She shrugged negligently and he knew she was gone.
He wished to god he knew why.
He did his best to focus back on the service, managed to get the mahi-mahi with the right sauce and vegetables, even if it was on the wrong type of plate. He didn’t change it and she didn’t say a word before dressing it with a truffle oil finish.
All Sam knew was that there was small box in his pocket that had been burning a hole there for two days since he’d picked up the ring. And his plans to give it to her tonight, when they’d have the next two days off to celebrate, had just been burned past recognition.
10
Luisa hadn’t been prepared for her own pain when Sam had shut her out. Not that she could blame him; it had been one of her least smooth exits in history. But this wasn’t working for her. He was too close, too real, too important. She’d sworn no man would ever get in the way of her dreams. The Old Boys Club of restaurant chefs would never limit her options. She’d prove—
But the scar that she’d just sliced across Sam’s heart was so visible; she’d never imagined anything that bad.
He didn’t say another word to her. Instead he returned to creating perfect food like an emotionless machine. She hadn’t had the heart to offer a single prod or nudge—he didn’t give her cause to, except that one plate. His part of the service was perfect. Machine perfect.
As the last plated dish crossed the line, he turned to Marlys, whispered something to her, and was gone out the back door before she could think what to say. Marlys began cleaning up his station without looking at her once.
No one else on the line was talking to her either.
Luisa cleaned up her station amidst the echoing silence and retreated as quickly as she could.
She entered her apartment too weary to turn on the light. She also couldn’t bear seeing one of Sam’s forgotten jackets over the back of a chair or the silly mobile he’d bought at the Pike Place Market and hung in her window, made entirely of twisted vintage forks and spoons.
Two days and nights later she was still sitting in the dark when an envelope was slid under her door. She’d hurried barefoot to the peephole, but there was nothing to see and she couldn’t bear to open the door. She slid down until she sat beside the envelope with her back to the door.
Inside there was a check. It was two-week’s severance pay, plus an extra month’s pay for bonus. Signed by Angelo.
A post-it had been stuck to the front of the check.
Two words, no signature, but she’d recognize the handwriting anywhere.
“Good luck.”
She caught the next flight to Los Angeles and wore sunglasses the whole way to hide her bloodshot eyes.
11
Sam finished the last serving of the night and began cleaning up his station. He bantered a bit with Marlys; let the line see he was fine—after two months, he’d better be.
Graziella came up to him as he was finishing the cleanup on his station.
“I know,” he told her. “I know. I’ll put out an ad tomorrow for a new aboyeur. I just couldn’t face doing it before. But I really want to thank you for covering, Graziella. You’re amazing.”
“I am amazing. Thank you for noticing.”
He managed a smile. Her quick hug was surprising and kind.
She then nodded toward the front of house. “Someone waiting to see you.” And she was gone.
Sam double-checked the kitchen. He was the last one, so he flipped off all except the safety night light and pushed out into the restaurant.
The lights were out. The fire was still going and a single candle burned on the table for two close beside it. A lone woman sat at the table facing away from the kitchen.
For a moment he wondered how Graziella had circled around so fast, but then he knew. His stomach clenched so hard that he couldn’t breathe and had to hold onto the door frame to remain upright. He considered moving back through the door, but Luisa sat so still. Even the sound of the swinging door behind him didn’t cause her to turn, as if she’d shatter at the least movement.
He circled the long way around the fire so that he didn’t approach her from behind. Her face was as frozen as the rest of her. She was normally so animated that she looked unnatural in her stillness.
Sam wanted to yell at her; spit out all of the hard hateful words that had rattled around inside him but never found any target. But the candle picked up the tracks of the silent tears that she made no effort to brush aside, if she was even aware of them. At a loss for what else to do, he sat down across from her.
He saw her swallow hard, several times, but he’d be damned if he’d be first to speak. If he was, he couldn’t trust what would come out.
She nodded once, twice, as if trying to confirm something to herself, then began in a soft voice. Not quite looking at him, as if she didn’t dare.
“My parents threw me out when I was fourteen. Boys and drugs and never going to school and crap like that was what they said. Maybe. But I know they also couldn’t afford to feed me. I learned fast what cold and hungry were like. Got pretty desperate. Finally tried to hustle this chef coming out of a crappy restaurant. Offered to trade what I had to give for some food.”
Sam wanted to close his eyes. Didn’t want to see the hard memories that were crossing Luisa’s lovely face, but he couldn’t look away.
“Instead he fed me, helped me get a fake ID because I already looked like this, and gave me my first restaurant job. He paid me in food and a place to sleep on his floor. No money for the first six months because he didn’t trust me to not buy drugs until I’d been clean a while.”
Sam had heard stories like that. Except the offered payment was usually accepted. She’d gotten lucky.
“I don’t have the palate to be a chef. But I’m smart. I earned my GED in two years even though I was missing four years of school. And I saw how restaurants worked; as clearly as a child’s game. I cooked, cleaned, waitressed, did it all. But I was always fascinated by how it all worked. How things flowed.”
Sam nodded. He couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her just how good she’d been at her job.
“I always dreamed of running a chain. A big group of restaurants, making them function the way…” her voice stumbled and she took a deep gulping breath not far from a sob but continued. “…the way that we functioned. It was almost as good as sex. Better than, until I met you. Those months with you were the best of my life.”
“Mine too,” Sam managed his first words and she nodded rapidly in response.
“But I didn’t understand about boys, men; about a man. About you. I didn’t get that what we had wasn’t like anything I’d ever had before. I did the job. I worked for Wolfgang in amazing restaurants. And people listened. I was good.”
“Best I’ve ever seen,” Sam finally admitted. He didn’t tend to think ahead, but he found himself trying to second guess this conversation. He wasn’t having much luck. There was a thin thread of hope, but it was blended with memory of a pain so intense that it was utterly blinding.
“I got that dream. The dream that a poor, desperate, cokehead girl had held up as a light to find her way out of the tunnel. But I missed the most important part.”
“What’s that?” Sam held himself very tightly. Even daring to hope hurt like a knife.
“You.”
“Me? Just that simply. Me?”
She nodded again, her arms wrapped tightly around her as if she was freezing to death sitting right next to the fire.
“I’m just a dumb chef. You’d better explain it to me. Because last time I checked you’re the one who—” He bit off the words. Clamped down on the recriminations that he wanted to spew all over her…because he didn’t want to spew them any more.
For better or worse, he knew one truth absolutely.
He loved Luisa Valenti.
God help him.
<
br /> He took a deep breath and spoke slowly so that he could choose his words carefully.
“We get back together and you’re just going to wish you were back with Wolfgang’s restaurants. And I don’t want to leave Angelo’s. He’s perhaps the best Italian chef working today and he’s given me his Number One restaurant to run. No way to solve that.”
“There is. At least I hope there is.”
“I’m listening,” Sam hoped there was too. He’d never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted Luisa, but giving up the restaurant dream would only make him bitter. Just as if she gave up hers.
“Oh god, Sam. You’re the best man there ever was. I can’t believe you’re even listening to me. I didn’t deserve you.”
Sam waited for her to continue, unable to do more.
Impossibly she clenched her arms even tighter until her frame was shaking.
“I had the wrong dream.”
“Say what?” That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d expected some plea for him to go with her. Or that she’d give up her own dreams, which he’d never allow. That’s why he’d written the message he had even if he hadn’t been able to bring himself to sign it.
“Angelo’s was an amazing experience,” he could hear the truth of it in her voice. “I never had so much fun. Angelo, Manuel, Marlys, Graziella, all of them. And that was before I noticed you. Then it just kept getting better. I asked to be busy, I asked to be challenged.”
“And Wolfgang’s organization does that for you.”
“It did, past tense. He offered me consulting at Spago and Cut; flew in himself to do so. I thanked him and then I quit. I gave my two weeks notice three weeks ago. I’ve been back for a week trying to find the bravery to come and see you.”
“You quit?” Sam knew something was wrong here. “Because of me? No! That doesn’t work. I won’t let you—”
“It wasn’t because of you, doofus. It was because of me,” she shouted him down just as she so often did on the cook line.
“Because of you?” He still wasn’t getting it.
“Because of me,” she said more calmly and unwound her arms, finally resting her hands in her lap as if too weary to do more. “I was too young and stupid to understand the most important dream of all, even if you knew it from the very first day.”
“I did?”
She smiled at him; that smile she gave right before she was going to unleash mayhem on his cook line just to tease him. That smile that also spilled forth when she’d woken in his arms to find him watching her.
“Yes,” she continued. “I forgot to dream about being happy. I was happy with you, so god damn happy that I scared the shit out of myself and ran away. I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to try out that dream again.”
“And I’m supposed to trust that?”
She nodded, but the fear was back and she hung her head to study her hands once more. Luisa wasn’t afraid of anything.
“How? Please tell me how.”
And when she looked up at him, the tears had returned. “Because I learned something new by leaving you that I never would have learned while we were together.”
“What was that?”
“How much I love you, Sam Walsh.”
And there it was. How could he possibly deny such a statement, especially when it was so clear in his own heart? Had some part of him hoped that she’d be back? Was that why he’d never filled the aboyeur spot no matter how badly they needed it? Apparently so.
But he couldn’t let her off the hook that easily no matter how much he was planning to.
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and struggled for a disdainful voice when he really wanted to scoop her into his arms and cry for joy.
“So, you think you can just come back, pick up where you left off at Angelo’s. As if we’d take you.”
Her face fell, so he went for a slightly lighter tone.
“Then you figure you can just slide back into my bed.”
“Well,” she was too sharp, and caught on from just that tiniest hint, “I did let go of my apartment, so I do kinda need a bed to slide into.”
He kept his arms crossed, but backed it up with the smile he was feeling building deep inside him. “You’re probably going to want the ring I had in my pocket that night.”
She looked at him aghast, “You bought me a ring?”
“Uh-huh.”
She covered her mouth in horror, “That same night? Oh god, I’m so sorry. I never thought anyone would ever do something like that for me.”
“I did. Doofus that I am. And even worse?”
“What’s worse than that?”
Sam rose and circled around the table, then knelt and took Luisa’s hands.
She looked into his eyes and he knew he was lost. Happily lost.
“Even worse,” he confirmed. “I love you so much that I can’t imagine life without you.”
The smile that broke out on her face was accompanied by a different type of tears. Then she giggled. A bright merry laugh that he’d missed more than anything about her.
“What?” he asked softly.
She leaned down and gave him a kiss seasoned with pure joy.
“I was just thinking, what with you being the best man I’ve ever met and all…”
“What?”
“I bet you kept the ring.”
He had. He’d felt pathetic doing so, but now he knew why he hadn’t returned it. Because some part of him had known that something so right could never be denied for long.
Sam lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her—right where he’d be slipping the ring on later tonight.
Wrapping It Up
It has been such a fun year in short fiction for me. I’ve traveled from the Suez Canal to a Montana Ranch to the heart of Seattle Pike Place Market. I’ve written about love between spaceships and war between grill chefs. I’ve researched everything from ice fishing to ice climbing and have learned more about firefighting that I’d ever imagined.
Writing these stories is my single greatest joy outside my family. I hope that you also find them fun!
Wishing you all the best,
M.L. Buchman
About the Author
M. L. Buchman has over 50 novels and 30 short stories in print. His military romantic suspense books have been named Barnes & Noble and NPR “Top 5 of the year” and twice Booklist “Top 10 of the Year,” placing two titles on their “Top 101 Romances of the Last 10 Years” list. He has been nominated for the Reviewer’s Choice Award for “Top 10 Romantic Suspense of the Year” by RT Book Reviews and was a 2016 RWA RITA finalist. In addition to romance, he also writes thrillers, fantasy, and science fiction.
In among his career as a corporate project manager he has: rebuilt and single-handed a fifty-foot sailboat, both flown and jumped out of airplanes, designed and built two houses, and bicycled solo around the world.
He is now making his living as a full-time writer on the Oregon Coast with his beloved wife. He is constantly amazed at what you can do with a degree in Geophysics. You may keep up with his writing by subscribing to his newsletter at www.mlbuchman.com.
If you enjoyed this collection, try:
Copyright 2016 Matthew Lieber Buchman
Published by Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form
without permission from the author.
Discover more by this author at:
www.mlbuchman.com
Cover images:
Knife and Apple © Pvf101
Abstract female fire © Clearviewstock
Ice Block © BuildArk
Army Helicotper Resuce © Troy Darr, U.S. Army
Mount Rainier Cloud Cover © Jordan G
oss
U.S. Army UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter © Michael Kaplan
Thai jungle I © Mazlov
Image 2792 © g0d4ather
Granite Mountain - Fire Lookout © laffertyryan
Backpacking on St. Joe’s © Jason Priem
Night Lighthouse Beam © Joseppi
Space Attack © Philcold
White Point Lookout © Oregon Dept of Forestry
Couple with Bicycles Watching Sunset © Maryia Bahutskaya
Labyrinth Couple 5 © George Williams
USS New York transits the Suez Canal © U.S. Navy photo MH-6 Little Bird © San Andreas
Bell 206 Jet Ranger OE-BXO © Zeitblick
Love Story Photo © Evdoha
LRR in Feb © Bill Burleigh
Man Fashion Walk © Curaphotography
Forest Fire © Ervins Strauhmanis
Caión 2 © vrelmunde
Other works by M. L. Buchman:
Angelo’s Hearth
Where Dreams are Born
Where Dreams Reside
Maria’s Christmas Table
Where Dreams Unfold
Where Dreams Are Written
Eagle Cove
Return to Eagle Cove
Recipe for Eagle Cove
Longing for Eagle Cove
Keepsake for Eagle Cove
The Night Stalkers
Main Flight
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Wait Until Dark
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Bring On the Dusk
By Break of Day
White House Holiday
Daniel’s Christmas
Frank’s Independence Day
Peter’s Christmas
Zachary’s Christmas
Roy’s Independence Day
and the Navy
Christmas at Steel Beach
Christmas at Peleliu Cove
5E
Target of the Heart
Target Lock on Love
Firehawks
Main Flight
The Ides of Matt 2015 Page 33
