Chapter 1 #2
Ava grinned at her. “You caught me. When someone can’t cook, it helps to have a job where they’re required to feed you.
” Except. Her heart seized. “One of the catches for this Jonathon Island assignment is Judson requiring me to sign up for a charity cooking competition.” She grimaced.
Would Judson really make her go through with it?
“Why are you making that face? It sounds like fun.”
“You know I can’t compete in a cook-off.
Everyone will find out my secret.” If her readers knew she couldn’t cook, they would laugh her out of publication.
Ava Harper Chows Down was peppered with cooking tips each week.
Tips she didn’t fully know how to utilize but had gleaned from the chefs she interviewed for her column.
Emily squinted. “How do you know you can’t cook if you never even try?”
“The one time I tried, it was a disaster.” She still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, the fire alarm blaring from her nightmares.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“I mean, nobody died, and I didn’t burn the house down, but the way my mom reacted, you would have thought I’d…Anyway, I decided cooking wasn’t—” On Emily’s computer screen, Ava spotted two familiar faces. Her gut clenched. “Emily, why are my parents on your computer?”
Emily fumbled with her mouse, and her screensaver came up. “I’m catching up on past seasons of Life Afloat over my lunch hour. I’m sorry. I should have asked you first.”
Ava waved at the air. “No. It’s fine. Are you on season three?”
“Yes.” Emily’s face became animated. “I love that they’re on the same ship this time. You can really tell how much they love each other.”
Ava stopped the automatic eye roll her eyeballs did whenever someone gushed about her famous chef parents, Leah and Aaron Harper.
They’d been chefs on private yachts since long before she was born, and now they were regularly featured on the reality television show Life Afloat.
An upstairs/downstairs-style TV program giving glimpses into the überrich lives of those who could afford luxury yachts and the staff that crewed them.
She didn’t have the energy for them today.
“Yep. Season three is a favorite for lots of people. Wait until you hit episode ten.” Yeah, even though they never had time for her, she still made time to watch every episode.
Really, sometimes it was the only way she could see them.
Her parents were decidedly on the downstairs portion of the show, but the TV producers—and audience—loved them, so they were featured often, no matter which boat they were crewing.
“Did they really meet on a yacht?”
“Yep. Mom was the cook and Dad was a deckhand. She taught him everything she knew, and then they learned a bunch of stuff together. It’s pretty rare they end up on a boat together now. Not too many yacht owners are looking for two highly trained chefs.”
“Two chefs for parents, and yet you don’t cook.”
“Enough already.” Ava waved off her words. “They gave me a love for good food and a talent for critiquing it—that’s why I love my job so much—just not a talent for creating it myself.” Her heart twisted.
“Hey, you know what you could do? Take a class at Escargot.” Emily pushed a curl off her forehead.
“That French restaurant?” She’d heard good things about it but had never tried it out.
“That’s the one. They give lessons there on Monday nights, when the restaurant is closed to the public.
” Emily tapped a few keys on her keyboard.
“Yep. They have some the next few Mondays. I know they cater to beginners—my friend Michelle works there. I went to one of the classes for a girls’ night out.
I got some very helpful hints from the chef.
” Emily clicked around the website. “I just sent you the link to the sign-up.”
“Thanks. I’ll look into it.” The band across her chest loosened a notch.
“Enough chat for now. I’d better finish that article about Mainstreet Eatery.
Maybe this will be the one to wow the editors into giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.
” A forever home where she could put down roots, plus the chance to chase the foodie stories she really wanted to tell?
Yeah, she’d do anything for that opportunity.
There were times Zachary Sullivan knew he had the best job on earth.
He whipped some horseradish into the hard-boiled yolk in front of him before spooning tiny dabs of the filling back into the quail eggs.
Then he nested the filled eggs next to a prosciutto on rye open-faced sandwich.
His take on open-faced ham sandwiches and deviled eggs.
Needed some color. He added a sprig of watercress to one of the eggs and took a step back to see the big picture.
Like Picasso on a plate.
He’d dreamed up the food in the empty kitchen after closing time at Escargot.
In the two years he’d been cooking at the French restaurant, he’d learned that the owner preferred leftovers to be eaten, not thrown out.
It was fun to play around with the ingredients, trying out new recipes and flexing his creative muscles.
Something that he never got to do when Chef Louie was around.
The kitchen at Escargot was quiet now. A hint of garlic, brown butter, and the lemon cleaner they used hung in the air.
The surfaces of the workstations lined up in the middle of the room gleamed.
Along the back wall, the top-of-the-line grills, oven, and deep fryer stood ready for service the next day.
Someday he would run a kitchen like this.
He snapped a photo of his dish and texted it to his sister Dani.
Zach
Here’s the elevated “church potluck food” you challenged me to make.
She probably wouldn’t get the photo until morning, but he couldn’t wait to prove he’d met the goal.
His phone chimed with an incoming text:
Dani
Looks great! A real winner. Wish I could do a taste test. I’ll have to think of a harder task next time.
Zach
Are you still awake? It’s midnight.
Dani
Can’t sleep. Working on food festival details.
His sister was the tourism director for Jonathon Island, a small community in the middle of Lake Huron in Michigan.
This year she had devised a full plate of festivals to welcome much-needed tourists to the island.
Jonathon Island barely made it through the pandemic and the economic downturn.
It didn’t help that their main hotel, the Grand Sullivan, had nearly burned to the ground ten years before.
Now that the hotel was being rebuilt, the town had begun a revitalization effort, and tourism was finally beginning to pick up again.
Zach
Good luck. Not that you need it. The book festival and the Apple Blossom Festival were successes. I’m sure this one will be too.
As he tucked his phone into his back pocket, it started ringing.
“I think I’m in over my head.” Dani’s whispered voice came over the line.
“Really? You sounded so confident at your wedding.” Zach massaged his forehead but couldn’t stop the smile. Zach had recently catered Dani’s wedding on Jonathon Island. The first time he’d been back there in many, many years.
Dani sighed. “Yeah, well, four weeks later and I’m not so confident.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“Liam is asleep, and I don’t want to worry him with this.”
“But you’ll worry me?” He transferred the call to his earbuds and stuck them in his ears, then began handwashing the bowls and measuring spoons he’d used to make the dinner. Chef Louie prized a clean kitchen. One of the few things they agreed on.
“You were already awake. Besides, I need your help.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“Come home for the festival.”
“What? No.” He’d already done that once this year, thank you very much.
He had the scars to prove it. You Sullivans think you’re better than the rest of us.
Some cranky old man, one of the hotel groundskeepers, had grumped at him at Dani’s wedding.
If it weren’t for you, Jonathon Island would never have lost so many tourists.
And sure, the man’s words meant little, except they confirmed all of Zach’s darkest fears.
He wasn’t accepted and neither was his family.
After all, it was his family that was responsible for the island’s greatest tragedy.
“I just think I could use your moral support. I need this to go well. It’ll set the tone for the whole summer. Plus, you could enter some of the contests.” A rustle came from the other end of the phone. “Hold on, I’m going to move to the front porch.”
“And what, compete against Martha Kelley? Or maybe Patrick? They’d love that. A Sullivan as competition.” The Kelley family owned and operated most of the food places on Jonathon Island. Sure, Patrick was a good guy, but Martha gave Zach a sour look every time she saw him.
“Martha isn’t competing, as far as I know. Besides, I have some others coming too. Val Anderson and Alicia Baird.”
Huh. She’d pulled some good local chef talent. “Okay, fine. You have some heavy hitters.”
“Please come. Did I tell you that Paul Hawkeye and Anne Green have agreed to be celebrity judges?” Her front door squeaked, and then a gentle thud echoed.
“You’re kidding.” The two television chefs seemed way out of Jonathon Island’s league.
“Nope. Just got the confirmation today. They both loved the idea of being at a small-town festival.”
“You know I wanted to work for Paul. It’s one of the reasons I moved to LA after Seattle.” He wiped a stray spot of egg filling off the plate in front of him. “Too bad I could never get a face-to-face with him.”
“I thought that might get your attention. I’ll ask again, please say you’ll come.”
“I’ll think about it. I might not be able to get the time off since I was just over there for your wedding.” He wandered over to the shared calendar hanging on the wall. “What are the dates again?”
“The first two weekends in June. Thanks, big brother. You’re the best.”