Recipe for Love

by Aurora Rey

  The woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I take it you’re expecting me.”

  Hannah fought the urge to laugh. Nick sure knew how to pick them. “I am. Hannah Little.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Drew took the hand she’d offered and seemed to regain some of her composure. “Since you know who I am, I’m guessing you know why I’m here.”

  Hannah smiled. Drew was clearly in over her head. There was no need to belabor the point. “I do.”

  Drew looked around. “I take it the pickings are pretty slim.”

  Although not untrue, Hannah bristled at the assertion. “It’s certainly not our peak season. I’ve got apples and pears in cold storage, along with winter squash and almost any root vegetable you could want.”

  Drew nodded slowly. Hannah couldn’t tell if she was considering her options or her exit strategy. Finally, she narrowed her eyes and tipped her head to one side. “Surprise me.”

  Given the shoe incident, Hannah hadn’t expected that. She gave Drew points for the quick recovery, as well as the answer. Even if she knew better than to take her up on it. “I know what’s at stake. Why don’t you come with me and you can take your pick?”

  Drew’s lip curled slightly. “Does it involve tromping through the fields?”

  Hannah did laugh then. The idea of a farm-to-table chef balking at the prospect of walking through a field was simply too much. She’d have to tease Nick about it later. “No tromping required. Follow me.”

  Drew angled her head toward Daisy. “Friendly?”

  “She is.”

  Drew bent down and extended a hand. Daisy lumbered over to investigate. After getting a sniff and a lick, Drew pet the top of her head. “He’s sweet. What kind of dog?”

  “She’s half golden retriever, half Great Pyrenees and her name is Daisy.”

  “Sorry. She’s very sweet.” Drew put emphasis on the “she.”

  Giving Daisy attention earned Drew a few more points. Not enough for her to take Drew seriously, but enough that Hannah didn’t wish her ill. She led Drew to the corner of the barn they used for storage, flipping the light on and stepping back so Drew could see what she had to choose from. Drew turned in a slow circle, taking it in. “Wow.”

  Paired with her dog manners, the respect in her voice almost made up for the slim pickings comment. Almost. “Help yourself.”

  Drew didn’t waste any time. She picked up some turnips, a sweet potato, and a couple of delicata squash. “There was an account at the Piggery when I stopped there, but I have cash if you’d prefer.”

  Hannah studied Drew for a moment more, convinced this would be the last she saw of her. She waved a hand. “Consider it on the house.”

  Drew smiled. “Thanks.”

  It was a good look for her and affected Hannah more than she cared to admit. She decided to be generous. “I’ve got microgreens started, too, if you’d like some.”

  “That would be amazing.”

  If the smile affected her, the look of pure delight on Drew’s face held decidedly more dangerous possibilities. It really was a good thing she wouldn’t be sticking around. “Follow me.”

  Hannah led the way to the room where she’d been working. She’d planned to move the plants out to the greenhouse to finish growing, but sacrificing a few now wouldn’t be any trouble. She could get them replanted in less than an hour. She grabbed a pulp basket and filled it with tender shoots, then handed it to Drew.

  “These are great.”

  Hannah nodded. “Good luck with the rest of your interview.”

  She followed Drew back through the market side of the barn and watched her leave. Drew clasped the produce to her and stepped gingerly into the parking lot. Daisy seemed confused by the whole thing. Hannah shook her head and indulged in an eye roll, then ruffled Daisy’s ears. “City chefs.”

  Chapter Two

  Back at the restaurant, Drew tried to shake off the jumble of emotions stirred up during her interaction with Hannah. If she had been just prickly, or just beautiful, or just friendly, it would have been fine. But no. She had to be some inexplicable combination of the three. It left Drew unbalanced and infuriatingly off her game. She could not afford to be off her game.

  She tried a literal shake off, tipping her head from side to side and rolling her shoulders. Since she was alone in the kitchen, she added, “Get ahold of yourself, Davis,” for good measure.

  The command helped to calm her. She actually liked working under pressure. That was one of the prerequisites of being a good chef. It helped her focus and made her better.

  She spent more time than usual putting together her mise en place. Since she didn’t know the stove, it would prevent her from getting distracted and risking an overcooked disaster. She also liked the look of it, the order giving her a sense of precision and control. She checked her watch one more time, nodded to herself. And then she began to cook.

  She made a quick brine for the pork chops, then started a dried cranberry and sourdough bread stuffing for them. She settled on a hash for the vegetables, one she could flavor with garlic and thyme. The sauce would be maple with mustard and she’d fry up some lardons to go in the salad on top of the whole thing. It was more of a winter dish than she would have liked for late April, but Nick would know the ingredients were limited. Hopefully. She made a champagne vinaigrette for the salad, figuring that would at least brighten things up.

  Nick sauntered back in just as Drew started plating. Had he been keeping an eye on her or did he just have impeccable timing? “Smells good in here,” he said.

  Okay, so maybe it was more of a nose than an eye. “I hope you find it tastes even better.”

  Drew presented the plate to him, pleased with the final result. He took a minute to study it, nodding and making sounds of approval. “Looks like you’ve taken advantage of the local suppliers I sent you to.”

  Drew’s mind flashed to her time at Three Willows Farm—the mud, the massive barn, and the beautiful woman who seemed to dislike her or, at the very least, not take her seriously. “It proved quite educational.”

  Nick pulled open a drawer and took out a knife and fork. Without ceremony or hesitation, he cut into the pork chop and took a huge bite. Drew barely resisted the urge to laugh. Such a far cry from the almost scientific dissection of her food by previous bosses and head chefs.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said around a mouthful. She might have preferred something more specific, but she didn’t mind the gusto with which Nick attacked the plate. He had a few bites of hash, then another of pork. “What’s in the stuffing?”

  Drew rattled off the list of ingredients. Nick nodded as he chewed. She took advantage of his full mouth to describe the pan sauce and the dressing on the greens. “I’m glad you like it.”

  When about half the meal had been devoured, Nick set down his utensils. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten all day. That was flawless.”

  Drew soaked up the praise. People always gave chefs a hard time about their egos, but as far as she was concerned, if it was well-earned, why shouldn’t she be confident in her work? “Thank you. I’m not sure where you are in your interview process, but I’m curious to know your next steps and timeline.”

  Instead of an immediate answer, Nick considered the plate, then took another couple of bites. Finally, he looked her right in the eye. “Our next steps are to discuss salary and start dates.”

  It took Drew a moment to realize he was offering her the job. Like, on the spot. If there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind, one that questioned any plan that involved leaving the city for a job in the middle of nowhere, she ignored it. She straightened her shoulders and offered him her most winning smile. “Shall we do that right here or in your office?”

  * * *

  Hannah choked on her beer. It took her a good thirty seconds to stop coughing. When she finally did, she looked at Nick with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “You did what?”

  “I hired a new chef. The one I sent your
way yesterday for ingredients. She starts in three weeks.”

  Hannah took a long sip of her IPA, to soothe the irritation in her throat but also to buy time. What the hell was he thinking? There was no way that swaggering city mouse would fit in around here. With her fancy shoes and utter distaste for dirt. Her obvious ego and ridiculously charming smile. “Do you really think she’ll be a good fit?”

  “Absolutely. She made a great impression at the Piggery and her food was some of the best I’ve had all year.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you not like her?”

  Hannah looked around the room, then at her beer. There was no point in telling Nick what she thought of Drew. The decision had been made. And thanks to the contract she’d signed with Fig, she’d be working with Drew a lot. She couldn’t afford to mess with that arrangement. So she looked him in the eye and offered him a bright smile. “I think she’ll do great.”

  Nick didn’t seem convinced. “I can tell you’re lying. What is it about her you don’t like?”

  “She’s so,” Hannah shrugged, searching for the right word, “city.”

  Nick didn’t miss a beat. “She’s from New York City. Like, works there now, but grew up there, too.”

  “And you’re okay with that?” Nick was trying to put a newly reimagined Fig on the map, and hiring a big-shot chef from the city was the most obvious way to do that. Still.

  “I think, if anything, people from the city can truly appreciate open spaces and fresh food and everything we’re trying to do.”

  Hannah shook her head. Picking an argument wouldn’t solve anything. “I just hope her expectations are realistic.”

  Nick laughed. “About life in the country? You think she’ll get bored?”

  “Probably.” It was more than that, though. “I’m more worried about the arrangement. Farm-to-table seems great until you realize you only have fresh tomatoes two months out of the year.”

  “Only up here. In the South, you can plant them in waves and have them for more than half the year.”

  “Yeah, but she’s coming up here. I’m worried she’s accustomed to getting whatever she wants.”

  Nick took a long sip of beer, studying her over the rim of his pint glass. He set it down, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Are we talking about ingredients or something else?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Nick laced his fingers together. “Did she hit on you?”

  “What? No.” Hannah frowned.

  Nick lifted both hands defensively. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I just noticed she was kind of your type.”

  He could be so infuriating sometimes, especially when he was right. “She is most definitely not my type.”

  “Oh, good. Because it would be awkward if you two started hooking up.”

  They’d been friends long enough for him to know he could get away with that sort of comment. That didn’t stop Hannah from punching him in the arm. She let herself give it a bit more force than usual.

  “Ow.” He scowled for a moment and rubbed the spot. That quickly gave way to a devilish smile, the kind of smile that said he was on to her.

  “Just remember there’s more where that came from if you keep harassing me.”

  “Or decide to play matchmaker?”

  Even in the teasing nature of the conversation, it was too far. Hannah set down her glass slowly. “That’s not funny.”

  Nick must have sensed he was on thin ice. “Okay, okay. Too far. Sorry.”

  She huffed out a breath, ready for this conversation to be over. “Can we change the subject or am I going to have to go home after just one beer?”

  “We’ll change the subject. And the next round is on me. Deal?”

  Free beer could do wonders to smooth things over. And she wasn’t really mad. Really. “Deal.”

  “Tell me about your seedlings.”

  It was a cheap ploy, getting her to talk about seeds and the first forays into spring planting. But it worked. She’d rather talk about her seedlings than call him out. “I’m almost maxed out. I’m trying to decide whether to splurge on another light rack or put a heater in one of the hoop houses.”

  That devilish grin returned. “I vote for both.”

  “I wish.”

  “I hear you. Hopefully, that won’t be the case this time next year.”

  Hannah indulged in a moment of daydreaming. She’d been supplying Nick’s restaurant with odds and ends the last couple of years, but not enough to make a significant contribution to the bottom line. His decision to close Fig and reopen it as a true farm-to-table concept, with Three Willows Farm as one of the primary suppliers, had the potential to change both their lives.

  Feeling bad she’d punched him, even good-naturedly, she lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

  He smiled, clearly not holding a grudge. “And to our new chef.”

  Hannah was still reserving judgment on that front, but she didn’t want to put a damper on the moment. “May she exceed your expectations.”

  Nick tapped his glass to hers and winked. “And yours.”

  Chapter Three

  Moving turned out to be a less daunting process than Drew had imagined. She’d managed to find a furnished house—a whole house—for almost the same price as her half of the rent for her apartment in Brooklyn. She got a storage unit for her furniture and found someone to sublet online. And since she and her roommate weren’t super tight, she’d let her lease run out and be able to start from scratch when she moved back.

  “I can’t believe you’re moving to the sticks.”

  Drew accepted the box from her best friend, Baker, and wedged it into the back of her car. “It’s temporary, dude. Long-term goals. Eye on the prize.”

  “I get it.” Baker shook her head. “This just seems extreme.”

  “Less extreme than hustling under some asshole who’s got less talent than me for five more years.”

  “Yeah.” They’d discussed this enough times that Baker knew the ins and outs of her plan. She made a face. “Did you see a single person who wasn’t white?”

  She hadn’t. It had freaked her out a little, but she’d done some research. With Cornell University close by, the area was more progressive and more diverse than much of upstate. “No, but I only met like four people. It won’t be like here, but I won’t be the only brown person in town.”

  Baker looked even less certain than before. “If you say so.”

  “The kitchen is huge. It won’t be all bad.” She couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince Baker at this point, or herself.

  “And you rented a house. Like, a whole house.”

  “It’s a cottage. Eight hundred square feet.” Which was still big by her standards, but she didn’t say so.

  “It has a yard.”

  “That I have to mow.” Drew laughed. She’d been taken aback by that at first, but she’d settled into the idea. It was a waste of money to hire someone to do it. Besides, it made her feel rugged.

  Baker shuddered. “That sounds horrifying.”

  “Yeah, but come July when it’s hotter than balls and the whole city smells, you’ll be glad to run away for the summer and go upstate.”

  “I’m trying really hard not to have a Hamilton moment right now.”

  The song where Eliza tries to convince Alexander to take a break played through her mind. She didn’t mind Hamilton, but Baker’s singing left something to be desired. “I think that’s my cue.”

  Baker sighed. “Okay. Drive safe and text me when you get there.”

  “I will. And I’ll send you a picture from my porch.”

  “There’s a porch?” Baker shook her head and laughed, then pulled Drew into a hug. “A porch. I don’t even know what to do with you.”

  For the first time since she accepted the offer, Drew found herself sentimental, and with the tiniest sliver of doubt about her decision. Even the day before, which she’d spent with her mother and grandmother, had felt like a celebration, a step c
loser to making her dreams come true. “You’ll come visit, right?”

  “You know it. I can’t wait to see you in this exotic new habitat.”

  “Give me a month to get the restaurant up and running and consider the invitation open.” Drew looked at the ground, shrugged slightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Baker dropped her head. “Me, too, dude.”

  “All right. Glad we established that. I’m going to go before we turn into a couple of weepy girls.”

  That broke the tension. Baker pulled her into another hug, then Drew climbed into her car. She offered Baker a final wave and hit the road.

  It took about an hour to fight her way out of city traffic, but once she hit I-80, the drive went smoothly. The last of the snow had melted and most of the trees boasted little green buds, if not actual leaves. She stopped once for gas, deciding a Slim Jim and a Red Bull made a perfectly suitable lunch.

  The final stretch of the drive took her off the highway. She realized for the first time that Trumansburg sat a good thirty miles from the closest interstate. The shock of that eased slightly when she got to Ithaca just after five o’clock. No highways, but at least there was traffic. The flow of cars stayed with her up Route 96, but quickly thinned. Drew followed Siri’s directions, turning onto roads that kept getting smaller and narrower. She had a flash of panic over what it would be like to navigate these roads in winter.

  She made it to the house just before six, with plenty of daylight left to unload her things. Since it came furnished and all the rooms were on one floor, it didn’t take long to empty her car. She’d seen pictures online of the house itself, as well as the yard, but those pictures hadn’t given her a feel for just how isolated she’d be. There was one neighbor across the street, another she could make out to the left of her. The house sat at the edge of the Finger Lakes National Forest, though, and everything else was trees.