by Hillary Avis
Stolen?! Adrenaline jolted through her, and she quickly scanned the street in either direction before she remembered that she didn’t ride Daisy to work. Oh, duh, Kimmy dropped me off.
Now she’d have to ride the bus or walk. Or maybe...
She texted Todd Luna, the guy she’d been dating for a couple of months. Things weren’t serious yet, but he had a car and worked nearby. Maybe he wouldn’t mind running her home. His reply came immediately.
Todd: At Café Sabine for dinner. Join me?
Bethany: OK. I’ll walk over. See you in 10.
She sniffed her armpits—not too bad considering she’d just finished scrubbing out a deep fryer. As she walked briskly toward the café, she swiped on some lip balm and then shook her hair out of its bun and fluffed the ends. She caught a glimpse of herself in a storefront window and wasn’t too dismayed. Wavy auburn hair framed her face, the black V-neck hugged her curves...annnnd she still had banana-print pajama pants on.
Cringeworthy. Thank goodness she wore a T-shirt to bed last night instead of the matching PJ top—hopefully the long white tablecloths at Café Sabine would hide her pants before Todd noticed. He was a guy, after all.
She rounded the last corner and pushed open the etched-glass door of the restaurant. Using the front entrance felt strange. Normally when she came to Café Sabine, she went through the back door in the alley—the door that went straight to the kitchen—because she was visiting Kimmy, who worked as the café’s sous chef. But Kimmy had the day off today, and this time Bethany was a customer, not just a visitor. She had a date.
The maître d’ sniffed primly and looked her up and down. “Table for one? There may be a wait.”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me, Thierry. I’m here to meet Todd.”
Thierry pursed his lips, but picked up a menu from the stand. “Follow me. The gentleman is already seated.”
It seemed like Thierry purposely led her on a meandering course through the entire café. Bethany held her bag below her waist, hoping that it might block other diners’ view of her unusual attire, and tried not to bump too many diners’ chairs with it along the way. Everyone seated at the dimly lit restaurant was well-dressed, as the café catered to the lawyers and financiers who worked downtown—people like Todd. Despite her strategic handbag maneuvers, a few people noticed her pants and tittered as she passed.
She glared at them, but pasted on a smile as she approached Todd’s table. He rose when he saw her, and she was horrified to see another man stand up beside him. He wasn’t eating alone.
So much for a romantic dinner! She clenched her teeth, still smiling, and sat down quickly without shaking the strange man’s extended hand, praying that neither of them noticed all the dancing bananas printed on her lower half.
Todd leaned to give her a quick embrace, and she suppressed a gag. He was wearing some kind of new cologne that must have been designed to evoke a new car—it basically smelled like gasoline.
“Why are you being so rude?” he asked in a low voice so the other man wouldn’t hear. He pulled back to look at her and she shrugged, still fake smiling. He pasted on a smile, too, and turned back to his companion. “Bethany’s a top notch chef, trained at the Culinary Institute in New Haven. You should taste her clam chowder, Don—it puts this place to shame.”
“Actually, they use my recipe here,” Bethany said smoothly, concealing her irritation with Todd. He had no business criticizing the food at Café Sabine—Kimmy was one of the best chefs in Newbridge.
Don burst into laughter, his belly jiggling. “Don Hefferman. I like your spunk. You two are quite the power couple.”
Bethany was taken aback. Power couple? A fry cook and a junior real estate developer? What had Todd told Don about her?
“Don’s my investment partner,” Todd said.
Thierry, still standing expectantly beside the table, cleared his throat. “Shall I bring the champagne, sir?”
Todd nodded and winked at Bethany. Her stomach clenched and her heart thudded in her chest. He’s not going to propose, is he?! She liked the guy—he was handsome, successful, and charming—but it was way too soon! “Um, why the celebration?” She tried to make her voice light, but it came out shrill and quavering.
“This is a big moment in our lives. I have a little surprise for you.” Todd leaned down to get something out of his satchel. A ring?!
She scraped back her chair and glanced over her shoulder at the exit. She had half a mind to just run out of the restaurant. “Um...I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I mean, we haven’t known each other that long.”
Don shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably. “Maybe I ought to excuse myself, give you two some privacy?”
Todd sat up just as Thierry returned with a bottle of bubbly and three glasses. “No, I want you both to be here.”
Bethany shot a panicked look at Don while Thierry filled their glasses. He shrugged at her, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. Poor guy—he was as anxious to avoid a proposal scene as she was. “Why don’t we do this another time?”
Todd’s smile was still as broad and bright as ever, but his eyes narrowed. Was he having second thoughts about popping the question? Bethany hoped so. He picked up his champagne flute. “The bubbles won’t hold, hon. It’s now or never.”
She sighed and picked up her glass, her stomach already queasy at the thought of rejecting him so publicly. “Ready or not, here you come.”
Don snorted. Todd turned and raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Don quickly coughed to cover the noise and lifted his own glass.
“A toast to new beginnings,” Todd said loudly. “For all of us!”
Bethany and Don exchanged a puzzled look. Todd pulled a stack of paper from his lap. The top sheet was filled with official-looking stamps and signatures. It wasn’t a ring. Bethany breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of her champagne, but then stopped mid-sip. The papers looked an awful lot like a contract. Not...a marriage contract? Was Todd suggesting they do the deed right here and now, with Don as a witness? New beginnings, a big day for us...what else could it be?
Bethany stood up and backed away from the table in horror.
Todd squinted at her. “Are those...bananas?”
Mortified, she plopped back down in her chair, covered her lap with the tablecloth, and slugged down the rest of the champagne. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m ready. Hit me.”
Don and Todd stared at her, both frozen with their glasses in their hands. Finally Todd cocked his head to the side and asked in a puzzled voice, “Are you OK?”
She nodded. “Fine. Just say what you’re going to say—I won’t stop you.” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
Todd clinked his glass against Don’s. “The city greenlighted our condo development! We’re good to go! We’ll break ground on Wednesday.”
Don’s eyes widened. “What? I thought that the historical society had killed the project.”
“I know! Lucky for us, the city council pushed it through this afternoon.”
Bethany slumped in her chair. Phew. Not a proposal. Don just looked uncomfortable.
Todd glanced from her to Don and back again. “Come on you two! Let’s celebrate!”
Don rubbed his bald head. “Sorry, it’s just a big surprise. Cheers, Todd.” He tossed back his whole glass of champagne just like Bethany had and pulled the papers over in front of him.
Why wasn’t he as happy about this as Todd seemed to be? Bethany studied Don as he studied the signatures.
The smile on Todd’s face had completely faded from his eyes, even though his mouth was still stretched into a grimace. He turned to her. “How about you?”
“Congrats. I’m happy for you, really.”
He tossed up his hands. “Maybe I didn’t explain this meeting very well. We’re going to convert the old church into live-work condos, but there will be retail space on the bottom floor. Don’s been looking to inv
est in a restaurant concept—right, Don?—and what better place to invest than the condo development! I wanted you two to meet so Don could hear about your restaurant concept, Bethy!”
She cringed a little at the nickname. That’s what her parents called her when they were being condescending. Don’t you want to think that through, Bethy? What’s your backup plan, Bethy? But unlike her parents, Todd wanted her to achieve her dreams. Too bad she didn’t actually have a restaurant concept. She hadn’t planned on taking that step until she was an experienced sous chef—at least five years down the road!
She stumbled over her words. “Wow, I wish I’d known—I’d have prepared a little more. I’m sorry I don’t have any materials for you, Don.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Don said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting this, either!”
“He thought he was getting out of this deal!” Todd punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Didn’t you, Donny? But now he’s stuck with me.”
Bethany raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Ah, nothing.” Don chuckled uncomfortably. “Happy that the deal went through. It’s going to be great for Newbridge—we’ll get some of those start-up kids into our condos and bring that neighborhood into the twenty-first century.”
Todd grinned at Bethany. “Told you—it’s the perfect location for a cutting-edge eatery with Newbridge’s hottest young chef at the helm!”
Bethany wondered what he meant by “cutting edge.” That new molecular gastronomy, where the food was all shaped like origami and made of beet powder? That was definitely not a concept she’d pitch to Don. Her style leaned more toward comfort food, and she was pretty sure Todd didn’t mean mac-n-cheese. Still, she didn’t want to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.
“I can put together a proposal for you, if you’re interested.”
Don nodded. “Sounds good.”
Todd leaned forward across the table. “I can do you one better. You can taste her food for yourself on Wednesday. Bethany’s going to cater the groundbreaking party!”
“I am?” Bethany blinked. Todd glared at her. “I mean, I am! I’ll have a tasting menu for you to try on...?”
“Wednesday evening,” Todd finished.
“Wednesday,” she echoed. Forty-eight hours away—can I pull it off? Her mind started racing, mentally calculating all the tasks involved. She needed tables, linens, cutlery and china, warmers—and somewhere to cook, not to mention a menu. She had to find time to go shop and somewhere to store her ingredients. And she had to work her daily shifts at the Seafood Grotto! She groaned internally.
Don’s voice brought her back to the moment. “I’ll see you two on Wednesday, then! Is this my copy?” He tapped the papers in front of him.
Todd nodded. “I’ll get the bill. Glad to be doing business with you, Don. We’re going to make a bucket of cash.”
The two men shook hands as Don gathered the paperwork and said goodbye to Bethany. She waited until Don was all the way out of the restaurant before she turned to Todd.
“It would have been nice to have a heads up on this whole thing before I showed up in my pajamas!”
Todd’s smile disappeared. “I could say the same! I drop this opportunity in your lap and your lap is full of dancing bananas! And then you were so rude to my investor—who could be your investor if you play your cards right. What were you thinking?”
Bethany crossed her arms. “I was thinking that my best friend’s childhood home burned down last night, so I didn’t have time to get dressed before we rushed out the door this morning. I was thinking that my boyfriend invited me to a romantic dinner, and that maybe he wouldn’t care about my PJs so much because he’d be too busy looking into my eyes. I was thinking you were going to propose and I was trying to give you an out.” She bit her lip, afraid she’d said too much, but Todd just laughed.
“You thought the champagne was for a proposal?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I thought it was too early, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying no.”
He laughed again, louder. “Trust me, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t propose to you when you go out in public smelling like a french fry and wearing that!”
Her cheeks grew even hotter and her eyes stung with tears. Todd’s face fell. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that if I proposed to someone, I’d make sure it was the right moment. You know me—perfectionist to the core.”
Message received—I’m not perfect. Bethany sighed and scrubbed the tears from her cheeks with her white linen napkin.
He reached across the table and chucked her chin. “Don’t cry, Bethy.”
“I’m not crying,” she said automatically. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I have no idea how to pull off this catering gig you dumped on me.”
“Dumped on you? You should be happy. Don’s a big-name investor, and he’s going to taste your food! This is your big break!” Todd’s voice was loud and brittle. “Tons of heavy hitters are going to be there on Wednesday. If you don’t come through, I’m going to look like a fool. And nobody will take you seriously, either. You’ll be a fry cook forever.”
Maybe not forever—Alex Vadecki would be happy to fire me any time, and my parents would love to see me in another profession. But she’d be miserable giving up on her dream of being a restaurateur someday. Todd was the only person besides Kimmy who really understood and supported her ambitions. She sighed. “I know. I won’t let you down. I’ll figure out a way to pull it off—somehow.”
Chapter 4
Monday
TODD STOPPED THE CAR in front of her tiny cottage and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You can thank me when you get your first Michelin star.”
“Will do.” There were light years between catering a real estate developer’s party and earning a Michelin star, but Todd wasn’t in the industry. He didn’t know that ambition couldn’t substitute for experience. “Maybe then you won’t have to lie to people about my job anymore.” She winced—that had come out harsher than she intended.
“Aw, be sweet, Bethy.”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname, feeling more salty than sweet, and stepped out into the night. He flashed her a charming smile through the open door, and she relented somewhat. “Thanks for the ride—and everything.”
“I just want what’s best for my girl.”
Bethany nodded. “I know.” The quiet dark was split by a wail coming from inside the cottage, and it sent her pulse racing. She turned and dashed inside.
The living room was dim except for a circle of candles that flickered on the coffee table, their glow illuminating two figures huddled on the sofa. Amara sat with her face in her hands, and Kimmy had her arm protectively over her great-aunt’s shoulders. Sharky lay curled in Amara’s lap, quivering with nervous energy.
Bethany dropped her purse and kneeled in front of them, her jaw tight with concern. “What’s going on? Is everything OK?” Sharky growled at her and she scooted back a little bit in case he was thinking about launching at her. She’d already seen what the little dog could do to a pair of pajama pants, and she didn’t want to know what he could do to her throat.
Amara raised her head, her cheeks streaked with tears. “My home, my home! What will I do?” She wailed again and rocked back and forth where she sat, clutching Sharky to her chest.
Kimmy’s face crumpled at the sight of her aunt’s despair, and Bethany reached out to squeeze her free hand. “I’m so sorry. Has she been like this all day?”
“Let me get you some water, Auntie.” Kimmy stood up and nodded toward the kitchen, and Bethany followed her. When they were far enough away that Amara was out of earshot, Kimmy spoke in a low voice. “She wasn’t like this until just now. The police came to tell her that the fire investigator ruled it an arson!”
Bethany gasped. “Someone lit her house on fire—while she was in it?”
Kimmy nodded as she retrieved a glass from the
cupboard and filled it with ice cubes. “She could have been killed. And worse, the cops don’t believe her. They think she did it!”
“What? Why would she set her own house on fire?”
“Insurance fraud, I guess. Which means she can’t get any insurance money until they investigate and clear her.” Kimmy filled the glass at the sink.
Bethany looked over to where Amara sat cuddling Sharky as he gnawed on the arm of the sofa. “Let me guess—that means she has to stay here.”
“Just until we can find her somewhere else.” Kimmy’s eyes were pleading. “She’s my only family—I can’t put her in a hotel.”
“No, of course not. She should stay here.” Bethany felt slightly ashamed of herself for her reluctance to host Amara, especially when she’d done so much for Kimmy. But with one look at the sofa, Bethany nearly changed her mind. Sharky was ferociously attacking one of the throw pillows and had already wormed shreds of stuffing out of the center. “What about the dog, though? We’re not supposed to have pets.”
Kimmy looked thoughtful. “If the property management company notices, we can say he’s just visiting. And we’ll make sure he’s never in the house alone. Amara takes Sharky with her everywhere, anyway.”
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
Kimmy shrugged. “Depends on how long it takes the police to investigate the arson, I guess.” She walked back to the sofa and handed Amara the glass. “Here you go, Auntie.”
Bethany joined them in the cottage’s cozy living room, perching in her favorite chenille easy chair and curling her feet under her. Amara choked on her ice water, spraying droplets everywhere. She motioned urgently until Kimmy retrieved a paper towel so her aunt could dab the front of her caftan. Then she shook the soggy wad at Bethany.
“You’ll get a crooked back sitting like that! Pain will follow you for the rest of your life.” Amara delivered the words in her resonant fortuneteller’s voice, making it sound like a prophecy rather than posture advice.
