Maybe We Will (Silver Harbor)

by Melissa Foster

  With her father’s favorite music playing, the lights of love shining down on her, and the chatter of family, friends, and Aiden, Abby was thrilled with the aura of the Bistro. But she had so many butterflies in her stomach, she’d barely eaten a thing all night as her friends devoured their dinners and eagerly feasted on the fancy desserts she’d made. Aiden, Cait, and their friends doled out high praises, while Deirdra had been uncharacteristically quiet since the tasting began. She’d eaten a bowl of French onion soup, a heaping portion of shrimp etouffee, and seconds of the duck and coq au vin. She also had hearty helpings of grilled ratatouille salad and potato gratin. She’d even had some beef bourguignon, and she wasn’t a huge fan of beef, but she had yet to say a word. Abby didn’t get it. Deirdra was not one to keep her opinions to herself.

  “Hey, Abby, can you pass me another one of those cream things?” Daphne asked.

  “It’s called Paris-Brest, and it’s a choux pastry with a praline-flavored cream,” Abby said as she passed the dessert plate.

  “You can have that. I need this napoleon pastry,” Cait said, reaching for another slice of mille-feuille. “How should I eat this? Cut it, or . . . ?”

  Brant licked his spoon and said, “Eat it with your fingers.”

  “Like an animal?” Cait looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “That way I can watch you lick them clean,” Brant said in a hushed voice. Unfortunately, he was not quite quiet enough to keep everyone else from hearing him.

  Deirdra pointed her fork at him and said, “Listen here, Bee Gee. That’s my sister. Watch yourself.” She stabbed a piece of the croquembouche and popped it into her mouth.

  When Abby had brought out the croquembouche—choux pastry puffs stacked into a cone shape and bound with threads of caramel—everyone had oohed and aahed, debating whether it was too pretty to eat. But Deirdra had said that nothing was too pretty to eat and had taken the first piece. Abby studied her sister’s reaction as she ate the dessert, but her face gave away nothing.

  “Or at least make it worth her while, Brant. If you’re going to go there, you might as well offer to lick it off for her.” Grant smirked.

  Jules dipped her finger into the cream from a Paris-Brest and held it up for Grant. “You can lick my fingers anytime.”

  “Seriously, Jules?” Jock shook his head.

  Jules narrowed her eyes, though she’d never been able to pull off a fierce look. Her face was too sweet, and her eyes were always happy, even as she said, “He’s going to be my husband. Deal with it, big brother. He can lick anything of mine he wants.”

  “Jules!” Leni snapped, and everyone else laughed. “This wasn’t about you and Grant getting down and dirty. It was about Brant hitting on Cait.”

  “Oh my God.” Cait blushed. “Can we please stop talking about Brant licking anything or hitting on me?”

  Brant draped an arm over the back of her chair and said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “You didn’t.” Cait sat up straighter and said, “I’m kind of losing my appetite.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Abby loved how Cait was finding her place among their friends. When everyone began talking at once about the food, the renovations, and how big a splash the Bistro was going to make, Cait was right in the middle of it. Abby hung on every word Deirdra said as she complimented the restaurant and talked with Leni about the marketing plans they’d come up with. But still, she said nothing about the food.

  Aiden’s hand slid over Abby’s thigh as he leaned closer and whispered, “You seem on edge. Want to meet me in the office and I’ll take care of that for you?”

  Heat darted through her with the memories of the delicious things he’d done to her that morning to take the edge off her nerves. “Yes,” she said, and holy hotness, her stomach flipped at the wickedness in his eyes. She was tempted not to say what she knew she had to, but once Aiden got his hands on her, there would be no hiding the dirty things they’d done. So she put her hand over his, lacing their fingers together, and said, “But as much as I want to, we can’t.”

  “Later,” he promised, and kissed her.

  “I’m definitely having Abby cater events at the winery,” Daphne exclaimed, drawing her attention. “I think this is the perfect place for my book club meetings, too.”

  Cait asked about the book club, and Grant struck up a conversation with the guys about the bonfire they were having after the tasting. The more everyone chatted, the more anxious Abby became about Deirdra’s silence. She wasn’t even sure why it was so important to her to know what Deirdra thought of her cooking, but the importance became magnified with her sister’s silence.

  Deirdra stabbed another piece of the croquembouche and held it up, twirling her fork as she inspected the pastry puff.

  Abby couldn’t take it anymore and kicked Deirdra’s foot under the table.

  “Ouch!” Deirdra glared at her. “What was that for?”

  Abby leaned forward and lowered her voice to say, “You haven’t said a word about the food. Do you hate it that much?”

  “No, I don’t hate it. How could you think that?”

  “Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

  Deirdra’s expression turned serious. “Because I’m freaking blown away by you, Abby, and I haven’t figured out the right words to say. I’m sitting in a restaurant that I thought would never find its legs, eating food that is better than I could get anywhere in Boston, and you made it. My little sister, the girl who would rush through homework so she could cook with our dad and never hesitated to take over after I went to college, staying on the island long after she should have. You have done something I never thought possible.”

  Emotions brimmed in Deirdra’s voice, bringing tears to Abby’s eyes. She realized everyone else had gone silent and was watching them.

  “You astound me, Abby, with your confidence, your courage, and your determination.” She glanced at Aiden, and then back at Abby, and said, “With your ability to leave all the bad shit behind and to love with your whole self. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, but . . .” She shrugged, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

  Abby laughed and cried and practically climbed over the table as they reached for each other. “Thank you,” she said through her tears.

  “Now, that’s one hell of an endorsement,” Aiden said, sparking cheers and applause from their friends.

  “Thank you, guys.” Abby wiped her eyes as they sat down, sharing a warm, silent moment with Deirdra across the table. “Thank you, Dee.”

  Deirdra sat back with one hand over her stomach and said, “I might have to think about that nasty E word after this meal.”

  “Enough?” Jock asked.

  “Exercise.” Deirdra feigned a full-body shudder.

  “I don’t exercise, either, but Jock does. You could jog with him,” Daphne suggested.

  Deirdra grabbed another puff pastry and said, “Thanks, but I prefer to get my workout in with single guys and earn my sweat in more pleasurable ways.”

  “Damn, Deirdra. Who knew you were so into sex?” Brant chuckled.

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t let her fool you, Brant. Sex takes time, and Deirdra’s got none of that.”

  “But I have plenty of time for fantasies, and in them I’m super fit and the single guys are as smart as they are hot.” Deirdra looked at Cait with a secret smile, as if they’d talked about this very subject, and said, “And they have off and mute buttons.”

  Abby laughed along with everyone else. For a minute there she was jealous of Deirdra and Cait, but she and Deirdra had shared the same sentiments about guys over the years. She pushed to her feet to quiet everyone down and said, “Now that you’ve tasted everything, I could use some help figuring out what to serve to the judges.”

  “Everything,” Brant said.

  “Definitely that shrimp thing,” Jules added.

  “And the duck,” Jock chimed in. “That was magnifice
nt.”

  Daphne grabbed another dessert and said, “And the Paris-Brest!”

  “I like breasts, and they don’t have to be from Paris,” Brant said, causing everyone to Boo him, which led to a multitude of jokes.

  “What’d I tell you, Abs?” Aiden said as everyone talked over one another. “You might have gotten the magic touch from your father, but”—he motioned to the food, their friends, and the restaurant itself—“this is your own brand of magic.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY–TWO

  LATER THAT EVENING, Abby cuddled closer to Aiden on their blanket as laughter and shouts rang out around the bonfire on the beach in front of the Bistro, where they were playing charades. They’d pushed open the glass panels of the restaurant, and the lights of love illuminated the interior. Abby still had so much to do—interviewing, hiring, moving her things from New York—but she couldn’t think past tonight. Her last night with Aiden. The pit of her stomach burned at the thought.

  “A dead fish?” Leni shouted, drawing Abby’s attention.

  Brant was standing up with his arms over his head, his hands steepled, wiggling his entire body, and every few seconds he pointed to the water.

  “A belly dancer?” Deirdra asked.

  “More like belly dancer having convulsions,” Grant said.

  Brant glowered at him. “Dude. You’re not even trying.”

  Deirdra laughed and said, “Come on, Remington. Use that hot bod of yours in a different way, and maybe we’ll figure it out.”

  Brant did pelvic thrusts, and everyone laughed.

  “Love you.” Aiden kissed Abby’s temple, pulling her tighter against his side.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and said, “I love you, too.” Those sentiments had come often, along with yearning and sorrowful looks. How could two fiercely independent people feel so lost at the idea of being apart from someone they’d known only a few weeks? She was done questioning, done worrying. She didn’t want to play games or think. She wanted to be alone with Aiden, cocooned within his loving arms for the rest of their time together.

  “A mermaid?” Leni guessed.

  “Oh! I know!” Jules shouted. “What’s that movie where Daryl Hannah is a mermaid?”

  “Splash!” Leni chimed in.

  “I love that movie,” Daphne said.

  “I know you do, babe. Anything happy.” Jock cuddled with Daphne across the fire from Abby and Aiden and said, “Hey, Brant, is it Mystic River?”

  “No, and I’m not a damn mermaid.” Brant raked a hand through his hair. “Come on, Cait, work with me.”

  “Me?” Cait knee-walked forward and warmed her hands by the fire. “I hardly ever watch movies.”

  Grant nodded toward the Bistro and said, “Hey, Abby, someone’s checking out the restaurant.”

  “Be right back.” Abby and Aiden pushed to their feet and headed up to the patio, their friends’ voices fading behind them. A young dark-haired guy wearing a striped Baja hoodie with a guitar strapped to his back was peering into the restaurant. When he turned around, Abby recognized his shaggy dark hair, thick brows, and pitch-black scruff. It was the guitarist they’d seen in Chaffee.

  “Hi. The restaurant isn’t open yet,” Abby said. “But were you playing your guitar in Chaffee last week?”

  “Yeah, I was.” He whistled, and the dalmatian they’d seen in Chaffee bounded around the corner of the building to him. He loved the pooch up, looking more carefully at Abby and Aiden. “I remember you. You danced as I played. Thanks for the donation, man. That was cool of you. I’m looking for Ava. Is she around?”

  Abby’s chest constricted. Aiden put his arm around her, and she said, “Um, no. How do you know her?”

  “She’s a friend. I cook for her when I’m in town. I’m here for a few weeks and thought I’d see if she needed my help.”

  “I’m sorry, but Ava passed away a few months ago. I’m her daughter, Abby, and this is my boyfriend, Aiden.”

  “Hi.” Aiden offered his hand.

  “Oh, man . . . That’s . . . Sorry,” he said forlornly, shaking Aiden’s hand. “Jagger Jones.” He was quiet for a moment, his features sagging as he stroked his dog’s head. He lowered his eyes, blinking repeatedly, sniffled, and cleared his throat before meeting their gazes. “I’m . . . I’m sorry for your loss.” He swallowed hard. “Ava was a good friend. May I ask how she died?”

  Abby wondered about this good friend of her mother’s whom she never knew existed. He couldn’t be older than about twenty-four or -five. “Cancer. It hit fast. She was gone within a few weeks after she was diagnosed. When was the last time you spoke to her?”

  “Over the holidays. She called to check in, which she didn’t do very often,” he said. “She asked me to play her a song, and I did. She didn’t mention being sick. She told me to tell my brother she sends her love, and we talked for a bit.”

  “She knew your brother?” Abby asked. “I don’t recognize you as being from around here.”

  “I’m not. I’m from Boston. I’m a musician, and I travel a lot. My brother, Gabriel, lives in Boston with our parents. He has nonverbal autism. We do video calls when I’m traveling, and I play my guitar for him. He loved to hear your mom sing.”

  “She sang to him?” A lump formed in Abby’s throat. “I’m sorry, I’m . . . She never mentioned you, and it makes me happy that she was singing to someone.”

  Aiden held her tighter and said, “How long did you know Ava?”

  “On and off for a few years.” He looked at Abby and said, “For what it’s worth, she talked about you and your sister, Didi, a lot.”

  “She did?” Abby smiled at the nickname her mother used to call Deirdra.

  “Yeah, she was proud of her girls. I guess you took over the Bistro? It looks awesome.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, if you need a cook, I’m not looking to get tied down to a forty-hour-a-week job, but I’ve got a bit of experience and a few weeks to kill. I haven’t worked at any one place for very long because I go where my music takes me, but I filled in at the Empire in Boston for a few months for a chef who was out on maternity leave.”

  “Wow. Jared Stone’s restaurant?” Abby asked. She’d followed Jared Stone’s career with awe. He was a well-known chef-turned-restaurateur. His restaurants were top-of-the-line, and he only hired the best staff.

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  “No, only his reputation.”

  “He’s a cool dude,” Jagger said. “I’ve helped him out a few times there and at his other restaurants when I was between gigs. Some of his digs are a bit pretentious, but they pay the bills.”

  “Where did you train?” Aiden asked.

  “Aw, man.” He shook his head, smiling affably. “I figured one of you might ask that. I didn’t go to culinary school, but my father’s buddy was a chef at a restaurant where I bussed tables in high school, and he took me under his wing for a few years and taught me everything I know. That’s how Jared found me. He ate at the restaurant when I was cooking and asked to meet the chef.”

  “That’s a hell of a jump,” Aiden said.

  He scratched his dog’s head and said, “Yeah. The chef who taught me, Ross Denario, is kind of a big deal.”

  Ross Denario wasn’t just a big deal; he was known in the industry for his arrogant attitude as much as he was for his cooking. “You studied under Ross and lived to talk about it?” Abby asked. “That’s impressive.”

  He shrugged again. “You can call him for a reference, if you’d like.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I could use a chef, but this week I’m tied up with the Best of the Island Restaurant Competition. Why don’t we do a trial run next week sometime? Do you have time to come in and cook a few things for me?”

  “Cool, yeah. I’d love to.”

  “What type of pay are you looking for?” Aiden asked.

  Jagger shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t need much. Ava used to pay me two hundred a week under the table and let me live in the apar
tment above her garage. But I’ve got my own RV now, so I don’t need a place to stay. And like I said, I like to keep things loose. That’s kind of how I roll, so I’m not looking to work all that much. But I can fill in, do a few hours here and there, that kind of thing, and play some music on the patio if you’re into that.”

  “We were just talking about that possibility. But I do things differently than my mother did. I’ll pay a fair salary,” Abby said. “Why don’t you come meet my sisters; they own the restaurant, too.” She pointed to the bonfire and said, “You can also meet some of our friends.”

  “Good idea,” Aiden said. “What’s your pooch’s name?”

  “Dolly.” Dolly looked up at Jagger, and he leaned down and kissed her snout. “Abby, did you say sisters? I didn’t realize Ava had more daughters than you and Didi.”

  “We didn’t either until recently. Apparently my mother was good at keeping secrets. Would you like to meet them?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. “We’d love to hang out, if you’re sure we won’t be imposing.”

  “It’ll give us a chance to get to know you, too,” Abby said, and they headed down to the bonfire.

  She introduced Jagger and Dolly to everyone and explained that he’d known Ava and had worked at the restaurant. It turned out that Jules, Grant, and Brant all knew who he was and had seen him around a few times over recent summers. That helped to put Abby’s mind at ease. Jagger settled right in, and Dolly took a liking to Deirdra, who got up and moved seats four times in the space of an hour or so to avoid having to pet her. Dolly settled in between Cait and Jagger as he began playing his guitar.

  Abby headed in to use the bathroom, and when she returned, Deirdra intercepted her before she reached the group.

  “How do you know he’s not lying?” Deirdra whispered.

  “He knew Mom called you Didi.”

  “Oh my God. Are you freaking kidding me?”

  Abby chuckled. “He’s nice, Dee, and he’s an experienced cook. I like him.”

  “You like everyone.” Deirdra crossed her arms, scrutinizing him. “He’s a total hippie, and he lives in a van.”