Chapter Twenty-Five #2
The air grew warm. This thing between us felt cozy and nice. Not the angsty nervousness of romance books, but the comfortable connection of two people sharing a wavelength. I relaxed more fully as I basked in the moment. And I allowed myself the time to examine his handsome face.
Lucas and I didn’t spend as much time together at work these days.
I’d found my comfort zone in the kitchen, and he’d been busy making his dreams come true.
But when we stole a few minutes to chat, I always left with a smile.
His kindness and patience meant everything to me.
I had no doubt I’d grown as a baker under his tutelage.
I’d become confident and made a dozen new friends with the kitchen staff.
He had no idea how much he’d brought to my new life.
“I’m glad I could help,” he said. “I’m elated, and I can’t wait to get started on the changes.” His lips parted, and I suspected he wanted to say more, but he looked quickly away.
“What?” I asked.
“I was thinking you remind me of Margot.”
I grinned. Her photo sat atop the welcome desk. I knew for a fact we looked nothing alike.
“Not in appearance,” he clarified, as if reading my mind. “In spirit, maybe. You have compassion and enthusiasm. It’s contagious. And appreciated. People need more joy in their lives.”
“First of all, I am honored to be compared to Margot,” I said.
“Your love and devotion to her is proof she was an incredible soul. Secondly, if you had any idea how much energy I’ve spent trying to be small and go unnoticed, you’d understand how great it feels to be appreciated and not ridiculed for my excitement. So, thank you.”
Lucas met my eye with a hard stare. “Am I awful for saying I kind of hate that guy?”
“That would be the general consensus,” I said. “You’re in good company.”
I swiveled on the cushion to face him. For a moment I considered telling him about what I’d found under the floorboard tonight, but he’d come here for a reason, and that wasn’t it.
I supposed the subject of a failed marriage might be hard for him when he’d do anything to have his wife back.
I’d never had a loving relationship like his with Margot, so it was impossible to relate.
From his position, though, I imagined he thought the split was heartbreaking for me.
“This is for the best,” I said. “Robert and I haven’t been married in any sense of the word for years, and we were never partners, so the loss is mainly just frustrating.
I’m not even sure we were ever really friends.
This divorce is long overdue. I don’t want you to feel bad for me. ”
“Okay,” he said. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Careful, or I’ll hug you again.”
Lucas laughed.
“Enough about me,” I said. “You were telling me about the restaurant.”
He angled toward me, matching my posture.
“I need a professional plater to elevate the dining experience for patrons. I know you’re a baker, and an excellent one, but I also know you learn quickly, and you light up when a new skill clicks for you.
You thrive in the restaurant’s kitchen, and you’re creative. ”
I leaned forward as he spoke, drawn in by his delight.
“I think,” he continued, “that if you’re open to trying something new—and that’s up to you, of course, there’s no pressure .
. .” He ran his palms over the tops of his thighs and took a deep breath.
“You could be magnificent at plating food, and if you’re interested in learning those skills, I would love it if you’d fulfill that role for my restaurant. ”
I processed his request slowly, knocked utterly off-balance for the tenth time in a single day.
“Tell me more,” I said, unwilling to squash his excitement.
He deserved to be heard, even if my answer was going to be no.
I baked pastries. I didn’t plate food, whatever that meant, and I didn’t have time to learn a new skill set. Nor did I have the desire.
Lucas bounced his palms against his knees.
“Plating food is an art, and those skilled in the craft are in high demand. The new position at Chez Margot comes with a significant pay increase from pastry chef. Training is paid for and includes meals and travel. You’d receive your usual salary for the days we have classes, and I’ll be with you the whole time, because I’m taking a few sessions in preparation for the evening changes as well. ”
“You?” I asked. Was he inviting me on a business trip? With him?
“I’ve run the café successfully as it is for many years, but I’ve never managed a place like the one in my visions. I need to be prepared for new challenges.”
“I see.” I plucked a stray fiber from the cushion’s seam. “Are the classes given through the local community college? Or are they at the country club?” I teased.
His cheeks reddened, and for a moment, I wondered if we really were headed to a country club. “The classes will require travel and several days off work.”
Traveling alone with Lucas? That could be interesting. “Who will manage the restaurant and make the desserts?”
“John will shift to manager mode. He has previous experience in the role, and he understands the ins and outs of everything I do. I’ll cut the dessert offerings to a single option while we’re away and train the staff to make it, so anyone can fulfill the order, temporarily.”
My eyes narrowed. “How long are the classes?”
“Three weeks.”
My jaw dropped.
He raised both palms to protest. “Don’t answer yet.
It’s a big decision. Lots of moving parts, and plenty for you to sleep on.
Not to mention the timing is terrible. Your daughter is planning a wedding.
You’re in the middle of a divorce. It’s especially difficult for you to get away right now.
” He pursed his lips. “And the school is in France.”
My eyes bulged, and I had to lean back against the couch to avoid rolling off it. “France?” I repeated. “Like the country across the sea? How much will that cost?”
“It was included in my business loan proposal,” he said.
“If I want to compete with other restaurants at the caliber I’m reaching for, I have to do things right.
That means training from the best in the business.
And that means a trip home.” His expression softened on the final word.
“It’s beautiful this time of year. You’d love it, I’m sure. ”
“No doubt.”
Lucas dusted his palms, then stood abruptly. “I’m going to go now. I apologize again for stopping by unannounced and dropping all of this in your lap like a bomb. I wanted you to have as much time as possible to consider the offer.” He lifted a hand in goodbye, then turned for the door.
I hustled after him, tangling my legs beneath me, then fumbling for my footing as I hurried to the porch.
He was in the yard before I reached the top step.
“Lucas! Wait!”
He stilled for a prolonged beat before turning to look up at me in the failing evening light.
“Where in France?” I asked.
“Oh.” Something in the small word sounded like disappointment, and I wondered briefly what that might mean. “Nice.”
Nice. In the French Riviera, the region where my mom met Sébastien Allard.
“When?”
“Right after your next court date,” he said. “You requested time off. It’s on the calendar.” He waved and climbed back into his car.
I watched him drive away, in awe of how my night had turned itself around so completely.
I was going to France!