Recipe for Love

by Aurora Rey

  Things at the barn were bumping. She’d already missed Drew, but close to a dozen families milled around the farm stand and parking lot. She ate a quick sandwich and reapplied sunscreen, then headed back to work. She called it a day just after seven. Tired, but not the bone tired that came with the peak of summer. A perfect end to a pretty perfect day.

  * * *

  For the first time since meeting him, Drew hesitated to take the call from Javier. A week had passed since his initial phone call and she’d specifically not reached out to him. Or told Hannah. Or her family. Instead of gaining any clarity, each day made the decision feel all the more impossible. One thing was certain—being indecisive would not go over well with Javier.

  It was cowardly as shit and she didn’t even care. She was going to play dumb. “Hello?”

  “How are you, my little country bumpkin?”

  At least he didn’t seem annoyed with her. “I’m good. What’s up?”

  “I can’t give you those three months after all.”

  Drew’s first thought was that something had happened and he was rescinding the offer. An unexpected wave of relief washed over her. “Let me guess. Bobby Flay came begging.”

  “What? No. Of course not.” She’d been kidding, but his tone told her he wasn’t amused.

  “Okay. What, then?” It would sting if he filled the slot with some bigger name, but she’d refused to make a decision. She’d have no one to blame but herself.

  “Priscilla. The doctor has put her on bed rest.”

  Her stomach lurched. She told herself it was concern for the woman she’d met a handful of times. “Oh, no. Is she okay?”

  Javier sighed. She could imagine him swishing a hand back and forth while he spoke. “She’s fine. The kitchen work, it’s very hard on the body. They don’t want to chance the baby coming too early.”

  That made sense. Something similar had happened with Baker’s sister. She’d been bored out of her mind and miserable by the end of it, but two months off her feet did the trick and she had a healthy baby boy. “So, she’s—”

  “Out. Immediately.”

  The meaning of his earlier statement hit her. He wasn’t rescinding his offer and she didn’t have three months to decide. “You need an answer from me.”

  “By the end of this week. I know you have to give notice, but if your answer is no, I need to look elsewhere. I cannot go any longer than I must without a head chef.”

  “I understand completely.” Fuck. He probably expected her to answer on the spot. At any other moment in her life, she’d have answered already.

  He waited a beat. “Does this mean your answer is no?”

  “No. But it’s not yes, either.”

  “I see.”

  What the hell was wrong with her? “It’s not that I don’t want to say yes, it’s just—”

  “Is it this restaurant you’ve fallen for? Or is it the girl?”

  And when had she become so transparent? “It’s complicated.”

  “In my experience, it’s complicated means it’s the girl. Or in my case, the boy. You know what I mean.”

  She did, and her feelings for Hannah were definitely at the forefront of her mind. Hannah wasn’t the only factor, though. She liked running the kitchen at Fig. She had full creative license without the cutthroat atmosphere of the New York City scene. She loved her staff and working for Nick. She’d even grown fond of her house. Drew shook her head. It was the exact circle her mind had been stuck on since the first time they talked. Since she’d realized at her grandmother’s birthday party just how much she’d become attached to her life.

  “Was it something I said?”

  Shit. How long had she left him hanging? “No. I mean yes, but no. Sorry.”

  “I’ve seen you in some pretty crazy situations, Drew, and I think this is the first time I’ve seen you flustered. I’m sorry I’ve given you a Sadie’s choice.”

  Drew chuckled. “Sophie. It’s Sophie’s choice.”

  Javier tutted. “They’re all the same to me, kid.”

  “I’ll let you know in a couple of days, I promise.”

  “You will. I can wait only so long, even for you.” He paused, like maybe he was weighing whether or not to continue. “If I can give you one piece of advice, it’s this.”

  Drew looked out the window and braced herself for a treatise on ambition and opportunities that don’t roll around every day.

  “Follow your heart. Work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Wow. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

  “I’m lucky. My husband, he loves the business and this crazy life. But if he didn’t? Well, let’s just say I love him more than I love running restaurants. I know this and he knows it, too.”

  One of the top restaurateurs in North America had offered her a job and now he was giving her love advice. What kind of bizarro world had she stepped into? “Thanks, Javier. That’s really good advice.”

  “You figure out your heart and you give me a call.”

  “I will. Talk soon.” Drew ended the call but didn’t get up. She stared at the screen, as though some other life-altering thing might spring from it and turn her world even more upside down. Nothing did, which was good since Drew didn’t think she could handle another bomb dropping. Of course, thinking of being offered her dream job as a bomb dropping didn’t help. She needed to make a decision in four days. What the fuck was she going to do?

  She got up and spent some time pacing the span of the kitchen and living room. That succeeded in making her feel like a caged animal. Not helpful. Drew stopped and looked out the window. She practically lived in a state forest. There had to be a dozen trails at her disposal. It was as good a time as any to finally use them.

  She changed into athletic shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then pulled on the sneakers she rarely wore. She contemplated bringing water or a snack or something but decided against it. She wasn’t hiking a fucking mountain.

  Although tempted to walk out her back door and right into the woods, she wasn’t an idiot. Instead, she jogged down the street to the large sign announcing the state forest. Next to it, a map showed various trails, each marked with a different colored line. She chose one labeled flat that would loop her back to her starting point.

  She moved purposefully at first, her gaze shooting back and forth between her feet and the patches of paint on trees that told her which way to go. She expected it to work like the gym, where the combination of monotony and feeling like her lungs were on fire made thinking difficult if not impossible. The woods, it seemed, didn’t work that way.

  She had to move slower because of the uneven ground, so she hardly broke a sweat. Still, the deeper into the forest she got, the more she found herself pulled in by the texture of the trees and plants, the sounds of leaves rustling and birds singing. It soothed rather than distracted. Like all those things people said about spending time in nature were true. By the time she got home, she felt calmer, if no closer to the answer.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  With the days getting shorter, Hannah cut back her hours at the farm. She’d been looking forward to the more relaxed pace of fall. Even with plenty still to harvest, very little planting needed to be done and the weeds were finally tamed. But even as she had more time, she suddenly seemed to be spending less of it with Drew. The last week especially, Drew seemed distracted and on edge. Hannah asked her about it a couple of times, but Drew brushed her off. She wasn’t about to beg.

  And then, almost out of the blue, Drew asked to come over. Not for dinner, not for the night. It was the middle of the day and she’d asked simply to come over. Maybe finally she’d open up about whatever was bugging her.

  Sure enough, she showed up and said she needed to talk about something. They sat on the sofa, Drew’s leg bouncing like it was on a spring. Seconds ticked by. Finally, Hannah put her hand on Drew’s knee. “Clearly, something’s bothering you. Just spit it out already.”

  “Do
you remember that guy we ran into when we were in New York City? Javier?”

  Oh, she remembered. She also remembered the indignant feeling that pressed against her rib cage at their condescending banter about the quaint little place upstate. That feeling returned, although she couldn’t figure out why. “I do.”

  Drew took a deep breath. She looked miserable, like she’d been charged with delivering terrible news. “He’s offered me a job.”

  Maybe she should have been grateful Drew had the courtesy to at least pretend to be torn. She consciously formed her lips into a smile. “That’s great.”

  “It’s an honor, that’s for sure. He’s launched some of the biggest chefs in the last decade.”

  She wasn’t oblivious to the world of celebrity chefs. Feature stories in her monthly Food and Wine sometimes felt like they belonged in People instead. She didn’t get the appeal, with actors or athletes or any other kind of celebrity. But Drew would aspire to that. The pressure in her ribs gave way to a sinking in her stomach. “When do you start?”

  Drew looked at her like the question made no sense. “I haven’t accepted it yet. Javier initially gave me a couple of months to decide, but he needs someone sooner. I have to let him know this week.”

  What did she mean she hadn’t accepted it yet? “So, like, do you want my blessing or something?”

  “I—” Drew closed her mouth, opened it again. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  A dozen different moments, comments, replayed in Hannah’s mind. Phrases like “step on the ladder” and “means to an end.” What Angelique said about Drew’s aspirations. The look on Drew’s face when she talked about opening a restaurant on her own. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. She also remembered Drew picking peaches and sitting on her back deck. In her kitchen, making dinner. In her bed, making—

  “Hannah?”

  How long had she’d zoned out? “I don’t see how there’s much to talk about. You’re not going to turn it down.”

  Drew took a deep breath and studied Hannah’s face, searching for meaning. She didn’t know what she expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Hannah didn’t seem angry or even all that upset. “I thought I at least owed you, us, the chance to have a conversation. We’re involved, probably more than either of us expected going in.”

  Hannah’s face was expressionless. “Your life is in the city. You’ve been clear about that from the beginning. Let’s not pretend we’re going to juggle some kind of long-distance arrangement that will leave us both disappointed and exhausted.”

  A few months ago, Drew might have said those exact words. It made no sense for them to feel utterly devastating now. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

  Hannah took a deep breath. Drew couldn’t tell if she was trying to steel her resolve or find a nice way to tell Drew to get lost. “I’m not minimizing what we had. I’m being realistic, and honest.”

  Hannah’s use of the past tense wasn’t lost on Drew. Nor was the almost bored look on her face. As much as it felt like her heart was being wrung out from the inside, it made her decision a whole hell of a lot easier. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  Hannah smiled. It looked plastic and turned Drew’s stomach. “I am happy for you.” She put emphasis on the “am” like it might make Drew believe her. “It’s quite an accomplishment.”

  Drew squared her shoulders. “It is. It’s what I’ve worked for my entire life.”

  “Then you deserve it.” Something passed through Hannah’s eyes. It might have been sadness, or maybe disappointment. But it disappeared almost immediately, leaving Drew to wonder if she’d imagined it.

  “I haven’t told Nick yet. I’m going to do that today, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything to anyone. At least until tomorrow.”

  “Of course.”

  Hannah’s living room suddenly felt claustrophobic, the air thick and stifling. “Okay, I think I’m going to go.”

  Again, that look passed through Hannah’s eyes. “I hope you don’t feel like I’m kicking you to the curb.”

  Oh, no. It felt much worse than that. Like a kick to the chest that stole her breath and made her feel like she might never get it back. “Not at all. But it feels awkward to stay.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. No hard feelings, though, right?”

  “No hard feelings.” The lie clung to her like stale smoke, permeating her skin and clothes.

  Hannah stepped forward. She had the audacity to kiss Drew on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

  Drew fled, unable to stand being in the same room any longer. She climbed into her car and left, not having a destination but needing to be as far away from Hannah as possible.

  She drove south toward town. She knew where Nick lived, but it felt weird to show up at his house unannounced. But now that she’d told Hannah, now that her decision had been made, she wanted to let him know as soon as possible. She owed him that. And even if she still trusted Hannah not to break confidence, the less time that elapsed, the better. She pulled to the side of the road and texted him, asking if he might be free to meet. She didn’t expect an immediate reply, but one came, offering a beer and a promise not to rope her into the yard work he was doing.

  The message had such an easiness to it. They’d become friends. It made her feel like shit to be quitting on him not six months into her position. It didn’t help to think he might be more upset by her leaving than Hannah had been.

  She shook her head. Her complete misread of things with Hannah wasn’t Nick’s problem. His problem was losing his head chef, nothing more. And on that front, at least, she might be able to help. Poppy had progressed so much, both in her cooking style and her leadership in the kitchen, Drew feared she might not be long for Fig. She had no hesitation recommending her for the promotion. If Nick agreed, the transition would be seamless.

  Almost like she’d never been there.

  * * *

  When Drew had gone, Hannah gave into the urge to drop her head into her hands. She didn’t cry, so that counted for something. But she did feel like she might throw up any second. She took a deep breath and tried to settle the churning in her stomach.

  She’d done the right thing. She knew in her heart she’d done the right thing. Why did the right thing have to feel so shitty? And why did it feel like her heart was broken into pieces? Hannah had ended relationships before, but never had it felt like this. She stood. She didn’t know what would make it go away, but sitting by herself and moping would only make it worse.

  It was her day off, but there were a few hours of daylight left. She could distract herself in the fields, then find something in the barn to keep her busy. She’d just have to figure out a way to avoid talking to anyone. If she had any hope of keeping it together, not talking was a must.

  During the time she’d been inside, a swath of dark clouds had moved in from the west. It looked like the cold front would be arriving a few hours ahead of schedule. Just like her mood. All the more reason to get in as much work as possible.

  She got to the farm and spent a minute debating between picking the greens for the week’s CSA boxes and picking apples. Since the storm would probably take down apples more than it would damage the kale, she settled on apples. She grabbed her rain jacket from her locker and pulled on boots. On her way out, she snagged a few over-the-shoulder canvas bags. A minute later, she stalked up the path to the orchard, grateful the weather and day of the week saved her from having to cross paths with any u-pickers.

  After Red Delicious, McIntosh might be her least favorite apple. Their soft flesh and mild flavor bored her to tears, but they remained a perennial crowd favorite, so she had planted several rows beyond the older trees that had been on the property when she bought it. They’d filled out nicely in the last five years and were consistently good producers. Maybe they weren’t so terrible after all.

  She surveyed the rows. The lower branches had been pretty well picked. She’d leave what remained for the next wave of
u-pickers. That still left plenty of apples out of reach for the average person on the ground. Although she’d placed a few modest stepladders here and there, most folks didn’t brave the climb, especially when beautiful fruit sat at eye level. She didn’t mind, as she’d yet to have a single injured customer. As soon as she had the thought, she went up to one of the trees and rapped her knuckles against it.

  She and Jeremiah had parked a huge wooden crate just off the road. They’d filled one of Macs already and tractored it to the farm stand. This one sat empty and waiting. Perfect.

  Hannah grabbed one of the ladders and positioned it under a tree. Even just a few feet off the ground, the wind was stronger. It whipped through her jacket and sent a chill rippling down her spine. She shook it off and started to pick, filling the bags she’d hung on either side of her.

  Fill the bags, empty the bags. Move the ladder, fill the bags. On a good day, picking apples was one of her favorite chores. Today she went at it with a vengeance, stomping up and down the ladder each time. She mumbled to herself, mostly expletives. When the rain started, she didn’t even pause. The wind picked up, whipping cold drops into her face. When tears started to fall, they mixed with the rain, making them slightly less humiliating. How could she have been such a fool?

  She lost track of time, lost track of how many trips she made up and down, how many apples she added to the crate. When she heard a vehicle on the loop road, she paused to see who it was. Jeremiah.

  He stopped his truck and cut the engine. He got out, pulling the hood of his rain jacket over his head. “If you were worried about the apples, you should have told me. I’d have come up to help.”

  Hannah wiped her face instinctively. “I wasn’t really. Just needed to burn off some energy.”