Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5)

by Heather Wardell

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  I love you guys so much. Mom, thanks so much for the cookies. They're delicious. I did tell you not to give them, but I'm so glad you did. Good for you for not listening to me!

  Please please please don't blame yourselves for this. I made a mistake by leaving, and I really don't want you to make it even worse by feeling guilty. I've figured out a lot of stuff here in the car, and the biggest one is that it's not worth beating yourself up. Life is too short for that.

  You'll probably get to meet Andrew. I just wish it could have happened under better circumstances. Thank you so much for being happy for me and my boyfriend (still feels weird to say that, but great too). I'm sure you guys'll like him. His cell phone number is in my phone. Please make sure he knows what's happened before he goes back to work in January, okay? I don't want him finding out with my other coworkers.

  It takes far too long to type those few words, and I'm starting to ramble. I just don't know what to say. How do you say goodbye to your parents? How can you thank them for everything they've given you, everything they've done for you?

  You can't, and I'm briefly frustrated by the impossibility of saying everything that needs to be said. But then I realize, here again, this is me being too afraid of not being perfect. I take a deep breath and keep typing, knowing there are more things I need to say.

  Mom, I'm sorry I was obnoxious this morning at the gym. I was worried about my workout, but it seems so stupid now.

  That's an understatement. She took me to her gym, which was open on holiday hours, because I insisted I couldn't miss a day of working out. Her gym buddies were all there, in the mood to chat and socialize, and she kept interrupting me on the treadmill to introduce me to various people. I was sweating and feeling hideous and trying to get a good workout, but I did my best to be civil.

  My frustration peaked, though, when she leaned on the treadmill's console and accidentally powered it off. I managed to bite back my fury, and even smile and tell her it was okay, but I was upset and she knew it. I hadn't checked the display for a few minutes so I didn't know exactly how far I'd gone. We estimated it had been more than twenty-five minutes and less than thirty, so I'd put in another thirty-five just to be sure but then I hadn't had the final total so I hadn't known what to put in my tracking sheet.

  It's like another lifetime somehow. My body knew I'd done the workout. The rest didn't matter. What mattered was that my mother was proud of me and wanted her friends to meet me, and I was so hung up on statistics that I couldn't even see that.

  My fingers hover over the keys as I fight off another wave of exhaustion. I can barely see the screen now through the welling tears, but I have to keep going. What else needs to be said?

  What do I wish Bill could have told me?

  I want you guys to know what happened here so you don't wonder like I did when Bill died. I changed my mind and was coming home when I slid off the road. I tried to get out of the car in every way I could think of, which included hanging out the door and pulling. That didn't feel so good, which is why I got sick.

  So then I stayed in the car, and I did try again and again to get the phone and to get my foot free. When I wasn't actively trying to get out, though, I wasn't really in any pain. Right now, I feel pretty good, strangely. Probably because of your amazing cookies, Mom.

  Will telling them what happened make things better or worse? I don't know, but I know I wanted to know what Bill thought about and did, and maybe they'll want to know as well. If not, well, there's nothing I can do about that. But I think it'll help them. I hope so, anyhow.

  I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. I have so much to say and I don't know how to say it. I'm so sorry Christmas will never be the same for you, but please do try to enjoy it. I love everything about you guys and everything I've done (everything good, anyhow :)) is because of you.

  Thank you so much for everything. Nobody's ever had better parents. I love you.

  Rhiannon

  It hurts so much to close that file that tears pour down my face, blinding me. I could type for hours and not thank them enough, but there's no way to say it and just no more time.

  I blink away the tears so I can take a quick look at the will I wrote, but I can't think of anything else to add. It covers everything that matters.

  Sandra's letter, though, and Andrew's. I didn't finish either of them.

  I open Sandra's and read what I've already written, and while I'm still crying there's peace growing inside me. So many people don't get the chance to say goodbye. I've got that chance.

  Don't let this stop you from having a wonderful wedding and a wonderful life. You deserve both. It's so easy to get hung up on stupid little problems and not see how great your life is overall. I've been guilty of that, with my obsession with my weight, but I see the light now. Learn from my mistake and enjoy your life.

  When I think about you, I don't remember any one big thing. I remember a huge string of lovely little things. That's what our friendship has been, lovely all the way along. Try to remember me the same way, okay? Live your life looking for the lovely things.

  I love you, buddy.

  Rhiannon

  Closing this file hurts too. It's like closing all the doors of my life. But I let the tears fall and keep moving. Two more things to do. I have to finish Andrew's letter, somehow. Then I want to write something for everyone. It's so clear to me now how many people are barely living their lives, and I want to encourage them not to hold back.

  But first...

  Andrew, I was going to erase that last bit, about Joel, but I think, already, you know me better than anyone, and I can't bring myself to hide from you. The beauty of you is, I don't need to.

  I've been thinking about you an awful lot in here, and looking at that gorgeous angel you made. I might be an angel myself shortly, if God forgives me for a few things, and if I am I'll try to come back and tell you what the well-dressed angel is wearing this year. Whatever it is, it won't be as pretty as my bracelet.

  You're such an amazing guy. You're funny and smart and adorable and sweet and sexy and a Christina-listening-MMA-fighting-computer-nerd. And I love you.

  I hadn't realized I was going to type that, but as I see the words appear on the screen I know it's true, and joy wells up along with fresh tears.

  I love you, Andrew. Not just for the angel and the bracelet and Ruby's obsession with you, but because you make me stronger than I am on my own and because I'm a better person when you're around.

  You'll be happy to know that I finally get the whole "journey and destination" thing. This'll sound weird, but there have been moments in this car that I have genuinely enjoyed, even though my ultimate destination isn't exactly where I wanted to be going today. And I learned how to enjoy those from you, and I thank you for that. I have been flowing with the go (flowing with the going? :)) and it's made all the difference.

  And I managed to tell Julie off! I had the dream, a while ago when I fell asleep, and in the dream you told me I could do it and I did. So thank you for that too.

  Writing this makes me think that Louisa would love to know about my success, so I open a new document and type a light-speed note to let her know and thank her for all her help, then save it and come back to Andrew.

  If I do get out of here, I'm still going to give you this, because you deserve to know it all. If I don't, know that you've made the last few months amazing.

  I love you. I wish I'd realized it just a day earlier so I could tell you in person. Every moment with you has been incredible, and you have changed my life. Take care of yourself.

  And be yourself too, okay? You know you're a fighter. Remember how you felt walking into that ring? There's nothing wrong with that. You can be a fighter in the ring and the awesome man I fell in love with out of it. Don't change who you are because you think you shouldn't be that way. Trust me. You're perfect the way you are.

  Oh, and a secret just for you: if you check my computer i
n the "stuff" folder you'll find the early drafts of that database "someone" built at work. Don't tell, okay? Only Sandra knows, and she promised never to tell. But I wanted you to know. :)

  I love you.

  Rhiannon

  The computer gives its five-percent warning. It'll shut itself down at two percent and I won't be able to stop it. I wipe the tears from my eyes and try to think about what to do next.

  I want to write the general letter, and I want to look at Andrew's angel picture. So I flip back and forth every few seconds, and save the letter after every sentence in case the battery dies. I don't review what I'm writing, don't edit it, don't hold anything back.

  Dear everyone,

  If you're anything like me, you've been stuck in at least one area of your life. There's something you aren't doing to your full potential, or something you've been obsessing about that really doesn't matter, or something you dream of doing that you haven't gotten around to.

  Please do something about that today. Not tomorrow, not next week, not "when the mortgage is paid off". Right now. Even if it's just a tiny little thing.

  Yeah, we have to pay attention to the future. You can't just quit your job and live on fresh air and sunshine. I get that. But seriously, you have to pay attention to now too. You have to live. Because you never know when it'll be taken away.

  "It's not the destination, it's the journey." People say it all the time and don't think about it. Well, think. Forget the destination, just for a second (and I know this is hard but do it anyhow) - are you enjoying your journey?

  Make sure you do. Because right now, I'm not thinking about my deadlines at work or how many minutes I clocked on the treadmill this week. I'm thinking about you guys. You're all part of my journey, just like I'm part of yours. We're so interconnected and it's so important to really live.

  Please, just think, okay? Think about what'll matter to you when you're about to reach the final destination.

  That destination's the same for us all. It's the journey that matters, it really is. I didn't get that until now. Get it, and have a fantastic life. Pay attention to all the lovely little things around you and enjoy them.

  They're all that matters.

  I hit save again and switch back to the angel. The image has just registered in my mind when the screen goes black.

  My hands shaking, I close the laptop and squeeze it against my chest, hugging it tight. I'm holding the best and worst of me, holding everyone who matters to me. I may never see them again. But at least they'll get to read what I wanted them to know.

  A flash of fear: what if they don't? What if it doesn't occur to anyone to open the computer and see what's there? If I wrote those letters and they never get read, what's the point?

  Joy bubbles up in me, obliterating the fear and pushing away the rest of my tears. I know the point. I am the point. I said everything I needed to say, and even if it doesn't get heard, I said it. It's the journey, after all.

  I look up into the rear view mirror. My eyes are sad but calm in my too-pale face as I ask myself, for the last time, "Did you do everything you could do today?"

  For the first time, I answer, "I did. I have done everything I could do."

  I smile at myself. How wonderful to truly be able to say that. I've never known anything like it. It's yet another lovely little thing to remember.

  Snuggling the laptop, I let my eyes drift closed and my mind wander, dancing between tiny memories of everyone I know and love. Sleep rises and I surrender to it, let myself sink into the lovely little things that fill my mind, because it's over. I've truly done everything I can do.

  What an amazing journey.

  Meeting Minutes: January 25

  Attendees: Janet Johansen, Sandra Preston, Jim and Fiona Taylor, Andrew Thornton

  1. We are in agreement that Rhiannon's dream of the "adult alert foundation" should be fulfilled.

  2. We are further in agreement that to whatever degree possible we will follow Rhiannon's plans, as found on her laptop, although we will make alterations if need be to ensure the foundation's maximum success.

  3. Rhiannon wanted the foundation named after Bill, and we will incorporate that in the foundation's full name but will also include Rhiannon's name. We are currently leaning toward "The Bill Johansen and Rhiannon Taylor Adult Alert Memorial Foundation" for the foundation's official name and "AdultAlert" as the short name, but this is subject to change.

  4. We will generally meet on the 25th of each month, but as Andrew has an MMA fight on February 25th we will move our February meeting to the 18th and then attend his fight to cheer him on.

  5. We ended today's meeting, as we will do each time, with everyone sharing one "lovely little thing" that happened in the last few weeks.

  Janet allowed herself cream instead of milk in her coffee for the first time in years.

  Sandra found the perfect wedding invitations. She wasn't even looking, but she picked up a wedding magazine Rhiannon had bought for her and a sample invitation fell out and she loved it.

  Jim won three hundred dollars on a shared lottery ticket at work, and he has decided to donate two hundred dollars to our start-up fund and spend the rest on a dinner out with Fiona at the expensive restaurant she's always wanted to try.

  Fiona had difficulty thinking of anything at first but then remembered just watching the sun rise yesterday morning and realizing how much beauty is in the world even with the pain.

  Andrew took Ruby to the vet for the first time, and he's delighted to report she's in perfect health.

  STIR UNTIL THOROUGHLY CONFUSED

  Prologue

  After everything I've learned and all the ways I've changed over this last year, how can I possibly be here again, trapped between a man and work?

  This time is different, though. It is. Charles didn't want me to have a career. Kegan does. But he wants our relationship too, and we've more than proven we simply can't work together and be together.

  My shaking legs carry me away from Steel and I wonder what will happen when I return tomorrow. I love working here, and I love Magma even more. I've dreamed of being a chef forever, and now that dream's come true twice over.

  But I've also found Kegan, of whom I didn't dream because I'd never have been able to imagine someone so right for me. Why does he have to be my boss? But if he weren't, would I have fallen for him? Without his amazing work with his restaurants, without his focus and attention and drive, would I have fallen hard enough to consider leaving the kitchens I adore?

  After the emotions of last night I knew something had to give, but I didn't expect him to say, "We can't go on like this, Mary. I want you, and I want full control of my restaurants, but I can't have both. I can't decide which I want more, which I'll resent less for making me lose the other. I need you to decide for me, for us."

  His words ring in my head and the shock mixed with fury I felt as he spoke tenses my body again. The shock makes sense but I don't know why it made me so angry. I understood. He's lost too many girlfriends to his control issues to risk letting it happen again. He has to leave the decision to me.

  But understanding doesn't make deciding any easier.

  I need to find something that will, so I call the spa where Tanisha sent me to relax post-Christmas and book myself an overnight visit and a long massage. It's not cheap, and it's a good hour's train ride from Toronto, but I need a quiet and peaceful place to think and I've never felt more peaceful anywhere else.

  Except maybe in Kegan's arms after the first time we made love.

  I take a deep shuddering breath and make myself push the memories away. I have to be strong, stand on my own two feet, and choose: stay as the chef of Kegan's two restaurants and end our relationship, or stay with him and try to find a job that's even close to as perfect for me.

  I know for many women there'd be no question: career comes first. And a huge part of me wants to make that choice. But I also know Kegan himself has been amazingly good for me and I don't want to
lose him either.

  I turn off my phone so I won't have to talk to anyone. I need to listen to myself. After a quick stop at home for overnight gear, I take a taxi to the train station and am soon on my way.

  I don't get any closer to resolving my dilemma on the train, and once I've checked into the spa and am resting in my room before heading down for a late lunch I wonder if replaying everything that's happened between Kegan and me from the day we met will help. It might, but it'll hurt too.

  But I need to find the answer for us, so I give in, close my eyes, and relive the last four months of my life.

  Chapter One

  My hands shook so hard I could barely open the front door of the restaurant I'd seen praised in so many reviews. My potential new boss, the rising star of Toronto's food scene, was a class act. Why would he consider hiring me, especially with how I'd left my last job?

  Once I made it inside, the sharp hint of smoke in the air stung my eyes and made me even more uncomfortable. I looked around at the chaos, trying to guess where I should go.

  A tall dark-haired man, the classy and good-looking one I'd seen pictured in the reviews, appeared at the back of the dining area and beckoned to me.

  Taking a few deep breaths as I went to calm my nerves, I picked my way through the ash and dirt and muddy boot prints marring the gorgeous golden hardwood floor, making sure not to interfere with the people wielding brooms and studying clipboards while also carefully avoiding a vacuum cleaner cord being dragged across the floor.

  As I neared the man, the woman lugging the huge industrial-looking vacuum turned it on, creating an incredible racket. The man grimaced and pointed down a hallway, so I followed him past piles of half-burnt dish towels and scorched kitchenware into a glassed-in office, walking carefully on the hallway's warped and lumpy hardwood floor. The water damage back here had clearly been extensive.