Chapter 46
CLEMENTINE
Iheaded upstairs to shower and changed into my comfy pajamas.
I was still riding high on the adrenaline rush of a good service.
But it wasn’t just the service that had me practically floating on air.
It was the whole night. The faces of those that came in hungry and left satisfied.
My dad’s face as he gushed about the success and his dreams for more soup kitchens.
And of course, Rhett.
I headed back downstairs in search of my family. I knew they would all still be up as well. I found Dad out back.
The heated patio felt like a warm cocoon as I settled into one of the comfortable outdoor chairs. Dad had opened a bottle of the good stuff—a Barolo he’d been saving for a special occasion—and declared that tonight definitely qualified.
He poured me a glass, which I gratefully accepted.
“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” he said, raising his glass to me. “The way you took over that kitchen when Rhett got hurt? I was so proud I thought I might burst.”
“It felt incredible,” I admitted, tucking my legs under me in the chair. “Scary but incredible. Like everything I’ve been learning suddenly clicked into place.”
“That’s exactly what it looked like from where I was standing.” Dad took a sip of his wine and smiled. “You looked like you belonged there. Not as someone’s apprentice, but as a chef in your own right.”
The compliment warmed me more than the wine or the patio heaters. Coming from my father, whose opinion I valued more than almost anyone else’s, it meant everything.
“What was the feedback?” I asked.
There was always feedback. Good and bad. The good was great and the bad we learned from.
“Almost all positive,” Dad said, settling back in his chair. “The volunteers were raving about the quality of the food. Several people asked if this was really going to be a regular thing, and when I told them we’re planning to serve dinner three nights a week, I saw actual tears of relief.”
My chest swelled with pride. It was exactly what we had hoped for.
“There was one small complaint,” Dad continued.
I tensed slightly. Criticism was good, but it still stung. “Yeah?”
“Someone mentioned that the head chef seemed to be having an off night early on, but they said his sous chef more than made up for it.”
I laughed. “His sous chef, huh?”
“That’s what they called you. Apparently word spread pretty quickly through the dining room about what happened in the kitchen.” He gave me a knowing look. “Though I suspect by tomorrow, the story will be about much more than your cooking skills.”
My stomach fluttered as I remembered Rhett’s very public declaration. “Dad, about what happened up there.”
“You mean when that young man told a room full of strangers that you were the best thing that ever happened to him?” Dad’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “What about it?”
“I don’t know what to think about it,” I said before taking a larger gulp of wine than was probably wise. “Part of me is thrilled. Like, over-the-moon happy. But another part of me is terrified.”
“Terrified of what?”
I stared into my wine glass, trying to organize the swirling thoughts in my head. “Of getting hurt.”
“Sweetheart, can I tell you something?”
I nodded. “Always.”
“When I met your mother, I was twenty-two and thought I had everything figured out. I had just opened my first restaurant, I was working eighteen-hour days, and I was convinced that love was something that happened to other people. People who had time for it.”
I’d heard bits and pieces of my parents’ love story over the years, but never the full version.
“She made me make the time. She all but pushed me over the edge and demanded I stop being afraid. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
I knew what he was saying. I got it. Being afraid never got anyone anything. “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to take the leap. I just hope I don’t end up shattered.”
“If you do, we’ll be there to put you back together.”
I liked that he wasn’t making a bunch of promises that it wouldn’t happen. He was basically telling me if it did, that was okay. I would recover.
“You know,” Dad said. “Your mother is going to put us all to work tomorrow morning. She’s already planning the Christmas tree assault.”
I laughed, picturing Mom in full holiday preparation mode. “The day after Thanksgiving? Isn’t that a little early?”
“Try telling her that,” Dad said with a grin. “She’s been itching to start decorating since Halloween. I caught her humming Christmas carols while she was making the stuffing yesterday.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, and I meant it. There was something magical about our family’s Christmas traditions.
Mom orchestrated the tree decorating like a military operation.
Henry and I always bickered over ornament placement while Dad played referee.
And the next day we would wake up and Mom would have already “fixed” the ornaments anyway.
But even as I looked forward to it, I felt a bittersweet pang in my chest.
“Dad,” I said, swirling the wine in my glass. “This might be my last Christmas at home. I mean, really at home, living here.”
He looked at me with interest rather than surprise. “Oh? What are you thinking?”
“Things are changing,” I said, trying to organize my thoughts.
“I’ve loved having my own suite here. I love being close to you and Mom, but I think it’s time for me to start planting my roots somewhere else.
Henry will be going to college next year.
It’s time for us to leave you guys with an empty nest. You both deserve the peace and quiet and alone time.
I’m considering applying to a culinary program in Vegas. ”
Dad’s eyebrows rose. “Vegas? That’s quite a leap from Brooklyn.”
“I know it sounds crazy,” I said quickly. “But there are some incredible programs out there, and the restaurant scene is amazing.” I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “Plus, I was hoping Rhett might give me a referral, if he’s willing.”
A slow smile spread across Dad’s face. “I think that’s a fantastic idea, sweetheart. And I have no doubt Rhett will give you that referral.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Dad leaned forward in his chair. “Actually, Rhett and I had a conversation tonight at the soup kitchen. He asked to speak with me privately.”
My heart started beating faster. “What did he say?”
“He told me his intentions toward you are completely honorable,” Dad said, his tone formal but his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Said he wants to cherish and love you until the end of his days.”
I nearly choked on my wine. “He said that? Those exact words?”
“Those exact words. Very old-fashioned of him, actually. I was impressed.”
“Oh my God,” I said, burying my face in my hands. “How mortifying. What did you tell him?”
“I told him he has my blessing,” Dad said simply. “And that you’re a grown woman who makes her own choices, but for what it’s worth, I approve.”
I peeked at him through my fingers. “Really?”
“Really. Clementine, I’ve watched you grow from a little girl who insisted on helping me in the kitchen even when you were too small to see over the counter, to a young woman with incredible talent and an even bigger heart. You deserve someone who sees all of that in you.”
“And you think Rhett does?”
“I think Rhett is terrified by how much he sees in you,” Dad said with a chuckle. “He also told me he thinks you’re going to leave him in your dust, career-wise.”
That made me laugh. “He said that?”
“He did. And honestly? I think he might be right. You have something special, sweetheart. A way of connecting with people through food that goes beyond just technical skill. What I saw tonight in that kitchen? That was leadership. That was artistry. That was you coming into your own.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. “Thank you, Dad. That means everything to me.”
“I’m just telling you what I see,” he said. “And what I see is a young woman who’s ready to take on the world.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping our wine and mulling over our own thoughts. It felt like we were in our own little bubble of peace.
“Dad?” I said finally.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for believing in this project. For believing in me. I know it wasn’t easy, bringing me onto the tour when I had so little professional experience.”
“Sweetheart, you earned your place on that team. Everything that happened tonight proved that.”
“Even the part where I fell in love with the head chef and caused a media scandal?”
Dad laughed, a rich sound that carried across the patio. “Especially that part. Life’s too short not to take chances on love.”
Before I could respond, the patio door slid open and Mom appeared, wrapped in her favorite cashmere robe and carrying a steaming mug.
“Are you two having a party out here without me?” she asked, settling into the chair next to Dad.
“Just debriefing from tonight,” Dad said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
“I watched some of the livestream from the event. You were magnificent, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Although,” Mom continued with a sly smile, “I have to say that public apology from your young man was quite something. Very romantic.”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“What? I’m just saying, if a handsome chef had declared his love for me in front of three hundred people, I would have melted into a puddle.”
“She did melt into a puddle,” Dad said with a grin. “I saw it happen.”
Before I could defend myself, Henry appeared in the doorway, drawn by the sound of laughter.
“What’s everyone talking about out here?” he asked, grabbing an empty chair. “Are you all eating pie without me?”
“We’re chatting about your sister’s love life,” Mom said cheerfully.
“Gross,” Henry said, but he was smiling. “Although I have to admit, that guy seemed pretty cool when he scared off that reporter. Very protective energy.”
I smiled. “He’s very protective.”
“He might be my brother-in-law someday,” Henry said. “I’m going to be related to the mob.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, though I was laughing despite myself. “Can we please change the subject?”
“Fine,” Mom said. “Let’s talk about Christmas instead. We’re putting up the tree tomorrow morning, and I’ve already made a list of everything we need to do.”
Dad and I shared a knowing look. We’d both predicted this was coming.
“The day after Thanksgiving?” Henry asked. “Isn’t that rushing it a little?”
“Christmas starts tomorrow,” Mom said firmly.
“I’ve been patient long enough. I want to make it extra special.
You’ll be going to college next year and you won’t be here to help with all the fun stuff.
I want this to be our last Christmas all together before you two go off and start your own lives. ”
A lump formed in my throat. “Who said anything about it being my last Christmas at home?”
“Mother’s intuition,” Mom said with a soft smile. “You have that look about you. Like you’re ready to spread your wings.”
“I’ll still try to come home for Christmas,” I said quickly. “No matter where I end up.”
“I know you will, sweetheart. But it won’t be quite the same as having you here for all the preparation, all the little moments.” Mom’s voice was wistful rather than sad. “That’s okay, though. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Children grow up and build their own lives.”
“But not until after we get through this Christmas,” Dad said, raising his glass again. “To family traditions and new beginnings.”
“To family,” I said.
“To Christmas starting tomorrow,” Mom added with a grin.
“To not having to untangle those nightmare lights again,” Henry said, making us all laugh.
“To the best Christmas ever,” Dad finished.
I looked around at these three people who meant everything to me. I felt so grateful I thought my heart might overflow. I knew I was fortunate, but after tonight, I realized just how lucky I was.