by penny watson
“Why is that?” She continued to stroke his face.
He turned to inhale her wrist. Caught it in his own hand and held it still.
“Had to sell Stone Soup to pay off my creditors. I’m waiting for the new owners now. You and the girls should go. It’s fucking humiliating enough without an audience.” He reached for his glass, realized it was gone, and hollered, “Damn it, Rory! Where’s my drink?”
She lifted both hands and cradled his angry face. “Elliott. Leave Uncle Rory alone. We need to talk. About the restaurant.”
He shook his head. “Nothing left to talk about, sweet.”
“Actually, there is. Meet your new boss.” Sophia gestured to Emilia, and she stepped forward and held out a hand to Elliott.
“Chef Adamson, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Elliott’s eyes darted back to Sophia, and then he started to chuckle. He laughed until he cried, and coughed, and then he finally pounded on the table.
“You didn’t. Please, please, please tell me . . . you did not buy this wretched place. It’s full of bad luck, you damned stupid American.”
“Hey!” Cady hit Elliott on the shoulder. “Don’t you call my mom stupid. You have no idea—”
“Cady, it’s all right, honey.” Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Elliott, this isn’t a joke. You and I both know that you deserved to win that competition. You should have gotten the money, not I. But I realize now it’s probably best you didn’t get the cash yourself.”
That got his attention. He sat up straighter in his chair and glared at her. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“You can’t just throw money at this place and think it will all work out. You need a total overhaul. New name, new venue, fresh start. Your cooking instincts are fabulous, but you need Cady running the front of the house, designing your space, bringing her sparkle and light into your project. You need Emilia managing the rest—the employees and wholesale accounts and thinking ahead. And planning promotional events.”
Elliott rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Promotional events? Woman, you have lost your mind. I’m stuck here in this little town, and no one is bothering with me. Promotional events are not an issue.”
“But in two months, you will be on the map, Elliott. In two months, A Taste of Heaven will air on television, and suddenly eager tourists will be searching for you and your restaurant. Excited to see the Beast in person and try his food.”
“Try his haggis,” Emilia said.
“And his delicious peach-rum trifle,” Cady added. With her lop-sided smirk. “Although I fully expect that dessert to be named Cady’s Kick-Ass Trifle.”
“That show is going to change your life. You can either squander this opportunity and stay here in this dark little corner of North Berwick, or you can get your ass out of here. Emilia and I already found an excellent new location for the restaurant. We love this town. It’s charming and lovely. You just need to choose wisely.”
Elliott’s nostrils flared. “Rory, could you please escort Cady and Emilia to the kitchen for a tour of these lovely facilities? I would like to have a word in private with Sophia.”
“Of course.” Uncle Rory gestured to the girls. “Right this way, ladies. Excuse the mess.”
“Mom, are you okay?” Emilia took her mother’s hand.
“Fine. Elliott and I need to talk.”
Em nodded, and she and Cady left with Elliott’s elderly uncle. Sophia watched them exit the restaurant through the back door, letting in a shaft of sunlight. And then the door slammed shut, leaving her and Elliott in the shadows.
“You just can’t help yourself, Sophia. I’m like the baby bird in your garden. I’ve fallen out of the nest, and you have to nurse me back to health.” Elliott shook his head slowly, simmering with anger. “Well, it’s not going to work. You want to scrape me out of the bottom of the barrel. The three-time loser. And patch me up and make everything better. No, thank you. I’m done.”
“But you keep making the same mistakes!” Sophia wanted to shake him. “You need to try something different this time. Emilia and Cady and I are here. We are willing to try. You did it during the competition. You worked as a team, and it was successful. We need to start fresh, with a new concept.”
“You’re asking me to launch another new restaurant? I can’t do it. I’m exhausted.” His fatigue was etched all over his face. It broke her heart. The dark circles under his eyes. The stains on his rumpled shirt. The scent of whisky on his skin. He reeked of defeat.
“Don’t you think I know what that feels like? The exhaustion? Trying to rustle up the energy to get out of bed every morning? I know. This time will be different.”
“How so? How will this be different?”
“This time you have me.” Don’t give up, Elliott. Not yet.
He cupped her face with his callused hands. “I can’t do it to you, love. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
She shook her head, refusing to accept his words. “There are two ways to look at this. Two ways to look at life, Elliott. You can say ‘Oh, I’m quitting again,’ or you can see it another way. That you have the courage to try something new. Take all the lessons you’ve learned in the last fifty years, embark on a fresh adventure, and learn to truly share the journey, the risks, and the failures instead of battling it out alone. This is exactly the same as A Taste of Heaven. We share the load. We blend the vision. We lean on each other. That’s how a family works.”
“Family.” His voice was hoarse. “You don’t think I’m jealous of what you have with those girls? Every time I see the three of you together I’m reminded that I never got around to having a family. Well, I am jealous. And yes, I have regrets. I made sacrifices for my professional career, and look where it’s gotten me.” Elliott rubbed his eyes. “Sweetheart, take your girls and go.”
“No.” Sophia trembled with frustration. “No, I will not go. Where is the man who butchered the turkeys? Who was fearless? Cocky? Where is he? I’m not leaving.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. Her heart was pounding with fear. Why wasn’t Elliott listening to her?
He stared at their fingers locked together and sighed. “You realize that this time my failure will be broadcast all over the world? You’re proposing a huge undertaking. And as you pointed out, I’ll soon be on the map. Which means this new project will be in the spotlight. If I fail—if we fail—everyone will know.”
“We won’t fail.”
He shook his head. “Sophia . . .”
“I believe in me. And in you. And in my daughters. And Uncle Rory. We will not fail.”
Elliott narrowed his eyes and then shifted in his seat. She saw something flicker in his indigo gaze, something . . . curious. Hopeful.
Be brave, Elliott.
“And what about you and your future career in television? Mr. Smith must be breathing down your neck.”
“If Mr. Smith wants to film our new venture, we can discuss that later. But right now we have a restaurant to get off the ground in the next two months. Before that show changes our lives. Did you even read the contract you signed? You agreed to cook for the new owner for at least a year.”
Elliott groaned. “Hell, no. I didn’t read the fine print.”
Emilia and Cady walked back into the restaurant. “Don’t worry about it, Chef Adamson. I’ll take care of contracts from now on.” Emilia perched on a bar stool and stared down at him.
“There is no way this . . . kid . . . who is barely out of her twenties is going to be bossing me around. No. Damned. Way.” Elliott pounded the table.
“Too late. You already signed the contract. This kid is smart and savvy. And that kid”—she pointed at Cady—“is creative and filled with enthusiasm. They are exactly the kind of people you want involved in a project like this. You have the experience and cooking talent. And we have the inspiration for a new start. No more working alone, in a vacuum, without a sounding board or alternate opinions. It’s time for a team effort. With pe
ople who care about you and are invested in this place. Invested in you.” Sophia looked down at her feet. “Yes, we are taking a risk. But it’s worth a shot, Elliott. You are such a gifted chef. It would be a horrible shame if the world didn’t get to see what you’re capable of. Please. Let’s just try.”
Elliott rubbed the top of his head. “You have lost your mind. What about your old life? Your home in Vermont? The girls are still in college. You’re just going to chuck it all and take a chance on this? Are you daft?”
“The cottage will always be there. But I’m ready for a change, a new adventure. I know I’m strong enough to do this. And the girls are on board.”
Elliott’s gaze wandered from her to Cady and Em. “What about school?”
“We’re taking a leave of absence. And might transfer to a Scottish university. We wanted to be part of Mom’s Plan B.” Cady slid her arm around Sophia’s shoulder.
Rory leaned down and whispered into Elliott’s ear. “Listen to the bonny gals. I think we need a feminine touch around here. And they seem to know what they’re talking about.”
Elliott stood and swayed. He shook his head and then hauled Sophia up on her feet. “I wish I hadn’t been drinking this morning. Let’s see if I have this straight. You and your busy-body, interfering offspring have bought my restaurant. And I have to cook for you for at least a year. Is that right?”
Sophia nodded. “You’re half-owner, Elliott. If you’d bothered to read the contract, you would have seen that. The Brown family owns half. You own half. You and I won that contest together, as a pair. Fifty-fifty contribution. The money was ours to split. I just fixed things so it worked out that way.”
He turned to glare at the girls. “I’m afraid to find out what your plans are for this ‘new’ adventure.”
“Glad you asked!” Cady chirped. “We already found the perfect space, two streets down. It’s light and inviting. We’ll be open for dinner only, lunch on the weekends.”
“Four or five Scottish specialties per dinner, to really showcase the traditional food you love to cook,” Emilia said. “Seating for about twenty-five to thirty. A small, intimate space.”
Elliott’s face began to turn red. “You have no—”
“And no more uncomfortable wooden chairs,” Cady said, ignoring him. She banged her fist on the seat and cringed. “Jesus. This is like a prison bench. We’ll have comfortable furniture. The space will be simply decorated, with fresh flowers on all the tables.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Oh, I can only imagine the flowers. You’re planning to turn my new restaurant into a garden. Of course you are.”
Sophia crossed her arms. “Is your ego too big to share the spotlight with us, Chef Adamson? To work as a team this time, instead of alone?”
She and her daughters waited for his response. His eyelid twitched. She knew that look on his face. The one he got when he was assessing things, mentally exploring his options.
He frowned at her. “I’m not quite sure whose dream this really is. Mine? Or yours, Sophia? Is this the Forget-Me-Not Café, Scottish version? You have no idea how difficult it is to run a real restaurant. That show was for entertainment. Running a business is fraught with risk. You sure you can handle that? Are you sure you can handle me?”
She stepped closer to Elliott and smiled. He wasn’t afraid of a new restaurant. He was afraid of becoming part of a family. He was insecure about her.
Whose dream is this?
“You told me to be selfish, to take and take and take. Remember?”
His nostrils flared. “Aye. I remember, love.”
“I’m being selfish.”
“This is you being selfish? Giving away your prize money to me is you being selfish?” He barked out a laugh.
“I want to open a restaurant with you. I want to cook with you. I want to be with you. Yes, this is me being selfish.”
Whose dream is this? This is my dream. Finally crawling out of that dark cave. Searching for light. For lightness and joy again. Revisiting forgotten dreams and inviting someone to share them with me.
“Yes, I can handle it. And of course I can handle you. You forget who I am. The fierce, strong-willed competitor. Remember?”
She was desperate to touch him and remind him. To feel the comforting sensation of his heated skin against her. But first she had to convince him about their future.
Elliott leaned down to look her in the eye. “You’re sure? You’re making me feel like a coward. I keep running away. And here you are, halfway across the world, running toward something. I don’t know if I’d have the guts to do it.”
“You’re running toward something too, Elliott. A family. Friends you can count on. This loner business isn’t working out for you. You’ve been adopted by the Brown Family. Whether you like it or not.”
“And we adopted Uncle Rory, too,” Cady said. She linked arms with the old man, who was trying to hide his tears.
Emilia slipped off the stool and approached Elliott. “This venture is not about you. And it’s not about mom. It’s about blending traditions. The Adamson family and the Brown family. We’re making something new. Uncle Rory, what’s your favorite thing about Elliott’s restaurant?”
Rory looked startled. “Well, I’d have to say I enjoy the ale. Elliott has the best selection from the UK.”
Emilia nodded. “So we have Rory’s Choice every night on the menu. And Cady’s Spotlight Dessert. And mom will have a vegetarian dish. And you’ll have your Scottish specialties, and all these things will work together. They just will.”
“Woven together like a blanket,” Elliott whispered.
Sophia leaned against his chest. “Yes.”
“This is crazy. Three bossy American women who have no restaurant experience at all. One eighty-two-year-old man who loves his ale. And a three-time loser. Christ.” Elliott closed his eyes.
“Maybe we need some crazy,” Sophia answered gently.
Elliott opened his eyes and buried his face in her neck. “What about us, sweetheart? You came all this way to save my arse. You know I fell for you on the very first day you gave me attitude on that show. I tried to dismiss you, and you almost combusted right there. You flashed your fire at me, and I was smitten on the spot. I could tell there was something special about you. And I was right.”
She stroked his bald head and kissed his ear. “You fell for me?”
“You know I did. I don’t think I can watch you flirt with every man who walks into our place. Torture myself with that.”
“Would it be torture?”
“Aye. And since I would slug them and end up in jail, our restaurant probably wouldn’t last too long.”
She laughed against his chest.
“Tell me. Have you fallen in love with this stubborn Scottish chef?” Elliott tipped up her chin. He wouldn’t let her hide anymore.
“Yes.” Simple, direct. The new Sophia was not afraid.
“You promise you won’t run away from me? What if this doesn’t work out? Will I lose my sweet garden fairy? I’m worried you’ll slip through my fingers and run off through the forest. I don’t want to lose you.” He swallowed, and the fear glistened in his eyes.
“Oh, Elliott. I’m not running away. Never running away, no matter what happens with the restaurant. I ran to you. Why do you think I’m here?” She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, finally taking his heat and his love. He tightened the circle of his arms around her, trying to lock her in place.
All of the tension eased from his big body, and he smiled. That brilliant, cocky smile. The one that showed her the old Elliott was roaring back to life. Stubborn Elliott. Infuriating Elliott. Sexy Elliott.
She glanced over her shoulder at Emilia and Cady. And Uncle Rory. And she felt the final threads pull taut, closing up the gaping wound. This was her family. This was her future.
Elliott leaned his forehead against hers. “I have a good idea for a name. For the new place.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. He st
arted to laugh.
And then they all were laughing. Elliott and Uncle Rory—still teary-eyed—and her two daughters, perched on the bar stools.
Elliott kissed her.
He tasted like whisky.
He tasted like hope.
He tasted like heaven.
Epilogue
One year later . . .
Restaurant Review
WIFE NUMBER FOUR
North Berwick Daily News
Review by Alistair MacDaniel
What a difference a year makes!
One year ago, Chef Elliott Adamson’s restaurant, Stone Soup, was on the chopping block—for good reason. As my readers know, I sampled the wares at this small cramped establishment on several occasions, and the food was, at best, inconsistent. The atmosphere was, at worst, horrid (see issues 32-14 and 59-14 in the Daily News). After a string of failed enterprises, the future was not looking cheery for Chef Adamson.
Until A Taste of Heaven aired.
That’s right. Our very own Chef Adamson participated in the highly popular TV show produced by the Creativity Channel. Adamson and thirteen other contestants battled it out in the quaint state of Vermont for $50,000. Although Adamson made it to the finals, he did not win. His partner, the lovely Sophia Brown, emerged as the victor. But in a stunning series of events, she and Elliott became business partners for his fourth eatery. WIFE NUMBER FOUR has since put North Berwick on the culinary map.
I dined there on three separate occasions, alone and with friends. We were pleasantly surprised by the menu, the atmosphere, and the camaraderie within this fine restaurant. Although Chef Adamson and I came close to fisticuffs after my last review (in issue 98-14 of the Daily News), he was welcoming on all recent visits.
The hostess, Miss Cady Brown, is a bit cheeky. When questioned about her responsibilities at WIFE NUMBER FOUR, she told me her official title was “Master of the Universe.” I’m still not sure if she was being sarcastic.
Restaurant manager Emilia Brown is doing a superb job. The menu is eclectic, the wait staff is attentive and polite, and the interior of the restaurant is comfortable and stylish.
