“Julieta, are you here?” Carlos unlocked the basement door. The site of his impish smile brought a rush of blood to my head.
“I’m baking away,” I called in return.
He took off his coat and moved with style toward me. I noticed a large envelope tucked under his arm. The other held a bottle of wine from Uva. “Would you like a glass?” He rested the envelope on the marble decorating station and held up the wine.
“Sure.” My hands were coated in flour. I brushed them on my apron and reached for baking spray. “How was Uva today? Anything eventful?”
Carlos expertly twisted the cork out of the bottle. He poured us two glasses of the burgundy wine. “No. Not so much. We had visitors from New Zealand and South Africa.”
Ashland had a presence on the global stage thanks to OSF. It wasn’t unusual to hear a variety of international languages spoken in the plaza. Theater lovers ventured to our tucked-away corner for Shakespeare. They stayed to experience the Rogue Valley’s lush wine and outdoor culture.
“I’m sure you loved that,” I said, coating baking pans with nonstick spray.
“Si. We talked so much about our travels and of course the food. I have a new recipe for a South African stew that we must try.” He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his khaki slacks. “I wrote it down exactly as they told me; their grandmother made this dish.”
“You won’t get any resistance from me.” I spread the pitch-black batter into eight-inch rounds.
Carlos walked over to hand me a glass of wine. He swiped a taste of the batter with his finger. “It is very good. Very dark, no?”
“That’s the goal.” I told him about Sterling’s plan.
“Ah, young love.” He raised his wineglass. “To the young lovers who set the world on fire. We were like that once, you remember?”
His eyes were full of emotion.
“I do.” I fought against the warring sides of me. What was holding me back from fully embracing having Carlos here? Was it that I had changed? Or was it that I was scared?
“We were lucky to have had a life together on the sea. How many places have we seen? How many sunsets have we stood watching as the sun dropped below the horizon? How many times have we sipped espresso under a scarlet pink sunrise?”
“Not as many sunrises for you as sunsets,” I teased.
It was true that we had had a charmed life floating on calm waters. Busy ports of call, crowded farmers markets, empty black sand beaches—we’d seen so many places that I had never dreamed of visiting. I could almost feel the ocean breeze on the back of my neck and taste the salty air.
But, then again, the reality of our day-to-day life on the Amour of the Seas wasn’t quite the glossy picture that Carlos or my memories tried to paint. That was the thing about memories, they couldn’t always be trusted. With a bit of distance we tend to toss out the less glamorous pieces of our past and hold onto the more pleasant parts.
Yes, the ship was romantic and full of opportunity for adventures. It was also arduous work with long, grueling hours in ship’s kitchens. It was an unrelenting churn of pastries, cakes, éclairs, and custards. There was little rest. Most nights I stumbled to bed with blisters on my heels and aching fingers from molding fondant and pressing cookies by the hundreds. I suppose if I had learned anything being away from the ship it was that both were true. It was an experience for the ages and it was exhausting.
Being in Ashland had taught me the importance of relationships and community. Seeing friends and neighbors in the bakeshop enjoying what we were crafting with love every day was the most rewarding part of the job. Yes, running a small business came with long hours and stress, but it was a different kind of stress. I knew that, ultimately, I was the captain of my ship. I could steer Torte in any direction.
“That is unfair. I had no choice. My shift it did not end until after midnight.” He pretended to be hurt.
“I know.” I slid the cakes into the oven. Then I took a sip of my wine. “Be honest, Carlos, do you miss it?”
“Ah, not so much.” He caught my eye. “Okay, maybe I miss the hum of the kitchen and the intensity of getting dinner out to the guests on time.”
“I understand. What else?”
“I miss the rhythm of the sea. I have not slept on land for so long. My sleep, it is not as good, but I’m sure my body will learn.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“There is that flow of being in motion, like the sea is still beneath me, and of so many moving parts on the ship. It is like a conductor bringing every instrument into perfect tone. That melody. That song of the sea. It becomes part of you, no?” He stopped himself. “No, no. Don’t look at me with those sad eyes, mi querida. I did not mean that I’m not happy with you. I am. I will do anything to be together with you. You asked about the sea, that’s all.”
I put my wine down. Then I moved closer and rested my head on his shoulder. “Carlos, this isn’t going to work. I can’t keep you here. I know that you’ll do anything for our relationship. I love that about you. I love you—deeply, madly, and because I love you, it’s clear that it’s time we set each other free.”
His hand clutched my head. “No, mi querida. We have a chance to make this work.”
“We did. We tried.” I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. “It’s okay. This time apart has taught me that we both know who we are at our core and who we’re meant to be. I can’t thank you enough for trying. There’s no doubt in my mind that you would stay for me, but I can’t live with that. This place, it’s small, Carlos. It’s not intense. It’s not frenzied and moving. It’s solid and stable. It’s like us. I need to be grounded in one place. You need change and the energy of somewhere new.”
“Julieta, you don’t understand. I am happy. Very happy.” His eyes filled with tears.
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “We were lucky. You were right about that. We still are. If we end this now, we can end as friends.”
“Julieta.” He leaned in and kissed me slowly. “I love you.”
I returned his kiss. Sadness welled inside me.
“Me too.” I kissed him again. A tear streamed down my cheek. Carlos brushed it away with his hand.
“Julieta, you must listen to me. We do not have to say goodbye.”
The oven timer dinged. I jumped up to remove the donut Bundt cakes and check on the black velvets, happy for a brief moment to try to collect my thoughts. “What’s in the envelope?” I asked using oven mitts to place the Bundt pans on cooling racks. I set the timer for ten more minutes.
His face lost color. “It is nothing.”
I could tell from his reaction that it was definitely something. “What? Tell me the truth, Carlos. You’ve been having secret meetings and taking phone calls. It’s okay. I can handle it. What I can’t handle is feeling like I’m in limbo. If this isn’t going to work, let’s deal with it.”
His shoulders slumped. “I do not want you to see, because it will only make you more sure that Ashland she is not right for me.”
I took off the oven mitts and came back to the island.
Carlos sighed and handed me the envelope.
I recognized the logo—Royal Bateau. It belonged to the parent company of the Amour of the Seas.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
The seal had already been broken. I opened the envelope and removed a letter with the same navy Royal Bateau logo embossed on the top. The letter was from the president of the company complimenting Carlos on his years of service. The first two paragraphs were glowing about Carlos’s work ethic, exquisite menus, and numerous awards and accolades.
“Wow, this is really impressive.”
“Keep reading.”
I continued on. The third paragraph included an offer. An offer that made my jaw drop. The president wanted Carlos to be the executive chef for their new flagship luxury European line—El Lujo, headquartered in Spain. Carlos would receive an extremely generous salary, bonus, and vacation package.
“Carlos. This is an incredible opportunity.”
“Si.” He sounded devastated.
“Is that why you’ve been having so many meetings? You didn’t want me to know about this offer, because I would tell you that you had to take it.”
“No. It is not. I have not accepted the offer. Si, it is a wonderful opportunity but it is not with you, Julieta.” His voice was thick with resolve.
“Carlos, you have to accept. Offers like this don’t come often. And, you would be based in Spain, near Ramiro. It’s perfect.”
“Perfect.” Carlos scoffed. “What is perfect? I have made many mistakes over the years. Hurting you was the worst.” He gave me a pained smile. “I have learned that perfect, it is nothing more than what we make it.”
“No, but this is what you’ve dreamed of. Executive chef for the entire cruise line. You can create all of the ship’s menus, and you’ll be working with some of the best chefs in the world.”
It was as if the job description had been written specifically for Carlos. His kitchen would be based in Madrid, allowing him to spend more time with Ramiro and balance the rest of his time traveling from ship to ship on the line. It was as if the universe was steering us toward our futures, but did that mean futures without each other?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Julieta, you are too stubborn.” Carlos sipped his wine and stared at me with a gleam in his eyes. “I am not taking the job. I am meant to be here in Ashland with you. I understand now. I see what you mean when you say you have been captured under her spell. I have too.”
“But—” I tried to speak.
Carlos shook his head. “No, you must listen. It’s true that I didn’t know what I would think when I came to stay for this long. I was worried. I was not sure how I would feel after being away from the sea. Would I be bored? Would I be lonely? Would I miss it? Si, yes. Like I said, there are things I miss. I will not lie. And, this is very important.” He reached for my hand, gently caressing my palm with his finger. “You must hear this, Julieta. I would not, and I will not, sacrifice my own happiness. Do you understand?”
I bit my bottom lip.
“This is my choice. I want to be here. It is not boring. It is so alive. I was meant for being with the vines and I have many, many ideas that fill me with such excitement. Uva she is ripe and young and rich. I want to do dinners amongst the vines and teach classes, and keep wild honeybees. Every day it is different at the vineyard. It is a chef’s dream. I can cultivate the vines. The wine it will be unique because of what I do. It is art in my favorite form. The winemakers I have met have been inviting and I have much to learn. We are in the heart of what will be the world’s best wine scene. We have a chance to shape how the Rogue Valley is seen around the globe. It fills me with so much creative energy. We will be part of something new and cutting edge.”
“Carlos, are you sure?” I wanted to believe him. The timer dinged again. I stopped him to remove the black velvet cakes from the oven.
He grasped my hands tighter. “Julieta, I have never been more sure. It is not just the vines. It is you. It is Helen and Doug and Sterling and Andy. This team. This family that you have created. I feel lucky to even be allowed to be part of it.” His eyes misted. “It is the evolution of us. It is a love story, no? We had to be apart to understand where we are meant to be. And, Julieta, I know now in every cell of my body, that I am meant to be with you—in Ashland.”
Were my dreams within my grasp?
I was acutely aware of every sensation in my body as Carlos leaned in and cradled my head in his heads.
“Julieta, will you let me stay?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I nodded.
Carlos kissed me through my happy tears.
“You’re sure?” I pointed to the offer letter.
He brushed the letter off the table. “Si. I have already declined. They do not take no for an answer. They have asked if I might come help with trainings and special workshops every so often. For that I might say yes. You could come with me, or I will go and see Ramiro.”
“Of course.” I couldn’t stop a silly grin from forming on my face. “As long as you’re really sure. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Hold me back? We are just beginning, mi querida.” With that he swept me into his arms and we held each other for what felt like hours. At some point in the blur of the magical evening, we meandered home, our hands intertwined, slightly tipsy from the wine and the knowledge that Carlos was staying.
Sleep was futile. Visions of my new life with Carlos played like a movie all night long, so, I gave up before dawn, snuck out, and headed for the bakery. The plaza was plunged in deep slumber. I didn’t give it much thought until I started down the stairs to unlock the basement door and heard the sound of a man’s voice.
“Hey!”
I dropped the keys and nearly tumbled down the steps.
Stay cool, Jules. I placed my hand on my stomach and turned toward the sound of the voice. It was coming from around the corner on the Calle Gaunajuato. I reached into my puffy jacket pocket for my phone.
“Who’s there?” I called, getting ready to hit 911.
“Hey!” the throaty voice repeated.
I stepped away from the stairwell. A single golden antique streetlamp cast a hazy glow on the cobblestone path. The only other sound was of Ashland Creek rushing with spring snowmelt.
A figure crouched in the darkness near the waist-high wall that divided the path from the creek below.
“Who are you?” I squinted in an attempt to get my eyes to focus.
“It’s me, Sky.” He stood and tossed off a blanket he’d had wrapped around his shoulders.
“Sky. Everyone’s been looking for you.”
His body trembled. “I know. I’ve been hiding. It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a step closer.
“They’re watching.” His head twisted from side to side.
“Come on, let’s go into the bakeshop and talk. You look like you could use a coffee.”
“No. It’s not safe.”
“Sky, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.” I reached a hand out to him. “You’re shivering. You’re probably on the cusp of hypothermia. Come inside with me and let’s get you warmed up.”
I could tell that he wanted to come with me.
“I promise. You’ll be safer inside than out here.”
That did the trick.
He wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders and shuffled toward me.
I retrieved my keys and unlocked the basement door. After flipping on the lights, I directed him to the couch and lit the gas fireplace. “You stay right here by the fire and warm up. I’m going to make us some coffee.”
He sat without protest.
I made a pot of dark roast. While the coffee brewed, I sliced day-old baguettes, slathered them with butter, and placed them in the oven. Once the coffee was ready I took Sky a mug along with cream and sugar. “Sip this. I’ll be right back with something for you to eat.”
His hands quaked as he tried to cradle the cup. The bandage I had used to seal his injury the other day was dirty and dried with blood.
I wondered if I should call EMS.
The baguettes had toasted to a beautiful golden brown and the butter had melted. I grabbed jars of our raspberry and blackberry preserves and brought them out to the seating area.
“Sky, are you sure you’re okay? You look pretty cold. Maybe I should call a doctor.”
He clutched the coffee. “No. No doctors. No police. They’ll take me. They’ll kill me.”
“Who? The police?”
“No.” Sky shook his head but wouldn’t say more.
Maybe food would help. “Would you like some toast? I have raspberry or blackberry jam.”
“Blackberry. Thanks.” He stared at his feet, which were stuffed into shoes that appeared two sizes too small.
I spread a generous heaping of jam onto one of the b
aguettes and handed it to him.
He ate it so fast I wondered if he had even swallowed.
“Would you like more?” I pointed to the second buttery loaf.
“Yeah.” His fingernails were black with grime. His khaki pants were frayed on the seams and splotched with stains. The poor guy needed a shower.
After he had devoured the second helping and more of the coffee, the trembling seemed to slow.
“Sky, can you tell me what’s going on? This is about the Wizard’s death, isn’t it?”
He stared at a hole in his tennis shoe.
“Do you know who killed him? Is that why you’re scared?”
He dragged his foot in a small circle on the floor. “Yeah. If they find me, they’re going to kill me too.”
“That’s why we should call the police. The Professor can help you. He can protect you.”
“No!” Sky shook his head with force. “They can’t protect me. They will want me to talk and that’s going to get me in more trouble.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Go there now. You’ll see. They tried to kill me when I was sleeping.”
“Where?”
“Your place.”
“You mean, you were there when the fire started? Did you see who did it?”
“Yeah, and he’s hiding it. He’s trying to cover it up.”
“Who?”
Sky looked like he wanted to tell me but clammed up. He picked at his bread and used a finger to lick jam from his plate. We didn’t have long before my team would arrive. I needed to find a way to get him to relax.
“Please, Sky. I promise, I will do everything I can to keep you safe, but you have to tell me who started the fire.”
Chilled to the Cone Page 19
