“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“And if you need a friend to talk to, you call me anytime, day or night?”
“You’re the best, Shirene.” A friend to talk to. That finally gave him an idea of where he was going. “If you’re ever in Seattle, give a shout.”
“Seattle? What the hell’s in Seattle?” Spoken like a true New York publisher.
“Me. Bye.” Josh hung up, tossed the keys on the counter, and closed the door behind him without looking back.
# # #
“Josh, buddy! What the hell are you doing here?”
Josh had chosen a quiet corner in his favorite restaurant, Angelo’s Tuscan Hearth Ristorante in Seattle.
“Eating lunch? How about you?”
“Cooking it. Rush is over now, so I’m taking a break before we switch over to dinner prep.” Angelo scanned the last few occupied tables and dropped dramatically into the opposite chair as if totally wrecked with exhaustion, which he belied a moment later by sitting up quickly and asking, “Why didn’t you come in the back?”
Graziella, the pretty woman who ran front of house, had suggested the same.
Josh shrugged. He’d wanted to just sit. For two years he’d been coming here each time he was in the city. He’d seen it when it was a typical upscale restaurant, and again after Angelo and Russell had transformed it into a Tuscan hearthside with gas fireplaces, understated décor, and Russell’s photography of cliff-side vineyards and quiet donkey-wide Italian streets. Angelo’s cooking had been the only other element needed to rocket the place into the restaurant firmament. His own reviews had been a part of that process.
“Just wanted to sit and enjoy this wonderful place you’ve built.” Tomorrow he’d start his novel. He was gambling his life savings on his ability to pull it off. But he’d give himself one day to just sit in a corner and pretend that he belonged somewhere. Maybe he could pretend, at least to himself, that he was here to review the restaurant like old times.
Old times.
One of the last four articles he’d kept on file with Shirene was a fresh take on this one chef’s influence on the entire country’s standard for Italian-American cuisine and the impossibly high bar Angelo had raised. He’d titled it “The Gauntlet” for the challenge of excellence and creativity that Angelo had thrown down before all other chefs. It was probably coming out this week.
“So, how long you in town?” Angelo signaled Graziella as she swept by and asked her for a bowl of pasta. “Long enough for me to roust the others for a meal? Might take a bit, you missed a hell of a wedding party I threw night before last for Perrin and Bill.”
Josh actually felt the world spin. It was a little disorienting. In the past he would be in Seattle for just twenty-four to forty-eight hours with Gourmet Week’s corporate travel department making the travel and hotel arrangements. He never stayed longer because he always wanted to get back to his wife. His ex-wife. Now his car, not some rental, was parked three blocks away with all of his life stuffed into it.
“Uh, sure, long enough to arrange a meal. Anytime. This week. Next. Whatever.” He knew he wasn’t making a lot of sense, but ten days ago he’d still been in a Chelsea condo on Manhattan’s Lower West Side. Now, he didn’t even know where he’d be sleeping tonight.
Angelo looked at him a bit strangely.
“Hey Angelo,” Russell barged in through the kitchen door carrying a bowl of pasta. The last patrons startled under the abrupt assault of his big, deep voice. “Josh! When did you get in? Missed a hell of a wedding.”
“I already told him.”
Russell dragged over a chair from another table and sat on it backwards. He took a big forkful of the pasta that had probably been for Angelo. Angelo didn’t look the least surprised, he just waved a hand at Graziella as she came out of the kitchen and then indicated Russell eating his pasta. She rolled her eyes and doubled back into the kitchen.
Josh realized that he hadn’t done much damage to his own serving though he’d been sitting here for some time. He took a forkful, but didn’t really taste it.
“I took photos of the wedding buffet for you,” Russell spoke around his food with the skill of much practice. “You know, in case you wanted to do a write-up but were too late to see it all pretty. But you never showed. You did RSVP, didn’t you?” He turned to Angelo, “He did, didn’t he?”
“He did.” They both turned accusing gazes upon him, as if he hadn’t been busy losing his mind all month.
“I’m not with Gourmet Week anymore.” Okay, there was something he certainly hadn’t intended to say out loud anytime soon. It still surprised him.
“Crap, Angelo. There goes one of your biggest fans. Now we’re going to have to break in someone new.”
Angelo just shrugged. “So, who are you writing for now?”
“No one.” He couldn’t breathe; it felt like he’d just jumped off a cliff into nothingness. It was supposed to get easier to say these kind of things.
“God damn it!” Russell almost choked on his spaghetti and booming exclamation combined.
Angelo and Josh both glanced around the dining room, but the last of the midday patrons were gone.
“Did they fire you? Jerks. There’s way too much of that going around.”
Angelo shrugged when Josh glanced at him for clarification.
“No,” Josh paused as Graziella came up.
She set another bowl of pasta in front of Angelo and smacked Russell on the back of the head which only made him smile.
“I quit.”
Graziella had been headed away, but stopped and turned back to look at him.
“Fed up with it?” Russell grinned at his own pun. “Food reviewing gone sour?” He clearly thought he was on a roll.
“Something like that.” The bitterness on his tongue only supported Russell’s teasing.
Angelo and Russell nodded as if that explained everything, which was fine with him. There was plenty of explaining he’d rather not do.
Graziella on the other hand, looked immensely sad. She held up her ring-clad left hand for a moment out of sight of the two guys. It took him a moment to realize that she’d noted the white tan line on his ring finger.
He jerked his own left hand under the table, he still felt naked without the simple circle of gold.
She rested her hand over her heart for a moment and looked incredibly sympathetic. He had told her on his last visit about his wife and how much he loved Constance. He and Graziella had been seated side-by-side the last time he’d been out for a meal and he’d stayed to close the place.
Then she walked up behind Angelo and Russell, smacked them both on the back of their heads at the same time, before returning to other tasks.
While the two guys rubbed their heads and looked after her curiously, Josh did feel rather better.
Visit www.mlbuchman.com to learn more about:
Romances
The Night Stalkers
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Daniel’s Christmas
Wait Until Dark
Frank’s Independence Day
Peter’s Christmas
Take Over at Midnight
The Night Stalkers Special Features
Firehawks
Pure Heat
Wildfire at Dawn
Angelo’s Hearth
Where Dreams Are Born
Where Dreams Reside
Maria’s Christmas Table
Where Dreams Unfold
Where Dreams Are Written
Suspense & SF/F
Swap Out!
Nara
Monk’s Maze
Dieties Anonymous
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101: the first book of the Reluctant Messiah
Published by Buchman Bookworks
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This book, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form
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Cover images:
Beach Romantic Young Couple Walking Edge of
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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
The Night Stalkers
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Daniel’s Christmas
Wait Until Dark
Frank’s Independence Day
Peter’s Christmas
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Christmas at Steel Beach
Bring On the Dusk
Target of the Heart
Target Lock on Love
Christmas at Peleliu Cove
Zachary’s Christmas
Firehawks
Pure Heat
Wildfire at Dawn
Full Blaze
Wildfire at Larch Creek
Wildfire on the Skagit
Hot Point
Delta Force
Target Engaged
Dieties Anonymous
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101
Thrillers
Swap Out!
One Chef!
Two Chef!
SF/F Titles
Nara
Monk’s Maze
Where Dreams Unfold Page 25
