by L. P. Dover
Maddy laughs. “Those were fun nights.”
“They sure were.” I lean closer. “I may be way out of line here, Maddy, and if I am just say so, but I’m in town for a few days on business and I’d love to take you out.”
Her lips move into a grin and then fall. “As much as I’d love to, I work most nights.”
“During the day then? Coffee? A walk on the pier. My time is very flexible.”
She stares at me as if she’s contemplating it, but then she nods toward the kitchen door.
“I should probably get back. I always tell my crew that we are a team. I don’t want them to think I’m slacking on the job.” Maddy stands and so do I.
“Breakfast?”
She looks skeptical but finally nods. “Meet me at the café on the corner. I’ll be there at nine.”
“I’ll be there.”
Maddy walks the length of the bar until she stops at another table. I sit down and finish my cake, leave a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill on the table with a note to my server: Good luck on your test! and leave with a little more pep in my step because I have a coffee date with Ms. Metcalf.
Three
Madeline
Playing it cool is definitely not my strong suit. The last thing I want is for Adam to know he flustered me. The man is even more gorgeous now than he was all those years ago. The wisps of gray in his dark hair is sexy as hell. Unfortunately, the last thing I need is to get involved with someone when I know they aren’t staying. I have my business to run and it’s my number one focus. Still, I couldn’t resist his invitation to breakfast. The corner café I told him to meet me at has the best cream cheese pastries other than Camryn’s. I wish Camryn would make them more often. That’s why I have to get my fix every once in a while at Daphne’s café.
It’s ten minutes till nine and the café is only a block away from home. It’s a warm July morning so I opted to wear a pair of navy shorts and a navy and white striped shirt with a pair of brown sandals I’ve never worn before. I haven’t been out and about in a long time. I’m so used to wearing my restaurant attire. I can’t do that this morning. I want to look nice. Not that it really matters. Meeting Adam for breakfast is just that, nothing more.
I walk into the café thinking I’m early, but Adam is already at a table, waiting on me. There isn’t a hair out of place on his head and he’s dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and light blue polo shirt. Very cute. His smile reminds me so much of the past. Or maybe it’s the butterflies in my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I smile and wave.
“Good morning,” I say, joining him at the table. There’s already a glass of ice water waiting for me as well.
He nods at it. “I would’ve ordered you a glass of orange juice, but I didn’t know if you still drank it or not. It’s what you used to always order back in college when we’d go to breakfast.”
He’s right. I’m surprised he remembers that. “You would’ve been right,” I reply with a smile. “I still my drink my orange juice every morning.” I pick up the glass of water and take a sip. “But the water’s fine too. Thank you.”
The waitress comes over with her pad and pencil, wearing a cute little dress. Her name is Catherine and she smiles at Adam before focusing on me. “Hey, Maddy. Do you want the usual this morning?”
Adam lifts his brows. “The usual? What might that be?”
Catherine giggles. “Orange juice with two cream cheese pastries with two to go.”
Adam laughs. “Nice. I think I’ll have the same.”
Catherine writes it down on her pad. “Perfect. Easy enough. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“So the pastries are really good here?” Adam asks.
I take another sip of my water. “Some of the best.”
It’s not long before Catherine comes back with our two pastries a piece along with two boxes with our extra pastries in them. I cut into one of my treats and slowly devour it. Adam watches me and smiles. “Not gonna lie. I was always fascinated with how much you loved food. Every time we would eat somewhere, you’d savor every bite.”
“It’s the only way to eat.” I cut another piece with my fork and slowly bring it to my lips. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the flavors. Pure heaven.
Adam clears his throat and I open my eyes as he takes his first bite. He looks away and nods. “It is very good. I might have to get a dozen to go instead of two.”
“I knew you’d like them.”
His gaze drops down to my left hand but then he quickly focuses on his plate. “I’m assuming it’s okay for you to be out with me? I don’t want to piss off a husband or boyfriend.”
“You’re fine,” I laugh. “No husband or boyfriend. This past year I haven’t really had much time for dating. Been really busy with the restaurant.”
He looks up at me. “I understand that.”
“What about you?” I ask.
His grin widens. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or husband.”
I roll my eyes. “Smart ass.” He doesn’t have a ring on his finger either. “Do you have a girlfriend back in New York?”
“More like an ex-wife,” he answers, almost as if he’s ashamed to admit it.
“What happened?”
He shrugs. “Work. I spent too much time away and we grew apart.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have any kids?”
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I’m actually thankful for that. Don’t get me wrong, I want kids, but the last thing I’d ever wish on a child is to have a split family. My parents were married for fifty years before my father passed.”
“Mine are still together and about to celebrate their forty-sixth anniversary next month.”
We both finish our pastries and he orders another dozen to go. I’m tempted to do the same, but I’ll end up eating them all in one sitting if I do. They’re ridiculously addictive.
Adam leans back in his chair. “So tell me more about your restaurant. I’m really impressed with what you’ve done. I don’t think I’ve ever walked into a place that had everything so in order.” Before I can speak, he leans his elbows on the table and smiles. “Then again, you were kind of OCD back in the day.”
She points at me, giving me a half-hearted glare. “Hey, I told you before, I’m not OCD. I just like everything in place. Don’t make me stab you with my fork.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay.” His gaze roams over to the empty table beside where there is a newspaper spread out. He reaches for it and shows me the article. The title reads Taste of Chicago Coming Soon! “I plan on being in town for this. Are you going?”
I nod. “I have a booth. I’m trying my luck at the pulled pork contest. My dad was the best at it. I took his recipe and added my own twist for the occasion.”
Adam seems impressed and I like it. “Oh yeah? I can’t wait to try it.” All of my excitement dwindles away when I spot a certain name mentioned in the article. Adam furrows his brows and tries to see what I’m looking at. “Why did you all of sudden look as if you saw a ghost?”
I laugh but there’s no humor to it. “Be lucky you’re not in the restaurant business.”
“Why is that?” He folds up the newspaper and sets it back on the table beside of us.
“Have you ever heard of August Cahill?” I ask.
He stares at me for a second and then shakes his head. “Who is he?”
My heart races just thinking about him, and not in a good way. “The man terrifies me. He’s a food critic that can make or break a restaurant. I’ve read about several places closing down because of his bad reviews.”
Adam snorts. “Seriously? A place shutting down because of one man’s reviews?”
“Yes,” I say with conviction. “And I read he’s in Chicago right now. Not only will he be judging the pulled pork contest, but he plans on visiting some Chicago restaurants.” I rub a hand over my racing heart. “It’s not like he’ll visit my place anyway. I’m a nobody in the food community right now si
nce my restaurant is new, but still. It would kill me if he gave my restaurant a bad review and I lost everything.”
Adam reaches over and laughs as he squeezes my hand. “You have nothing to worry about, Maddy. August Cahill would be an idiot if he didn’t like your food. Don’t worry about him. Judging by the stellar reviews you have already, nothing’s going to take you down. Plus,” he says, giving me that dashing grin of his, “I’ve tasted your food. It’s amazing.”
I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks. “Thanks.”
Catherine comes over with the check and Adam gives her his card before I can even get my wallet out. It’s the same thing he used to do when we were in college. He was always very gentlemanlike. He’s five years older than me, but he always used to tell me his mother raised him right. I haven’t met anyone like him since then.
“Want to take a walk?” Adam asks.
“Sure. It’s a nice morning.” The weather is perfect, and I don’t have to be at the restaurant for another hour or so. Catherine brings Adams card back and hands us a bag to put our boxes of pastries in.
Adam carries the bag of pastries and we head outside. We walk side by side on the walkway that overlooks Lake Michigan. “You know, I really do regret not keeping in touch with you.”
I bump him with my shoulder. “We were young. You got busy and I focused on school.”
He looks down at me and I can see the genuineness on his face. “I thought about you often. Always wondering what you were up to. Looks like you did exactly what you said you were going to do.”
“I have,” I reply, happy with my life choices. I can sense sadness in him though. I picked up on it when we were in the café. “Are you not happy with your job?”
We stop at the railing and he leans over on his elbows. “Yes and no. I thought I was but now I’m having my doubts.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He turns his body to me and shakes his head, his lips pulling back in a sad smile. “It’s not important.” His focus shifts to the ground. “You know what will make me happy though.”
“What?”
His twinkling blue eyes meet mine. “I’d love to have dinner at Maddy’s Tavern again. Think you can squeeze a reservation time in for me? I have no doubt you’re already booked.”
The thought of him wanting to come back makes me giddy with excitement. I shouldn’t feel this way because I know he’s leaving town soon. “I’ll be happy to get you in.”
“What’s on the specials menu tonight? The pork chops were out of this world.”
Gaze narrowed, I cross my arms over my chest. “Please tell me you’re being serious and not just using my restaurant as an excuse to see me again?” It’s a bold question but it leaves my lips before I can even take the words back. As much as I want him to want to eat at my restaurant, a part of me wishes it’s because he really wants to see me again.
He bursts out laughing. “No, I’m dying to eat your food, but it’s a plus that I get to see you in the process.”
“Okay,” I give in. “I believe you.” I already know what the special will be. My stomach growls just thinking about it. “Tonight, the special is a dry-aged ribeye with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted broccoli.”
Adam nods, looking impressed. “Nice. I’ll definitely be eating that. What about dessert?”
I’m in a chocolate mood. “I’m thinking chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries. Does that sound good?”
He steps closer to me. “Sounds delicious. It’ll be even better if you enjoy it with me. I can wait until everyone leaves if that works.”
His invitation is tempting. I don’t know what comes over me, but I have an idea. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to get excited over anything besides the restaurant. I like it. I can still be wild and free like I was in college, right? Why can’t I? I’m still young. Being thirty-five and single doesn’t mean I’m an old lady. Might as well live life to the fullest.
“You know what, I think that sounds like a great idea.”
His expression brightens. “So you’ll eat dessert with me?”
I nod. “I’ll do more than that. If you don’t mind coming in later, I’ll even eat dinner with you as well.”
A devilish smirk spreads across his face. “And after dinner and dessert, maybe we can talk some more?”
I want to say yes, but instead I just smile. “We’ll see how everything goes.”
The Taste of Chicago has always been a festival I planned to visit, but alas, timing. This year, I found myself with some extra time and when the invitation to judge this year’s pulled pork cook off arrived, it was too good to pass up.
Now, I find myself in a vibrant city, surrounded by some of the best blues music I’ve ever heard, and the food . . . It’s simply the best. There is nothing like sipping a nice brandy while listening to a masterful sax player.
But all the good, is sometimes met with the—well not so good—and that is the abstract restaurant called Voltage.
The name alone should’ve warned me, however, I like to keep an open mind, and at times I regret this.
I had high hopes for this restaurant, which should come with a warning label—no one over 25!
I’m torn whether to give you the good or bad first, which outweighs the former. I wish I could say I was greeted when I walked in—I wasn’t. I was told to sit, on a very narrow bench, while music thumped loudly around me. In this time, I checked the website to make sure I was at a restaurant and not a night club, and then I checked with my assistant to make sure she booked me a reservation.
She had, but it seemed a reservation to Voltage meant someone was coming for a table and doesn’t specify a time. Normally, I would leave and that would be the end of it for me. However, I was interested in the limited menu and was eager to try “Aunt V’s Buttermilk Fried Chicken.” Which, according to the website had been dubbed, “Chicago’s Best Homestyle Fave with a Twist.”
Now comes the time where I must grade Voltage, and I think you can see where this going.
Ambience – F
Staff – F
Food – D
The fried chicken came with a tomato paste, which I found odd, and a side of banana. And the drink I ordered, never came.
Needless to say, Voltage fails to meet August Cahill’s list of must eat places.
Signing off for now,
AC
Four
Adam
The weather is a wild eighty-five, which is perfect in my book. The Navy Pier is packed with people. Couples hold hands, share sweet treats, and laugh. Families walk together, children squealing in delight and running in front of their parents, and beach goers are scattered along the edge of Lake Michigan, wading in and out of the water, while the docks are busy with boats coming in and out. It’s times like this when I wish I had purchased a boat. I’ve always loved being out on the water and find it very soothing. Of course, living in New York City, I’m pretty much subjected to the Hudson because my ex-wife happily took our house in the Hamptons and I would rather not run into her and her new husband. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I like what Chicago has to offer, in the name of Madeline Metcalf.
Since I saw Maddy this morning, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. In fact, I haven’t done any of my work—at least nothing that matters. I’ve ignored the calls, emails and texts from my boss, and I’ve told my assistant that I’m going to be off the grid until the weekend. I’ll do what my boss wants, but I want to spend as much time with Maddy as I can before I have to return to New York.
Thing is, I don’t have to return to my apartment in midtown. I can stay here, woo Maddy, and see what Chicago has to offer. I rest my elbows on the railing and lean over slightly. The lake swooshes back and forth, the waves coming from the boats cruising by. Not far from where I stand, there’s a couple on a Jet Ski coming into the pier and I imagine it’s Maddy and me, enjoying the summer sun and relatively cool weather.
I know I�
��m getting ahead of myself. Madeline is busy and probably doesn’t have time to get into a relationship. I stand tall and shake my head.
Where did relationship come from?
It’s foolish of me to even think she would want to see me socially. I’ve pretty much forced myself on her for breakfast and now dinner. For all I know, she’s appeasing me. Giving me what I want so I’ll leave her alone. We ended when I graduated because I didn’t keep in touch. I never called and gave her my number or wrote her to give her my email address. I blew her off because it was easier to do than to be the man who never responded. Thankfully, I’ve grown up a bit. Not much, but enough to know how to treat a woman. I’m still busy and have a full schedule, but Maddy is someone I want to make time for. That’s not even something I would do for my wife. What kind of man does that make me?
A man that is way ahead of himself. I’m putting the cart before the horse when it comes to Maddy. I push away from the railing and head toward the food court. I must walk around three or four times, looking for the place I loved when I went to college here. I can’t find it or even remember the name, but I thought I’d see it and a memory or two would spark and I’d be able to reminisce. I’ll just have to save the memories for later when I’m with Maddy. I settle on the Mexican cantina and order a couple street tacos and a cerveza and take my food to a small table near the door. The air conditioner is nearby, and the cool air feels good.
After I’m done, I go back to people watching. I don’t get to really do this in New York because the streets are so busy, but here, the tourists and locals linger, and it seems to be a slower way of life, even though I know Chicago is just as hectic.
I find myself wondering what Maddy is doing. Is her restaurant busy? Is she thinking about me? I’m going out on a limb and saying no, she’s not thinking about me because she’s too busy running a successful business and I’m simply passing through. If I want to even see her, let alone talk to her, after this trip I’m going to have to put in a lot of effort. I already ditched out on her once so my track record with communication has already proven to be shitty.
