by Jan Thompson
“What subject?”
“Emmeline. Or Talia. Take your pick.”
“I’m thinking of selling my shares of Saffron to Talia and start over,” Sebastian said.
Skye’s spoon froze in midair. “First, you gave her the majority share and now you give her your livelihood? What does she know about the restaurant business?”
“Funding.”
“Beyond that?”
“I’m not sure I want to work with her anymore. I need to step back and get some clarity. I’m no longer sure I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“It’s Jared, isn’t it?”
“I’m getting the idea that she’s sleeping with him.”
“So you go after Emmeline.”
“No. It’s not—”
“I’m sorry, Seb. But you can’t use Em as a fall-back plan. She’s too precious for you to fool around with.”
“I’m not…”
“You hate being alone, and she’s available because of this stupid charade.”
“I don’t…”
“Em is like the sister I never had. You mess with her and I’m never speaking to you again.”
“Those are fighting words.”
“You bet they are.”
They ate their soup in silence until Skye spoke again.
“It’s like you’re afraid to let Talia go because you think she’s the best there is, but I tell you, big brother, she’s one of the worst there is.”
“Don’t sat that about her.”
“You know I’m telling you the truth. Other than your buddies, I’m probably the only woman outside your circle of friends who would tell you that awful truth.”
Sebastian had to agree with his sister.
“Talia is—how shall I put it? She’s all things to all men.” Before Sebastian could defend Talia again, Skye raised her palm. “When she’s with you, she’s a proper Southern belle, wearing white, going to church. When she’s with Jared, she’s a party animal. When she’s with her other boyfriends, she’s whatever they want her to be.”
“Not all at the same time.”
“Listen to yourself, Seb. You can’t defend her. She’s an adult, doing whatever she wants, and she will pay for her consequences. You can’t bail her out anymore, Seb. You need to start thinking about your own life and what God wants for you.”
Sebastian said nothing.
“Maybe God wants you to have someone who is…”
“Perfect?” Sebastian snapped.
“Let me finish, Seb. Maybe God wants you to have someone who is growing in her relationship with Him, who desires to please God.”
“A good Christian girl?”
“Only God is good. You know that. But what if He has someone in mind for you, someone who will grow with you through the ups and downs of life?”
“A life partner.”
“Someone you don’t have to manipulate circumstances for. Someone who doesn’t have a circus you have to participate in.”
“Circus?”
“And if God wants you to be alone for a while, you need to have patience. If you’re meant to marry, that special someone will come along.”
Sebastian studied his sister.
“What?” Skye asked.
“Are you talking to yourself or to me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been alone for a while, Skye. Are you waiting for someone?”
“I only want the man that God brings to my doorsteps.”
Sebastian laughed. “Be careful what you wish for!”
“Therein is your problem, big brother,” Skye said.
“My wish?”
“No. Your impatience.” Skye sat back in her chair. “It’s totally okay to be alone, to live alone, you know.”
“That’s because you’re super picky and you hate anyone messing with your life, especially your kitchen.”
“No one touches my kitchen.”
“See?”
“Besides, I’m too busy. Oh, speaking of busy, I got a call from Choice Chef Channel.”
“No way!” Sebastian groaned. “I’ve been waiting for them to call me about showcasing Saffron on their restaurant shows.”
“Well, maybe we could get Saffron some publicity.”
“What did they call you for?” Sebastian asked, trying to contain himself.
“They put me on the shortlist for the regional cooking show, but they decided that since I’m a personal chef, they wanted to see if they could follow me around as I cook for people.”
“Wow. I’m happy for you, Skye.”
“I could prep my meals in the Saffron kitchen.”
“That will be terrific. Anything you need, little sister.”
“But if I’m going to be using Saffron’s kitchen…”
“Yes?”
“I’m thinking…”
“Uh-oh.”
“Sell me your Saffron shares,” Skye said.
Sebastian’s fork fell out of his hand and splashed into his bowl of soup.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Oriental was strumming in Emmeline’s mind when she returned to Skye’s house, and sneaked into her guest bedroom without alerting anyone in the backyard.
She had been distracted throughout the entire Brock-Flannagan wedding by the periwinkle agate jewelry that Sebastian didn’t have to buy for her.
She kept telling herself that Sebastian was only trying to be nice in return for her helping him with his relationship issues. But he might be taking it too far now with the hotel stay, SUV, and now the jewelry.
I will not be someone’s backup plan.
Lord Jesus, give me wisdom.
Well, the wisest thing for her to do was to get off stage. Pronto. Yet here she was, rolling her trolley carrying her harp into Skye’s house where the private investigator that Sebastian had hired would be waiting for her to tell all she could about her brother Claude.
They were getting closer to finding him.
She couldn’t back out now.
Couldn’t afford to.
There was no other way to find Claude.
Emmeline heard voices coming from the direction of the outdoor kitchen near the back porch. She quietly walked to the guest bedroom and changed out of her black dress, her only one for SISO concerts.
She carefully took off the periwinkle necklace and bracelet and placed them on the vanity.
She had wanted these for months.
Couldn’t afford them.
God had provided for her. Or was it Sebastian pushing buttons he shouldn’t be pushing?
Emmeline drew a deep breath as she threw on a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts. She slid on her sandals and made her way out.
Keep my heart safe, Lord. Thank You, Jesus.
The smell of steak drew her toward the giant Weber grill.
“Hi.” Sebastian was wearing a Sage Café apron. He had a long pair of stainless steel thongs in one hand, and a thick mitten in the other. “How was the wedding?”
“Lovely.” Emmeline felt worn out. Wondered how long all these running around would last. If only she had one job to go to everyday instead of four all over the place all week long.
“You played Oriental?”
Emmeline nodded.
“That’s my current favorite.”
Emmeline didn’t want to go any further there. Nip everything in the bud. “Need any help?”
“Nope. Skye and I have it under control. Helen should be here anytime now. Want something to drink? Cooler over there.”
Emmeline grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice. “Where’s Skye?”
“She forgot the rolls. She’s gone down the road to get some. She’ll be back.”
“We don’t need rolls.”
“What I said.” Sebastian opened the lid of the charcoal grill. “How do you like your steak?”
“Well, thank you.”
“Okay.”
“Very few people could get it right.”
Seb
astian looked offended. “Are you testing me?”
“I meant don’t worry about it. I’ll eat whatever.”
“I’m going to get it right. I know how to grill filet mignon, you know. That’s how Saffron got started. All that seafood came later when Talia invested in the restaurant.”
He cleared his throat.
Emmeline sensed a hesitation as if he didn’t want to talk about Talia. She decided they should talk about something else, but what was there to talk about?
The aroma of steak was heavenly.
“You seem to like to cook?” Emmeline wanted to leave but Sebastian was alone, doing all the grilling, and she felt sorry for her.
“Do I like to cook? I love to cook! I could do this all day long. Not grilling, I mean, but cooking.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I don’t get much of a chance these days.”
“Why not?”
“Talia—I mean, our restaurant already has a chef de cuisine. I hired him to free me up.”
“Free you up to do what?”
“Exactly, Em.”
“Do you find it hard to balance your relationship if your ex is also your business partner?”
“It used to be fun.”
“Sometimes the best ideas don’t work out.” Emmeline glanced back at the house. “Hope Skye and Helen make it to dinner.”
“Or it’ll just be us. I don’t mind that at all.”
Emmeline walked with Sebastian toward the outdoor dining table, the smell of steak in her nose.
She wasn’t sure if deserved to eat filet mignon. She was the hamburger sort of girl only because steak was expensive on her side of the railroad tracks.
Still, Sebastian hadn’t made her feel that way—that she was beneath him or anything. He was what normal people were, nothing too fancy like Jared and his opulence, and not too bottom-feeding icky like Bart the landlord’s son.
“If you could do anything in the world, you would still choose to play the harp, right?” Sebastian threw the question at her as they stepped up to the porch.
“Yes, of course.” Emmeline followed him. “And you want to be chef. You don’t want to run just the business end of a restaurant.”
“You know me well.”
Hardly. “All we can do is pray for God to show you what to do.”
Even as she said it, Emmeline felt like a hypocrite. Part of her truly wanted God’s best for Sebastian. The other part of her was hiding behind mentioned of prayers and God, as if He were a shield from her own foolishness to have agreed to go along with Sebastian on this wild scheme in the first place.
How do we unravel this Gordian knot, Lord?
“Where do I sit?” Emmeline shouldn’t have asked.
“Next to me.”
Yep. I shouldn’t have asked. “Seriously.”
“We need to keep up appearance.”
Emmeline hesitated but she had to ask. “Or is there more, Sebastian?”
“I want more.”
“But we can’t have more.”
“Maybe we—I—got it all wrong.”
“We began our relationship on a pretense. Until we get right with God, we can never be right with—or for—each other.”
Sebastian stared at her.
Something still hung in the air between them, unresolved and unsaid as Skye walked in with her precious rolls, and Helen Hu in tow.
They must’ve arrived at the front door at the same time.
Helen was a hoot. She had them all laughing throughout dinner with tales of how she trekked all over Europe for five months looking for Brinley’s family heirloom. The 1692 Damaris Brooks Stradivarius that had been lost for over seventy years finally appeared in an obscure little museum storage outside Vienna.
Emmeline couldn’t imagine the amount that Brinley’s dad had dished out to get the violin back in time for Ivan to practice on it for his wedding to Brinley.
Emmeline would’ve played in the wedding had she not had another wedding to play in. Yes, she could be objective, step back, and let Ivan go. It hurt a bit, but she could tell that Ivan and Brinley were made for each other.
Could she tell if her own turn came?
Oh, but I could be single the rest of my life.
And I’ll have to be content with that.
Then again, was that what God had wanted for her life?
“So.” Across the table, Helen Hu dried her eyes. “Tell me about your brother Claude, Emmeline.”
The time has come!
Maybe, just maybe, Claude might be home for Thanksgiving. She could only wish and pray. “Much to tell. Where do I begin?”
“The day Claude ran away.”
Emmeline bristled. “You mean when he walked out of the concert hall?”
“Part of tracking where one might disappear to is to find out the psychology of their decisions and actions. So yes, I meant it when I said Claude ran away. My job is to find him.”
Emmeline’s lips quivered. She blinked a few times.
Under the table, she felt Sebastian’s hand over hers. It was warm, felt a bit greasy, possibly from all grilling, but she didn’t care. It was nice to be comforted.
“Maybe we should wait until we finish dinner,” Sebastian said quietly.
“That’s fine too. I’m taking the morning flight out, so I have all night.”
Emmeline wasn’t sure if she had all night. She wanted to go to church in the morning not only because she had a rehearsal at eight o’clock but because God had been her only anchor and hope that Claude might be found again and returned to the O’Hanlon family intact.
Emmeline took a deep breath. “Give me a minute to gather my thoughts.”
“Didn’t I tell you to write everything down before I got here?” Helen asked.
“I forgot to forward her the memo,” Sebastian admitted. “I’m sorry, Em. Slipped my mind.”
“That’s okay.” Emmeline knew that when God gave her opportunities she had to seize them or they would vanish. She figured she could—in a very short time—tell Helen all she could about Claude and how he had an emotional breakdown. There wasn’t a whole lot to tell after he had disappeared and then the rest of it now was Helen’s job, wasn’t it?
She did it an hour flat. Not always organized like this, Emmeline felt that she had lived with this so long that it was matter of listing all the highlights for Helen and that was all she had.
“Claude was last spotted at missions in Five Points and Marietta,” Emmeline added. She had since released Sebastian’s hand from under the table.
I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.
“He gets around.” Helen Hu closed her iPad.
“Probably walked or hitchhiked.” Emmeline folded her arms. What else was there to tell?
Skye was crying when she brought desserts. “I will be praying so hard that Claude comes home, Em. So sad.”
“Thank you, Skye.” Emmeline felt strong, felt the Lord’s strength with her. “God is going to take care of everything.”
Helen laughed. “I’m not God.”
“Yeah, but He’s working through you to bring Em’s brother back.” Sebastian’s voice was heavy.
“I hate to put a pall over this dinner,” Emmeline said.
“No, you’re not. It’s a good thing. We’re getting closer to finding Claude just by having Helen here.”
He spoke with such confidence that Emmeline began to believe it was going to happen.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“You haven’t heard her play Oriental?” Sebastian asked Skye after Helen had left them to their desserts.
Emmeline was still playing that entire scene in her head, how happy she had been that Helen Hu had started the search for her brother even before dinner was over. The PI had made a call to her Savannah office, and just like that, the hunt had begun.
“Haven’t had the chance,” Skye said. “Whenever we rehearse, we’re singing hymns.”
“I prefer hymns, actually.” Whil
e Emmeline appreciated it that Sebastian liked that Enrique Granados dance song, but it wasn’t the only one Granados had composed, and it wasn’t the only thing she could play.
She continued nibbling on the delicious pastries that went with the peach cobbler that Skye had made for their dinner meeting.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said to Emmeline. “Didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I bet you’re exhausted. How long did you play this afternoon?”
“Two hours, but the various strings took turns so it wasn’t like I played straight through.” Emmeline finished the peach cobbler.
Adjacent to Emmeline, Skye was still working on her dessert. “I want to hear it sometime, Em. Not tonight if you’re too tired.”
“But tonight if I’m not too tired?” Emmeline felt she could roll her harp out here and do it. She could play harp all day long.
She felt Sebastian’s hand rub her shoulder. She didn’t move. She remembered three nights ago when Bart had caused her much trouble. Sebastian had rubbed her shoulders then too, and she hadn’t said anything.
He reached for her hand. He was gentle with the scabs forming at the base of her palm. Emmeline appreciated the care.
But it can’t last.
“Could you look into this guy name Bart Whatever?” Sebastian asked Helen who was on her iPad across the table.
“No, Seb,” Emmeline touched his arm.
Sebastian ignored her. “Em won’t press charges but surely you can find something to hang him on.”
Emmeline retracted her hand from Sebastian.
“What did he do to her?” Helen’s dark eyes were blazing, like it was time to pick a fight, and she was going to win again.
“I don’t want to hear this.” Emmeline got up and left the porch.
Skye followed her into the kitchen. “It’s time someone stood up to Bart.”
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble is my brother’s nickname. When he puts his mind to it, watch out.”
“What does he want from me, Skye?”
Skye shrugged. “I really don’t know, and I think neither does he. God will sort it out.”
“Meanwhile, what do I do? I’m stuck.” Emmeline sighed. “I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”
“My brother is a bigger idiot.”
“Did you just call me an idiot?” Sebastian crossed the floor in a jiffy and was standing like an umpire all puffed up.
