The Love Goddess' Cooking School (19 page)

Holly shook her head. “And the risotto was even Italy worthy, or at least I thought it was. I saved you some at the house, so maybe you can tell me sometime if I’m crazy and it was just as off as it was the other day.”

“Sorry,” he said, taking the bag from her. “I know this job meant a lot to you.”

“It meant everything,” she said. “I’m not sure how I’m going to keep the business going. But I could try and go after other catering jobs. If I get my confidence back.”

“There will definitely be other jobs, Holly. It’s just one wedding. And what, you’ve been at this for barely six weeks. If your risotto tastes that good after six weeks, imagine it after four months.”

That did make her feel better. But if she couldn’t get a catering job with the bride pulling for her, why would strangers hire her? Then again, perhaps off Blue Crab Island, where mothers of friends of enemies of her grandmother were not aplenty, she would not have the same issues.

Liam took one look at her face, which was clearly about to crumple, then took her hand and led her to the sofa. “Why don’t you let us cook for you? We have the recipe. I have the ingredients. Just sit back and relax with a glass of good red wine and some music. I’m not saying dinner will be good, but since you’ve been cooking nonstop for days, it’s your turn to be served.”

Fine, make things even worse. Be wonderful, Liam.
She leaned her head back against the soft leather and stared out the window, focusing on where the short strip of sandy beach met the dark water. She stared at a rowboat docked on the little square pier,
The Mia
written in dark purple paint across the side. The sight of it made Holly smile. This was a dad who loved his daughter.

As they disappeared into the kitchen amid lots of “No, Dad, you’re supposed to coat it in flour first,
then
the egg,
then
the
polenta” and “Daddy, the pan has to be
hot
first,” Holly realized Mia had absorbed more than she would have thought in just two classes. A glass of red wine and a dazzling smile appeared in front of her, and as Liam returned to the kitchen, Holly took the opportunity to check out his butt in those worn jeans. Which also made her smile. The man was sexy.

She gazed around the room, taking in the décor, which looked like interesting items Liam had brought back from various faraway vacations, until she noticed a photograph of Mia and a woman on a city street, maybe New York City, on the long row of bookshelves by the window. Holly got up, wineglass in hand, and walked over, pretending great interest in the many sculptures on the shelf, but staring at the photograph. The woman had to be Mia’s mother. They had the same hair color and texture, but the woman’s was cut like Cleopatra’s with a shock of bangs. She was sophisticated and elegant, wearing high heels and an interesting wrap type thing for what looked like sightseeing. She was beautiful too.

Holly had a quick vision of a younger Liam offering this woman that engagement ring however many years ago with all his loving heart. She wondered what that felt like, to be loved enough for someone to propose and hand over a diamond ring symbolizing forever and everything else those jewelry store commercials promised.

She took a gulp of wine and sat on the sofa and leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling. Six, seven weeks ago she was in California, dreaming of one life, and now she was here, living quite another, here in this room with these people she
hadn’t known existed before September. Another father and daughter. And the father had a girlfriend.

Proceed with caution,
she said to herself slowly, enunciating just in case the wine had gone to her head, which she hoped it had.

“Dinner is served!” Mia said, coming through the kitchen doorway with a large plate of chicken alla Milanese that smelled delicious. Liam walked into the living room carrying a bowl of linguini covered in marinara.

They sat at the table, Liam and Holly across from each other, Mia regaling them with stories of teachers she liked and teachers she hated.

“Hey, this is great,” Holly said as she closed her lips around a bite of the chicken. It was the slightest bit overcooked, but so flavorful. “And the linguini is cooked just right.”

Mia beamed. “I mostly did both. Dad was on dredge duty.”

“Aren’t I always,” he said, and Holly laughed.

Mia grimaced at them. “Why are adults so geeky?”

Liam pretend-swatted her with a breadstick, which Holly had bought from the bakery in town.

“We decided to not say our wishes aloud, but I know mine will come true,” Mia said, smiling.

“I hope it does,” Liam said, and Holly wondered what
his
wish had been.

“So, Holly, can I ask you the biggest favor?” Mia said. “Now that I’m not exactly on good terms with Madeline, can you go dress shopping with me?”

Liam twirled a forkful of linguini. “Mia, I’m sure Holly—”

“Would love to go dress shopping with you,” Holly finished. Had he been about to say that Holly was surely busy and that Jodie, clearly the fancy dress queen, would he happy to take her to all her favorite shops?

“Yay!” Mia said. “Can we go after school? I’ll come over when I get home and drop off my backpack.”

“Sure can.”

“Is Holly the best or what?” Mia said to her father.

“She certainly is very kind,” Liam said, winking at Holly.

Holly hated winks. Winks always seemed to Holly something people did when they wanted to take back whatever they’d just said. Or add an “I’m not really being serious.”

And then Liam turned the conversation to the farm he was renovating for a couple from New York who’d decided to give up the rat race. Neither had ever milked a cow and suddenly they were making their own butter.

“That’s sort of like what Holly’s doing,” Mia said. “Before she came here, she never cooked. And now she’s a teacher—an amazing one. Why can’t my teachers at school be like you?”

Holly smiled at Mia and wanted to hug her. And she did, since she’d been there for two hours and it was nearing eight o’clock and time to go.

Liam stood and started clearing the table. “Mia, if you’ll finish clearing, I’ll clean the kitchen and do the dishes when I get back from walking Holly home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to walk me home,” Holly said, even though she liked the idea.

“I get out of cleaning and dish washing and all I have to do is clear the rest of the table? I’m so taking this deal.”

“And start your homework immediately after,” Liam added.

Mia scrunched up her face and stacked plates. “See you tomorrow after school, Holly. I’ll meet you at your house at around three thirty, okay?”

“Perfect,” Holly said and Mia carefully balanced dishes and glasses as she headed to the kitchen.

Liam leashed the dogs and they headed up the path to Blue Crab Boulevard, commenting on the weather, which was still warm enough to barely require a light jacket, and how good the food was and how amazed Liam was that making a delicious and healthy dinner took no more time than waiting for Pizza Palace to make an extra-large pie with meatballs and peppers.

When they arrived at her porch, Liam sat down on the top step. Holly sat beside him, and for a moment they both stared at the moon, a perfect yellow crescent in the dark sky.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said. “I’ve been looking for something to bring me and Mia closer and I had no idea it would be the teacher of her cooking class. I owe you more than I can put into words.” He turned to face her. “Thank you.”

He was sitting so close to her, his thigh so touchably close that for a moment Holly was rendered speechless. And when he leaned closer, as if he might kiss her, Holly felt goose bumps along her arms.

Good ones
and
bad ones, though. She leaned slightly away. “Your life seems kind of complicated right now, Liam. And I don’t kiss guys who have girlfriends.” Even if she was dying to.

“What about guys with former girlfriends?” he asked.

She glanced at him. “You and Jodie broke up?”

He nodded and stared straight ahead. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to say more, but then he added, “She asked where the relationship was heading, if I was serious about her, and I told her the truth. I told her what I told Mia. And she said that wasn’t good enough for her, and a whole bunch of words later, she punched me in the stomach and left.”

“Did she really punch you?”

“Yup.”

Holly had no trouble envisioning Jodie punching someone. “Why?”

She said I acted like I liked her more than I obviously did and that I was a fraud, and then she wailed me in the gut.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head.

Which all meant Holly was free to fall for him and have her heart broken in five places. She should just feed him the
sa cordula
now and get it over with.

“Have you told Mia yet?”

“No. I will in good time.” He held her gaze for a moment. “So, if you’re interested, I thought I might take you on a real date. Actually, a date not involving food.”

She was way too happy about this. “I’m sick to death of food.”

A few minutes later, a day and time agreed upon, he and the beagles were headed back toward Cove Road. When he crossed, he turned and stopped, eyeing her for a moment before holding up his hand and disappearing down the path with her heart.

The next morning someone was ringing the doorbell like a lunatic. Holly glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was barely eight o’clock. Mia, maybe? She went to the window to see if a car was parked in the drive, and there was a little red Honda with Maine plates.

She put on her robe and went downstairs as the bell rang again. And again.

“This had better be important,” she whispered in the direction of the door.

More peals of the bell.

“Okay, okay,” Holly said she opened the door.

Francesca Bean stood there, beaming, in a pantsuit with a little filmy scarf wrapped around her neck. “Sorry about dragging you out of bed at the crack of dawn, but I wanted to come see you in person before I left for work. You’re hired, Holly! You’re catering my wedding!”

Holly’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I had a long talk with Jack about the wedding and what this whole being bossed around because ‘they’re paying for it’ means for every single moment of our future—get-togethers, family dinners, holidays—and how if I don’t put my foot down now about my own wedding, my own life, I’ll always be a doormat to them. And Jack backed me up.”

“That’s great,” Holly said. “Good for you and him.”

“I know! I was so proud of myself. So we sat our mothers down for our weekly breakfast checklist of where we are on the wedding and what’s done and what needs to be done, and—”

“Wait, you have a weekly wedding meeting with your and Jack’s mother?”

“You met my mother, Holly. What’s not to understand?”

Holly laughed. “Go on.”

“Well, we told them we’d decided that
we
would foot the bill for our wedding ourselves and have just a simple affair at the college in the English department’s meeting room, since they had the nicest furniture with almost leatherlike Naugahyde green sofas and chairs, and all those old hardback books, and they both got the
funniest
looks of pure horror on their faces and agreed that
I
make all final decisions. They could put in their two cents, but I make the final call—on everything. So guess who’s catering my wedding for sixty-two guests?”

Holly grabbed Francesca into a hug. “I don’t even know how to thank you, Francesca. You really put yourself on the line for me. And for my grandmother. You’re amazing.”

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, Holly. Because your grandmother sent me down to that pier. Yeah, I was happy enough before I met Jack, but what we have, how he makes me feel about myself, how comfortable and truly happy I am just sitting on the sofa with him at night watching
American Idol
or whatever—I’ve never had this kind of crazy, perfect, just-right relationship before, Holly. My love life sucked until Jack.”

“I know what that’s like.”

Francesca squeezed Holly’s hand. “And so does my poor sister, who’s dating herself into a total depression just to have a date to the wedding. Nothing I say is getting through to her, so maybe you can tell her she can’t force it. Yeah, she doesn’t have someone with magic stones telling her that her guy will turn up in the supermarket in the peanut butter section, but it’s
like she thinks she’s going to miss him if she doesn’t date every guy in Maine.”

“I think she just wants what you have. She wants what everyone wants.”

Francesca glanced at her watch. “Oh, God, almost eight thirty. I’d better get going. But I don’t want to forget to tell you that my mother even admitted your work was more an A than a B and she was only thinking of her ‘dear friend Amanda Windemere and Avery, who are
such
good friends of the family,’ blah, blah, blah. So forget all the nasty stuff that was said. We’ll hook up again closer to the date to plan the final menu, but don’t let anyone else hire you for the first of spring.”

“No weekly meetings to plan the menu?” Holly asked with a smile.

“Those are history too. And, really, it’s thanks to you, since the big confrontation was over you. Okay, gotta run. Bye!”

Holly closed the door, happiness pinging from her toes along her entire body.

She did it.

“I did it! Antonio,” she shouted, scooping up the grumpy cat and twirling him around kitchen—the place where
she
felt comfortable and truly happy and with which she was having a crazy, perfect, just-right relationship.

Thirteen

After champagne (white grape juice for Mia) and clinking of glasses all around, Holly and her four students began chopping vegetables for
minestra maritata,
Italian wedding soup, in honor of Holly’s victory. Camilla had two versions of the hearty soup in her recipe binder, one that took hours for the various meats to simmer, and one quicker version, and Holly chose the quick. The recipe once again involved meatballs, but since last week’s spaghetti and meatballs was such a hit, especially with Simon’s daughter, Holly had come to think of meatballs as good luck charms.