Piper braced herself for the worst.
“Mrs. Travis!” Instead of disapproval, his face read mirth. His arms were outstretched, as if he was about to hug her. She glanced down at her curry-splashed apron and quickly removed it as he enfolded her in a hearty hug. “You’ve done it! You’ve completed your week.”
“My week?” Piper stepped back out of the hug, and the mayor continued to beam. Mom and Dad stood behind him, their faces alight as well. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression it would be much longer—”
“Didn’t I tell you, dear?” Mom’s head cocked to the side. “The colony has hired over one hundred cooks in the past two years since its inception, each for a week at a time. You were the one hundredth and final chef.”
Mayor Ebbles puffed his chest out. “And the hands-down winner.”
Dad mumbled something about several not even completing their weeks, just disappearing after a couple of days into the rigors.
“We appreciated your attention to every detail of the colony’s meal schedule. No other chef catered to Elevensies or to Late Nights like you. And do I see that you’ve also prepared for us a Midnights? Oh, my dear!” He broke into raptures, a tear even rolling down his cheek. “It pleases me no end to be able to say the kin of two of our own colonists’ will be receiving the award.”
Piper sat back down, her body too tired from the week’s labor to support her anymore. His dangling of an award barely registered to her; all she could feel was the fact that she didn’t have to do this for another day. Her body could rest!
Dad came and rubbed her shoulders. “You earned it dear. I mean, look at what you’ve done. You even made the mayor’s wife’s favorite—chicken à la king—for teatime the other day, with the little pimientos she likes so much. She nearly cried.”
Piper hadn’t known what to make, her mind being so empty from the hollowness of loss, so she’d asked Archie Ebbles what he’d suggest.
Mom’s eyes were dancing. “You’ll be on television and everything.”
“Not in a colony costume.” Please say no costumes would be involved. Her mom’s costumes over the years…
“No! No, dear. You’ll just need to wear whatever you have that’s best—plus your chef’s apron, of course. Now, what does one say when receiving the award for Top National Chef, Mayor?”
But this wasn’t even Auckland. This was the colonies.
“I don’t understand.” Piper was confused. “I thought—I thought I was just cooking for you.”
“Who do you think we all are, my dear? The majority of us are retired chefs and food critics. We spent our lives making food for others, and now in our retirement we’re finally getting a chance to enjoy it.” He gave her a bow. “I used to be head chef at the best five-star hotel in Auckland. I cooked in seventeen countries during my career. I know food. The rest of the colonists have similar backgrounds. We allowed your parents to join when we saw that they had connections to you. We’d read your bio and seen your food featured on American internet sites.” He turned to Mom with an apology in his eyes. “Sorry if that sounds unfeeling.”
Dad gave it a pshaw. “Aw, we knew that going in. Your wife told us.”
“Good. Then, mission accomplished. We wanted to lure you here, and it’s done. And we were not remotely disappointed. It was unanimously declared at our meeting earlier this evening. Did you see how our group devoured every dish you created? Literally licked the platters clean.” He gave a guffaw. “We’ll schedule the news conference on Channel Three. You’ll get to meet Dominick Bowen, and everything. He’s the kiwi host with the most, and women just pour their hearts out to him.”
Relief remained the dominant emotion, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bit pleased. They liked her food—enough to give it an award. They were chefs, and they liked it. Maybe this was the South Seas equivalent of the Texas Star.
Of course, Texas was three times as large and had seven times as many people as New Zealand, but considering her inability to ever return there, she’d have to take her victories where she could find them.
“Thank you,” she managed. “I really appreciate it. You were all delightful to cook for. So gracious.”
“Well, we loved your food. You are a wizard in the kitchen. Kind of like old Gandalf himself.”
Annnnd there was the fantasy reference she’d been waiting for.
“We’ll send in the brigade to come do up these dishes. Everyone we tested had to run their own kitchens, including dishes as part of the endurance test—much like golfers not getting to use a cart or a caddy, just to be sporting—but you get a pass. Now, you go take a nice long soak yourself. You deserve it, champion.” He grinned, and the whites of his crooked teeth made her a little happy.
Mom and Dad stayed to do dishes while Piper meandered back to her rounded pod of a condominium. Inside, she kicked off her shoes. She was too tired to do the math to figure out what time it was in Texas, but now that the ordeal had proved it had an actual end, she felt lighter—enough that she even dared message Zach. Despite whatever hour it might be there, across the wide ocean, she ached to share the good news with him—a bright spot in their dark worlds apart. For the past days, she couldn’t bear to reach out to him. It was like stoking a fire when the fuel was going to run out any second. Useless, she knew. But tonight, she needed his voice, his shared happiness, even for just a little while.
Tell Teacup I’m the winner of the Top National Chef award here in Kiwi land. Mayor Ebbles let me know I’ll be on TV with a famous television host to receive it. I guess my cooking stint here was a test, not a term of imprisonment, after all.
∞∞∞
Zach sat straight up in bed. He nearly toppled Teacup to the floor. Something Birdie had said, which was repeated by Mitzi, had jarred in his subconscious brain as he slept. It dovetailed with all the immigration law he’d been scouring for ways to get Piper back.
Piper isn’t just an exceptional chef, she’s an exceptional person.
He hugged the dog. “I think we’ve got it, Teacup. I think we’ve got it!”
Within ten minutes, he’d showered and was digging into the internet, finding every possible legal argument related to what he thought might work on Piper’s behalf, based on “The Exceptional Person” exception. The repetition didn’t even bother him because if he could get the court to agree that, based on Piper’s tremendous and widely recognized cooking skills, she could be deemed an exceptional person¸ a judge could grant her a swift and easy return to the U.S.—and to him.
Energy coursed through his chest as he made note after note on previous cases. A text chimed from his office. Cora said that Crockett said thanks for the recipe; his wife was cooking it now as a trial run, and the judging would be tomorrow.
It dawned on Zach that if Piper won that Ambassador’s Award in Chile, that would only throw fuel on the fire of his claims.
Teacup yapped, and Zach bent to pick her up. “That’s right, Teacup. Mommy’s got a chance of coming home now.” Teacup yapped again and nuzzled Zach’s neck. It was as if she understood.
As soon as he’d amassed what seemed like enough information, he made a beeline for Du Jour. There, he threw open the back door and hustled over to Mitzi, who stood beside Steve LaPray, both of them chopping eggplant cubes.
“Zach! What are you doing here?”
Taking her by both shoulders, he pressed a kiss on her cheek.
“You’re brilliant. You’re right. Piper is an exceptional person!” Zach couldn’t suppress a smile. “Steve, can you still arrange for Piper to be given that Top American Chef award? That could be the key.”
“Absolutely. How soon do you need it done?”
“The sooner the better.”
His phone chimed a text from Piper. Oh, yeah. This whole thing might actually come together. The heavens would have to intervene, but they had in times gone by, and he could only pray they would now, as well. Piper was too good for heaven to forget her.
∞∞�
�
The first thing Piper did when she awoke, groggy from her ten-hour sleep was check her messages. It was time for her to respond to Zach, and with last night’s little triumph, she felt ready to do so for the first time.
A message from him awaited her, and she tapped it with an eagerness.
Piper! You can’t know what good news that is! It’s excellent and will go a long way toward your case. Now, get someone to send me a video of the presentation, and we’ll be one giant step closer to bringing you home.
A video of her with a bunch of hobbits was going to help her get back to Texas? Ha. She pictured Judge Underdown’s dripping scorn on being forced to sit through such a spectacle.
A second message from Zach chimed in before she could ask what kind of mushrooms Steve LaPray was putting in the crêpes at Du Jour these days.
Oh, and I forgot to congratulate you. Your jalapeño corn and Chilean sea bass recipe has earned you a trip to Santiago. Would you rather go there to receive it, or come here to San Antonio first?
Wait a minute. Zach wasn’t kidding. He really believed she had a chance at going back?
A prayer rose to her lips, and she moved them silently as she petitioned the heavens. Please, allow me to go back to him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Four days later, Zach put the final scheduling details together with Steve LaPray’s magazine collaboration. They were a go to give her the newly founded award. Plus, they had documented and time-stamped emails proving that the award had been in the works from long before Piper’s deportation threat letter’s arrival.
That would be key.
Now, to contact Mr. Crockett.
“Excellent news, Travis.” Crockett’s voice boomed all the way from South America, whence he’d flown. “Piper and Mrs. Crockett were the unanimous winners of this year’s Ambassador’s Award. If she would like to travel here to receive it, that will be happening at the end of next month. Shall I arrange for her flight?”
Zach would have to run that past Piper; however, he had a more to-the-point question for now. “Can you message me a copy of the award and the accompanying news articles, especially if they involve dates and names?”
Crockett could.
“So, it would seem you’ve hit on a plan for retrieving your girl. I never had any doubts. Besides, Du Jour is the best place for lunch in all of San Antonio. Every lawyer at CBH will attest to that. It needs its chef back. Cora has been hearing complaints and reported them to me.”
Cora!
Zach contacted Cora next, with a proposal.
“Of course! I’ll get every signature in the building, not just upstairs at the law firm. I’ll get locals to take announcement flyers around to all the businesses. I can even use one of my contacts at the newspaper and a few bloggers to start the hew and cry, if you like.”
“You like Du Jour that much?”
“We like Piper even more.”
The plan was rolling forward.
But would it be enough?
∞∞∞
Piper had had to go shopping to find something appropriate for television. Dominick Bowen, the host of the morning show, greeted her with those preternaturally white teeth that only television personalities can afford, and a charming grin. Pre-filming, he’d been really warm and easy to talk to. He’d asked her a few questions about her stay in New Zealand, and why she was there. While the cameras were off, she didn’t mind telling him the whole deportation saga. Something about him made her blab it all. Maybe because he reminded her a little of Zach, at least his height.
“Congratulations, Piper Travis. Do I detect an American accent in your voice?”
The interview had progressed through a discussion of the award, its prestige, her menus, and now was heading into the personal details, as she’d been briefed. They’d also prepped her with the bombshell that the TV show was live and the most popular morning show in all of New Zealand, so she might want to be careful of her words—but not to be nervous.
Not nervous! If she was going to be seen by two million viewers? Ha, ha. Very funny. And the nerves would throw careful words’ caution to the wind.
But it had been too late, and they were hooking the microphone to her blouse, and she was meeting the host, who was as tall as Zach at six-foot-four.
She missed Zach.
“Yes, sir.” Her response came automatically, ingrained by her Texas upbringing. “I’m New Zealand-born, but my parents took me to Texas as an infant, which is where I learned to make the pork barbecue that I made for Hobbit Households Estates that they liked so well, bless them.”
Bowen beamed at her. “And how long have you been in New Zealand working as a chef?”
Suddenly, her defenses shattered, and she couldn’t stop herself. “Only about ten days. I love it here, but my husband Zach is still there, and our little dog Teacup.” Instinctively, she pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of herself, Zach, and Teacup, all smiling. The TV camera closed in on her, and the live audience gave a unison aw.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Travis? You seem upset.”
“I’m—” She might as well say it. “I’m just afraid I might never see them again.” Before she knew it, she was doing just as Mayor Ebbles had prophesied: pouring her heart out to the host with the most. “There was some miscommunication with my immigration status, and now I’m separated from my husband who I love more than life itself—maybe forever.”
The audience was silent, Dominick was silent, in the wings, Mom sniffled and gave a little cry before running onto the platform where Piper sat across from the host.
“Oh, sweetheart. I never knew. I’m so sorry.” Mom fell onto Piper’s shoulder and sobbed. “We never meant to cause any of this.”
Piper hugged her mom, and the cameras cut to commercial while the audience settled and Piper calmed herself. The thought of never seeing Zach again had crushed her, and she couldn’t stop the tears from leaking down her face. If she could only tell him once more in person, show him with a kiss that she meant everything that had seemed so much a façade at the time, prove to him by making good on the promises she’d made to him in front of Father Ryan and God that she truly considered herself his wife both in word and in deed, she’d give anything—even for a few hours with him.
The stage crew brought on an additional chair for her mother, and they were joined now by Mayor Ebbles, who had a bench-length settee to hold his girth, and the filming resumed. They were almost done, just the presentation ceremony remained.
The cameras resumed, and Mayor Ebbles stood and bowed too many times to the audience. It broke some of the tension inside Piper, and she could smile as he handed her the shiny silver platter engraved with her name and the words Top National Chef with the date of presentation and the names of the committee. The audience clapped.
“Chef Ebbles,” Bowen said, “I ate at Hotel Lamprey while you were cooking there, and I know what a stickler you are for quality food. How did Mrs. Travis’s cuisine measure up?”
Mayor Ebbles did his best impersonation of a fire hydrant, splashing praise of Piper’s cooking at ten thousand gallons a minute. “And her shortbread is so good my son asked her to make it for his wedding.”
“But you have a feeling she won’t be able to do so, you said to me off camera.”
He did? Piper perked up.
“That’s right, Dominick. I have my doubts as to whether Piper Travis will be available, considering her distance from Hobbit Households.”
“Why is that, Mayor?”
Piper stared at Dominick, whose eyes twinkled as much as the mayor’s.
“Because of this man.” Mayor Ebbles flung his arm toward the wings with a flourish. “A bloke who has flown halfway around the world to ask my permission to reclaim his wife. I gave permission to wed, as you must have guessed.”
Dominick ignored that statement, but so did Piper—whose eyes were trained on the lanky, handsome figure of a man striding toward the platform.
�
�Zach!” She surged to her feet and seeing nothing else ran to his waiting arms.
“I have some good news, Piper. You’re going home,” Mayor Ebbles said through the fog of emotion filling the space between her and Zach Travis, her husband, her love.
Zach caught her in his arms. They encircled her, lifted her. She sank against him, looking up at his face and still not quite believing he was real, although she was touching him, holding him in her arms. She let herself run her fingers up his spine, feeling every knot, caressing the musculature of his back, smelling the sweet scent of his cologne and his soap, and drinking in the lovelight dousing her from his gaze.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I came as soon as I had everything arranged. It’s all legal. And it’s your talent, your hard work, and your skill that are bringing you back, not me.”
The camera came up and did a close-up on their faces. Piper barely noticed, so entranced she’d become in Zach’s presence.
“You came for me. I never expected…”
“A lot of people made it possible, but you’ll be coming back on a work visa until we can get you full citizenship—from being married. To me.”
Married. To Zach. And he was willing to keep her not just until green card status, and not just until she returned to the States.
“But that could take years.”
“I’ve got years, Piper. For you, I’ve got forever.”
Somewhere in the background, a studio audience gave a long aw. Piper heard the producer say Cut to commercial, and the camera pulled away, and the next guests were getting prepped. Zach and Piper made their way into the stage’s wings.
It was time to tell Zach the bigger news.
“I’m not going home, Zach,” Piper said.
Beneath her fingers, his spine stiffened. “What do you mean? Of course you’re coming back.”
“No. Not until after I’ve shown you that I love you, and that you’re the one man I want to be with forever.” Piper watched Zach’s eyes while he took a moment to process.
Illegally Wedded Page 40
