She placed the loaded plate to the side of Isaiah’s computer and stepped back, her face lined with grim satisfaction. Poor thing. How could Daniel have forgotten that, in addition to being a complete dick, his brother was the world’s pickiest eater? Daniel wanted to high-five her and slip her a twenty for getting Isaiah’s complicated order right.
“Can I get you anything else?” Alyssa asked.
“I don’t see my drink.” Isaiah rummaged through the bread bowl, rejecting several rolls before selecting one that seemed to meet his exacting standards. “That puts you down at around a twelve percent tip. If the service doesn’t get any better, you’re looking at nothing. Which would make it a tough night for you, I’m guessing, because there’re no other customers. So you might want to step up your game. Just FYI.”
Isaiah delivered this entire speech with the brisk efficiency of one of his MIT professors explaining a calculus theorem on the whiteboard.
And all without looking Alyssa in the face.
“Isaiah.” Daniel shot Alyssa his most apologetic look. “I’m so sorry—”
Alyssa blinked. Frowned. Held up a hand to stop Daniel’s apology. Blinked again. Then spun and walked off without a word.
“You fucking jackass!” Daniel cried. Isaiah looked up from the rolls in surprise. “That poor woman is doing the best she can, and you have no right to treat her like that! She’s shy! Now she’s probably crying her eyes out in the bathroom—”
Alyssa reappeared at the table.
And dumped a pitcher of ice water in Isaiah’s lap.
Yelping and outraged, he surged to his feet while Daniel stifled a laugh and once again resisted the urge to high-five this woman.
“What the hell?” Isaiah spluttered. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know who I am?”
Alyssa regarded him with calm and quiet dignity as he towered over her. “I know exactly who you are. You’re a bully.”
“A bully—?” Isaiah gasped, yanking a napkin off the table and using it to wipe his crotch.
Daniel gleefully leaned back and settled in with his arm across the back of the booth, wishing he had a bowl of popcorn to munch while he watched the unfolding show.
“A bully,” Alyssa said, voice thick with emotion. “It doesn’t matter if you went to MIT. I don’t care if you were just in Time magazine for selling your company for twenty-five million. All that means is that you’re a millionaire bully with a high-priced degree.”
A wild-eyed Ada hurried out of the kitchen and surveyed the scene. “What the heck is going on out here? What happened?”
Isaiah ignored the interruption, taking an aggressive step toward Alyssa. Alyssa tipped up her chin and stared him in the face, her color high, but her defiance absolutely unyielding.
Isaiah looked her up and down with deepest disdain, nostrils flaring like a charging bull’s. “Who are you to call me a bully?”
Humorless laugh from Alyssa. “I’m a human being. That makes me entitled to respect. Oh, and by the way? I have an Ivy League degree, which means I’m smart just like you are.”
Isaiah seemed taken aback, the freaking snob.
“And just so you know?” Alyssa continued. “My mother was a bully who makes you look like a toddler with a saggy diaper—”
Daniel and Ada gasped.
Isaiah gaped at Alyssa, his lower jaw on the floor and his brown skin mottled with red blotches of anger.
“—and when she died, I made up my mind. I’m not putting up with any more bullies in my life. So you can go straight to hell with your twelve percent tip.”
Daniel, Ada and Isaiah all stared at her.
Out of steam at last, Alyssa ducked her head and turned to Ada. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harper. I don’t know what just happened. I’ll...I’ll turn in my apron. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
Shoulders slumped now, she handed the empty pitcher to Ada, leaned in to kiss her cheek and headed for the kitchen. Halfway there, she pulled an inhaler from her pants pocket and took a hit from it.
Ada recovered quickly and called after Alyssa. “You’ll do no such thing, dear. Take the rest of the night off. You’ve earned it. And I’ll see you back here for tomorrow’s shift.”
Alyssa looked around, brightening and flashing those killer dimples. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Isaiah still needs to get schooled sometimes. Even if he does have that mathematics with computer science degree from MIT.”
Isaiah scowled.
By this point, Alyssa was positively glowing. Daniel was surprised to discover how much her appearance shifted. Turned out there was a real cutie lurking under those baggy clothes, apron and glasses.
“Thanks, Mrs. Harper.” Alyssa hurried back and took Ada’s hand between both of hers. “It won’t happen again. I usually never lose my temper.”
“No worries, dear.”
Alyssa headed for the kitchen with a bounce in her step. Until she heard Isaiah’s voice again.
“What’s your name?” he called after her. He cleared his throat and Daniel noticed that all that blotchy color had resolved into bright patches on Isaiah’s ears and cheekbones. “I want to make sure I get it right when I leave a scathing online review.”
Alyssa glanced back at Isaiah, her shoulders squaring up. “If you’re looking for ideas for your foundation, you might want to consider something for lung cancer. It’s the leading cancer killer for men and women. By far.”
She disappeared through the kitchen door, taking all the air in the room with her and leaving Isaiah looking glazed.
“I like that woman,” Daniel told his mother.
“If only we had the money to give her a raise,” Ada said glumly.
Isaiah frowned down at the floor, blinking.
Daniel started to give him shit about being so wounded by his own truth when he spent so much time using truth as a weapon with everyone else, when the front door opened and someone came through the vestibule.
Ada leapt into charming hostess mode. “Good evening!” she called, hurrying over. “Welcome to Harper Rose Bis—oh, hello, Raymond! How are you?”
“Life is a disaster.” Raymond Martin, Journey’s End’s favorite real estate agent, gave Ada a kiss before whipping off his Humphrey Bogart fedora and scarf and handing them to her so she could hang them up. “Bobsy figured out how to open the pantry door—Jack Russell terriers are nightmares; never let anyone tell you otherwise—and he and Frank—you know we’re keeping your grand-dog while James and Miranda are on their honeymoon, right? —got into some low-lying chocolate chips. Ate half of a bag. Have you ever seen two dogs with the runs?”
Ada and Daniel shuddered and made faces.
Isaiah kept glaring at the kitchen door and absently dabbing his wet pants with his napkin.
“Do you have any idea what our vet bill is going to look like? And now I’m going to be labeled the negligent dog-sitter when really it was Fisher’s fault for not keeping an eye on our own dog.”
Ada laughed. “Stop throwing your husband under the bus.”
“Why?” Raymond demanded. “It’s what I keep him around for. Anyhow...Daniel, how’s your new apartment?”
“Love it,” Daniel said as the men shook hands. “Thanks again for your help.”
“My pleasure. Have you run into Zoya yet?”
Ah, shit.
Ada’s head whipped around so she could nail Daniel with her shrewd gaze. “Hang on. You and Zoya are neighbors?”
“It’s no big deal,” Daniel said, flapping a hand, avoiding her gaze and trying to look confused by all the interest. “Let’s not make a federal case out of it.”
“Yeah, okay,” Ada said, snorting out a derisive bark of laughter. “You keep selling. I’m not buying.”
Daniel scowled at her, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“Raymond, do you know my son Isaiah?” Ada asked.
“I do, indeed. I’m here to help him find a house.”
Raymond extended a
hand to Isaiah, who reluctantly peeled his gaze away from the kitchen door, shook and gave him a crisp nod, then returned his attention to the kitchen door.
“Find a house?” Ada and Daniel echoed.
“What’s going on, Isaiah?” Ada asked, beaming with excitement. “You’re moving back home?”
Isaiah shrugged, cast one last look at the kitchen door and resumed his seat at the table. “I’m not spending two mil for a two-bedroom apartment in the city. Do you know what two mil could buy me in Journey’s End? I can live like an emperor.”
“What happened to Seattle?” Ada asked.
Another shrug. “I need a change,” Isaiah said, digging into his salmon.
“Well, I’ve got just the place for you,” Raymond said happily, sliding into the booth opposite him and pulling his tablet computer out of his briefcase. “Ada, could I have a glass of Pinot Noir, please? Oh, and the foie gras to start? Thank you.”
“Absolutely,” Ada said. “I’ll bring that right out.”
“What about your violent server who assaulted me?” Isaiah said darkly around a huge bite of food. “Shouldn’t she serve the food?”
“I think it’s best to keep you two separated,” Ada said, chuckling as she bustled off.
“I’ll leave you folks to it,” Daniel said, checking his watch and wondering when Sean would turn up. “Happy hunting.”
“Great talk,” Isaiah muttered. “Can hardly wait for the next one.”
An unexpected burst of laughter raced out of Daniel’s mouth before he could stop it. Something about the glint of amusement in Isaiah’s eyes reminded him of the time the two of them had binge-watched the entire original Planet of the Apes series, eating nacho cheese Doritos, jeering at the makeup and costumes and having the time of their lives. What had they been then? Nine and eleven or so?
Caught up in the moment, he didn’t give himself a chance to think before he leaned in, grabbed his brother’s face and kissed him on the cheek.
“I still love you, man.”
“Yeah, okay.” Startled, Isaiah wrenched free and rubbed his cheek on his upper arm, exactly the way he had when they were younger. “No one wants to see any Godfather II moments around here. Bye.”
Chuckling and aware of Raymond’s bemused gaze tracking him, Daniel took his wineglass and headed for another booth. He’d just sat down and checked his watch again when the kitchen door opened and his mother and father came out. Nigel had a big stack of three-ring binders tucked under his arm. They glanced in his direction and talked in hushed, urgent tones. Nigel shook his head. Ada snapped her fingers and pointed at Daniel. For good measure, she gave him a little push between the shoulder blades.
Nigel began a stiff and unenthusiastic march to Daniel’s table.
The sight of his father was an injection of tension directly to Daniel’s shoulders. He sighed, girding his loins, and wished he had something a hell of a lot stronger than red wine to drink.
“Son,” Nigel said, looking as though he’d been force-fed the dregs from the bottom of one of their wine barrels.
“Dad,” Daniel said warily.
“Can I join you?”
Daniel waved at the seat across from him.
Nigel sat and stacked the binders off to one side. Then he rested his elbows on the table, clasped his hands and cleared his throat.
“Your mother says I’ve been unfair.”
“Oh?”
“She claims that I haven’t really given you a chance at the vineyard.”
“Ah.”
“That may or may not be true. And you were late this morning. Half an hour, if I recall.”
Daniel clipped the leash on his temper and held on tight. “Right.”
“Anyway. I’m not a spring chicken. Some of my ideas may need to be updated.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m cutting back my hours,” Nigel said. “Leaving earlier. No weekends.”
Huh?
Nigel cleared his throat again. Adjusted his cuffs. Re-clasped his hands. “I’ve, ah, made you copies of the latest financials.”
Daniel’s head had been spinning with this news of his father reducing his hours, but now his petty side kicked in. What, did the old man want a medal for doing something he should have done months ago? Were they supposed to pop open a bottle of champagne?
But...
On the other hand, his father was making a more serious effort than he’d made thus far, which meant that Daniel should, too.
Daniel extended his hand. “Appreciate it.”
They shook. Nigel looked like he had something else on his mind, started to say it, then apparently thought better of it and got up.
“I’ll, ah, see you at work tomorrow,” he said gruffly. “Seven-thirty sharp. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
After a quick stop at the other table to say hello to Raymond, Nigel trudged to the coat rack, put on his hat and overcoat and, to Daniel’s absolute astonishment, left the restaurant.
Before the end of dinner service.
Wow. Maybe the old man was rethinking his priorities.
Feeling vaguely unsettled, as though the earth had picked up its rotation speed and Daniel needed to find something steady to hang onto, he killed the last of the wine.
That was about the time that Sean came into view outside the wall of windows, hurried down the sidewalk and came inside.
“What the fuck?” Daniel complained.
“Sorry.” Sean slid into the booth and put his coat down. “Traffic out of the city was crazy.”
“How’d the interview go?”
“Eh, fine. Pretty well, actually. But the city, man.” Sean shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I could feel my blood pressure going up as soon as I got on the FDR. Parking was a nightmare. It’s not like Journey’s End, that’s for sure. I damn near killed a ten getting a bottle of water and granola bar.”
Daniel shrugged. “You’re the genius who wants to make a splash in the big city. Get a Michelin Star and all that.”
“That may not work,” Sean said darkly.
“You should stay here.” Daniel opened the menu and flipped through it with no real enthusiasm. “Jesus, they’ve been serving the same shit here since Nixon flashed the peace sign.”
Sean frowned. “Yeah. Because a worthwhile executive chef position in Journey’s End is going to drop into my lap. What’re there—two restaurants in this town?”
“You’re the one who’s been carrying on about how much you love it here.”
“That doesn’t mean I can make a living here.”
“Cheer up. Maybe my dad’ll hire you to wash dishes. Tide you over till something turns up.”
“Wonderful,” Sean said sourly. “Keep it up and I’m likely to mention how Zoya’s had your tiny balls in a firm grip since we got here.”
Sean was absolutely right, which was probably why Daniel couldn’t stop the cheesy grin at the mention of her name. Honest to God, the mere thought of her today was like an infusion of sparkling gold dust in his veins. The crazy thing was, even the realization that he still loved her hadn’t freaked him out the way it might once have.
So his heart was in play again. Or maybe it had always been in play.
So what?
Hope had tiptoed into his soul this morning after their talk. True, he and hope didn’t exactly have a meaningful history together, but maybe things were looking up. Maybe he and Zoya understood each other better now than they ever had before.
God knew he now had a different perspective on the pregnancy crisis.
They’d each thought they’d done the right thing back then. They’d each done a terrible job communicating with each other. That made them human. Not monsters.
Maybe they finally understood that about each other.
Maybe they were finally on the right track.
His grin widened, resisting most of his efforts to tamp it down.
Sean eyeballed him with open disdain. “You
disgust me. Seriously. I’ve lost all respect for you.”
“Don’t play with me, man. You know I breathe for your approval.”
“So are you two getting your shit together, or what?”
“Let’s just say we’ve taken a step or two in the right direction,” Daniel said, his thoughts shifting to his plans for tomorrow night. Thanks to some quick thinking and a few phone calls after work today, he now had the perfect date scheduled for her. One guaranteed to put that unbelievable smile back on her face and hopefully keep it there. “Things can only get better from here.”
Chapter 20
“Hey,” Zoya said when she opened the door for Daniel the following night.
Their date night.
She felt flustered and therefore irritable as she slid her second arm into her coat and grabbed her clutch and keys off the console. The whole thing had thrown her for a loop. What the hell had he meant by a date? What did date even mean in the context of an on-off relationship that spanned over a decade? What expectations did he have for the evening? Was she supposed to be charming and interesting? Why had he told her to wear something nice? Was this dress—the fifth one she’d tried on tonight, by the way—appropriate?
Why had her heart lodged in her throat and stayed there since she last saw him?
Above all, why did tonight’s stakes feel so high?
Weren’t most first-ish dates, like prom and New Year’s Eve parties, guaranteed failures?
And yet there she was, alight with hope and barely able to keep her feet on the ground at the prospect of spending time with him.
“Let’s go,” she said briskly, tucking her clutch under her arm.
She tried to cross the threshold and shut the door behind her, but Daniel blocked the way. He stood there being sexy and immovable in his dark suit with his coat slung over his arm, his eyes bright with amusement, his grin boyish and amazing.
Predictably, he made her heart stutter.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he said. “What’s the rush?”
“Excuse me?”
“I thought we’d have some wine.”
Her hand thus forced, she had no other choice but to acknowledge the obvious: that he was holding a bottle of Harper Rose white something or other and a glorious bouquet of orange calla lilies, her absolute favorites.
Unforgettable Page 19
