Menu for Romance (6 page)

Jenn sniffed, but her sobs subsided.

“We can’t begrudge Marci the fact that she found the love of her life at a young age. We both know all she’s ever wanted out of life is to be a wife and mother—yes, I know you want that, too. But you and I both had aspirations for our education and for careers. Look at how successful you’ve been with the restaurant. Do you think you could have done that with a husband and babies to take care of?”

“But I’ve been praying so hard for God to send me my husband. What’s wrong with me?”

Meredith moved to kneel in front of her sister—after shifting the rug closer with her foot—and rubbed Jenn’s upper arms. “Remember that just because it seems like God isn’t giving us the main desire of our hearts doesn’t mean He’s not working in other areas of our lives—blessing us in ways we can’t see because we’re focusing so hard on the one thing we want but don’t have.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Jenn grabbed a fresh wad of toilet paper and patted her face dry.

“Because I’ve had all day to think about it.”

“Forbes?”

“Forbes.”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “I swear he knows everything everyone in this family is going to do three days before we know we’re going to do it.”

The continued celebration of Marci’s engagement created enough chaos that only their parents, Forbes, and Rafe looked at Meredith and Jenn in concern when they returned.

Though she smiled and laughed, Jenn remained subdued for the rest of the evening, cuddling the puppy on her lap. As they walked out, Forbes wrapped his arm around Jenn’s shoulders and leaned his head close to hers. Rafe came up beside Meredith and encircled her waist in a quick half hug and walked with her toward the front door.

“Crazy, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Meredith tilted her head to study her younger brother’s profile. Though he would turn twenty-nine in a few weeks, she could still trace elements of the pudgy-faced, red-haired little boy.

“I mean that Marci is the first one of us to get married. I always figured it would be Jenn.”

Rafe’s words pressed salt into the gaping emotional wound Jenn’s had ripped open. “Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean—Jenn had her first serious boyfriend when she was barely fifteen.”

“The first one Mom and Dad knew about, you mean.”

“Yeah.” Rafe opened the door.

Meredith shivered in the cold, damp air and buttoned her jacket.

“She’s taking this kinda hard, isn’t she?” He nodded toward Jenn and Forbes, standing next to Meredith’s SUV. Jenn hugged the puppy to her, like a shipwreck survivor hanging onto a buoy.

“She’ll get over it—as soon as she finds a new boyfriend. And that won’t take long.” But Meredith wasn’t certain about herself. She’d known a day would come when her younger siblings started getting married, but she hadn’t expected to still be single when it happened.

“So long as she doesn’t make any rash decisions, like eloping with the next guy who asks her out.”

Meredith laughed and dug her keys out of her purse. She used the key fob remote to unlock her car. “You know Forbes would never let any of us make a rash decision about anything.”

“He’s so ... I don’t know, anal retentive or obsessive-compulsive or something. He needs serious psychological profiling.”

“I think all they’d be able to tell us is that he’s a massive control freak.”

“Y’all talking about me?” Forbes turned to face them while opening the car door for Jenn. “Because there’s only one control freak allowed in this family.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Rafe, are you in town Thursday?” Jenn settled the puppy on the floor while she fastened her seat belt.

“I think I get in late in the afternoon, so I should be there for dinner.” He blew her a kiss then hugged Meredith.

“Fly carefully.”

“I always do.” Rafe clasped hands with Forbes then trotted off to his classic red Corvette in the driveway.

Forbes closed Jenn’s door then walked around the SUV to stand with Meredith. “What’re you thinking about?”

She couldn’t bring herself to admit to her emotional turmoil over tonight’s events, not even to Forbes. “Just stuff.”

“Marci-related stuff?”

“Yeah—sort of.” She leaned against the door—then regretted it when the beaded raindrops soaked through her jacket.

“You want to share?”

Tell Major’s best friend in the world that she’d had a crush on Major for eight years? “I don’t think so.”

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I think it would be good for you—you know how you get when you keep things bottled up too long.”

“I’ll take it out on the house.” She sighed. “Are you coming to dinner Thursday night?”

“Of course. I have to be there to orchestrate my siblings’ and cousins’ lives, control freak that I am.” He opened her door and waited until she was in with her seat belt fastened before closing her door, then waved as she drove away.

Jenn stayed quiet on the fifteen-minute drive home, staring out the window and slowly stroking the sleeping puppy in her lap. Approaching the large Victorian—one of the largest on the block of turn-of-the-twentieth-century houses in Bonneterre’s garden district—Meredith could see lights on in the second-floor windows. Once in the driveway, she recognized the dark Buick parked behind Anne’s convertible.

George was over—probably for dinner and a movie ... with a little work mixed in, now that he was officially Anne’s business partner as well as her fiancé.

Melancholy caught in Meredith’s throat. She was tired of praying the same prayer Jenn had lamented earlier:
When, oh Lord, will it be
my
turn?
At least Jenn dated—a lot. Meredith didn’t even have that opportunity. Even if she weren’t in love with Major, she never seemed to meet eligible men anymore. None of the single guys at church had ever shown the least interest in her; they’d always vied for Jenn’s attention. Meredith had even tried the online dating thing. But whenever she started getting close with someone, a feeling of dread—of wrongness—overwhelmed her, and she withdrew.

“Can I keep the puppy with me tonight?” Jenn asked as she trudged across the back deck.

“Sure. You’ll need to let him run around the yard before you take him inside, though, since he hasn’t been out for a while.”

“I know how to take care of a puppy.”

Meredith forgave her sister’s snappish tone and bade Jenn good night. Meredith didn’t bother turning on the lights but felt her way through the dark apartment to her bedroom. She changed into her favorite pajamas—an old Bonneterre High School T-shirt and stretchy cotton-knit shorts—and climbed into bed.

The tears she’d been fighting all evening welled up and overflowed onto her pillow. She couldn’t deny it anymore—Major would never return her feelings. She had to move on, find someone new.

Meredith turned on her back and stared at the shadowy ceiling. Though she’d told her family her goals about the house, a new, more important goal begged to be made, to be spoken aloud.

“Lord, my real New Year’s resolution is that I won’t still be single by this time next year.”

“Great spread this morning, Major. I meant to tell you earlier.”

Major accepted Lawson Guidry’s proffered hand, his stomach twisting. “Thank you, sir.” He hadn’t slept much this week, visions of and plans for the restaurant running constantly through his mind. This morning he’d given up on sleep around three o’clock and been at work at four, half an hour early, to prepare breakfast for Mr. Guidry’s weekly prayer breakfast.

“What brings you down here at this time of the afternoon?” the older man asked.

Major looked beyond Mr. Guidry toward the offices at the end of the hallway. “I came down to bring Meredith’s takeaway box for her dinner, but she’s not in her office. I need to talk to her.” At her father’s raised-brow look, Major quickly added, “About my part of the financial report on the New Year’s event.” Which was sort of true, though what he needed to ask her about could be done over the phone.

Maybe he read too much into Mr. Guidry’s expression, but he was pretty sure Meredith’s dad didn’t believe him. “She had to go out to meet clients at Lafitte’s Landing—probably won’t be back for a while.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll catch her later, then.”

“Don’t you have an interview scheduled for this afternoon anyway?”

Major checked his watch. “Yes, sir. I guess I’d better get back up to the kitchen, since that’s where I told them to meet me.”

“You’ll have to let us know how it goes.” Lawson raised his hand palm forward, his own unique good-bye wave. “I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Major nodded his farewell, then booked it back to the elevator and returned to the twenty-third floor.

Several kitchen and service staff stood facing him when the doors opened.

“Bye, Chef.”

“Have a great afternoon, Mr. O’Hara.”

“See ya tomorrow, Chef.”

He tossed a good-bye over his shoulder as he exchanged places with them, then headed across the expanse of Vue de Ceil to the kitchen on the opposite side. Vacuums’ whines filled the cavernous space, run by two of the waiters, both of whom had changed from their black pants and white button-downs into droopy jeans and sweatshirts.

In the kitchen, only Steven and the sauté chef and two dishwashers remained. Steven and his second-in-command hovered over the whiteboard, which they’d taken down and laid on the long prep table in the middle of the room, discussing tomorrow’s lunch menu and assigning components to the various staff who would be here.

Major stepped into his office and closed the door. He opened the wardrobe behind his desk, planning to wear his white chef ’s jacket for the interview—but it wasn’t there. He smacked his forehead. He’d dropped it off at the dry cleaner Tuesday and had meant to pick it up after the prayer breakfast this morning.

He swapped his navy polo for the burgundy tunic and watched himself in the mirror on the back of the armoire’s door as he buttoned the double-breasted placket. Hmm. Must have shrunk when he had it cleaned. At least, he didn’t remember the buttons around his gut pulling like that last time he’d worn it.

He sat down at the desk to write a note reminding himself to go to the cleaners tomorrow. The computer dinged, indicating a new e-mail received. Meredith usually checked her e-mail regularly when offsite, so maybe she’d finally decided to respond to him.

But the message was from Anne Hawthorne to set up a time to discuss the menu for her rehearsal dinner and wedding reception. He flagged it for follow-up later, then scanned the rest of the unread messages in his inbox. None from Guidry, Meredith.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was avoiding him.

The five-minute warning of the time scheduled for the interview popped up on the screen. He quickly straightened up his desk, though that consisted of making sure the stapler and tape dispenser were at a perfect right-angle to the desk blotter and that the blotter lay exactly one inch—as measured by the tip of his thumb—from the edge of the desk.

Back out in the kitchen, the dish sanitizers had stopped rumbling, and a solitary Steven was hanging the whiteboard back on the wall.

“Everyone else gone?” Major paused to glance over tomorrow’s menu.

“Yes, Chef. I’m about to call it a day, too, unless you need me for something.” He glanced pointedly at Major’s attire.

Have Steven hanging around for the interview? “No. It’s already after four o’clock. Go on home.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steven slung his denim chef ’s jacket over his shoulder, tucked his knife case under his arm, and swaggered from the kitchen.

Major gave him half a minute’s head start then stepped out into the warehouse-sized, sky-view room. Just as one set of elevator doors closed behind Steven, another set opened.

Though he thought he’d prepared for it, the sight of Alaine Delacroix once again disarmed him. No woman had the right to be so distractingly beautiful. She held the door while the burly guy with her muscled out a large duffel bag and a couple of equipment cases.

Major jogged over. “Can I help with any of that?”

The guy looked up at him, apparently offended. “Naw, man. I can get it.”

“Chef O’Hara, it’s good to see you again.” Alaine extended her hand.

Heat rushed into Major’s face when he took her hand in his enormous paw and tried not to hurt her. “Ms. Delacroix. Welcome to Vue de Ceil.” He swept his arm toward the room.

Alaine strolled past him. “It looks so different. I’ve only been here at night—and with five or six hundred other people, like at New Year’s.”

More like eight or nine hundred, but who was counting? He followed her. Alaine Delacroix was the kind of woman who could be admired from afar but not someone Major had any interest in getting to know better on a personal level.

Not like Meredith. He didn’t have to worry about hurting Meredith on the rare occasion that called for him taking her hand in his—which he wished happened more often. He also didn’t feel like a prepubescent boy at his first school dance around Meredith the way he did right now. And to put final nails in the coffin in which he would bury his reaction to Alaine, he decided he much preferred strawberry blonds with nutmeg-colored eyes to brunettes with eyes so dark he couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris.

“...your office?” Alaine stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face him, those dark brown eyes gazing at him askance.

What about his office? Oh, the interview. “Right through here.”

He led her down the service corridor and pushed open the Enter Only door into the kitchen, motioning for her to pass through ahead of him—and for the overloaded cameraman to do the same.

“Wow. I’ve seen some professional kitchens on TV before, but this one takes the cake.” Alaine ran her hand along the stainless-steel countertops. “Nelson, we’ll want to get some footage of this kitchen. In fact—” She whirled around to look at both men. “I know we discussed filming the cooking segments in the executive kitchen downstairs, but I wonder now if maybe we should do it up here.”

Nelson thunked the equipment cases down on the floor and crossed his arms. “I’d have to see the other space to find out which one’ll be easier to light.”

Alaine returned to her perusal of the kitchen. “Mrs. Guidry said they’ll help us out with getting some new lights installed if our portables won’t be sufficient.”

Major felt as if he’d walked into the middle of a movie. “Cooking segments? I wasn’t supposed to have prepared a cooking exhibition for today, was I?”

“No, no. Your weekly guest spot for my show.”

“Oh.” Now he really needed to talk to Meredith. It wasn’t like her not to tell him when she made decisions that impacted his work. And even if the decision had come from farther up the food chain, the least Meredith could have done was to give him a heads-up. She was his
boss
after all.

“After we finish the interview, can you show us the other kitchen?”

“Sure.” That would give him a good excuse to see if Meredith was back yet and talk to her. He had to talk through this restaurant thing with someone. He couldn’t talk to Forbes—Forbes was representing his parents in the business deal. Meredith was the only other person he trusted.

Then why can’t I bring myself to tell her about Ma?

He pushed the wayward thoughts aside and led Alaine and Nelson into his office. He’d think about his relationship issues with Meredith later. Much, much later.

“Hey, kiddo. Good meeting this afternoon?”

Meredith looked up from her computer at her dad’s voice. “Yeah. I think we’ve got that wedding reception in the bag.”

“How much are they wanting to spend?”

“At least six figures.”

“That’s my girl.”

Yep. That’s when her parents were proud of her: whenever she brought more money into the company coffers. “It’s not signed yet.”

“I’ll put the pressure on the father of the bride—I’m playing golf with him Saturday morning. You hooked the fish; I’ll just reel it in.” He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Major was down here a little while ago looking for you. Said he needed to talk to you.”

Meredith’s insides cringed, but she kept her expression neutral. “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of e-mails from him that I haven’t gotten around to yet—it’s been such a busy week.”

“Well, before you talk to him, there’s something you should know.” Her father rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mother and I offered to become investors in a restaurant with Major. He’d still work for you as the head of the catering division while the restaurant is in the start-up phase. But as soon as it opens, he’d be running the restaurant full-time.”

Meredith took several deep breaths to try to settle her churning stomach. Major was going to leave B-G? She wouldn’t get to see him every day. She might not see him ever again.

But you’re supposed to be getting over him, remember? Maybe this is God’s way of helping with that goal.

She cleared her throat. “I see. I guess I’ll have to ask him to help me find a replacement executive chef.”

“He hasn’t accepted the offer yet, and we’re not pushing him to make the decision quickly. Let him get through the Hearts to HEARTS banquet.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Meredith dug her thumbnail into the opposite palm. “Anything else?”

“He said he needed to talk to you about the financial report for New Year’s Eve, too.” Dad gave her his stop-sign farewell wave. “See you tomorrow. Don’t work too late.”

“’Night, Daddy.” As soon as he disappeared, she rubbed her forehead. Her head—and heart—split in two: one part of her wanting to be happy that both she and Major would have a chance to move on, move forward; the other part mourning the loss of what she’d always wished would happen.

Major’s Jeep—that old green thing he called Kirby—had still been in the garage when she’d driven in a few minutes ago. Steeling herself to see him for the first time since making her New Year’s resolution, she left the B-G corporate offices and got onto the elevator before second thoughts hit.

The orange, red, purple, and navy of sunset gave Vue de Ceil the aura of a cathedral. She paused for a moment just to appreciate the view.

Is this a sign, Lord? A sign that I’m doing the right thing by letting go of my childish crush on him?
Of course it was. As was the fact that he would leave B-G to start a restaurant, and she’d rarely—if ever—see him again.

She entered the kitchen through the Exit Only door, since it was closest—and then stopped. Voices came from Major’s office. His, followed by—a woman’s. Meredith took a step back, bumped the door, and covered her mouth with her hand. He was up here alone with a woman?

He said something; then both he and the unknown female laughed. The refrigerators and other equipment in the kitchen made too much noise for Meredith to clearly make out the words, and through the cracked-open door, she could see only the corner of the wardrobe that stood behind his desk.

Though she gulped, her lungs wouldn’t fill with air. What more sign did she need to prove Major did
not
return her feelings and that it was time for her to move on?

Dazedly, she backed out through the door and somehow ended up at the elevators. When she’d voiced her resolution, it hadn’t seemed like it would be hard—at least not
this
hard. But as her mother would say,
a goal that’s easily attained doesn’t bring the satisfaction that comes through sacrifice, hard work, and sometimes even tears.

She held her breath to keep the tears at bay, staring out over the darkening city as the glass elevator descended. She refused to go through the pain she’d experienced in college. At least she was fairly certain that Major wasn’t about to marry one of her closest friends as Brent had.

Back in her office, she sat down to work on her report—after all, the more she could get done now, the less she’d have to take home over the weekend. But the tinkling laughter of the mystery woman continued ringing in Meredith’s head.

Who was she? What was it about this other woman that caught Major’s attention—what quality Meredith didn’t have?

Okay, stop. She had to concentrate on the report. See, this was why it was good she didn’t have a relationship with someone she worked with. If she got this distracted by his having a conversation with another woman, what would she be like if Major actually returned her feelings—if they were dating?

Her head started throbbing, so she turned to grab a soda out of the mini-fridge. She’d just laid her hand on the neck of the last bottle when the Styrofoam carryout box caught her eye. Major’s bold scrawl across the top of it sent chill bumps down the back of her neck:

Meredith—sorry I keep missing you. Hope you enjoy. I think this is one of your favorite meals.

A raft of tears flooded her eyes, but she blinked hard to make them go away. She jumped when her cell phone buzzed against her waist and began trilling her general ringtone. An unfamiliar number scrolled across the screen.

With a deep breath, followed by clearing her throat, she clicked the appropriate button and pressed the device to her ear. “This is Meredith Guidry.”