She and Alec stood in the entry, watching Hunter leave as if he were a life raft wrenched from their hands.
Her brother’s absence let the elephant otherwise known as Joe stampede into the room. He’d always be there between them, as would Mark. But given today’s anniversary in particular, Joe loomed large. Should she say something? No. Better to say nothing than risk saying the wrong thing.
“Guess you’re eager to see the kitchen?” Colby smiled, determined to tiptoe across the eggshells.
“Sure. Let’s start there.” As he followed her through the dining room, he asked, “Who planned it?”
“The architect.” She halted, curious as to why this would matter.
He stopped short of walking into her. “Not the chef?”
“No. But the architect had designed other restaurants, so he knew what he was doing.” She flashed a reassuring smile, although the quirk of tension in his face told her he doubted it. Great. Reclaiming her peace of mind when forced to work with—and rely on—another demanding personality would be challenging.
“We’ll soon find out.” Alec shoved his hands in his pants pockets. For an instant he resembled the old friend who’d done that quite frequently. The one she’d liked and trusted so well.
“Hopefully it meets your needs.” Pushing open the door to reveal a gleaming, stainless-steel kitchen, Colby risked a glance at Alec, in time to note the first sign of his approval. To her eyes, the place looked as sterile and unwelcoming as an operating room. But Alec’s expression matched that of a father who’d just caught his first glimpse of his newborn.
She watched him disappear into another world, one in which she ceased to exist. Lovingly, he ran his hand along a prep counter. He knelt down to inspect the various bowls, bins, and other utensils before standing and handling a sauté pan. Utterly rapt.
Having never quite found her life’s true passion, Colby envied his. To her, A CertainTea offered a new beginning, but it didn’t stir her soul.
Alec milled around the kitchen, occasionally stopping to turn one way or another, as if envisioning people working there, checking on the functionality of the space. With each step, his posture relaxed. The lines between his brows faded, and he let out a satisfied sigh, like that of a man who’d come home after a long journey.
His transformation unlocked a piece of her guarded heart. She almost said something, but then he wandered into the walk-in refrigerator and the moment was lost.
Maybe her qualms about working with a living, breathing reminder of the past had overshadowed the merits of her brother’s decision. Reconnecting with Alec might not only be the best thing for the restaurant, it might also help restore a friendship. Given the way she’d retreated from the world in recent years, she could use a friend.
Alec stepped out of the refrigerator, smiling. Not the old smile she remembered—that slightly shy but sincere one. This smile, more of a grin, really, at least was genuine. The first genuinely happy expression she’d seen him wear in two years.
Of course, that thought reminded her of the date. Of the death. Of that damn elephant she didn’t know how to tame.
“It’s a five-star kitchen, Colby.”
Validation from an award-winning chef. Not bad for a first try. She grinned. “Thank you. Have we missed anything?”
“Nothing material. I might’ve planned a slightly different layout for the lines, but this should work fine. I’ll do an inventory with the kitchen staff on my own. No need to waste your time with that.” His hands found their way back into his pockets, which made her grin expand. “What?”
“Nothing.” God, it felt good to relax a little. To feel, even temporarily, like they were the friends they’d been before the tragedies. So what if he was pretending for the sake of keeping this job? The old “fake it till you make it” concept worked for her.
“Oh, it’s something.” He shrugged. “Sure you won’t share? You used to tell me lots of things.”
“That I did.” Of course, that was before.
After high school, Alec had taken off for the Culinary Institute of America in New York, and from there, to Europe. By the time he’d returned to Oregon, she’d married Mark and embarked on a new legal career. She’d learned to keep secrets by that point.
Mark had demanded his diagnosis remain private so that people didn’t whisper and wonder. Only Colby’s mother had had any inkling of the truth. Amid Colby’s swirling thoughts, she led Alec back to the dining hall. The next thing she knew, she’d tripped and landed splayed across the floor.
“Are you hurt?” Alec knelt beside her, one hand hovering above her shoulder, concern in his eyes.
Pushing up to a sitting position, she tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Only my pride.”
He didn’t move except for the quirk of his lips.
“Laughing at me?” Colby asked, heat flooding her cheeks.
“No.” He lost the battle against smiling. “But it’s nice to be the graceful one for a change.”
He’d always been a bit self-deprecating, and she had always been the more athletic one.
Suddenly the chaotic emotions of her morning converged, forcing an exhausted snicker. Quiet at first, until she broke into a full-blown fit of giggles. The more she tried stifling them, the worse they got. Partway through her outburst, Alec chuckled, too, and a hint of warmth crept into his eyes—his lovely, kind eyes.
Once her laughter died down, Alec motioned for her hand. “Up you go.”
When she placed her hand in his, he grasped it firmly and tugged her upright. They held hands in silence as if unwilling to let go of the brief moment of levity, which rose above the clouds like a kite.
When she eased free from his grip, Alec widened his stance and crossed his arms, resuming their business discussion. “Did the former chef hire the staff?”
This she remembered about him—efficient, driven, guided by logic. He hadn’t often been one to goof off. Not like her and Joe. Of course, the last time she’d goofed off was probably three or four years ago—a pathetic admission.
“For the most part. When would you like to start working with them?” Colby fidgeted under his scrutiny. That chestnut cowlick flopped over his forehead in a way that made her want to reach up to touch it. That inappropriate urge skittered through her body until it hit her stomach and fluttered.
“Immediately. We’ve a lot to accomplish.” Alec glanced around the dining hall again, his eyes focused. She could tell he was picturing the place in action. “Did you plan a soft opening the week before we open to the public? Invite your family? Some friends and colleagues?”
“Yes.” She and the former chef had planned one. “It seemed like a good idea.”
He grinned at her as if she were a child just learning to read. “Trust me, it’s necessary. I assume you’ve hired a qualified waitstaff?”
“Of course.”