakery.
Monica walked out of the bathroom, and his jaw dropped. He would wear leather shorts any damned day if it meant she would dress like that.
“What do you think of my dirndl?” she asked, tying an elastic band around the end of her braided hair.
Holy fuck!
Once the clothing of German peasants, the dirndl consisted of a low-cut blouse with puffy sleeves and a lace-up bodice. A beautifully embroidered skirt with delicate sunflower stitching hit above her knee. And below that, fucking knee socks. The same kind she used to wear with her Sacred Heart uniform.
She looked like the Bavarian barmaid of every guy’s wet dream.
“I didn’t think it could get any better than seeing you in your school uniform.”
She r
aked his body with her gaze and licked her lips. “I didn’t think it could get any better than seeing you in your chef’s coat. But this!” She ran her fingers down the length of his suspenders. “This is sexy.”
Leather shorts weren’t feeling so ridiculous after all.
He slid his hands down the length of her bodice. “I don’t know how I’m going to cook all day watching you run around in that.”
“You’ll survive,” she said with a wicked grin.
He was about to kiss her when a humming noise emanated from her chest.
“You’re vibrating. Please, tell me that’s part of the costume.”
She gave him a wink, reached past her bosom, and retrieved her phone. “There’s nowhere else to put it. I’ve already accidentally dialed Lindsey three times while I was in the bathroom.” She held the cell phone to her ear. “Hey, Zoe, we’ll be right down.”
He glanced at his watch. “Zoe’s here already?”
“Yep, she’s just pulling up. Why did you want her to come today? I thought we were done with the KPR spots?”
“I thought of one more thing we could talk about before all the festivities got underway.”
“Are you going to clue me in?” she asked as she tied the bow around her waist.
“Nope.”
“Nope?” she repeated.
“It’s a surprise.” The idea had come to him a few weeks ago when they were making a delivery to the hospital. He’d shared his idea with Zoe, and she was game to keep it a secret.
“Hey, guys! I’m here!” Zoe called from downstairs in the bakery. “Your grandmother said I had to wear this crazy contraption of a dirndl dress. Don’t make me come up there. I had a hard enough time driving over in the damned thing.”
They entered the bakery to find Zoe adjusting her bosom. She looked up and stared at Monica’s ample chest. “How do you get yours to do that?”
“My cell phone is in there. It pushes everything up.”
Zoe cocked her head. “Smart! Way to go using that German ingenuity.”
“Is everything ready?” Gabe asked.
Zoe looked at her phone. “We have a few minutes. Monica, help me tie this thing. I can’t remember the rules for the bow.”
“If you tie it on the left, you’re single,” Monica said and gestured to her bow. “Tying it on the right means you’re taken and tying it in the back means you’re serving.”
“Left it is,” Zoe said with a tight smile.
The door to the bakery opened, and a woman entered.
Monica finished tying Zoe’s bow, glanced up, and gasped.
Gabe stepped forward and shook the woman’s hand. “Hello, Mrs. Garza, thank you for coming,” he said, greeting Vanessa’s mother.
He had brought up the idea of donating to the American Transplant Foundation with his brother and Zoe, but he wanted to surprise Monica.
Monica hugged the woman. “It’s so good to see you. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of Vanessa.”
The woman nodded and ran the tip of her finger over one of the embroidered sunflowers on Monica’s dirndl. “Vanessa would have loved to have seen you in another sunflower dress.”
“They were her favorite,” Monica said, brushing away a tear.
Gabe put a hand on her back. “Mon, I invited Mrs. Garza because she does quite a bit of volunteering with the American Organ Transplant Association.”
The woman nodded. “We provide free transportation to patients to and from the transplant center. Many people have to travel hundreds even thousands of miles, and the costs can be significant for families. This is my way of honoring Vanessa’s life.”
“That’s wonderful! It sounds like you’re doing amazing work. I’m so happy to see you, but what brings you here today?” Monica asked.
“Why don’t you tell her, Gabe,” Mrs. Garza said.
He took Monica’s hand. “We’re going to donate a portion of the funds raised at the festival to the association in Vanessa’s name.”
Another tear trailed down Monica’s cheek. “This is the best surprise. Thank you.”
Zoe joined them and introduced herself to Mrs. Garza. He took a step back while Zoe held out a recording device and asked the women a few questions about organ transplants and the association. A few minutes in, Sam appeared at the door.
Zoe stopped recording and propped the door open.
“We’ve got to go!” he said, adjusting his lederhosen. “It’s almost time to tap the keg and get Langley Park’s first Oktoberfest started!”
“I better be off, too,” Mrs. Garza said.
Monica embraced her. “I hope you’ll stop by the festival.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said with a teary smile and left the shop.
Sam shifted the keg. “Come on, people. The keg is not going to tap itself.”
“Oh, hush, you! You’ll get your lederhosen all in a twist,” Zoe said and headed out the door.
“Hold on,” Gabe said. He untied Monica’s bow.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He slid the ribbon to her other side and tied a new bow. “Tying it on the right means you’re taken, correct?”
She nodded. “It does.”
“Good,” he said, holding the gaze of the woman he had loved since he was a boy. “Because you are.”
The rhythmic beat of the oompah music carried through the gardens under fluttering blue and white Bavarian flags. The deep brass tones combined with the jovial notes of the clarinet had the festival goers linking arms and swaying back and forth as they sat at tables in long rows. Vases of sunflowers, a nod to Langley Park, added a bright punch of golden-yellow to the tent.
The beer was flowing. Groups of people were gathering around tree stumps to test their skill at the nail and hammer game, Hammerschlagen. Children skipped through the tents wearing yarn necklaces with pretzels hanging off of them, and Gabe was cooking.
The Park Tavern tent featured traditional German beers as well as a complete menu of Bavarian delights. The entire staff was working the event, and he was in his element. His crew operated like a well-oiled culinary machine. Bratwurst and red cabbage, roasted pork, grilled fish on a stick, and bread dumplings gave off an intoxicating aroma.
Mise en place was in the house, and the air was electric with the celebration.
“Hey,” Sam said. His brother and a team of bartenders were running the beer stand. Not a small task at an event whose focus was beer.
“What’s up? Are you running low on something?” he asked, slipping his knife back into his chef’s belt.
“No, that’s all good. It’s something else. One of the vendors of the children’s activities just told me there was an issue with their final payment.”
“Oh, yeah? What is it?” Gabe asked and nodded when one of his line cooks held up a tray of pigs in the blanket.
Sam frowned. “There wasn’t one.”
Gabe crossed his arms. “Courtney Vanderkamp said her foundation was going to pay for all that, right?”
“Yep.”
“I know she’s here. I saw her earlier. I’m sure it’s just a mix-up or something. If I see her, I’ll ask.”
Sam’s face lit up.
“Is that her?” Gabe turned.
It wasn’t Courtney. It was Oma.
Monica walked hand in hand with her grandmother. Mr. Collier followed a step behind, grinning ear to ear. Gabe had never seen Oma like this. Wide-eyed, she gazed around the tent as people clinked beer steins and shouted, “Probst,” the German equivalent of “Cheers!”
Oma stopped and assessed his makeshift kitchen. “Very organized. Very orderly, Gabriel.”
He nodded and gestured to the tent. “Is it like you remember, Oma?”
She glanced around. “In some ways, yes. The music. The smell of the food. The voices. The laughter. But what you and Monica, and Sam, and Zoe have done is make it personal to Langley Park. The sunflowers, the local merchants, the neighbors coming together celebrating. This
is what I loved about Oktoberfest in Munich. Thanks to your hard work, now I get to experience it in Langley Park. There is no greater gift you could have given me.”
“Oma, are you going to cry?” Monica asked, brushing away a tear.
“Of course not,” she said, lifting her chin.
He shared a knowing look with Monica. They’d done well. To please Gerda Becker was the highest compliment he could have asked for.
Oma cleared her throat. “Gabriel, the heat is too high on the fish. It will be dry.”
He smiled. This was the oma he remembered. The woman who taught him the importance of precision, timing, and attention to task. The woman who showed him food was meant to be experienced not just consumed. The woman who took a chance on him and changed the trajectory of his life.
“I’m going to get Oma and Mr. Collier settled,” Monica said, eyes shining.
He’d cooked for grand events, won prestigious awards, but none of it held a candle to how it felt to do this with her. Monica glanced back at him, and he patted his mise en place tattoo. Everything was in place. She was his order. She was his balance. She was his measure of love, happiness, and home.
Monica, Oma, and Mr. Collier disappeared into the crowd. He released a breath and put on his game face. He needed to check on the kraut but froze when a high-pitched squeak caught his attention. He turned around to find a smiling woman with a sunflower in her hair clutching his cookbook to her chest.
“I realize you’re busy, chef. I just wanted to tell you I’m a huge fan.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I love your recipes. My husband does, too. He’ll be over in a second.”
A man weaved his way through the growing crowd carrying two steins of beer.
Gabe did a double-take. “Agent Glenn?”
“It’s just Wesley today. I’m off the clock. This is my wife, Lena. I think I mentioned to you that she’s a big fan of yours.”
“Huge fan,” Lena corrected.
“Would you like me to sign your book?”
The woman handed him the cookbook, and he scribbled his signature.
“Will you be back on television soon?” she asked.
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 103