Taste: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “Listen.” Kara felt like she was going to burst if she ate one more bite of mashed potatoes. “I know I haven’t always been the nicest person, but I want you both to know that I’m working on that.”

  “Great, you can start by telling me that I was right. This place is awesome, isn’t it?”

  Kara laughed. “It’s not bad. I won’t be back, but it isn’t bad.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Logan hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since Kara left three days ago. His mind was spinning with her and his mother and how he’d managed to let any of this shit back into his life. He had put his mother and what she did in a compartment in the very back of his mind. That was where he kept her so the mess of her didn’t define his life.

  When Kara asked him and he realized that compartment was about to be opened again, something snapped and he couldn’t let her in. He didn’t want her there, didn’t want anyone there. The fact that she now knew he was a complete hypocrite and the biggest liar of them all, was what got him into the shower and into work before the sun. Work was the only thing that made sense anymore. Yet since he’d arrived it had not been the rhythmic meditation that he loved, but instead one screwup after another.

  “Table three just sent this back,” one of the servers said in a flurry, sliding past Logan and putting down a plate of what appeared to be their cavatelli porchetta with no more than a couple bites taken. “The lady claims it’s way too salty.”

  Logan grabbed a fork out of the bin and dipped into the pasta. He nearly saw spots the moment it hit his tongue.

  “Travis!”

  At his name, Travis looked up from the back room where he was prepping spinach and saw Logan’s face through the opening that separated the back and front kitchens.

  “How the hell did this get served?” Logan asked as he brought the plate back toward Travis.

  Travis dried his hands as he approached. Logan threw his fork in one of the dishwashing bins and handed the plate to Travis who quickly took a bite.

  “Holy shit. Who made . . .” His question fell as both of them turned to the young man swirling a pan over a flame. Todd did not notice either of them because his earphones were in and he was performing for whatever was in the pan that would probably send some poor customer into cardiac arrest.

  “Comp this,” Logan told the server who was still standing by the window waiting. “Apologize profusely and then tell them I am remaking it personally. I will be out to deliver it and talk to them ASAP.” Logan plucked the earphones from Todd’s ears and turned off the flame under his pan. The server nodded and hurried off.

  “What the hell, man?” Todd turned on Logan and simultaneously pushed his bangs out of his face while grabbing at the waistband of his eternally sagging skinny jeans.

  “‘Man’?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

  “Huh, sorry dude, but I was in my groove there.” His smile revealed a glimpse at the gap in his bottom teeth.

  Logan could feel the table waiting for him to rectify Todd’s screwup. He didn’t have time to argue; he needed the stove.

  “Travis needs you in the back.” Logan pulled an apron on and took the pan.

  Todd said something about this new “righteous ragu” he saw on the Food Network and Logan almost punched him. With the table still waiting, he instead bumped him aside and pointed him toward Travis. Logan couldn’t say he was sad to see him go.

  He was a fair owner who recognized that everyone contributed something to the team, but Todd wasn’t getting it and probably never would. Three weeks ago it was spinach salads that were stopped before they went out on the floor because they were drenched in dressing. That time, Todd explained it was because the new Linkin Park album had him all “amped up.” Logan shook his head thinking about it now as he added olive oil to his pan and then the pasta. Besides, if the kid called him “dude” or “bro” or “man” one more time Logan was going to publicly lose it.

  It was for the best that Travis was sending him home. And that was one of the great things about working alongside Travis—he knew exactly what had to be done at the same time Logan did. They were completely in sync. There’s no way he’d be able to run this restaurant so well without him.

  Logan turned out his version of cavatelli porchetta onto the waiting plate. He grated some Parmigiano-Reggiano on top, rimmed the plate with a damp rag to make sure it was perfect, and placed it in the window. He pulled the apron over his head and put it back on the hook as he entered the floor and grabbed the plate down from service window.

  It turned out that the husband of the woman who returned her order had read Kara’s feature on Logan and the restaurant. The day just kept getting better. Once Logan replaced her meal and she told him it was delicious, she spent at least another twenty minutes talking about the great picture of him and Kara. The whole damn table raved about her articles and asked about where Kara was.

  Right when he felt like his head was going to explode, the woman turned to him and said, “You better lock that girl down with a ring before she gets away. You know what Beyoncé says: if you like it put a ring on it.”

  Logan smiled, it was part of his job to smile, and walked away both grateful that he’d cleaned up Todd’s mistake and mystified that a woman old enough to be his mother was quoting Beyoncé.

  The day continued on from there with the dishwasher breaking an entire basket of bar glasses, two of the burners going out on his cooktop, and a little boy who slipped while running out the door after his parents. Logan saw visions of the lovely family of three suing him for everything he was worth, but they were very nice and sort of blamed it on their son, which was fine with Logan. He’d had all he could take at that point and handed the last hour off to Travis.

  “I’m going home. Can you handle closing?”

  “Sure, it’s slowing down out there. You okay?”

  “No.” Logan grabbed his keys off his desk.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. I want to go home, go to bed, and not have to do something or take care of something for a week. I want to go somewhere tropical where I can swim in blue water and fall asleep on the beach. I want someone else to make decisions. I want someone else to cook.”

  “Okay, well my pool is really blue right now since I got a new pool guy. So, if you want to come over and sleep in the guest room, you’re more than welcome. I’ll cook for you and make all the decisions. You might regret giving me that freedom, but I’ll take it for you, man.”

  Logan laughed and for a minute wished he was like Travis, carefree and pretty damn happy where he was in life. Travis wasn’t always trying to prove something. He wasn’t a rescuer, he was just a man and right then, Logan would have given anything to be the same.

  “I’m fine”—Logan patted him on the shoulder—“but thanks for the offer. I just need to get some sleep.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday and even the Lord rested on that day. Get some sleep and I’ll shut ’er down tonight.”

  “Make me proud.” Logan didn’t even bother to say goodnight to everyone else.

  “Will do. ’Night.” Travis returned to the front.

  Logan pushed through the door into the dark parking lot. He was out of control and he hated the feeling. He’d replayed those moments with Kara a hundred times and every time, he came out the asshole, but there was no way to fix it. She needed more from him and he wasn’t going there. Ever. So, that was it. It was over and after a very long sleep, he would pick things up and get back to normal. He just hoped he could remember what that was.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kara spent the last few weeks at the beach collecting glass and reviewing a few local places Olivia asked her to try out once she heard Kara was in Malibu. Kara agreed to a couple, but she was mainly trying to finish the last piece of her feature. The other two had been well received and she wanted to finish strong. The last piece was interviewing Logan’s father and getting pictures of Ryeland Farms.

  Kara drove up
to the farm all the way from the beach and immediately felt the weight as she met Logan’s father at the door. She told herself she had a job to do and she was going to get it done. She had sent Jeremy and his crew to the barn because she wanted some pictures of their rooster and the other gorgeous chickens they had in their coop. Kara had no idea chickens could be so beautiful and healthy.

  During the tour, Kara loved watching the animals. There were two goats and the most adorable baby piglets. Herbert Rye explained that the litter had been recently weaned and he was feeding them twice a day. He asked Kara if she wanted to feed them and she found that she did. Her family had a Yorkie when she was growing up, but other than that Kara had not been around animals. With Mr. Rye’s help, she fed the piglets. It was amazing and her cheeks hurt from smiling by the time they were done. A little over an hour later, she sat at an outside picnic table with Logan’s father, running down a list of her remaining questions.

  “You’re saying that today’s chickens aren’t the same as they used to be?”

  Herbert smiled and Kara could see where Logan got his charm. “Very little in today’s food production is like it was thirty years ago. Our country produces far too much food. Cheap food that is inhumane. It’s downright wrong. Did you know that chickens mass-produced by these giant farms are bred for their breast meat? They’re so top-heavy they can’t even stand up. That’s not a life,” he explained and Kara agreed.

  “So what is working?” she asked.

  “Local farms. Places even smaller than our farm are popping up all over the place. People, all different ages, different walks, are choosing farmers markets and grass-fed beef. People are educating themselves and like Maya Angelou says, ‘Once you know better, you must do better.’”

  Kara smiled.

  “I watch a lot of Oprah,” Herbert continued. “Logan says I watch too much, but her show’s on when I break for lunch. Smart woman, that Oprah.”

  “That she is.” On that note, Kara asked a couple more questions about their dairy cows and she was done. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Rye.” She packed up her things.

  “You’re very welcome, my dear. Thank you for taking the time to listen.” He took her hands. “My kids always tell me not to butt into their lives, but when I see something that isn’t right, I can’t help myself.”

  Kara started to tell him he didn’t need to say anything, but he continued.

  “He’s the best man, but he’s been taking care of everyone else for so long that he’s forgotten how to take care of himself. If he watched more Oprah, he would know that. She talks about self-care all the time.”

  Kara laughed because she was pretty sure she was in love with two Rye men at this point.

  “I know. I’m sure he will figure it out.” Kara looked into his eyes and knew where Makenna got hers.

  “He loves you,” Herbert said as she turned to walk away. “It’s something I’ve never seen before, pretty powerful stuff, so I’m not counting you guys out just yet.”

  Kara turned back and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. Let’s hope you and Oprah are right.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. Then she left him before she crawled into his lap and asked him to make everything better.

  As Kara threw her bag into her car, Logan’s truck pulled up and parked across from her. She found herself in a weird limbo where she wasn’t sure if she should get into the car or stand there and wait for him to get out. She decided to wait. She was finished hiding at this point. She was ready to live her “authentic life” as Herbert and Oprah said.

  Logan turned off his truck, sat there for a minute, and wondered how strange it would be if he just drove back home without getting out. She must be here to finish her article. He’d forgotten about the damn thing while he was trying to forget about her. His heart was racing, but he pulled it together and stepped out of the truck. She was standing outside her car as he approached the gravel path that led to the barn. His heart pounded in his ears and he knew if he could only get through this, make nice, and move past her, things would go back to normal. He needed normal at this point.

  “Kara.” That’s what he went with. Her name. Simple.

  “Logan.”

  Shit, and the volley began.

  “You get what you needed from Dad for your article?”

  “I did, thanks, he was very helpful. Sweet.” Kara tried to smile. She caught his eye and he felt like he was going under.

  The pause was painful. She shifted on her feet and then put her hand on the door to her car.

  “Let me know how it goes.” His mouth must have been on autopilot because he wasn’t sure where the hell that last thing came from, but he was pretty sure he should brace himself for Kara’s return.

  “What? Let you know how what goes?”

  Logan shook his head and backed up. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Kara, okay? This is awkward. I’m glad you got what you needed and have a safe ride back.”

  “Fine.” Kara opened her car door.

  Logan walked past her.

  “Just so we’re clear, I’m not the one hiding this time. I’m not letting my parents, or how I was raised, dictate my future. I’ve figured myself out. This one is all on you.” She slammed the car door.

  He never turned around. He simply stood there with his back to her because the truth was he was scared to death. He wasn’t going to be able to give her what she wanted, but he hadn’t been able to find his way back to having order in his life without her either. So he was just going through the motions until something clicked. Today he was here to work and help his dad out. He knew how to do that, so he would work himself to exhaustion and hopefully collapse into a dream state that for once didn’t include Kara’s face, her body, or that laugh.

  Makenna was in the kitchen when Logan walked into the house.

  “I’m making lunch. Do you want a sandwich?”

  “No.”

  “Coffee?’

  “Yeah, I’ll get it.” Logan grabbed a cup. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He and Garrett just left on the quad. Said they would be right back.”

  Kenna sat down at the table next to him.

  “Remember when Dad got that peanut butter grinder at a garage sale?”

  The caffeine from the coffee was setting in and Logan smiled.

  “Yeah, and he made like twenty jars of peanut butter a week and read all of the health benefits to us.”

  Kenna laughed. “God, to this day I can’t eat peanut butter. Peanut butter and bananas, peanut butter with pickles, it was crazy.”

  “It was,” Logan said. “What made you think of that?”

  “I was making my sandwich and thinking about how you used to make our lunches.”

  Logan looked at her.

  “They were good lunches, always on the counter when I came out for breakfast. You must have gotten up early to make those.”

  “Nah, you just got up late.”

  “Well, either way, it’s a nice memory. Being in this kitchen brings back so many great memories, ya know?”

  “I do. We have a lot of great memories here, Kenna. I’m glad our lunches are one of yours. I liked making them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That I messed up and told Kara about Mom. I should have picked up on it and left her where you wanted her, dead.”

  “First of all”—Logan stood to get more coffee—“it’s not your fault. I should have been honest. I don’t want Mom dead, it was just easier than explaining.”

  “I know, but you and Kara can get over this, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m just—I don’t know what I am. I want to go back to the life I had before I bumped into Kara again. Things made sense, and now they don’t.”

  “What if she needs you though?”

  “She doesn’t need me. Believe me, she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

  Kenna got up and put her plate in
the sink.

  “We’re all capable of taking care of ourselves, Lo, but sometimes it’s nice. It’s better when someone else makes your lunch, you know?”

  Logan nodded. He couldn’t say anything past the lump in his throat. His heart hurt for Kenna sometimes. Christ, was everyone in this house watching Oprah?

  “Anyway”—she walked toward the door—“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to lie with you.”

  “That’s okay.” Logan turned to her, but Makenna was gone.

  “She was sorry she wasn’t fast enough to lie with him.” That’s what it was, wasn’t it? No matter how he tried to move things around, he had lied to Kara. “Own it,” Garrett would say, “once a liar, always a liar.” He was in no position to point fingers.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “I need your opinion.” Kara opened the front door to Jake standing with his yoga mat slung across his chest.

  “Well, hello to you too.” He walked in and tossed his stuff on the round black chair by Kara’s entryway. “Do you have any coffee?” he asked on a huff and even as Kara ran back to her bedroom, she could tell something was wrong.

  “French press in the kitchen. Are you all right?” Kara yelled from above in her bedroom.

  The upstairs of the house was open to the downstairs, so Jake grabbed a cup, the coffee press, and took a seat at her dining room table.

  “Oh God, I need my yoga today. My chi or whatever the hell that woman calls it, is blocked.” Jake sipped his coffee. “Can you hear me up there?”

  “Yes, your chi is blocked. What happened?”

  “It’s nothing, stupid really. What kind of opinion do you need?”

  “Your fashion opinion.”

  “Oh, so because I’m gay and married to a man named after a damn textile, my fashion opinion matters? I suppose we, the collective gay ‘we,’ all know about women’s clothing, manscaping, and Cher? Well, I’ll have you know that I’ve never manscaped a day in my life. I mean, sure I trim, but every man trims. Even the almighty heterosexual, he trims.”