Chapter 8 #2
Her stomach sank. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
“Both of my parents were—are—chefs. As you know, they work on luxury super yachts. That’s how they met.
They both worked a stint on the same yacht.
Nowadays they usually work separately because they both have so much experience, but back when they started, they tried to get on as many boats together as possible. ” Which was sweet, she supposed.
“Quite the bohemian lifestyle.” Zach’s tone gave away none of what he was thinking.
“Exactly. After a few years of this ‘lifestyle,’ my mom got pregnant with me. They had a wedding ceremony officiated by the captain of the ship they were on at the time, attended by the rest of the crew. After I was born, they rented a tiny apartment and tried to figure out how to do life as a normal family.” Ava shrugged.
“Dad would take a six-week shift, and then Mom would go. It was like being in a divorced family with joint custody, except my parents stayed married.”
In one of the trees lining the property, an owl hooted.
“Yeah. Anyway. When I was five, they decided they’d had enough of that and dumped me at my grandma’s—my mom’s mom.
I guess they’d found a yacht crew that wanted them both, and they couldn’t turn down the opportunity.
They couldn’t let their kid cramp their style.
One shift turned into three and then more, and pretty soon, I’d lived with my grandma for thirteen years.
” The wound over being left behind never quite healed.
Ava rubbed at her chest, but the ache held on.
“And they never came home?” Zach shifted in his seat.
“They’d fly in for a night or two and then jet off again.
Once in a while they’d be around for a couple of weeks between seasons, but it was never predictable.
” She’d never known how long they were going to stay.
If they would ever stay for her. “I always waited for the day that they’d say we would be a family again, but it never happened. ”
“I’m sorry that you went through that.”
“Anyway, this is the long route to telling you why my favorite meal is bittersweet, and I don’t mean the malfatti.
” She paused. Swallowed hard. “The morning after my graduation, I heard my mom and grandma arguing. My grandma said that they should spend more time with me. Then my mom said that she’d never meant to have a baby. ”
I never asked for that to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. I love my daughter, but settling down with a husband and child was never how I wanted to live my life.
“That morning answered a lot of questions for me. I walked into the room where they were arguing. Turns out, my dad was in there too. He hadn’t said a word. I guess he didn’t want me either.” She shrugged. “My parents pasted smiles on their faces, kissed me goodbye, and left that same day.”
Zach rested his hand on hers briefly. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I know I said that already, but it’s true. I wish it had been different for you.”
“Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if they’d stayed home and taught me what they knew instead of dumping me in a retirement community with my grandma.
” She cleared her throat. Tried for a smile.
“At least they taught me enough to be a good food writer. And their good genes gave me one thing that is essential for being a food critic.”
“What’s that?” A line appeared between Zach’s brows.
“No food allergies.” A genuine smile bloomed as he laughed, though the ache in her heart stayed sharp. “Enough of my family drama.”
“Trust me. I know about family drama.” Zach stood. “Let’s walk.”
“Your family seems perfect. There are so many of you.” She’d felt nothing but love from them as she’d seen them interact with Zach while she’d been here.
She’d give anything to have that kind of belonging.
It was getting really hard to hold on to a grudge against Ava Harper. And he no longer wanted to.
Her vulnerability in talking about her parents, her gentle teasing of him, even the times when she challenged him, were sculpting her into a very different person than he had imagined her to be all these years.
The bitterness of coming in second that he’d tried to hide was fading like a bad aftertaste. He still had plenty of time to wow Anne Green and Paul Hawkeye. He would focus on making their presentation at the charity competition the best it could be.
Zach led Ava through the French doors from the patio. Overhead, the chandeliers sparkled. “When I was a kid, this whole hotel used to be our playground. My parents owned it together.”
Did he really want to drag this history up? The words burst out of him after being dammed up for so long. “My dad burned this place down.”
Ava stopped. “I’m sorry. What?”
He turned and faced her. A stabbing sensation hit him between the shoulder blades.
“My mom cheated on my dad and then married that guy here at the hotel. My dad got drunk and accidentally set the hotel on fire. That’s why they’re making so many repairs.
My sister Dani just got permission to rebuild it a year or so ago.
” Her mouth dropped open. “See what I mean about family drama?”
“But I met your dad. He’s here. On the island.” A line formed on her forehead.
He sighed. “Yeah. It’s complicated. He’s been living in Florida and running a hotel empire, but I guess he wants to make amends or something.
Maybe it’s something he learned in AA.” Zach shifted his shoulders, but the ache between them held on.
“We don’t talk much. But this week he kind of tried to rekindle something.
I don’t know. It was weird. He hasn’t tried to contact me in the past several years, but now he wants to chat? ” Maybe he should have heard him out.
Ava began walking again. “That is complicated. You should give him a chance, though. I mean, he’s your dad. The only one you’ve got.”
He thought briefly of Uncle Bryan. His dad’s brother had been a stable force in Zach’s life, kind of like a surrogate dad at times. But she was right, he only had one father. “You’re probably right. But it’s hard to get started.”
Their talk had brought them through the main lobby and to the kitchen, as though his feet only knew one way to travel.
He pushed open the door to the renovated kitchen.
When he’d been here to cater Dani’s wedding, this part of the hotel had still been very much under construction.
He whistled. “They’ve made a lot of progress since I was here in April. ”
To his left, ranges and ovens filled the wall, and to the right was the wash station. Shelves lined the other walls. In one corner were the doors to the walk-in cooler and freezer. Stainless-steel workbenches marched down the center of the space. Two stools rested near the sink area.
“Growing up, this kitchen was rarely empty. My love of food began here. I worked here through high school. There was a sense of belonging, of being on a team.” He led her to the stools, then pulled them up to the nearest workstation.
“One time my senior year, when the restaurant was closed, the chef said I could cook my family a meal as long as I cleaned up after myself. It was probably the most fun I’ve ever had.
I spent a week designing the menu, then all day preparing it.
” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “The family gathered around the table out there, and I served them.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“I was exhausted the next day, but that night was exhilarating. The looks on their faces were worth it. I’d never seen Mom look so proud, except maybe when I brought home straight A’s.
I knew that night I never wanted to do anything else.
” He braced his hands on the countertop, the stainless steel cool under his fingers.
“Making good food for people you love is a kind of satisfaction you can’t find anywhere else.
The camaraderie you find in a kitchen is also unique. ”
“Your dedication to it shines through in your dishes.” Ava sat on a stool and rested her elbow on the workbench.
“One of the reasons I’m here is to try to land a new job.
I’m so ready to get out of Chef Louie’s kitchen.
I want to cook in a place that matters, that values its staff.
Preparing someone else’s recipes—and not even very good ones—for the snooty Chicago crowd Escargot draws in…
” He shook his head. “Anyway. Enough about me. I have a thought about the competition.” He stood and began pacing.
Ava crossed her arms. “Shoot.”
“One word—pasties.” He moved his hands like he was making a rainbow in the sky.
“Pasties?” Ava crinkled her nose.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a pasty before?”
“That’s the thing with rutabaga and beef in a pie, right?”
He put his hand to his chest. “You wound me! ‘That thing with rutabaga’? It’s so much more than that. It’s practically the state food of Michigan. And it’s perfect for this contest.”
“Uh-huh. Convince me.”
Fine. He liked a challenge. “We can take some of the food ideas you had, the rosemary and umami, and even some of the flavors from your mom’s malfatti—browned butter and sage—and make an elevated pasty.
We’d pair the traditional fillings of rutabaga and potatoes and beef with upscale seasonings. A simple food that we make shine.”
As he talked, Ava leaned toward him. She jotted a few things down on her notepad. “I like where you’re going with this. A local favorite made with a Zach Sullivan flair. You could even say a local favorite made by a local favorite.”
Her words made his chest swell. But…“I don’t think I’m a local favorite.”
“Oh, please. I saw you with everyone out there.” She waved his words away, then jotted down something else on her paper. “I think the whole town came to say hello to you today. You’re Jonathon Island’s golden boy.”
“I think you’re blind.” He reached for her paper. “What are you writing down?”
She pulled the paper out of his reach. “Don’t you know better than to take things that don’t belong to you?”
“Sorry. You’re right.”
She gave him a smile. A dimple he’d never noticed before appeared on her cheek. “I’m just getting some ideas for my article.”
“If you’re going to call me a local favorite, I might have to protest.”
“Fine, I’ll just say the island’s golden boy.”
He groaned. “That’s even worse.”
“Sorry, not sorry. You’re not my editor.” She flipped the page. “Okay. What do we need to do to be ready for the competition?”
“I’ll need to find a good recipe to riff off. I have one in mind, but I don’t know if it’s in the binder I packed for this trip.”
Her mouth hung open.
“What?”
“Do you just, like, carry around a recipe binder all the time?”
He squared up. “I don’t know. Do you just, like, carry around a pen and paper all the time?”
She looked him hard in the eye. Then her face softened. “Touché. You’re right. Tools of the trade and all that. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t have something to write with nearby. You’re probably the same about your recipes.”
The clock on the wall ticked as a few seconds passed.
“I know some people keep notebooks and journals with their recipes and inspiration, but I prefer to keep it all in a binder. Then I can add to it with various mediums, using those clear pockets and whatnot. Sometimes I’ll jot a note in my phone, but mostly it’s in the binder. ”
“I’d love to see it sometime.”
“Maybe when you’re ready to show me your notes.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Touché again.” She yawned. “Do we need to discuss anything else? I’m beat.”
He checked his smartwatch. How had it gotten to be midnight already? “I think we’re fine. I’ll plan the recipes and then check in with you tomorrow with my ideas. You’ll just need to be my helper.”
She patted him lightly on the shoulder as she passed him on her way out of the kitchen. “G’night, Golden Boy.”
“Ha. Good night, Peter Parker.”
Huh. Spending all that time with Ava had been fun.
Too bad he was moving out of Chicago. He might have enjoyed getting to know her better.
At least, he was moving as soon as he could.
It was too late to win Paul Hawkeye’s internship, but if he played his cards right, he could still earn himself a spot in Anne Green’s kitchen in San Francisco.
He could be on his way to restarting his failing career and finally settling down with a job he could be proud of.
A strange sensation, almost regret, filled him as he thought about moving to California, though. He’d started to feel almost at peace here on Jonathon Island. Like he’d come home.
Surely, if Dani had overcome the judgment of the islanders and made a home for herself after everything their mom and dad had done, he could too.
Maybe his parents’ shame didn’t hang around.
Was it possible, as his sister kept insisting, that the Sullivan family could come home to Jonathon Island?
If so, maybe he could even come home to this kitchen, the place where his dream was born.
He turned out the lights and made his way to the hotel lobby.
A group of young people stood around the front desk, chatting with Olive Kelley.
He only recognized Emily Watson, the island’s EMT, and Isaac Kelley, the younger son of Martha Kelley.
Isaac leaned his elbow against the tall desk, his mouth working on a wad of gum. He straightened up as Zach got closer.
“Did you turn off the oven back there?” Isaac pushed back the hoodie covering his forehead. “We wouldn’t want this hotel to be burned down a second time. Like father, like son. Am I right?”
A knife pierced his gut.
Emily swatted Isaac on the arm. “Not cool, Isaac. What did Zach ever do to you?” But she snickered with the rest of them.
“Aw, I was only joking. No harm meant.” Isaac snapped his gum.
Zach brushed past them without responding. What would he say, anyway? Isaac was right.
Dani was wrong. Their family would never fully live down the shame of the past. It was baked into the walls.