When Wishes Collide (5 page)

"What else can you tell me?" he demanded.

She thought hard, seeing the need in his eyes, and wanting to help. "Ben said the people who watched over them would be home that weekend."

"Is that exactly how he said it? He didn't refer to the people as parents?"

"He wasn't specific. I assumed they were parents."

"Anything else? Did he tell you where they lived, where they went to school? Did they wear a school uniform – carry a backpack, a skateboard, a stuffed animal? Did they have any scars, anything that would stand out about them?"

His questions came so fast she could barely keep up. "I'm sorry. I want to help, but they weren't carrying anything and their clothes didn't stand out in any way. All I can say is that they looked like kids who were used to taking care of themselves and each other. That's why I was surprised today when I saw the girls without their brother. I thought of them as a trio."

"If he even was their brother," he said, doubt in his voice.

"All I know is what they told me."

He pulled out his card and handed it to her. "I want you to call me if you see the kids again, any time, day or night. And if you can get them to stay with you or talk to you, that would be even better."

"All right." She took the card out of his hand. "Can I ask how your daughter disappeared?"

Anger filled his gaze. "My ex-wife took her."

"Her mother?" she asked, shocked again. She'd been thinking it was a stranger, but this was far more personal.

"Yeah, her mother," he said bitterly. He gave her a hard look. "You should have called the police when you saw that those kids were in trouble." Without another word, he took off, moving quickly across the square, disappearing down the same street the girls had taken earlier.

She let out a breath as he left, feeling shaken by the encounter. Wyatt Randall had made her feel guilty for doing nothing, but how was she to know that one of the kids wandering around the alley behind the restaurant had been kidnapped? The little girl hadn't asked for help.

As she thought about his story, she couldn't help wondering why a woman would take her daughter away from her father? Wyatt Randall seemed like a good guy, but was he? She'd met bad cops before, men who hid behind their badges, whose public face did not match their private life.

Had she just put three little kids in danger by telling him as much as she had? Or had she put a desperate father one step closer to finding his daughter?

Adrianna's fingers curled around the quarter in her hand. Glancing back toward the fountain, she thought about wishing again, but her previous wish seemed insignificant now. She thought about wishing for Wyatt to find his daughter, but she was unsure. She didn't understand the concept of parental abduction. In her experience, most parents fought more over who had to take care of the children, than who didn’t.
 
 

"Adrianna?"

She looked up at the sound of her friend's familiar voice. Lindsay waved as she headed out the door of Vincenzo's and walked quickly across the street, joining her by the fountain.

"What are you doing out here?" Lindsay asked. She wore a chef's coat over black jeans, and her hair was pulled back in a knot. "Stephan told me you were supposed to come in almost an hour ago," she added. "He said he called you twice, and you didn't answer. He adores you, but he's pretty pissed."

"I didn't hear my phone," she muttered.

"Because you probably have it on silent," Lindsay said knowingly. "So what's the deal? Are you going to talk to Stephan or not?"

"I'm still thinking."

"You're this close. Why not just take the last step?"

"Again, I'm thinking." Her gaze moved to the cigarette in Lindsay's hand.
 
"Are you smoking again? I thought you quit."

"I did quit – three times. It's been a stressful month," Lindsay replied, a guilty expression on her face. "The kitchen is chaos. We need you to come back to work."

"It's not that I don't want to," she said with heartfelt sincerity.

"But you're still afraid to go inside?" Lindsay's gaze filled with compassion.

She nodded, feeling like a fool. She'd always prided herself on being tough and resilient. She'd had to be that way to survive her childhood. So why couldn't she just walk through a damn door?

"It looks different now," Lindsay said, pulling out her lighter.
 
"The dining room has been painted. The seats have been reupholstered. You won't recognize the place. It's had a makeover."

"What about the kitchen?"

"Well, not much has changed there," she admitted. "But is it really the kitchen that bothers you?"

"It's everything." She frowned as Lindsay started to light. "You are not seriously going to smoke that."

Lindsay sighed. "Fine." She put the lighter away. "Now you do something for me. Come inside."

"It sounds so easy. I know I'm being a coward."

"You were traumatized. Everyone understands that. You found Will, and it wasn't like he was a stranger. You were together. You were in love. He was going to ask you to marry him. It's tragic what happened."

She swallowed back a knot of emotion. "We don't know for sure that he was going to propose."

"Well, we know he loved you. And finding him the way you did had to be horrific. I wish I hadn't left early that night. I wish I had been with you."

"Do you? It might have been you who ended up on the floor, Lindsay. It might have been me, if I hadn't gone out the back to talk to those kids. Or we could all have escaped if Will and I had just left right away. Did you know that the front door wasn't locked? They didn't even have to break in. They just walked in."

"I do know that, and I feel guilty about it, but none of us knew what was going to happen, Adrianna. This is normally a very safe area."

"Logically I accept that, but emotionally I'm still a mess."

"That's why you need to talk to someone."

She shook her head. "I'll work it out."

"A mental health professional could help."

"I don't do shrinks," she said flatly.

"Okay, all right," Lindsay said. "I recognize that stubborn look on your face. So what do you want to do today? You don't have to decide for tomorrow or next week or next year. You just have to figure out the next five minutes."

"That doesn't sound so hard." She lifted her chin. "All right. Let's go inside."

As they walked across the square, Adrianna's resolve was weakened by a wave of panic. By the time they reached the front door, her heart was beating too fast, and she felt dizzy and nauseous, exactly the way she'd felt when she'd seen Will lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head, running through his blond hair.

She stopped abruptly. "I don't think I can do it."

Lindsay put a hand on her shoulder. "Will would want you to move on with your life.
 
He knew that running Vincenzo's was your dream. He wouldn't want you to let his death stop you from having the career you're meant to have."

Lindsay's words rang true, but still …

"Maybe my career is not meant to be in this restaurant," she said. "I could work somewhere else."

"And that would be different? Tell me if I'm wrong, but have you been able to go into any restaurant in the last two months?"

"No, I haven't," she admitted.

"The first step is always the hardest."

"That's what I tell you when you pull a cigarette out, and you ignore me."

"Don't do what I do, do what I say." Lindsay opened the door. "After you."

Adrianna peered inside for a moment, her gaze only reaching as far as the podium where the hostess stood.

There was no carpet at the entry any more, just hardwood floor, and the paint on the walls was a dusky peach color. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant rang a familiar bell in her head. For a second, she felt a pang of longing that didn't quite banish the fear, but reminded her that this restaurant had once been her second home.

She took another step, crossing the threshold, feeling so stressed she thought she might have a heart attack. Her panic increased when she heard the door close behind her, but somehow she managed to keep breathing. The hostess was new, a young, tall blonde, who gave her a curious look, but didn't say anything after she glanced at Lindsay.

Adrianna swallowed hard as she moved a few steps forward. She tried to look anywhere but at the floor.

"Adrianna!" Stephan's booming voice rang across the room.

She focused her gaze on him, grateful for the distraction. Stephan was a short, robust Italian with black hair and dark eyes, a charming personality and a charismatic smile. He loved people and people loved him. He greeted her with a hearty, tight hug that was filled with genuine affection. Vincenzo's was a family restaurant, and the staff was considered part of the family.

"You are very late, but I'm glad you came," he said. "Shall we go into the kitchen?"

She shook her head. "Not today."

He gave her a speculative look and then said, "We'll talk in the office."

"Yes." The office would be safe. There were no bad memories in there.

Stephan ushered her around the bar and down the hall.

She felt better when she entered the office and took a seat in the chair in front of Stephan's desk. The clean, organized atmosphere was calming. Stephan was an excellent businessman and neat to a fault. While he had a warm, gregarious personality, there was no question about his high standards when it came to the restaurant. She'd become a better chef working under his management.

"What do you think of the remodel?" he asked.

"It looks good."

"The dining room is now in excellent shape, but I cannot say the same for the kitchen. We need you, Adrianna. The customers miss your specials. There isn't a day that goes by that someone doesn't ask for you. I want you to be our executive chef. That will mean a raise and better hours. In fact, you can tell me when you want to work. If you need to start part-time, we'll do that."

He was being incredibly generous, and she wanted to say yes to everything, but she had to be honest with him. "It sounds great, but I don't know if I'm ready. I have nightmares. I keep reliving that moment when I heard the shots, when I raced through the kitchen …"

Stephan sat back in his chair, pressing his hands together. "I can't imagine how difficult that was for you." He paused. "We all loved Will, but you two had a special relationship. He was your biggest supporter. He used to tell me I was a fool to wait to name you as my executive chef."

His words only twisted the knife in her heart.

"I'm not sure I can even remember how to cook," she said.

"It will come back to you, Adrianna. It's in your blood. You breathe food. It's who you are. It's what you live for."

He was right. Without cooking, without her career, she had no idea who she was. Which was exactly why she'd been floundering the last two months.

"I don't want anyone else running our kitchen," he continued. "If that means waiting a few days or a week, then that's what we'll do. But I can't wait forever, Adrianna. I hope you understand that."

"I do. You've been generous to wait this long. I really appreciate it."

A knock came at the door, and Stephan said, "Come in."

One of the servers appeared with a large bag. "Hello, Chef," she said to Adrianna.

Adrianna felt a surge of pride at the address. She had worked so hard to become a chef, was she really going to let fear rule her life?

"Your order," the server said to Stephan, setting a bag down on the desk. Then she left the room.

"What's all this?" she said to Stephan, suddenly suspicious.

"It's your take-out order. The spaghetti isn't as good as when you were making it.
 
Try it, and tell me what's missing."

"Lindsay knows the sauces as well as I do."

"I want your opinion. I put some other entrees in there as well. Just give them a taste, and call me, all right?"

She saw the challenge in his eyes and gave a helpless smile. "You're very sneaky."

"I'll do whatever it takes to remind you of why we need you." He stood up and came around the desk, handing her the bag as she got to her feet. "Call me."

"All right," she replied.

"I'll walk you out."

Stephan didn't say anything more, but she was grateful for his presence as she re-entered the dining room. Again, she managed to keep her gaze focused straight ahead. When they reached the door, Stephan gave her a kiss on each cheek.

As she stepped out of the restaurant, she felt a wave of relief that did not bode well for her returning to the kitchen, but she would leave that for another day. She'd gotten through the door. That was the first step, and for the moment, it was enough.

* * *

"These kids were in the alley behind Vincenzo's the night of the robbery." Wyatt tossed the print from the security camera down on Josh's desk the minute he returned to the station.