by Olivia Miles
“Let’s just… stay focused,” she ordered, hoping she was capable of following her own direction.
She bent down and pulled the tarts from the oven. The first, for the presentation score, had turned out better than she could have hoped, and she nearly wept with relief as she gingerly set it on the rack to cool. The second, which would be sliced for the tasting, went beside it, and Anna resisted the urge to take a bite. She had to learn to trust herself—something she used to be good at until Mark stumbled back into her life. She’d made this dish at least a dozen times over the past few weeks. She had perfected the recipe. She knew what it tasted like.
Besides, it was too late now.
Mark popped the baking dish into the oven and set the time for the vegetables to roast. Anna scratched the item from her list. Her chest was beating steadily, at an accelerated speed like a drum in a marching band, but she couldn’t stop now. They had a flow going, they were doing what they needed to do, and she had to admit it was all coming together easily.
But then, that was just the thing with she and Mark. They just fell into sync, into their old patterns, didn’t they?
“Last chance to change your mind on the glaze.” Mark cocked an eyebrow and held up the pink slab of salmon.
She gave him a hard stare. “We agreed on the maple and mustard.”
“Just checking.” Mark slipped her an easy grin and reached for the container of Sugar Maple syrup.
“I thought we agreed the soy was too much of a risk. Mustard went better with the salad.”
Mark just shrugged. “Your call.”
Anna felt her temper flare. “Please don’t do this, Mark. We agreed on our plan. Don’t yank it out from under us at the final hour.” She blinked quickly. “You never change,” she muttered under her breath.
“Hey,” he said sharply. “Are we talking about the salmon or are we talking about something bigger?”
Her blood stirred. “You tell me. I’m the one staying the course. I’m the one who stuck to the plan. You’re the one who just comes and goes as he pleases, changes his mind every five seconds, never sticking to one damn thing.” Or one damn person.
He waited a beat. “I’m here, Anna. And I intend to see this out to the end.”
Her breath had turned heavy, and she blinked, gritting her teeth against his words. “Good.” She held the mustard container out to him. “Then let’s finish what we came to do.” She turned away, leaving him to the glaze, and began rinsing the baby spinach for the salad while the water for the gnocchi began to boil.
They fell back into their pattern, working quickly and confidently, each taking turns to move this way and that—stir a sauce, check the oven, adjust a temperature, as if in a well-choreographed ballet—and then the buzzer went off. Just like that, it was over.
Anna stepped back from the station, roaming her eyes over the three presentation plates and the tasting portions set just behind each course.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mark standing less than a foot away, so tall and strong, so sure of himself in that white jacket and apron, and she felt a flicker of pride for all he had done. All they had done.
Perhaps feeling her gaze, he slid his eyes to hers, and her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. “Couldn’t have done it without you. We sure do make a great team.”
All it took was one look, one murmur of kindness, and she was right back there again—wishing, hoping, for so much more than he could ever give her. More than they could have.
She gave a small smile. “We always did.”
He nodded, and swallowed hard. “Anna…”
She stiffened, feeling him come near, and searched his face in alarm. He reached over and set his hand on the small of her back. The small gesture sent a ripple of pleasure up her spine, and her breath caught as her eyes widened in alarm. He slid his eyes to the left, and alarm prickled her skin, overriding the pleasure of his touch.
The judging panel stood before them. Three of Cedar Valley’s best chefs, all Michelin star winners, and two suited men who introduced themselves as senior staff at the tourism board.
The pleasantries stopped there.
Anna plastered on a smile she could only hope masked the sudden nerves that threatened to make her voice shake. She glanced to Mark, hoping he would take the lead, despite what they had planned, and realized it was no use. His naturally dark eyes had grown deeper, more unreadable in their intensity, and his attention was focused squarely on the men and women before him. He grinned, but there was a decided twitch in his jaw. He quickly pulled his hand from her back and folded his hands in front of him.
Anna let out a long breath and held her hand out to the first plate. “For our starter course we have a small plate of fresh butternut squash gnocchi in a maple sage brown butter.”
From the smaller, sample-sized plates, the judges each took a small bite of the dish, chewing thoughtfully. Anna tried to intuit meaning from the slightest of gestures, but it was no use.
Mark waited until the judges moved to the next course to continue. “And for our main course, we have a maple- and mustard-glazed Atlantic salmon on a bed of baby spinach, roasted beets, butternut squash, and candied walnuts, with a maple dressing.”
Anna stole a glance at Mark, wondering if they had made the right decision in going with the mustard over soy, and the butternut squash now sounded so redundant and unoriginal instead of consistent with the flavors.
She gritted her teeth. It was too late now.
“And for dessert,” she smiled, gesturing to the final course, “we have a maple, apple, and cheddar tart.”
The tart sat perfectly crimped and baked, its golden crust decorated with maple leaf cut-outs. The judges bit into their servings, and just as quickly finished.
All that work. All that anticipation. There was nothing more they could do but wait.
The judges nodded their goodbye, barely making eye contact, and Anna turned to Mark, sighing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life!” she admitted, watching with growing dread as the panel moved on to the next team. Her eyes fell to the food, to all their effort, and she felt a wave of sadness wash over her.
Next week Fireside’s kitchen would be good enough to operate out of, and she could at least prep for the Annex while the rest of the space remained under construction. The contest was over, and there was nothing else linking her to Mark. Nothing but a handful of bittersweet memories and a secret she wasn’t sure she could keep to herself much longer.
CHAPTER
25
Are your phones on, girls? Does Anna know who to call?” Rosemary darted her eyes from Grace to Jane. When neither reacted, she pressed, “Luke? Is your ringer on? Battery charged? You don’t want to miss the call when Mark tries to reach you,” she warned. “Oh, why doesn’t anyone have a landline anymore?”
“My phone is right here,” Jane said mildly, holding it up for everyone to see. “And we do have a landline. Between all of us, someone is bound to hear news soon.”
Rosemary drew a shaky sigh and pressed her lips together, turning back to the television wedged into the corner of the Madisons’ living room, where they had all been gathered for the past two hours. An old movie played in the background, but it would be ending soon, and it had done little to distract them. Jane exchanged a small smile with her mother, who sat on a club chair in the corner, reading a book to Sophie. The brass clock on the mantle ticked, and Jane could have sworn she saw Rosemary flinch at the subtle sound. The contest had ended at four, and Anna had said the judging round ended at five. It was nearly six now. How much longer could they deliberate?
“Well, I suppose we may as well eat,” Sharon mused. No one stirred from their spots, though, and even Sharon seemed to have no interest in the pizza that had been delivered and was now growing cold on the kitchen island.
“I have to admit that I’m a little nervous.” Grace twisted her engagement ring and let her hands fall in her lap. “I just hope
Anna won’t be too disappointed if they don’t win.”
Jane lowered her gaze. No one in this room knew the importance of Anna winning this contest other than her, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend she wasn’t worried. Main Street Books had been near closing in December when Grace came back to town; if she hadn’t pushed to revive it—with Anna’s help—there was no doubt it would have been cleared out by the end of last year. After everything they’d been through, it seemed a cruel twist of fate that their father’s legacy was once again being threatened.
Luke would help, Jane reminded herself. He had the funds from his late father’s inheritance. She knew Anna didn’t want it to come to that, though. She was too proud.
Jane’s phone buzzed in her hand and she jumped as the familiar song began to play. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the caller display. “It’s Anna,” she said breathlessly.
Rosemary’s eyes were sharp as she lunged across the room. Sharon, Kathleen, and even Sophie came to gather around the armchair where she sat. With a press of a button, Jane connected the call and brought her phone to her ear.
“Anna?” She listened with a thumping pulse, feeling her spirits fall as everyone stared at her, enraptured, waiting for the news. Smiling sadly, she murmured a few things to her sister and set the phone on the end table. “They didn’t win.”
A cry of disappointment went up in the room, but none could be more disappointed than she. Anna hadn’t said if she planned to ask Luke for help with the loan, and Jane could only hope she would. There was no other choice now.
“All hope isn’t lost,” Rosemary said pointedly, a strange smile playing on her lips. “The night is still young after all.”
Jane frowned at her. What did that mean?
“Does this mean we can’t have balloons and cake tomorrow?” Sophie asked. Her chin began to quiver, and Jane had to laugh.
“Of course we can. Anna and Mark tried their best. That’s what counts.”
Sharon shook her head. “Working on this contest has been so good for Mark. It’s almost like he’s found his love of cooking again.”
“That’s not all he found,” Rosemary added mysteriously, and Jane looked at her sharply. Rosemary tucked a strand of silvering hair into her bun and fiddled with her earring, humming a tune to herself. Jane narrowed her eyes, glancing to others for a reaction, but they were standing now, talking amongst each other, filing into the kitchen to eat.
“What did you mean by that, Rosemary?” Jane whispered, just before she crossed through the arched doorway. Luke was plating three slices of pepperoni, while Grace poured wine for the adults.
Rosemary appeared startled when she turned to her. “Mean by what, dear?”
Jane blinked. “Never mind.” She stalked into the kitchen, her heart feeling heavy. Sharon had made a good point: Working on this contest had been good for Mark and Anna. She’d seen that glow, the gleam in her sister’s eyes return. It had been years since she felt a connection like that with her middle sister. Anna was usually so serious. So focused and driven. She was always pushing herself, always retreating into the kitchen. Hiding. She hated the thought of things going back to the way they were.
With a heavy heart, Jane fixed a plate for Sophie and started one for herself. She glanced at the table to make sure everyone had already taken what they needed. Such a mom, she could practically hear Grace tease.
Two chairs remained empty. “Rosemary?” Jane poked her head into the living room. Finding no one there, she ventured into the hall. She squinted, straining to make out what she was nearly sure was Rosemary’s voice, hushed and urgent, from somewhere near the dining room.
She ventured closer to the half-open French doors, where Rosemary stood in the corner, shoulders hunched, her hand cupped over the receiver of the house phone. The hinges squeaked as Jane pushed the door open. Startled, Rosemary hurried a goodbye and ended the call, nailing Jane with a hundred-watt grin.
“I just came to tell you the pizza’s almost gone, if you want to grab a slice or two.” Jane studied Rosemary, who seemed to struggle with relaxing the smile that shone all the way to her eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“Never better!” Rosemary beamed and strode out of the room, back ramrod straight, feet angled ever so slightly out.
Jane lingered behind, trying to make sense of what she had overheard. She could have sworn she heard Rosemary saying something about rose petals and champagne…
Anna dropped her phone into her pocket and frowned. “I can’t believe we didn’t win.”
It was the fourth time she had said it since the winner was announced—a team from Burlington, who had made an admittedly stunning maple-pecan cheesecake—but her tone was still laced with wonder at the turn of events.
Mark folded his apron loosely and set it on the work station. “Did you really think we would?”
She looked at him with big blue eyes that made his heart pull tight and gave him a half smile. “I actually thought we could.”
“Me too,” Mark admitted.
“Well.” Anna sighed and looked around the room. The earlier undercurrent of expectation had been replaced with a weighty silence. Stations were being cleared out, and teams of weary chefs filed out of the room, posture slumped, smiles gone. “I guess there’s no use sticking around.”
Mark checked his watch. “It’s after six. We could grab dinner in the village, if you—”
Anna’s expression froze. “Oh. I’m pretty tired.”
Mark nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. It had been a long, intense day, and he should feel weary to the bone, but adrenaline still pumped hard. He felt restless and out of sorts, and it wasn’t just because of the contest.
Anna smoothed her apron over her hips. Even in the flurry of the contest, she’d still managed to keep it pristine; not a drop had landed on the crisp white cotton. He watched as she slowly pulled the apron strings free, studying the pinch of her brow, the perfect slope of her profile, the full lips that he fought the urge to kiss.
“I forgot how cute you looked in that uniform.”
Her eyes flashed on his. “Stop,” she ordered, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she turned away.
He cleared his throat and fell into step beside her. She seemed smaller somehow, and there was an air of defeat about her he hadn’t seen before. It occurred to him that winning this contest might have meant more to her than he’d suspected, more perhaps than it had meant to him.
He’d felt a strange sense of relief when the judges announced the final standing, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. A decision wasn’t being forced on him—he hadn’t reached the end of his excuses to strive for something beyond Hastings—but the past few weeks had only heightened his desire for something more. The idea of going back to the diner, to a sparsely furnished house and a revolving door of women, left him cold.
“You know I did promise Rosemary I’d show you a good time.” He grinned.
She eyed him sidelong, her wary expression teased with a smile. “We wouldn’t want to upset Rosemary…”
“Nope,” he said quickly. He pushed the door open with one hand, letting her pass through, careful not to let her get too far. “Besides, this is the last day you’re stuck with me. I sort of feel like you owe me a drink.”
She stopped walking and arched a brow. “You did let me use your kitchen.”
There was amusement in her eyes, but he’d suddenly lost the desire for banter. His gaze lingered on her face as he jammed his hands into his pockets. “I guess you could say I’m gonna miss having you around.”
She looked skeptical, but dare he say, pleased. “Really.”
“What’s going to happen after tomorrow, Anna?” he asked.
“We’re going to go back to Briar Creek,” she replied. “Everything will resume like normal.”
“See, that’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want things to go back to the way they’ve been.” She didn’t blink as her
eyes locked his. “One drink. For old time’s sake. Give me one more chance to show you I’m not as bad as you think I am.”
“Well.” She paused and reached up to pull her hair free, shaking it out as it fell around her shoulders, and he swallowed hard, waiting for her response but knowing that regardless of what she said, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. He’d gotten used to her presence, to the way he felt when he was around her, and he didn’t want to let that feeling go. “I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt.”
“Hey, you might just decide you like me again and stay for two.” He winked, but her gaze turned steely.
“Don’t push your luck. I’m still mad at you, you know.”
“Come on, now. You can’t stay mad at me forever,” he countered.
She tipped her head. “I could try.”
“But how much fun would that be?” he asked, and the smile that teased her mouth told him she knew the answer to that question as well as he.
“You’re not going to back down, are you?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
She sighed—a soft, sweet sound that made his blood heat. “One drink. Not two.”
“Meet you in the lobby in half an hour then,” Mark said, strolling to the elevator bank. “I’m going to show you a good time. Remember, Rosemary’s counting on it.”
And he was, too.
What would happen if tonight was another disaster? He couldn’t think about going back to a life without Anna in it, knowing she hated him, knowing he had let her down. Refusing to think that way, he called Kara and checked in on the diner.
“It’s a well-oiled machine,” she informed him. “Vince knows the menu. The regulars know what they want. Don’t hurry back on our account.”
