by Coleen Kwan
Tina splatted her plate with sauce. “I wouldn’t have to go easy on the sauce if you’d made enough of it!”
Several retorts flashed through Harriet’s brain, but she pushed them all aside and concentrated on the plate in front of her. A gangly teenager squeezed his way to her side.
“People out there want to know when the main course is coming out,” he said.
Harriet glanced back to check Dave and Tina’s progress. They seemed to be going even slower now, and Tina was still dolloping out the sauce with a heavy hand. The narrow confines of the kitchen seemed to shrink even further, until she felt as if she were stuck in a tunnel. Stuck in a tunnel with people shrilling at her from all sides. The perspiration on her nape gathered into a string of cold beads which slid down her spine.
What a fool she’d been to think she could pull this off! The kitchen was descending into chaos, and it was all her fault. She could sense the restlessness growing outside in the church hall, the impatient shuffling of chairs, the mutters going round the tables.
When is the food coming? I paid two hundred dollars for this! Who’s the clown in charge of the catering again? Why did they let her anywhere near the kitchen?
Her father would be mortified. And Adam? He must be thinking he’d been mad to let her do the catering. Maybe he’d even think she was deliberately sabotaging him. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. No, she couldn’t let him think that. He might have come to the ball with Erin Grayson, but she couldn’t let him down, not on such an important night as this.
Fighting to control her nerves, she moved on to the next plate. Her hands were quivering so much the serving tongs slipped through her fingers. She cursed as the tongs slithered across the floor and came to a rest between a pair of shoes. A pair of shoes made of soft Italian leather and attached to pair of long legs clad in expensive dark wool. She froze.
“I’ll get that.” Adam’s calm voice sent a tremor through her.
She straightened up and waited as he picked up the tongs. Up close he was even more potent in his polished tuxedo, exuding an air of sophisticated virility. A week ago they had rolled around on his couch, and she had grabbed him and kissed him with shocking lust. Now, she was all too aware of her perspiring skin, her functional white chef’s jacket, her total lack of any savoir-faire, and she silently railed against the unfairness of it all. He looked like James Bond, and she looked like a dud soufflé.
“How are things going?” He handed the dirtied tongs to a passing bus-boy.
She gulped. The words stuck in her throat. How she would have loved to be able to wave him airily aside and assure him that everything was going just tickety-boo. But clearly he wouldn’t have stepped into the kitchen if he hadn’t realised something was wrong, and she couldn’t lie to him, not when he could see the mayhem breaking out around her.
She cleared her throat. “Actually, not all that well.” Her voice croaked, hoarse and uncertain. “I thought I could—”
Behind them a plate smashed to the ground, and she flinched. Before she could stop them, hot tears rushed to her eyes. Fresh perspiration dewed her forehead. Please, no. Please don’t let me cry in front of Adam. Anything but that. She blinked furiously and sank her fingernails into her palms, hoping the pain would distract her tears.
“Harriet?”
He touched her shoulder, moved between her and the rest of the kitchen, shielding her so no one else could witness her mini breakdown. The realisation almost broke her defences, but she regained control of herself and was able to look at him in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Adam, but we’re running a bit behind schedule,” she said with barely a quiver in her voice this time. “I wonder if you could distract the crowd for a few minutes until we’ve caught up. Maybe play some music or something.”
His gaze intensified. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll lend a hand.”
“No!” Her spine stiffened. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“I—I—” She struggled for the right words. “This is my responsibility. I told you I could handle this job, and I can handle this problem. Besides, I can’t let you get your nice tuxedo all dirty.”
He glanced down at his immaculate suit. “I’m not afraid to get dirty. And anyone can see the facilities here are inadequate. Hang on a minute.” He waded into the sea of boisterous teenagers, and within a few seconds he had them marshalled into groups to handle the dishwashing before he returned to Harriet. “Now, I’m going to grab an apron or something and chip in. But before I do that I’m going to find you another helper.”
“Another helper?” She stared at him in horror. “Not Erin Grayson! Please don’t ask her.” The thought of the disdainful Erin stepping into the kitchen made her cringe.
“Erin!” Adam gave a brief laugh. “That’s an idea, but I couldn’t do that to her. No, I’m thinking of someone else. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He disappeared, and Harriet began to send out the main courses already plated up. She looked up to find Adam with Cindy in tow. Her sister? What was Adam thinking? Cindy would be as useless as Erin Grayson. But she could hardly say that.
“Heard you needed some help, so here I am.” Cindy glanced about her with casual interest.
Harriet bit her tongue. Her sister wore a glittering metallic dress with sky-high heels, and her hair was teased up into a giant red explosion. “You’ll have to cover your hair and wear gloves,” she said.
“Cover my hair!” Cindy rolled her eyes. “Oh, jeez. You’ve got to be kidding.”
Harriet expected Cindy to march out, but to her amazement, her sister tied on an apron, jammed her hair into a white cap and snapped on the gloves after scrubbing her hands. To her even greater astonishment, her sister was good at plating up. After Harriet had shown her how to assemble the main course, Cindy began to assemble her own plates. She wasn’t very fast, but she was neat and accurate.
“Told you I’d get you some help,” Adam murmured beside her. The tuxedo jacket was gone, an apron and gloves in its place. Strangely, he didn’t look out of place to Harriet. In fact his presence next to her gave her a warm, fuzzy glow.
Harriet shook her head as she moved on to a new plate. “I would never have guessed. Cindy’s never shown any interest in cooking.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not competent.” Adam pulled an empty plate in front of him and copied what she was doing. “And she’s your sister,” he added. “Of course she’d want to help you.”
“‘Of course’? What do you mean by that?”
He paused and something about the way he looked at her, as if—despite the noisy hubbub of the kitchen—they were alone, gave her heart a nervous stammer.
“Don’t you know she secretly admires you?” He spoke in an undertone, his voice serious. “You’ve worked around the world, set up your own business, made a name for yourself. Cindy would never admit it, but deep down she’s just a little envious of you.”
Harriet stole another glance at her sister, who was stacking plates next to Tina. Her throat seized up with a curious feeling of affection toward her sister. Maybe they weren’t such polar opposites after all. Not when Cindy was willing to squash her hair under an unflattering cap and ruin her manicure with disposable gloves just to help her out. And it was all due to this man standing beside her. This man who seemed to know more about her than she did.
“How do you know all this?”
He ladled up a precise amount of blue-cheese sauce and drizzled it expertly over the beef. “Your sister and I do talk on occasion, when she forgets her Desperate Housewives role. And I’ve seen the two of you together. You’re not as different as you think you are.” He lowered his voice as he added, “And that’s meant to be a compliment, by the way.”
She breathed in deeply, drawing in the scent of his light cologne. She was conscious of his powerful build and height, yet it was his unexpected astuteness, his uncanny ability to winkle out her unacknowledged yearnings, that pulled her
in and made her perilously unsteady. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she watched him assemble the roasted vegetables on his plate with deft movements, and she wished she could lean her head against his shoulder just for a second or two.
“Thank you,” she said. Without saying anything extra she sensed that Adam knew she was thanking him for more than just roping in Cindy to help her.
Adam smiled at her before pulling another empty plate toward him. “You’re welcome.”
From the other kitchen bench, Cindy glanced over her shoulder and gave Harriet a wink.
The music from the band swelled in Harriet’s ears as she pushed through the swing doors leading into the church hall. The lights were low, the dance floor crowded with couples, the strains of a torch song swirling up to the rafters. Balancing two plates of her petit fours, Harriet threaded her way across to the table where her father sat. Both the main course and dessert had been successfully served, and now there was only coffee to be dispensed. The kitchen was once again working like clockwork, the waiters under the command of Tina and Dave, and Harriet had decided to take a short break and sit with her family.
Her father’s plaster cast leg stretched out in front of him, and he was chatting with Cindy when he spied Harriet. His face split into a huge grin as he waved her closer.
“Dinner was marvellous.” He tugged her into the empty seat next to him and planted a big kiss on her cheek. “Best I’ve ever had.”
Harriet slid the petit fours onto the table. “Aw, thanks, Dad, but I couldn’t have done it without Cindy.”
“It was fun helping out.” Cindy grinned and scooped up a petit four.
“I’d never seen you work in a kitchen before.” Harriet grinned back. “It was a revelation.”
“I only do it on special occasions, so don’t get any ideas.”
“You mean you won’t consider going into partnership with me?”
“Ha. That’d be the day.” Despite her words, Cindy couldn’t hide her smile.
“My two marvellous daughters.” Ken put an arm around each of them. “And my beautiful wife. What more could a guy ask for?”
Harriet picked up a pink petit four and sampled it. “Where’s Mum?”
“She’s dancing with Brett.” Cindy cocked her head toward the dance floor.
Harriet looked over the dancing couples. Under the twinkling lights Adam was dancing with Erin, sweeping across the polished floor like an established duo. Harriet’s stomach contorted. She felt like she’d been punched. The cake in her mouth turned to dust as she took in Erin’s lovely raven head resting on Adam’s shoulder and her crimson-tipped fingers curling around his neck in a possessive hold. She tried to look elsewhere, but couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck unfold, only she was the one being injured. The hot burning pain spread through her veins like acid. Envy, regret, melancholy—she couldn’t hold back the tsunami of emotion engulfing her.
The room was dim. She strained her eyes to make out Adam’s expression, but his head was lowered and dipped in shadow. Erin tilted her flawless face up toward him, and the smug, cat-with-the-cream look on her face clawed at Harriet’s heart.
Cake crumbs jammed in her dry throat. She coughed and spluttered. Eyes watering, she took a sip of water from Cindy’s glass. It was a slow song, she told herself. That was why Adam and Erin were dancing so closely together. It didn’t mean anything. But as she stared at their swaying bodies without a hair’s breadth of daylight between them, she wondered if their slow dancing meant something more. Maybe, despite Erin’s haughtiness, Adam saw something in her, something that made him want to clasp her to his chest in front of everyone. The thought made Harriet want to throw up.
“He’s not dating her or anything, you know.”
Cindy’s drawling undertone in her ear made Harriet start. Harriet coughed again. “How do you know? He’s with her tonight,” she replied, not seeing any point in pretending.
Cindy shrugged and licked some icing off her fingertips. “The Graysons are the biggest sponsors for this bash. He had to bring her as his partner. But it’s purely platonic, on his side at any rate.”
Harriet wasn’t so sure. She turned back to Adam and Erin, and it was as if she’d never left school. There was Adam in the clutches of the prettiest, richest, most popular girl, and here she was, lurking in the shadows and nibbling her thumb. Hamster Brown all over again. Hot tears bit the back of her throat.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Cindy stated matter-of-factly.
Harriet burned. What was the point in denying it? She didn’t take her eyes off Adam.
“I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen.”
Ever since that day she’d crashed into the dirt and someone had picked her up, brushed the dust from her cheeks and handed back her glasses. She’d put them on and seen Adam’s face come into focus. By the time he’d pulled off his sock and tied it round her arm, she’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.
Except loving Adam was far worse now, now that she’d grown up and realised what real love was all about. Nursing a crush on someone as remote and unobtainable as a film star had been a safe option for her when she was a teenager. But now she was older, she’d come to know Adam as an adult, and there was nothing adolescent or immature about the way she felt about him.
“The old schoolgirl crush, huh?” Cindy said.
“I’m not a schoolgirl anymore.”
She watched Adam dip his head to listen to Erin. She loved his strength, his determination, his ability to forgive. Erin smiled, a coy smirk that made Harriet want to march up and drag Erin outside by her perfectly coiffed hair. In that instant she knew.
Adam was the one, the only one, who made sense out of her life, who in all honesty had been directing her life ever since she’d set foot back in this town. Without him she was—
“So what’s the problem?” Cindy asked.
Everything. Adam wasn’t just any man.
“Look, you don’t know what it’s like for me. Here, I’m not Harriet, successful caterer, but Hamster, the fat, unpopular kid.” She felt the tears coming. “Adam…he reminds me of all that…” She trailed off, wiping her eyes. She’d changed so much, come so far, but her feelings for Adam reminded her too much of the person she used to be, the person she wanted to forget. Loving Adam made her too vulnerable, too raw.
“Boy,” Cindy said, “you really need a drink, don’t you?”
Cindy thrust a glass of wine toward her. Harriet took a sip, ignoring the salty tear tracks that ran down her cheeks. She bent her head and battled for self-control
“He’s such a hunk,” Cindy continued, shoving her seat forward to shield Harriet from view. “But you’ll have to wear high heels whenever you go out with him.”
Harriet choked on her tears. “What?”
“Especially when you go dancing with him, or you’ll crick your neck gazing up at him all night.”
Her sister’s flippancy made Harriet’s head spin. She dashed the last tears away from her eyes and took a reckless gulp of wine. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there is nothing going on between Adam and me. And there never will be.”
“He seems to like you well enough. Back in the kitchen there you two were whispering away like bosom buddies.”
“He just feels sorry for me, that’s all.” She bit her lip.
Cindy waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. If you want Adam, I can help you with that.”
The thought of Cindy giving her romance advice made Harriet shoot to her feet. “I’d better get back to the kitchen.”
Without waiting for a reply, she burrowed her way through the crowd, longing to get back to the familiar bustle of the kitchen. A thick knot of people forced her to skirt around the dance floor. The music had just ended, and in the pause before the next song couples milled about, chatting and laughing.
Harriet pushed through them toward the swinging doors of the kitchen, swerving to avoid bumping i
nto a tall figure that planted itself right in her path.
“Hi, Harriet.” It was Adam.
Every nerve in her body tingled at the sound of his voice. It took all of her strength to compose herself as she looked up at him.
“Hello,” she answered huskily. “I’m just on my way back to the kitchen.”
“You deserve a break, don’t you?” His mouth lifted into a gentle smile. “Will you dance with me?”
Her stomach lurched. How much could a girl take? A minute ago she’d faced up to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with him all over again, and here he was asking her to dance with him. What was all this about? It couldn’t be her seductive appearance—stained chef’s jacket, flat shoes, shiny face, unflattering hair, work-worn hands.
“I’m not exactly dressed for dancing.”
“You look fine for dancing.”
Over his shoulder she caught sight of Erin studying them, her haughty face wearing an impatient expression. The differences between herself and Erin hit Harriet all over again. If it had been anyone else but Adam she would have laughed off those differences and stepped into his arms. But this was Adam. She didn’t want his kindness. She didn’t want him to think he owed her a dance to make up for the past, especially not in front of her old nemesis.
Stiffening her jaw, she edged away from him. “I have to get back to the kitchen. It’s getting late.”
He stepped sideways to head her off, his smile fading a little. “You’re not Cinderella, you know.”
The crowd hemmed her in. Why couldn’t they let her pass, damn them? Her head began to ache as the first bars of the next song began.
She pressed away from him. “No, I’m not Cinderella. I’m not even the pumpkin. But I haven’t got time for dancing.”
She could see Erin pushing her way toward them, a suspicious expression on her face.
“Harriet, wait.” The urgency in his voice caught her by surprise. She hesitated for a second. He frowned at her, the smile replaced by an intense stare. “We need to talk. If not tonight, then tomorrow, whenever you like.”
