When in Doubt, Add Butter (30 page)

Then I remembered Charlotte the other night. Yes, that had been one day and it had been filled with things that weren’t strictly
the norm.
But still. I’d handled it. Kids weren’t so bad at that age. Just like overemotional adults that have comprehension issues.

God knew I could handle a lot of those.

“Jenna!”

Look, here comes one now.

Cindy Oleksei came wheeling around the corner.

“Yes?” I said, turning on the oven.

“That divorce lawyer you knew. I need him now.”

Any time my head was about to float into the clouds about possible marriage, I could always count on the Olekseis to bring me crashing back down without a parachute.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling nervous. I took a knife out and started chopping an onion. “I don’t—I didn’t say I knew one.”

“Of course you did, you remember the other week when—”

“No, I mean, I remember the conversation, but I never said I actually knew one.”

“Well, do you?”

I was starting to say no for the hundredth time when her husband followed her.

“Come away with me.” His words were sudden and firm.

“Come—where?” she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her heavily lined eyes.

“To Paris. To Rome. I do not care where.” He took her hand. “I love you, Cindy.”

What?

There was no figuring these people out.

Her face softened. “I love you, too, Viktor!”

“So we go. Where is it you want?”

“You really mean it? This isn’t something where you say it and then change your mind about it later?”

“No, no, no. I do that too often. This is time for change. Time for me to change.”

I wasn’t even chopping anymore. I was just watching them.

She threw her arms around him, and he carried her off. And I just stood there, blinking at where they’d been.

That was the kind of thing Penny always told me marriage was really about. She said it was
about
the problems, and that what shows real love is not just kissing and laughing. It’s getting
through
the hardest times. Together.

I started back at the onions.

Not that anyone was proposing. Hell, Paul might not even be the marrying kind. I had no idea.

Who knew if I even wanted a relationship with him at all?

But on that thought, my confidence and assuredness wavered slightly. I’d been thinking about him for months now. Longer, if you counted the time I’d worked for him and we’d passed bratty notes back and forth. Even the thought made me smile.

“You!” Vlad’s voice barked from behind me.

Funny enough, there was so much yelling and cacophony in the Oleksei household that I wasn’t usually startled, even when it was directed at me.

“Chicken Kiev tonight,” I said to him. Chicken Kiev is so common now, it felt unimaginative, but Vlad
loved
this recipe, so I made it at least a couple of times a month.

“Mmmmm.” He actually rubbed his belly. “Good for me.”

I smiled and took out the butter. “I know you love it.”

“I want to talk to you,” he said. His voice sounded serious, and a thrum of fear rushed through me. Not another job loss. Please not another job loss. I’d had days where everything went so wrong, it started to feel almost comical, but not whole weeks. That couldn’t happen, surely. How much bad news could one person take?

I turned to him. “What is it?”

“Why are you scared?”

“I’m not scared.”

“It’s not good for”—he gestured at my stomach—“you know.…”

Yes, I knew. Did he?

“Your appetite,” he finished.

But I wasn’t totally sure that was what he’d initially meant.

“My appetite,” I hedged, “is fine.”

He nodded. “I know it. Just take it easy, as they say.”

“All right.”

“Love,” he said, “is a great blessing. No matter what it looks like. My son and his wife”—he gestured at the door and rolled his eyes—“they are not such a pretty picture of love, and yet”—he shrugged—“they have it. They are not alone.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

“What they give, they give to each other, no? Even when it is arguments and yelling, they both give it to each other, and then they go sleep in the same bed together. They are not lonely. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” Their definition of love didn’t have to be mine, nor the other way around.

“Love is good. Love is always good. And you have love, I think. Do you not?”

I thought about it. My feelings for Paul were strong. I realized they’d always been strong. I’d always enjoyed working for him and interacting, even on paper when we were just passing notes. So it was kind of like he was saying: It didn’t matter so much
what
our interaction looked like to the outside world; what mattered was that we were on the same page.

And we were.

We had been for a long time.

“I think so,” I said cautiously. Maybe I loved Paul. I wasn’t sure how he felt. “I’m not sure.”

Vlad nodded, like
he,
at least, was sure. “Then it’s good. Is all good.”

I smiled. “I believe you.”

“What else I wanted to tell you is this. You’re going to have a lot more work if you want it.”

I have to admit it—given everything he’d said that seemed to have come true, I felt a surge of hope. “Lucrative work?”

He nodded sagely.

“Can you tell where?” Here I was again, buying it hook, line, and sinker. “What it has to do with?”

He frowned slightly. “Of course. I have friends at the embassy who took dinner with me, here, two nights ago. Your stroganoff was very popular with them. They would like to hire you to … what do you say?” He tapped his temple. “
Cater.
To cater events at the embassy sometimes.”

It had never occurred to me that this could happen.

“So this isn’t a psychic premonition,” I confirmed.

He splayed his arms. “What premonition? They want to hire you. They said it!”

“Did you give them my number?”

“Of course! They are not psychic like Vlad!”

I laughed. “Thank you!”

He shrugged, and his face broke into one of his rare smiles. “I know you worried about the work. Especially now.” He didn’t move his eyes from mine, but it was as if he’d looked right at my abdomen. I knew he knew.

And as crazy as it might sound, that fact alone—believing in something that seemed impossible yet also seemed true—made me feel a whole lot better.

Chapter 26

An invitation arrived both by e-mail and in the mail for me to attend a gathering at Filigree, one of D.C.’s oldest and poshest restaurants, hosted by Lex and the mysterious Terry. There was to be some sort of grand announcement, it said.

Well, there was no way I could possibly miss that.

But I almost did. Traffic was a mess, parking was worse, and everyone on the road
and
sidewalk seemed to be in a foul mood.

By the time I found a parking place in Georgetown and got into Filigree, Lex was standing on a platform under a spotlight, talking into a microphone. “… so
very
pleased to announce that Filigree and Simon’s Department Store will be partnering.” He smiled at a tall blond several feet away. I wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman, as the person’s hair was medium length, and his or her facial features were fine from the side, but the figure left no clue.

Terry, obviously.

Just like Pat from that
SNL
sketch that went on way too long.

“Filigree Café will be opening in both Simon’s locations in the early spring,” he finished triumphantly.

Everyone burst into applause, and Lex beamed.

This really was a huge deal. Filigree had been an institution in D.C. for nearly a century. Presidents had dined there. Royalty had proposed there. A political mistress had even
died
there, though the gruesome details of the murder were usually ignored in favor of the more romantic notion that she now haunted the place.

An unusually good-looking waiter stopped before me and offered me a mini crab cake.

I took four.

When I wasn’t experiencing morning sickness, I was experiencing a completely piggish appetite. Hopefully things evened out. What I told myself was that I needed to get as much nourishment in, as often as I could, since I never knew when I’d feel ill.

It was the famine theory of eating.

“Gemma!” Lex swooped over me just as I popped a second crab cake into my mouth.

I hadn’t quite finished the first.

“Hey, Lex.” I put my hand in front of my mouth. “Wow, these are really good.”

“Aren’t they, though? Not as good as
your
cooking, though.”

Not true. “Aw, thanks, Lex.”

“Have you talked to Willa? I was hoping she might make it out tonight.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think she’s ready yet. But she really wanted to. She’s dying to know what the announcement is. In fact, I should call her and tell her—she’s probably waiting on the edge of her seat.” I started to reach for my phone, but Lex laid a hand on my forearm.

“Not yet,” he said. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

Suddenly, illogically, I had a fear that he was trying to set me up with someone. Paul came to mind, and I felt a pang of longing like I’d never felt before. A tender warmth spread in my chest and, inexplicably, I almost felt like crying.

Was this love?

Real
love?

I wanted to call Paul. To run to him. To spend the night in his arms and never, ever leave.

Maybe it was the hormones talking. They’d done a lot of chattering lately, heaven knew. Telling me I was depressed when everything was fine, telling me I wanted sex when I needed to work, telling me I was hungry when I’d just eaten almost an entire box of Cap’n Crunch, and telling me I was sick when they were just swimming around in my stomach after a long, dull night of inactivity.

No, my hormones definitely couldn’t be believed.

But my heart? That was another story. These feelings I had for Paul were different. I wanted him.

And I definitely didn’t want anyone else.

Fortunately, it turned out Lex wasn’t trying to set me up with anyone. “Terry!” He looked over my head and waved. “Come over here! This is her!”

The moment had finally come! I was finally going to meet Terry and figure out the mystery.

It was solved the moment he spoke. “So this is the famous Gemma,” he said, his voice surprisingly deep and rich. Kind of like the shock of hearing Jim Nabors sing for the first time.

Even without that, though, the face, though definitely androgynous, tipped toward masculine up close.

I put my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“I know I was cagy with you, but I didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag until it was official.”

His excitement was contagious. “Yeah? What’s going on?” I was sure we were all about to witness some sort of commitment ceremony or something, but I was wrong.

“Terry is the
owner
of Filigree,” Lex said pointedly. “As of, what, two months ago?”

“Three.” Terry nodded. “It’s very exciting.”

Lex clapped his hands together. “I’ll say! Tell her what you plan to do.”

“We’d like to make the menu a little more modern,” Terry said to me. He reached for a menu off a local table.

I couldn’t help noticing that the logo for Filigree was a peacock feather.

A slight tremor of premonition ran through me. My recent drama had begun with a peacock.… Was that all about to reach some big, horrible crescendo?

“If you look,” Terry said, “you’ll see that there’s room for perhaps twenty percent more fare and the menu would still be specialized and seasonal.”

I took a quick look. It was true, the menu was, arguably, a little limited. “I see what you mean.”

“We don’t want it to look like a Chinese food menu, of course,” he went on. “And we
cannot
get rid of any of the few remaining Filigree iconic specialties, but as you can see, it’s all rather … heavy.”

Prime rib, shrimp Louie, sautéed filet of sole. Yes, it was old-fashioned and a little heavy. Looked delicious to me right now, but I could see what he was getting at. “But you’re not looking to lighten
these
dishes up, right?”

“Oh no, no, no. Those must stay or the public will object.”

“I can imagine.”

“This is where you come in,” Lex said excitedly.

“Me?” I asked.

He nodded. “I told Terry that if there was anyone in the world who could beef up the menu, pardon the pun, and add dishes that were in keeping with the spirit of the original, it would be you.”

“He was quite adamant about that, actually,” Terry said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for weeks.”

Likewise. “So you want the menu rewritten?”

“Yes,” Lex said. “Reconceived. We want you to be the executive chef, primarily in charge of concept and execution, what do you think?”

“Executive chef,” I breathed. It was an
incredible
offer. A dream come true. “But, honestly, I’m not sure I’m qualified,” I admitted. “You must have the crème de la crème in this town begging for the job.”

Terry gave a shrug. “I’ve spoken with several people already,” he said. “Naturally, everyone wants to make it their own, but no one offered to do so in a way that respected the Filigree history in the way I wanted. Of course, we will have to speak more in depth about this, but Lex feels quite sure you’re the person for the job.”

“I do,” Lex confirmed.

Terry regarded me. “And I have a good feeling about it, too. If you’re interested.”

“I am
definitely
interested.” This was incredible. A few weeks ago, I was afraid I was going to end up in whatever the modern-day equivalent of debtors’ prison was. Now, with the potential jobs for the Russian Embassy and this, it looked like things might actually be all right.

I had been right about the peacock feather bringing a premonition, but it was a wonderful one.

I didn’t realize I had unconsciously put my hand to my stomach until I caught Lex’s scrutinizing eye looking at me.