by Nicole Ellis
Tia followed her gaze. People were smiling and laughing as they shoveled food into their mouths from white paper plates. It had been decided that, for this event, they could do without fancier tableware in favor of a casual, picnic style, especially since guests might want to walk around and explore the grounds as they ate.
“I’d say they love it.” She took a closer look at Meg. Did everyone have opening-day jitters? “Why are you so worried? Everyone always loves your cooking.”
Meg sighed. “Yeah, but those are tried-and-true recipes. I took these ones out of that journal I found. I have no idea if people will like them.”
Tia stared out at the eating area again. “Um, I think they like it.” She pointed at a table consisting of two middle-aged couples. “They’re practically licking their plates clean.”
The tension in Meg’s face eased. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” Tia said firmly. She clutched Meg’s arm and tugged on it to pull her way from the tent. “Now go mingle!”
Meg took a deep breath, then let her lips slide into a huge smile. “Thanks.” She took a few tentative steps, squared her shoulders, and walked purposefully over to a table to greet the occupants.
Tia roamed the event, helping guests find each other, answering questions, and checking to make sure everything was still fine with the problematic bathroom. At the end of the day, she was more exhausted than she’d ever been after an event.
When the final guest left at dusk, Zoe, Shawn, Celia, Meg, and Tia collapsed into the chairs on the front porch. Two bottles of champagne sat at the ready in a bucket filled with ice, and tea lights glowed from short, clear-glass candleholders on the end tables.
“What. A. Day,” Shawn said, enunciating each word dramatically.
“No kidding.” Meg leaned against the back of the chair and sighed. “I’ve never been so nervous in my life, not even on my first day in a professional kitchen.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “You had nothing to worry about.” She looked over at Tia. “Tia and I had to deal with the Great Flood.”
“I still have no idea how that happened,” Shawn said. “I did a quick check of everything this morning and it was just fine.” He shrugged. “But that’s kind of how things work with plumbing. It’s just fine until it suddenly isn’t. Anyway, the plumber got everything fixed up and the flooring should be dried out before our first guest arrives tomorrow.”
“That sounds so crazy,” Meg said, her voice full of wonder. “Our first guest.”
“I know,” Zoe said. “It all happened so fast.”
“Not fast,” Celia said. “At the right time.” She smiled serenely. “Everything happens at the right time, you just may not know it until later.”
Tia watched them, feeling slightly out of place. She was the only person present who didn’t hold an ownership stake in the resort. An easy camaraderie flowed between the others, but she’d only been working at the Inn for two months. Although her friendship was growing with Zoe, it was still in its infancy. Would she ever have the close relationships they seemed to have with each other?
“You’re being awfully quiet,” Celia said to Tia. “Did you have fun today?”
Tia smiled. “I did. And I think everyone else did too. I can’t imagine a better grand opening.” She laughed. “Well, without the flood.”
“You were a big part of making this event successful.” Zoe regarded her thoughtfully. “You know that right?”
“Eh. It’s my job.” Tia felt the heat rising into her cheeks, grateful that no one would be able to see it in the waning light.
“Your job was to help coordinate the event. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t anything in your job description that included mopping up bathrooms—or my tears.” Zoe scooted to the edge of the loveseat she shared with Shawn, the flickering candles casting shadows on her face. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d probably still be up there in that bathroom, bawling my eyes out.”
Shawn reached out to rub Zoe’s back, but didn’t say anything.
“And you talked me down from the ledge too,” Meg added. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Their praise hit Tia hard, and the emotions rising in her chest made it difficult to breathe. “Thank you. I’m happy to be here, working with all of you.” She pasted a bright smile on her face. “And I’m so glad the grand opening was a success.”
“We are too, honey.” Celia reached an arm out toward her walker. “Now, who’s ready for some celebration cake and champagne?”
Shawn leapt up before Celia could stand. “Sit, Grandma. I’ll get the cake from the kitchen.”
“And I’ll pour the champagne.” Meg removed a bottle from the ice bucket.
In all of the bustle, Tia almost didn’t hear the little ping from her phone. She pulled it out of her small event purse and turned it on. It glowed brightly on the dark porch, revealing two missed calls from her mother.
She stuffed the phone back in her purse. Her mom could wait. This was a special night and she wasn’t going to let her mom’s overbearing negativity spoil it for her.
“Here you go, dear.”
Tia looked up to see Celia holding out a bubbling glass of champagne.
When Shawn returned, his grandmother gave him one also. He raised his glass in the air. “To the Inn, and to sharing it with good friends and family.”
“Cheers!” Everyone clinked their glasses together, creating a beautiful sound in one of the most perfect moments Tia had ever experienced.
12
Samantha
Sam paced the living room of her one-bedroom apartment. The tenant below probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra noise, but she needed to work off some of her nervous energy. It was the last day of August and she still hadn’t heard back from any of the teaching jobs she’d applied for. At this rate, it was either time to find a new career or move to a different area. She had no desire to do either, but with only a few months of rent saved, she’d need to find something soon.
Tonight, though, she was determined not to let any of it bother her. Meg had fixed her up with her friend, Taylor, and he’d be there any minute to take her out on a date. Sam didn’t have any illusions that Taylor would turn out to be the love of her life, but going out with him would get her family off her back. They seemed convinced that she was falling into depression and being out in public would reassure them she was fine. Besides, she deserved some fun, right?
The voice in the back of her head pushed its way through to the forefront of her thoughts: Do I deserve it? She’d broken Brant’s heart. Did she really deserve to find happiness with someone else?
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. He was her best friend, and she’d thought he was the love of her life. But after they were engaged and she couldn’t muster up excitement over their wedding, she’d known something was wrong. The feelings she had for him were more brotherly than romantic. They’d broken up about a month ago and she still thought about him every day, although they hadn’t talked since the breakup. Falling in love with your best friend was wonderful while it lasted, but devastating when it ended.
Getting back into the dating world wasn’t a bad idea, but a blind date with her sister’s ex-boss wouldn’t have been her first choice. How often did that type of thing really work out? Besides, she’d seen Taylor a few times when Meg still worked at the Willa Bay Lodge, so it wasn’t exactly a blind date. He was reasonably attractive and, per Meg, “a really great guy”.
She looked down at the living room carpet, almost surprised that her repetitive pacing hadn’t worn a path from the kitchen to the sliding glass door that led to the deck. A sound interrupted her thoughts and confused her for a second, until she realized what it was—the doorbell. She spun around and hurried to the front door. A quick glance out of the peephole confirmed that Taylor had arrived.
She opened the door and stepped back to give him the option to step inside or wait in the interior hallway of her apartment building. “Hi.”
“
Hi.” He stuck out his hand. “I’ve seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve ever formally met. I’m Taylor.”
She laughed and accepted his handshake. “Well, I’m Samantha, but you can call me Sam. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” He smiled widely at her, then chuckled nervously. “This feels a little awkward.” He shifted his weight from one polished leather oxford to the other. He was taller than she’d remembered, with black spiky hair that came close to hitting the top of the door frame.
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Looking up at him, she was reminded of when she was a preteen and had pined over the boys in her older sisters’ circles of friends. “Uh, I’ll go get my purse and jacket, and then we can go.”
“Sure.” He leaned against the doorframe, making no move to enter her apartment.
She returned less than a minute later, wearing a pair of high heels that matched the red flowers on her sleeveless sundress. After she locked the door, they went out to the parking lot. The temperature earlier in the day had been the hottest all week, and the pavement still retained some of the heat, making the evening seem warmer than it actually was.
“I made a reservation at a new restaurant in Paddle Creek,” he said. “Their chef has been getting a lot of good press and I’d like to check out his food. Does that work for you?”
She nodded. “I’m not too picky.” Paddle Creek was about thirty minutes north of Willa Bay. Like her hometown, it was located on the Salish Sea, but Sam hadn’t been there since she was a kid.
He turned on the radio to an easy listening station as soon as they got in the car, but didn’t make much of an effort to chat with her. After she’d made a few attempts at small talk that were met with single-word responses, she focused on the passing scenery. The tulips the area was known for wouldn’t be in bloom again until next spring, but there were plenty of scenic farms to admire along the way.
They arrived at the restaurant, located in a large, old house a few blocks from the water and pulled into one of the last spaces in the parking lot next door. As they walked along the path to the front door, Sam peered at the building.
“This house must have belonged to one of the original settlers in Paddle Creek,” she said. “I love what they’ve done with the porch.” In fact, she was almost hoping that their reservation would be delayed so she could check out the comfortable-looking loveseats outside the door and enjoy the warm evening breeze.
Taylor scanned the building and nodded appreciatively. “It is beautiful. I remember reading that it was built by a lumber baron around the turn of the century.”
A well-dressed couple walked past them as they were observing the restaurant’s exterior, and a flicker of concern made her pause a moment longer. Taylor had told her they’d be going out to dinner, so she’d opted for a long cotton sundress with a thin, knit sweater. Was this the type of place with a dress code?
He smiled at her. “Are you ready to go inside?”
She nodded, and they continued on down the path and up the steep stairs to the porch. When they entered the restaurant, Sam’s eyes barely had time to adjust to the dim lighting before a hostess wearing a white blouse and black pencil skirt whisked her and Taylor away to a table covered in white linen, next to a window overlooking the garden. A narrow crystal vase containing a single rose surrounded by baby’s breath completed the elegant ambience. The waiter came by immediately to fill their water glasses, saying he’d be back in a few minutes to take their order.
“This is nice,” she whispered as she opened her menu. She looked around to see what the other patrons were wearing. Thank goodness she’d dressed up more than she usually would have for a date, but she still felt underdressed. This was one of the fanciest restaurants she’d ever been in, and it was more than a little intimidating. It was also very romantic for a first date, which didn’t help her uneasiness.
Taylor surveyed the room. “It is nice. I hope the food is just as good.” He looked at his menu, his finger tracing a line down the middle of each page as he read the descriptions. At the end of the final page, he clapped the menu shut and laid it on the table.
After they’d given the waiter their selections, they sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. Delectable aromas wafted through the air when the table next to them received their entrées, causing Sam’s mouth to water. She took a long drink of water to keep her stomach from making a mortifying grumble in agreement with her mouth.
Taylor cleared his throat. “So, I hear you’re a teacher?”
She nodded. “I’m a PE teacher at the high school.” She frowned. “I mean, I was a PE teacher at the high school. There were some budget cuts and my contract wasn’t renewed for the upcoming school year.”
“Oh.” He looked stricken. “I’m so sorry. That must have been rough. Have you been able to find anything else?”
“No.” She played with the cloth napkin in her lap, running her fingers over the raised threads along the edge. “Nothing yet.” So far, this wasn’t going too well. Her mind raced, trying to think of something to say that would change the topic away from how badly she was currently failing in life to something more interesting. Asking him about his life seemed safe enough. “So, how long have you been a chef?”
“About ten years.” He launched into an explanation of how he’d ended up in culinary school, his face lighting up as he described his experiences in some of the biggest restaurants on the West Coast.
“You love it, don’t you?” She tilted her head to the side, studying his expression as she waited for him to respond. The way he talked about cooking was the same way she felt about teaching, especially educating kids about the importance of physical activity.
“I do.” He beamed. “Growing up, I never saw myself becoming a chef, but it’s the best job in the world. I love making people happy through the food I create for them and I love being the head chef at the Willa Bay Lodge. I feel so lucky to have found my dream job.”
She smiled in agreement, feeling like they’d finally reached some common ground. “I get it. I feel the same way about what I do. To me, teaching students to become better versions of themselves is the best job in the world.” In that instant, she knew that no matter what she decided to pursue for a future career, it needed to involve teaching in some form, whether that be through a coaching position or something else.
They talked about what they loved about their jobs until their orders came, at which point Taylor shut down in favor of digging into his beef bourguignon. Sam didn’t mind though. Her own pan-seared salmon with avocado remoulade was excellent, and after their conversation about how important being a chef was to him, his single-minded focus didn’t surprise her.
After he’d had a chance to get a good taste of everything, Taylor finally looked up at her. “I’m so sorry. I just realized I was totally ignoring you.” He grinned sheepishly. “I tend to hyperfocus when I’m eating something new. How is your meal? I promise I’ll be a better date now that I’ve tried these dishes.”
She took a sip of water, then grinned at him. “I didn’t mind. I was enjoying my food too. You were right. This restaurant is excellent.”
“What do you think about getting dessert?” he asked.
“Uh.” She glanced around at the other diners. While she liked the restaurant, she was feeling increasingly self-conscious about what she was wearing. Her sundress was fine for most restaurants, but some of the women in this place were dressed to the nines.
He smiled. “It’s a little stuffy in here, isn’t it?”
She shot him a grateful look.
“What would you think about grabbing some ice cream down at the marina?” he suggested. “It’s such a perfect evening for it.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
Their waiter brought them their check after they declined dessert. As Taylor pulled out his credit card and handed it to the waiter, he asked, “Would it be possible to speak with the chef before we leave? I’d like to pay my compl
iments. I’m a chef in Willa Bay and I thought this was a fantastic meal.” He turned his attention to Sam. “Is that okay with you?”
“Of course.”
“Certainly sir,” the waiter said. “I’ll go back to the kitchen and arrange for him to visit your table.”
The chef came out and he and Taylor had a lively conversation for about five minutes, while Sam sat back and listened. Hearing them talk reminded her of how excited Meg got when she spoke about trying new recipes. While Sam enjoyed cooking, she didn’t get fired up about it like they did. When the two were done chatting and the other man had returned to the kitchen, Taylor stood.
“Thanks for letting us jabber on.” He laughed self-consciously. “When chefs get to talking…”
“No problem.” She pushed her chair back and looped her purse strap over her shoulder. “I didn’t mind at all.”
They walked the few blocks from the restaurant to a small marina, where a shack sat on the edge of the water. A long line of people snaked along the sidewalk in front of it.
They took their place in the queue and Sam eyed the list of flavors. “I think I’m going to go with the Northwest Blackberry.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “I like to try whatever’s local when I go places.”
“Are you originally from this area?” She knew he hadn’t lived in Willa Bay for more than a few years, but she didn’t know much about him other than that.
He shook his head. “Nope. I’m from Southern California, born and raised.”
“Do you still have family there?” she asked, walking forward a few steps as the line moved.
“Three sisters, two older and one younger.” His gaze trailed a boat puttering out of the slow water zone toward the breakwater.
“You must miss them.”
“I do.” His eyes took on a far-off look, then focused on her. “Are you close with your sisters? It must be nice to have them living in the same town as you.”
