Chapter 5 #2
She had to get out of here. “It’s true.” She shifted her feet toward the entrance of the tent.
“Well, I’d better run. Coffee is calling.
Good to see you again, Dani. I’d love to set up an interview soon with you about your vision for this festival.
” She nodded at Zach before spinning on her heel and heading toward what she hoped was the waterfront.
Suddenly the assignment from her newspaper wasn’t the only thing she was worried about. Now she also had to make sure Zach didn’t reveal her secret. He could ruin everything.
So much for a quiet trip home. Zach looked around him, certain the world had shifted in the twenty-four hours he’d been on Jonathon Island. First, the bombshell about Dad being here, and now his nemesis, Ava.
Okay. Maybe not nemesis. But he found he couldn’t think clearly when she was around.
The old anger and bitterness he felt tangled up with his growing realization that she was a genuinely nice person.
Bold and honest, but nice. Helping the other students in class, laughing and chatting all the time.
Her easygoing friendliness had made the class run smoother, despite his prickliness toward her.
He looked over the people milling about, setting up all of the cooking spaces in this tent.
He was definitely not watching Ava walk away.
A morning breeze fluttered the edges of the tent flap.
A beautiful Jonathon Island morning. If he listened closely, he could hear—or maybe just imagined—waves lapping at the shore not too far away.
Under his feet, the spongy grass gave off a spring scent.
He had spent the morning helping the volunteer festival crew unload the supplies for the cooking contest coming the next few days.
He tugged out the final crate from the cart. “Where do you want this?”
Cody Hart, the twentysomething fisherman engaged to Zach’s cousin Mia, lifted his ball cap and ran a hand over his forehead. His dirty-blond hair ruffled in the breeze. “That one can go near the central refrigerator. Thanks for all your help.”
Zach nodded. He wove his way through the groups of people tangling up the main walkway in the pavilion until he reached the central area.
A pantry of sorts was taking shape as a few women unloaded everything.
All the ingredients for the cooking contests were provided by Flavor Fest. After being prepped here, the festival committee would place the ingredients into the contestant’s cooking station before the contest began each day.
He’d already submitted his list for the first competition, but he’d need to submit the one for the charity competition by midweek in order for the ingredients to be available for him the following weekend.
He recognized Allean Meyer, the librarian, with one of her signature crazy hats—a chef’s toque today—and Janine Dirks, red hair and ever-present sweater.
Dani had mentioned they were both on the committee.
“Ladies.” He lifted the crate a little. “Where do you want this?”
“Oh, Zach. Thank you so much.” Allean smiled at him. “You can just set it there by the crate of milk.”
“I’m happy to help.” Working as a team felt…
nice. In the hustle of a professional kitchen, at least one run by Chef Louie, the sense of camaraderie was missing.
Even surrounded by people working and shouting and all with the same goal, a professional kitchen could be lonely. “What else can I do for you?”
“I think we’re good,” Janine said. “In fact, you should probably make yourself scarce. We’ll be setting up the individual cooking stations soon.
We want to have that finished before the meeting in”—she glanced at her watch—“a little less than an hour. We can’t have you hanging around gathering intel on what the other contestants are planning. ”
“Yeah. Shoo,” Allean said. She waved a finger at him, ever the librarian. “I’m sure a chef as accomplished as you could figure out a lot about the dishes of your competition just by looking at the ingredients they requested.”
He grinned at her. “Rats. You’ve discovered my plan. Here I thought I was being so sneaky.”
Laughter rang out from the ladies as he walked away. Time to check out his own workspace. Dani had promised he would have everything he needed. What he really needed was to figure out what to do about Ava.
When Dani got back, he would definitely have to have a word with her. Sure, maybe it wasn’t her fault. She probably didn’t remember that Ava was the food critic who had taken him down. Maybe he could convince her to uninvite Ava Harper.
He shook his head. That would never work.
They didn’t have enough time to find a replacement.
He would just have to suffer through having Ava as his judge.
Again. At least this time she would be ruled by the criteria of the contest and not just her personal opinion of him and his cooking.
Plus, she would have two other judges to balance her out.
He refocused on the task at hand, picking up his recipe card. He studied it for any mistakes. Satisfied, he took the card over to the cooking plate.
Another cool breeze lifted the edge of the tent, carrying with it a breath of the unique scent of Lake Huron, just out of sight on the other side of the hotel. Fishy and loamy with a hint of wet sand.
He glanced up, and his thoughts stuttered to a stop. His dad strode across the grass toward him. His tanned face beaming above a crisp white polo shirt and navy-blue slacks.
“Zach! I thought that was you.” His dad ducked into the tent and reached for him. Did he want a hug? Zach stuck out his hand.
“Dad.” Outside of Dani’s wedding, he hadn’t seen his dad in months, and he had avoided talking to him much at the wedding.
While his mom had betrayed his dad with an affair, his dad had betrayed them all with his actions with the hotel.
But then, he’d been aloof and unavailable for most of Zach’s life, so Zach had given up trying to be chummy with him.
“Dani told me you were competing. I’ll be sure to come and watch.” His dad crossed his arms.
Really? Since when was he interested in Zach’s profession? “Great, Dad. Thanks.” He gestured at the table in front of him. “I’ve really got to get back to…”
A few people Zach didn’t recognize made their way to the cooking stations at the other side of the tent.
His dad uncrossed his arms and then rapped the table with a knuckle. “Look, Zach. I hope we get some time to talk while you’re here. But if not—”
Zach held up a hand. “No worries, Dad. We don’t need some big conversation.”
“No, really, Zach. I want to apologize. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come with this cooking thing. I wish I’d been supportive of you back when you were in school.” His dad raised an arm like he was going to put it around Zach, but then dropped it again.
Zach lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I managed.” His dad’s words at the time came back to him.
What do you want to waste your life cooking for?
There’s no way I’m going to pay for that.
Come work with me instead. Zach had refused, and his dad had refused to give him any money for school.
“I got a scholarship from an organization called the Silver Platter.”
“I’m glad you figured it out, despite my shortcomings.” His dad ducked his head. “Maybe I’ll have to look into this Silver Platter. Sounds like a good group.”
Too little, too late, Dad. But he was supposed to be working on forgiveness. He rolled his shoulders forward and then back again before relaxing them.
“I know I’ve never come to your restaurants, but I always recommend them when I hear of friends traveling to your area.” His dad chuckled. “Of course, it was hard to keep up with where you were at all the time. Maybe someday you’ll be ready to put down roots.”
Roots. Longing tugged at Zach’s heart. Roots would be good. Amazing even. If only he could find a place that felt like home.
“Anyway, the friends who took my recommendations always came back with glowing reports.”
“I’m glad they liked the food.” Zach’s chest expanded as he took a full breath. “Maybe someday I’ll open my own place again. Then they can taste some of my original recipes and not someone else’s.”
“Whenever you’re ready for that, I’d like to talk to you about investing.” His dad’s smartwatch buzzed, and he glanced at it. “Speaking of investing, I’d better check this email. Let’s talk some more later, son.”
Zach blinked several times as his dad made his way out of the tent. What even was all of that? His dad had asked for forgiveness, but Zach would need more time.
A tapping sound came over the speakers installed around the tent. He looked to the center stage. Uncle Seb Jonathon—Mom’s brother—was tapping at the microphone. Arranged around him was the Jonathon Island Flavor Fest committee. He didn’t see any of the judges.
“If the contestants could come to the stage for a brief meeting, we’d like to get started,” Uncle Seb said. As mayor of Jonathon Island, Seb would be Master of Ceremonies for the Flavor Fest activities.
A general murmur rose as everyone converged on the stage.
Uncle Seb, casual today, his shoulders broad under a light-blue short-sleeve button-up, laid out the plan for the next day. They would begin with an opening meeting and then there would be three rounds for the contest.
“You should have all prepared to cook an appetizer, a main dish, and a dessert,” Uncle Seb said.
Around him, the other contestants nodded.
Zach took a minute to assess them. It appeared to be a mix of local talent and some from outstate.
He recognized Henrietta Hudson, the white-haired retired baker.
She wouldn’t be too much competition. Next to her, Patrick Kelley from Kelley’s Bar & Grill squared up.
The slim man with a bristling mustache already wore an apron.
He would be one to watch. He was used to cooking under pressure.
Three other women and two men made up the rest of the group.
He didn’t recognize any of them, but one woman, short, blonde, and probably ten years older than his thirty-six, wore a T-shirt with Alicia’s Kitchen embroidered on the pocket, and one of the men had a cap with Moosehead Crossings.
He knew those were two popular restaurants across the lake in Port Joseph.
Onstage, Uncle Seb was wrapping up. “Good luck to each of you. Whatever happens tomorrow, I’m sure the food will be amazing.”
Zach would be bringing his A game. His future depended on it.