by Calista Fox
Chapter Twelve
The reopening of Sampogna’s was a smash. The restaurant was filled with regulars, new customers, tourists, food critics, web reviewers and other media types. They had the staff hopping all night, and the muscles in Jenna’s cheeks quivered from so much smiling. But she loved every minute, especially when Rafe came out of the kitchen from time to time to personally greet his patrons.
Pride swelled within her. His new menu went over extraordinarily well, and she’d already been privy to some of the fabulous reviews that would be written about Sampogna’s. All and all, she could not have asked for a more successful evening.
When she and Tad were summoned into the kitchen after the restaurant closed at midnight, however, Jenna’s evening was topped.
The entire staff had gathered—family and friends of Rafe’s.
Reesa, the hostess, had returned early from maternity leave, excited to be a part of the reopening. She handed a beautifully wrapped gift to Jenna and said, “We all pitched in. We can’t thank you enough, Jenna. This is our livelihood, and you’ve injected some much-needed vibrancy.”
“I cast the place in a different life,” she told them, “but you all have put your heart and souls into Rafe’s restaurant—and continue to do so. That means something to me.”
Gio said, “I get to do what I was trained to do, Jenna. I talked about wine all night long—and not a single person ordered Chianti.”
She smiled. “Let’s not write it off the list entirely, Gio.”
“I know,” he said with a laugh. “But it was nice to actually talk up the cellar and make a dent in our collection.”
“And the tips…” one of the servers chimed in with a shake of his head. “We each made more tonight than we typically do in a week.”
“You earned that money,” she said. “You’re all really good at what you do.”
“Open the box,” Reesa urged.
Jenna pulled the white satin ribbon from the pale-blue box. She lifted the lid and laughed softly. “A customized Tiffany & Co. iPad cover. I love it.”
“There’s also a matching pen and notebook. We know how much you like blue.”
“They’re perfect, thanks.” Hugs and kisses ensued.
Reesa added, “We have something for you too, Tad.” She gave him a sleek-looking box.
Tad rubbed his hands together. “Oh, goody. It’s from Hermes.” He opened his gift and clapped excitedly. “Beautiful, dove-gray leather gloves. These will serve me well in New York.”
He thanked everyone, clearly reveling in the way they’d accepted him into the fold.
Rafe pulled her aside and said, “One last night at the loft before you head out?”
Jenna nibbled her lower lip for a moment. Then she stared up into his ocean-blue eyes and said, “Tad and I have a five a.m. flight back east. We planned to leave from here. Our luggage is in the car.”
“Jen.” He let out a long breath.
“I’m sorry. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with my agent that I can’t miss. A couple more endorsement deals he wants to discuss with me. Then we start the Vandenberg project the next day. And I’ve got a few others to wrap up for the website before we start shooting the next season of my show.”
He shook his head. “Don’t leave just yet.” A gentle plea that nearly broke her heart.
“Rafe.” She smoothed the pads of her fingers over his set jaw. “You know I have to do this. And I never once said I was staying beyond the two weeks. We both knew…” She sighed. “For the record, I don’t want to go. I really don’t. But I’m committed—I gave my word and signed a contract.” She kissed him. “I’ll call you tomorrow evening. There’s no reason we can’t go back to talking every night, right?”
“Why is it that I don’t know how to make this work?”
“We made progress,” she asserted. “I’m not discounting our time together. But I can’t back out of my deals. It’s not just about my professional reputation, Rafe. It’s the right thing to do. I can’t leave people hanging when I’ve promised to help them. Even you can’t dispute that.”
“No,” he said, albeit reluctantly. “I can’t. So go.”
Jenna stared up at him and said, “You’re going to have your hands full with this restaurant, but I do expect you to answer my phone calls.”
“I won’t miss a single one.”
A tear tumbled along her cheek.
Rafe brushed it away. He kissed her heatedly—yet with an underlying longing that saddened her. Because she felt the same way.
Tad softly cleared his throat. “Sugar plum…”
“I know,” she said on a fractured breath. It was pure hell leaving Rafe. Worse than ever before.
Eventually, she stepped around him, said goodbye to everyone and preceded Tad out the door. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was back to square one with Rafe. Were they forever destined to be two ships passing in the night?
* * *
Jenna and Tad settled into their first class seats and she stared out the window while Tad sipped orange juice next to her.
“This really ought to be a mimosa,” he commented.
“It’s five a.m., Tad.”
“Well, it’s eight o’clock in New York, and that is a universally acceptable hour for a mimosa.”
“Fine. Ask the flight attendant for champagne. You deserve it. Besides, we’re not officially working today. I’m meeting my agent.”
He was quiet a moment, then asked, “Do you think I should get one? An agent? Yours helped to negotiate my contract with the network, but maybe it’s time I seek my own representation.”
“I’ve only been telling you that for the past few years. You’ve passed up several endorsement pitches. I’ve never for the life of me figured out why.”
“Do I want to be that famous?” he pondered in a contemplative tone. “I like the notoriety and the perks, don’t get me wrong. And I love when people ask for my autograph. But do I want to be swarmed the way you sometimes are?”
“You didn’t seem to mind the way Rafe’s family fawned over you.”
“That’s different, sugar plum. They’re family. Fans can be…a little scary.”
“Not mine. Let’s be honest, Tad. We’re not rock stars or movie stars. Nothing of the like. When I’m swarmed, it’s generally because people have specific questions about their own projects, and they’d like my opinion. Which I am more than happy to give, if I can help them out.”
“But you also like doing endorsements and the fame that comes from that.”
She considered this. Turning from the window, she pinned him with a look and asked, “Remember those journals I said I kept? The ones Linney thought were futile?”
“Yes.” He sipped. “I think they were a good idea.”
“I do too. Though, after the first time Linney mentioned to me how worthless they were, I got to thinking about her stance on them… I was trying to remember everyone I met, but do they remember you, Jen? was her point.”
“Oh, dear,” he said on a sigh.
“Yeah, I know. This might be headed in a dismal direction.”
Jenna sipped her own juice, then continued. “I started wondering if Mr. Carson in Canton, Ohio would ever think of the girl who sat in a dark corner of his restaurant rolling silverware in napkins for a few bucks a day. Or if Senorita Gonzales in Albuquerque, New Mexico would remember me busing tables for her at the end of the night. Or if Mr. Dawson in El Mirage, California recalled the kid who hand-shredded the romaine for the salads his deli was renowned for. I learned all about kitchen prep work from him.”
“You’ve met a lot of people in your lifetime.”
“Mr. Miyanaga taught me to roll sushi. Monsieur LaVallier showed me how to bake the perfect lemon Madeleines—the secret is in chilling the dough for an hour before you spoon it into the molds. He also demonstrated the fine art of cooking duck breast with a cranberry-grape reduction that’s to die for. And there were so many others. Lots of people who taught
me about décor and artwork and furniture—the reason I can pull a dining room together once I’ve captured the restaurant’s personality in my mind.”
“You watch, listen and learn.”
“Yes,” she said, emotion fringing her voice. “And beyond that, I remember. I don’t even need the journals to recall all of these names and what I gleaned from each person I spent time with for a few days, a few weeks, whatever.”
Tad asked, “Did you start your blogs with the intent of being immortalized, because you were afraid no one would remember you?”
“I needed some sort of evidence that I existed.” She fought the sting at the backs of her eyes. “I flitted in and out of people’s lives. Did I ever make an impression? Did I leave them to wonder what became of me?”
He waited for her to continue.
Jenna confessed, “When I heard from Senorita Gonzales via a comment on my first blog, when I was eighteen, I realized that being known in this life is important to me. I don’t want to be just someone who passed through a thousand people’s lives. That girl whose name they can’t recall, whose face they can’t quite place. I don’t have a lifelong friend who calls to say, hey, remember that crazy shit we did in junior high?”
She flagged down the flight attendant as she made her pass through the cabin and asked for mimosas.
To Tad, Jenna said, “I like all the memories Rafe and I made. I mention them to him from time to time. He hasn’t forgotten a single thing, a single detail.”
“You could have a very good life with him,” Tad told her in a quiet voice. “If you’d stop running from it.”
“I know. Only this time, Tad, I’m not running.” She stared him in the eyes and said, “I didn’t want to leave. But I can’t let other people down when I’ve given them my word.”
“You gave him your word once too.”
Jenna glanced away. “And he gave me his word, Tad. To love me for better or for worse. But when the tough times set in, he cut me loose.”
Tad fell silent as the attendant served them cocktails. He took a quick drink, then gently said, “There’s a saying that goes hand in hand with that.”
Her gaze snapped back to him. “What? He set me free?”
Tad’s ebony eyebrow lifted. “And how difficult do you think that was for the poor man?”
She slumped against her seat.
“Pretty damn difficult, I’d say,” Tad told her. “Considering how much he loves you.” He set his glass on the armrest between them with the slide-out tray and added, “Thing is, he’s got to realize he could also be more proactive in making your relationship work.”
Jenna eyed her best friend curiously. “I don’t know what else more he could do, Tad. He’s always been there for me. And it’s quite obvious he’s been showing me all along that I’ve got a place to return to. If I want.”
“I think you do want to consider San Francisco your home. But you’re still a free-spirit, sugar plum. And that’s something the man is going to have to accept.”
* * *
The Vandenberg project was a nightmare of epic proportions. But Jenna had anticipated that, given the reputation that preceded the infamous, surly chef of three New York restaurants, Neil Vandenberg.
But his son, Mason, was a dedicated manager of the flailing flagship and he’d stepped up to ensure Jenna, Tad and her crew had the opportunity to do everything they could with the money Mason had set aside for the remodel. They’d all parted on amiable terms, with a revitalized customer base for the restaurant.
Then Jenna and Tad moved onto Texas. In a traditional steakhouse with a savory, smoky scent drifting on the air, she found it hard to believe the patronage had dwindled to almost nil. Then she’d met the wait staff. What a collective train wreck. Orders were constantly incorrect. Food was deposited carelessly on tables before diners. Cold beers were left sitting on the bar, waiting so long for pickup that they turned warm.
A week into the rescue operation and Jenna found herself at the hotel bar with a raging headache. She sat in a quiet corner, breathing in the jasmine-scented candle that flickered in the dim lighting. The bartender appeared at her elbow and set next to her a free-standing chiller with champagne in it.
“Compliments of Mr. Montgomery. He said he’s running late.”
Of course. He was looking at artwork for the restaurant, and that always diverted his attention. Yet the bartender set two crystal flutes on the table.
“I’ll just need the one glass,” she said. “He’s looking at paintings and that means much more than simply running late.”
The bartender grinned. “I’ll leave the extra glass just in case.”
He poured Jenna some of the bubbly and she sipped while scrolling through messages on her iPad.
“So this is how you spend your nights when you’re not with me.”
Her head snapped up at the deep, intimate voice that instantly seeped into her soul.
“Rafe.” Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Her pulse soared. The mere sight of him brought tears to her eyes.
Jenna was on her feet in an instant. She threw her arms around him, to hell with whoever noticed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless.
Rafe held her firmly as he said, “It occurred to me that I always expect you to come to me. Why the hell haven’t I ever come to you?”
“Oh, God, Rafe.” The tears fell fast. She tightened her hold on him. Her heart swelled with emotion.
“Jen,” he whispered. “I have people in place at the restaurant who can cover for me—and I trust them explicitly. Why the hell can’t I hop a plane and meet you somewhere for a night or two, especially when you’re close by?”
“You would do that?” she softly cried.
“I should have been doing it all along, sweetheart. I was just too hard-headed to realize it.”
“Thick-skulled,” she reminded him on a sob.
“Yeah. That.”
She clung to him, in no hurry to release him. Jenna knew she’d eventually have to let him go. But this time, perhaps… Not forever.
“Rafe, I can compromise too. I swear. I’ll build some breaks into my schedule—Tad will understand now. I’ll come to San Francisco whenever I’m able.”
“It’s a start for us, Jen. And I honestly will take any second I can steal with you versus not seeing you at all. God, that’s hell. I hate being without you, sweetheart.”
She cried a little harder.
“Hey,” Rafe said as he stroked her hair with a hand. “How about we have the champagne sent up to your room?”
Several moments—minutes, maybe—slid by while Jenna attempted to regain her composure, get all of the overwhelming feelings under control.
Finally, she pulled slightly away. She gazed up at him. “You told Tad you were coming, didn’t you?”
“When I indicated I wanted to, he encouraged me. He really does adore you. Said he’d order drinks for us and then beg off for the evening.”
“Little devil,” she said with a sniffle. “No one ever had a better friend. I’m the luckiest woman on the planet to have both of you.”
“You do have me,” he assured her. “Wholeheartedly, Jen. Things’ll be different this time. We just need a second chance.”
She nodded. “I still want to be with you, Rafe. I still want to belong to you.”
His jaw clenched briefly. “I should have given you more time. I should have given you space to reconcile all the changes in your life when we got married. Let you process it all—maybe you would have been able to open up to me. To confide in me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings—anyone’s. I didn’t want you or your family to think I wasn’t crazy about them and their exuberant acceptance of me. I handled it all so poorly, Rafe. I’m sorry for that. But I never stopped loving you. Or them.”
“I get it now, Jen. It was a lot for both of us to manage without being more forthcoming with each other. If we just keep open minds and understand—
”
“Yes.” She wound her arms around his neck again. Pressed her body to his. “We can do this, Rafe. I want to do this. I want you. Only you.”
“You’re all I want too, sweetheart. Forever and ever.”
“Thank you. Thank you for coming. For wanting to be with me. For—”
“Loving you beyond all distraction.”
She laughed, though it was a strangled sound. “That too.”
“I do, you know?”
“I do too.”
Rafe’s warm lips brushed her temple as he murmured, “Let’s make this a private kiss and makeup, hmm?”
“Good idea.”
Rafe arranged to have the champagne delivered to her suite while Jenna texted a thank-you note to Tad.
Then they slipped between the sheets and did precisely what they did best...
* * *
Later, they sat on the balcony in Jenna’s room and sipped champagne while catching up.
Rafe had provided plenty of status reports on Sampogna’s, but tonight he said, “It’s been almost a month since the reopening, Jen, and we’ve still got a full house every night.”
“How’s the lunch service?”
“The walk-ins have been astronomical. We have at least a fifteen-minute wait for those who don’t have reservations. They don’t seem to mind. They just belly up to the bar or sit in front of the fire or out in the courtyard. In fact, some forgo a table in the main dining room and select the tapas menu wherever they end up. The place is packed and the staff is staying on top of everything. It’s like the old days, only…contemporary.” He winked at her.
“I’m so glad,” Jenna told him.
Rafe asked her about her day, and she said, “You know, I love what I do. But it’s not going to be my whole life, Rafe. Not anymore.” She shifted from her chair to his, settling in his lap. “And here you are, in Texas with me. Let’s keep taking advantage of that. No need for shop-talk on my end. Let’s…plan a vacation. Even if it’s just a mini-getaway, like Sonoma was.”
“You won’t hear any arguments from me. However…” He whisked away strands of hair from her cheek that had blown in the slight breeze. “I do have an invitation to extend. Thanksgiving with the Sampognas in two weeks.”
