Chapter 20 #2
Yes, that small smile suggested Jude was on the right track, praise for his man a chink in Guy Parsons’ armour.
That seemed even more likely when he said, “Why not take a look at the bedrooms, Ian. Get some shots, for the review, if I write one.” And that was the real kicker: all of this work and Guy still might not write a review, good, bad, or ugly.
“I’ll stay here and chat with the lovely Susan. You were saying….”
Jude led the way upstairs with Ian behind him, trying hard not to worry about whatever Susan might share. If anyone was on their side one hundred per cent, it was her. He lifted the latch to the bedroom that used to be his and stood back to let Ian pass him.
“This is nice,” he said, lifting his camera and checking the light before he took some shots.
“Very nautical.” He moved some of the seafaring objects that Lou had used as decoration.
“That blue is a lovely contrast.” He tugged at the fabric Jude had placed at the end of the huge bed.
“It’s the same colour as the sky out of the window.
” He stood, considering before saying. “Come here.” Before Jude knew it he was shaking the sarong out over and over while Ian took photos of the fabric spilling from his fingers.
“You sure you want me in these photos?”
“Might as well showcase your business’ best assets.” Jude frowned, so he added clarification. “If Guy writes a review, a lot of readers will get to see that the Anchor has some eye candy.”
Eye candy? Jude couldn’t help laughing. “Me? You should photograph my boy—” Flustered, he quickly changed course. “I mean, my business partner.”
Ian ignored Jude’s last sentence. Instead, he revisited his first one.
“So you finally hooked up?” Ian took some shots from the window, making sure the pub sign was in view with the harbour behind it.
He said, “I could see he had the hots for you during the contest,” oblivious to Jude reeling at how easily he’d almost applied the boyfriend label to Rob.
Jude led the way to Louise’s old room. “I guess you could say that he’s persistent.”
“Persistent enough to find out why you bailed on the contest?” Ian took a couple more shots before walking farther down the hallway. “Why did you?” he asked, his hand on the latch to Jude’s parents’ bedroom door.
“Not in there,” Jude warned, tone much sharper than was maybe needed.
Ian held up his free hand in supplication.
“Sorry….” Jude raked a hand through his hair.
“That room isn’t for customers.” His voice lowered as he took the latch in his own hand for the first time since returning.
“It’s my parents’ room.” When Ian only let out a small sound of interest, Jude found himself continuing, the door creaking as he unlatched it.
“I bailed on the contest because they….” Beyond the doorway, his parents’ bedroom looked just as they left it, a riot of colour and knick-knacks, every surface cluttered. “They were lost at sea.”
“Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”
“I didn’t exactly stick around long enough to explain.
Getting home from London, and then going to look for them seemed a lot more important.
I only got home a few weeks ago. I didn’t recognise the place.
” Compared to the other bedrooms, this one was a chaotic muddle that Jude drank in, crossing to his mum’s dressing table to pick up her perfume bottle.
His inhale was staggered—his mum so present in scent form that he didn’t catch the click of the camera shutter or Ian’s next question.
“I-I’m sorry. What was that?” he turned just as Ian took another photo.
“I said,” he repeated, his tone so much softer than Jude could deal with while maintaining eye-contact.
“Did you find them? Your parents?” Maybe Jude’s silence was enough of an answer.
“I am sorry,” Ian said quietly before tagging on another question.
“So how come Rob ended up here after winning? I thought he was set on taking over the Martin empire.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“From his dad. Several times. Right the way through the contest. He’d tell anyone who’d listen.”
Jude didn’t explicitly answer. “Rob’s been amazing,” was all he said aloud. “I didn’t expect to find him here when I got back,” he said, honest as he added, “Now I can’t imagine this place without him. He’s been so generous to both me and my sister.”
“Generous?”
“Yeah, with his time, and frankly, with his money.”
“The prize from the contest? But that wasn’t exactly a life-changing amount, was it?”
“Maybe not to you,” and in truth no more than a few months’ rent and start-up costs for a city restaurant. “But it stopped this place from going under.” He said what he’d thought so often lately. “He gives and gives and gives and doesn’t expect much back, to be honest.”
“Maybe that’s what you do when you’re in love?” Ian wondered. “Give when your partner needs it.”
“I wouldn’t know about love.” For some reason, Jude’s heart pounded. “But I do know he must be downstairs in the kitchen right now waiting for your boyfriend’s lunch order. You been together for long?”
“Ages. He’s it for me, but he’s always so busy…” Ian was rueful. “Deadlines. Comes with the territory. And social media. It takes up so much of his headspace. Not sure he’s got enough room left for me, long-term.”
They left the bedroom together just as Louise crested the top of the staircase looking stricken. “What’s the matter?” It must’ve been bad news; she didn’t even seem to notice that Jude wasn’t alone, Ian standing just behind him.
“He doesn’t want Rob’s signature dish.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” she almost shouted before gathering herself and saying, “That bloody critic.”
Maybe Ian was used to hearing Guy described so baldly.
He slipped past them both and headed downstairs, leaving Jude with his sister more angry than he’d ever witnessed.
“He won’t eat it?” Lou shook her head. A tear of frustration slipped free.
He held her by both shoulders. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
Louise was furious, or maybe desperate; her hands shook as she dashed away another tear. “He said, ‘If I wanted to eat second-rate food, I could have stayed in London.’”
Second-rate food?
Surely he had to be joking. Jude hadn’t kept up with the contest, but to win, Rob must have cooked his heart out. Second-rate food would never have cut it.
Louise continued before he could protest, and yes, it was desperation rather than rage that next seeped out, dripping like the tears she wiped at.
“Jude, he says if he isn’t served something prize-winning in the next hour, he’ll tell everyone not to come here.
He wants exactly what Rob cooked to win the contest, down to the last detail. ”
Her voice cracked.
“But Rob says he can’t do it.”