“I know it’s not that simple. I’m just wondering . . . wishing your dreams . . .” Her voice trailed off. She raked her hands through her hair and shook her head as if she could shake away her doubts. “Never mind. If you need awards to feel successful, then I’ll do whatever I can to help you get them.”
“Don’t diminish those awards. Athletes train for the Olympics to win medals. Actors vie for Oscar nods. Musicians yearn for Grammys. I earned that James Beard Award, and it was as important in my profession as any of those others.”
“This is all coming out wrong. I only want you to be happy.” Her voice dropped. “You got so depressed after losing Une Bouchée . . . you took off for months.”
“I was depressed, but not just because of the restaurant. It was everything with Joe.” He stopped talking before Mark’s name fell from his mouth.
“I’ve been reading about chefs who get obsessed with their ratings, like Chef Violier or the old speculation surrounding Chef Loiseau . . .”
“Suicide?” He scoffed without thinking. When her eyes got misty, he felt like a shit. Suicide would never be outside the realm of possibility in her mind. Softening his tone, he said, “Colby, I’m not them, or Mark. I swear I’d never do that. Not to you or my mother.”
“Let’s drop it, okay.” She smiled weakly and poured a pint of syrup on her plate. She smothered her pancakes in butter and sliced them into uniform, bite-size pieces. Despite the bacon she inhaled and strawberry she dipped in her syrup—normal behavior for her—he saw her retreating. Felt a distance that hadn’t been there earlier.
Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand in his and squeezed. “Remember, in the balloon, we talked about unlimited possibilities? That’s what we can have. I want recognition, I want my family to be happier again, and I want you. I’m going to make all three of those things happen. And as long as you’re by my side, everything is possible.”
She sucked down her orange juice before responding. “Everything except for my ideas about the menu, right? I still think we could introduce one or two new menu items for the common palate. For people like me, who like burgers and bacon.”
Burgers and bacon? Good God, how did she expect him to make that work? If A CertainTea were his, he wouldn’t have to entertain this discussion. Wishful thinking didn’t help, though. It wasn’t his restaurant. It was hers, which meant he couldn’t ignore her wishes.
“Alec?”
Her voice yanked him back to the filthy diner, where she, oddly, looked perfectly comfortable. “I’ll give some thought to an item or two that aren’t strictly haute cuisine.”
A grateful syrup-glossed smile stretched across her face. “You’ll see. People will love that!”
In that moment, he didn’t care about what other people loved. Only that she might come to love him.
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re a miracle worker, Julie. If Alec and I didn’t work weekends, I’d bid on this hotel-and-spa package in Cannon Beach.” Colby scanned the list of silent-auction items Alec’s mom had accumulated in a few weeks’ time. When Joe had been alive, Colby and Julie had routinely greeted each other with a hug. Now Julie kept her hands safely clasped together, warding off contact. “Come sit. Everyone else will be here soon.”
“Actually, I came early because I hoped we could talk.” Julie’s sober expression sent up a red flag.
Had Alec hidden something more from Colby? Had his father gotten drunk again? Or was it something related to another compromise Alec had made for her? The tea-braised double-fried chicken he’d added to the menu this past week had drawn positive reviews from a few customers, but she’d been suspecting Alec still hated the concept.
“Oh?” Colby braced herself.
“I want to apologize for my cool attitude toward you these past two years. I don’t hold you responsible for what happened to Joe.”
Colby held her breath, waiting for the flood of relief she expected from the absolution. She and Julie silently stared at each other while the harsh truth settled in. No pardon would bring Joe back or fill the void he’d left behind.
Colby swallowed the lump in her throat, steadying herself by clutching the back of a dining chair, her nails biting into the velvety fabric. “Please don’t apologize. I understand. I still blame myself sometimes. I loved Joe. I miss him. And I hate how rash he and Mark were that day.”
Through her own blurry vision, Colby saw ocean-deep pain in the pool of tears shining in Julie’s eyes.
The woman’s voice emerged hollow and cracked. “Every once in a while, I wake up and forget, for just a second, that Joe’s gone. When it hits me, the pain’s so fresh. I hate those mornings almost as much as I hate waking from dreams where Joe’s still with us. But I can’t live every day holding on to grief.” She dabbed the corner of her eye and cleared her throat. “Now Alec’s back, and I’ll do anything to keep him here. Thank you for giving him this job, and for giving him a special place in your life. He’s had a spring in his step these past few weeks.”
Colby’s chest filled with satisfaction. She couldn’t claim Alec struck her like a thunderbolt, considering how long she’d known him. But even though she’d been taking things slower so as not to repeat her past mistakes, she couldn’t deny being smitten.
“Thank you for raising such a considerate, loving man. Alec’s special.” It dawned on Colby that the second anniversary of Mark’s suicide was on the horizon. She hadn’t visited his grave in weeks—the longest stretch since he’d died. A twinge of guilt nipped at her conscience, but she resisted the urge to twist her wedding band in front of Alec’s mother.
“Is he in the kitchen?” Julie asked, having reclaimed her composure.
“No. He went to Oregon Blues for berries, and then maybe to the lavender farm, too. He had some idea for a special he wants to test-prep today.”
Before Julie replied, Colby’s mother breezed through the door, waving a sheet of paper. “I got Harrington’s to donate pavé diamond earrings!”
“That’s excellent, Leslie,” Julie praised.
Colby contrasted Julie’s refined bob and conservative navy dress to her mom’s unkempt wavy locks, flowing pants, and frenzied persona. They were a female Odd Couple, yet they worked well together.
“Fantastic, Mom,” Colby said just as Todd strolled in, briefcase in hand, and smiled at her. She’d grown accustomed to chef coats, so Todd’s pinstripe suit caught her unawares. What different life and work environments she now had.
“Three lovely ladies and more to come.” He shook hands with her mom and Julie before greeting Colby with a slight hug. “This will definitely be my favorite board appointment.”
“Thanks for squeezing us in today,” Colby said.
“I brought more paperwork for you to sign.” He raised his briefcase.
“Perfect.” She then informed her mother and Julie, “I’m kicking in five thousand dollars to get the fund started.”
“There goes my garden’s stone fence,” her mother sighed.
“Mom.”
“I’m kidding.” She sniffed.