Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) (36 page)

“Tony, she’s right,” Marco said, sounding bored. “These days, it’s all about social media, online promotion, tapping into new user markets. Lili’s shenanigans have brought us a lot of attention. We need to build on that.”

Oh, that was just too much. Lili turned on him, fury finally overriding her sense. “Yes, let’s build on it, Marco, but next time, I’d appreciate it if you ask before you turn me into a marketing sensation.”

The atmosphere at the table frosted over as both Tad and her father ossified, their glacial gazes zoning in on Marco.

“Marco, explain,” her father said.

Throat working convulsively, he raised his hands and looked around. “You think…? No way. I didn’t put up the video.”

“Then who?” Lili asked, baffled.

“No idea. I might have encouraged the girls to be a little overzealous during the TV taping, but that was it.” His eyes locked with Lili’s, pleading for understanding. “Honestly, Lil. I’d never have done that. I mean, we’re friends. We’re more than friends.”

Her mind floundered and tears smarted her eyes. Down was up; east was west. Nothing made sense anymore. Swallowing her emotion, she forced her thoughts back to the present, aware that her father was watching her closely.

“I need a glass of water,” she mumbled, and fled to the kitchen before she lost her composure completely. She gripped the sink to prevent her body from folding in half.

Jack is gone.

Since driving him away, her heart had been stuck on a frenetic techno beat. Cardio without the fat-reducing benefits. Now it felt curiously dead, like it had given up the ghost after all that effort. She missed the pain.

A heavy footfall echoed behind her and she turned, expecting Tad leading the charge on Operation Comfort Lili. Surprise at seeing her father made her gulp.

“
Piccola
,” he said.

Just that one simple word and she burst into tears. No one called her that anymore. The nickname that meant “little one” lost its cuteness factor somewhere around the sixth grade. Her father’s hard strength enveloped and soothed her through her crying jag. For a wonderful, long time.

“Say the word and I will kill him. I know a guy.”

A semi-hysterical laugh ripped from her. Above the stress of her mother’s illness, the restaurant, and her strained bond with Tony, she had forgotten he had a sense of humor. How close they had once been and how alike they were.

“Dad, it’s not his fault. I know you didn’t think much of him, but he loved me very much. More than anyone ever has.”

“Not more than anyone.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “If he loved you so much, why is he not here fighting for you?”

She couldn’t quite summon her usual front-it-out smile. “Maybe you scared him off.”

“He did not seem the type to scare easily,” he said. “I tried my best but he insisted on defying me.”

How could she possibly explain how inadequate she had felt in the face of Jack’s all-encompassing passion? Her father would dismiss her fears, saying they made her unworthy of being a DeLuca, though his tacit dismissal of her ambitions had gone some way to keeping her wounds festering for as long as they had. Still, blaming her problems on her daddy issues was a little too movie-of-the-week for Lili’s taste.

Her father picked up the conversational slack. “He said I’m too hard on you.”

Even now, an allusion to Jack defending her made her tingly and aware, like he was in the room supporting her in everything she did. Her champion, standing at her shoulder, encouraging her to be strong. She parted her lips to disagree, but her mouth had other ideas.

“You are.”

He gave her a long look and she held his gaze.

“Please, Dad, talk to me.”

His eyes turned rheumy. “When your mother became ill…” He coughed. Started over. “When your mother became ill, I was not the husband she needed. The thought of losing her almost destroyed me, but you, Liliana, you were so strong. Managing everything, keeping us all on schedule for your mother’s doctor appointments, taking over at the restaurant. I could not—we could not—have survived these last two years without you. I do not mean to be hard, but I have been so afraid of how my life would be if neither of you were here.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I know the restaurant has suffered while I have been so weak. But the kitchen, it is where
I
feel the strongest, where I feel like myself. And to realize I have failed there, too, shames me.
La cucina Italiana
is my life and I couldn’t even win against Jack without cheating.”

He sighed so wearily that her heart listed.

“Dad, you haven’t failed. All our lives you’ve provided for us. Mom is better. That woman is not going anywhere and you’re going to have to get on board with that.” She rubbed his strong arm, the one that had never failed to comfort her as a child. “You are a great, great chef. The best. The problem is not the food. It’s just in the details. There’s so much more we could be doing. An online takeout menu, a food truck, drink and meal specials, small improvements that won’t change the fundamentals of who we are but that would keep us competitive.”

Head dipped, he placed his hands on the sink and took a moment. “Liliana, as well as failing as a husband, I have failed you as a father. I wanted you to always be here, working by my side, but for a while now, I’ve known you were meant for better things. You are far too beautiful and talented to be stuck in the restaurant.”

Her numbing heart sparked, and the pain of the past week lessened by the faintest degree. Now would be the time to lay it all out, dissect every hurt, revisit every sharp comment, demand satisfaction. But being held in her father’s unconditional grip was enough, his acknowledgment of her worth the satisfaction she needed.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, and she gulped because it was the first time he had ever asked.

“Make sure everyone knows how amazing the head chef at DeLuca’s in Wicker Park is and then”—she inhaled deeply—“graduate school, Dad. I don’t know when or where or how I’ll pay for it, but I’m going to do it. I have to. I’ll always be your daughter. Wherever I am, my heart will be here with you.” She had a life to plan. A life without Jack, but she could make it the life she dreamed of before she met him. Their time together had crystallized the realization that she deserved good things.

“I think your heart is somewhere else, Liliana.” He considered her carefully. “He asked me to collaborate with him on a cookbook.”

“Jack?”

He gave the barest shrug, the embodiment of Continental nonchalance. “Do you think he meant it or was he doing it to for other reasons?”

She supposed it was possible, but… “He meant it, Dad. He really admires you. And he’s too much of a perfectionist to risk attaching his name to something he doesn’t believe in. Kind of like you.” A wisp of hope blossomed in her chest. “You should do it. The world should have a chance to cook your fabulous gnocchi.”

Her father’s mouth turned up in a hint of a grin. Chefs were an egotistical bunch, and Jack Kilroy, crafty and not a little egotistical himself, knew that better than anyone.

“Tell me more about your ideas,” Tony said.

An hour later, a blueprint for survival was in place: Tad would draw up a stock inventory and control plan, Lili would get to grips with staffing and decor, her father would tackle the menu, and Marco would work on publicity. So much to do before the premiere of
Jack of All Trades
, but keeping busy would keep her idle heart from veering into devil territory.

The weight was lifting slowly from Lili’s shoulders, though she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go. A burden can ground you just as much as it can weigh you down. Sometimes, it’s the only thing stopping you from flying away.

*  *  *

There was no answer to his knock at the DeLuca’s brownstone, and for a moment, Jack was at a loss for what to do next. The last couple of weeks had seen a distinct deterioration in his mental faculties. He would walk into the fridge in his new kitchen and forget what he needed. He would scroll through his phone contacts without a clue who he had planned to call. Some weird form of dementia had ravaged his brain. Breakup senility.

The sweet murmur of voices carried on the warm air, and he followed it through the side path to the back of the house. On the deck, his eyes fell on Lili’s bare, golden legs stretched out in front of her and his heart wrenched a response. Damn, he hadn’t been expecting that. As he rounded the railing, Jules spotted him.

“Hey, Jack.”

“Hi, Jules.”

He felt like he was walking through treacle, every step a dead weight. Nothing dead about his heart, unfortunately. It bounded about his chest like an excited puppy that had just spotted his owner. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The light from the twinkling tree lights cast an unearthly glow over Lili’s face, highlighting her discomfort. She pulled up to a stand and carefully backed away toward the house, as though worried he might force her into conversation.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, barely audible above the twang of the screen door.

He sat on the patio sofa and let his hands stray to the warmth of the fabric where Lili had sat. Her lingering vanilla fragrance joined with the herbal scents from the garden, an olfactory salve that complemented this quiet haven in the middle of the city. In London and New York, there was no escaping the noise, but Chicago, a city of neighborhoods, offered pockets of peace for anyone who searched for it. No wonder his sister liked it here.

“Thought you were in Miami,” she said, breaking the silence he had been enjoying.

“I was. Now I’m here.” He settled back with an exhale and let his eyelids shutter closed. The idea of falling asleep under the stars appealed so much he opened his eyes before the wish came true. “At least I will be off and on for the next few weeks until the restaurant opens. Then I’m back to New York.” And she would be tucked away in London if he had his druthers.

She didn’t react. Just sat there with her hands clasped in her lap like they weren’t talking about her future. He didn’t know how to bridge the yawning emotional distance between them. The whispering night breeze and the rest should have conspired to make this the perfect spot for him to have a calm, reasoned conversation about her situation. Of course, she chose to deflect and talk about his situation.

“Lay it on me, big bruv. I’m all ears,” Jules said with not the least bit of irony.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

“You’re my brother, Jack. My overbearing, know-it-all brother. I can’t always talk to you, but you can talk to me. Let your lady feelings out.”

That dragged a smile from him, the first in a couple of weeks. His mouth hurt with the effort all the same. “You’re a cheeky little tart, you know. You’ve got a gob on you just like Mum.”

He knew she’d appreciate that, though that wasn’t why he said it. In the last month, he’d spent more time with Jules than he had in the last year, and he had forgotten how much he liked her. Lili had said to give her time, let her come to him, and he was trying. Really trying.

He took a good look at her for the first time since he’d sat down. Her face had filled out, evicting the wan, haunted appearance she’d sported on her arrival in Chicago. A steady diet of pasta and DeLuca TLC had done wonders. Moments ticked by in stultifying silence, which only worked to make every cell bubble in irritation. To hell with pussyfooting around the rusty can of worms. They were both going to need tetanus shots after this.

“Jules, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a good brother.” He could prod the guilt centers as well as anyone.

She looked surprised. “Jack, it’s okay. I know you feel like you owe me. When you left, I sulked and made you feel like crap.”

“Well, that’s what eight-year-olds do.”

“And I was a brat for several years after. I just missed you. You said you were going to apply for my guardianship when you turned eighteen and when you didn’t”—her voice stumbled on her emotion—“I thought you had given up on me.”

Those words corkscrewed into his heart. “I truly believed you were better off with your aunt and uncle. After your dad died, you needed stability and I couldn’t offer that, but there was never any question of how much I loved you.”

Her condemning silence punched him hard in the gut, and he struggled to recover his calm. And he thought he could beat her at the guilt game. Amateur. He couldn’t change the past, but he could fix the future. “The jobs, Jules. The rut you seem to be stuck in.”

“We can’t all be big shots,” she said impatiently. “You’ll just have to face it that you have a dud for a sister.”

“Why do you say that? You’re sharp as a tack. I don’t get why you don’t want something better. By this point you must have some idea what you want to do with your life.”

She made a hand-shrug. “What’s better than free drinks, no responsibilities, and getting to sleep in till three in the afternoon?”

Was she trying to send him over the precipice? He stared at her until she dropped her gaze.

“I’m not cut out for those jobs in fancy restaurants,” she said quietly.

“Why? You take reservations on the phone. You show people to tables. Maybe you jot down some drink orders. What’s so hard about that?”

She ignored him and studied her tightly clasped hands.

“What’s so hard about it?” The exasperation in his voice was intensifying, and he tried to dial it down. Be patient with her. Don’t bully her. Especially don’t argue with her about getting a suitable job when they both knew he was going to do his damnedest to pay for his sins and keep her job-free for the foreseeable future. It was the principle of the thing.