Chapter 18
Alex
Ihad an email come through, announcing that all judges for this year’s competition will now be blindfolded. I feel relief, and a heavy weight has fallen from my shoulders. I’m confident now that I can do my job without unintentionally being biased, or anyone accusing me of favoritism. My relief at the news is telling me how much I care about Emma and my job. Even if coming forward about my interactions with Emma causes me to lose my job, I’ll be fine. I can get another job.
Over the years, I’ve received many requests, even from Le Gourmet Parisien, an upscale food magazine about all the high-class restaurants in Paris. It’d be a nice opportunity to join their team, and to be quite honest, I’ve considered it many times over the years. Paris is where my heart has always been. However, something continues to hold me back from reaching out. Perhaps it’s loyalty. I’ve been with The Traveling Taste for almost ten years, finding a great amount of success, and I’ve enjoyed seeing the world. Le Gourmet Parisien, I suppose, is a door to walk through should I ever settle down.
Surprisingly, the thought of settling down in Paris now seems dim. Settling down anywhere other than Elmwood Falls seems dim. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I didn’t know the reason. Emma. She’s brought light to my existence, breaking through the darkness I didn’t know was there. I feel content around her. My growing love for her apparently has no bounds. But I know that the chances of me winning her heart is slim to none.
I close my eyes for a brief moment, then I get out of my chair to grab the landline. I order room service from Madison, then, hearing a ding from my laptop indicating I’ve received another email, I go to look at it. It’s from Trish this time, thanking me for my honesty about knowing one of the competitors in the competition. From what she says in her email, I feel like she may have had to convince the panel to keep me on. I reply, thanking her for her time and the email.
I remain seated at the table, looking out the window. Families amble along the main street, their steps leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, basking in the comfort of each other’s company, and I have to fight myself from imagining one of those couples was me and Emma.
A knock comes from the door, jarring me from my daydream. I quickly run my fingers through my hair. I need to get a grip. There’s no sense in me longing for something I know I’ll never have. I get up to answer.
“Here’s the meal you ordered, Mr. Carter,” the young girl says. Without waiting for a response, she pushes the cart into the room.
“Thank you.” I grab my wallet and fish out a ten-dollar bill for a tip. She takes it with a nod, then hurries out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
I smell the juiciness of the roast even before I lift the lid. It makes my stomach grumble. I’d be lying if I say I’m in a hurry to leave the inn. I’m not sure who prepares the meals, but so far, I’ve been impressed. And, obviously, that’s not easy to do. That fact alone makes me captivated by Elmwood Falls.
Taking my plate over to the table by the window, I sit and prepare to eat. Before the first bite, someone knocks on the door. Setting my fork down, I rise to answer.
When I open the door, my breath catches and my heart begins to race.
“Emma,” I manage.
She’s standing in the hallway and smiles warmly, though I can see uncertainty in her eyes.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
She cranes her neck to look into the room as she sniffs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”
Quickly, I shake my head. “No, you didn’t.” I clear my throat. “I mean, not that it’s not dinner—it is dinner, definitely dinner, but I mean, your arriving isn’t interrupting. I can eat, or not, anytime. It’s just food, right?” My attempt at casual dismissal does nothing to hide the sudden acceleration of my pulse, and suddenly I feel a wave of heat wash through me. I must be sweating. I’m sure I am, aren’t I? Emma doesn’t seem to notice, but surely she is, as well and is simply hiding it? I run a hand through my hair. Good. Not damp. I’m really wishing I could rewind time by a few minutes.
She looks at me, her face showing amusement. “I’m glad. But that I’m not interrupting and that it’s definitely dinner.”
Instructing myself to calm down, I open the door wider. “Would you like to come in, Emma?”
“Thank you,” she says, stepping inside. I hear her take another breath. “Smells delicious. I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“I haven’t tasted it yet,” I admit. “I was about to when you came.”
She raises her brow. “So I am interrupting.”
I feel my cheeks burning from surprise and embarrassment. “Let’s just say you’re a welcome interruption.” Wow. Where did that come from? I guess it’s my night to jam my foot in my mouth. And it’s not pleasant.
I attempt to recover, looking for something to say that might bridge the awkwardness between us. “You know, despite my reputation, I’m actually quite easy to impress with home-cooked meals. I’m fairly certain this roast is quite mouthwatering.”
She raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Is that so? I would have thought your standards were impossibly high.”
I chuckle. “Well, Emma, I do enjoy a fine dining experience, but there’s something about the simplicity and sincerity of a meal cooked with a dash of love.”
Her gaze softens, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“That said, so far, the food I’ve had at the inn has been excellent.”
“Yet you haven’t reviewed the food here.”
I swallow hard, unsure of what to say.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was uncalled for.”
“Yet deserving,” I tell her.
She cocks her head. “I’m curious. You spend your time in exotic places, eating exotic food, yet you mention enjoying home cooked meals.”
“You’re asking if I cook?”
“Do you?”
“I do. I cook a mean risotto. Among other things.”
“Figures,” she says. “Anyway, I won’t be here for long. I need to get home and walk Frankie. I haven’t been home all day.”
I want to ask her where she’s been, but I tell myself it’s none of my business. I didn’t want to speak. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of her any more.
“I came by to tell you that tomorrow, the library’s hosting a movie night,” she says. “It’s a double feature. Costs ten dollars. That’ll go to a children’s charity. I think we’ll be watching The Shop Around the Corner and The Philadelphia Story.”
“James Stewart,” I say. “I’m a big fan.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “Really? You don’t strike me as the kind to take time to relish in old movies.”
“I love them,” I say. “Cary Grant, Bing Crosby. Stewart’s admittingly my favorite. I can’t get enough of Harvey.”
I see an expression cross Emma’s face. One I can’t quite figure out.
“You surprise me, Alex Carter,” she says. “I never would have guessed that. I almost don’t believe you.”
Now, it’s time for me to raise my brow. “I wouldn’t lie about one of the greats.”
“Good to know. Anyway, I came by to invite you. Since you’ve admitted to being a fan of James Stewart, I’m really hoping you’ll come. There’ll be popcorn, drinks, candy, the works. In between films, we’ll have dinner. You can bring your mean risotto and let us criticize you for a change.”
I can’t help but laugh at her amused expression. I know she’s half joking. But there’s nothing I want to do more than to watch a double James Stewart feature with Emma. Still, her invitation gives me pause. I’ve been sticking close to the inn because I don’t want my presence to upset anyone. I realize I’ve upset a lot of people. It wasn’t my intention, of course. But it happened. I feel I should keep to myself until the bake-off competition. If I suddenly show up to a town gathering, it may not go over too well.
Emma obviously notices my hesitation because she steps forward, putting a hand on my arm. Her touch is gentle, soft, and warm—and it quickens the beat of my heart.
“You don’t have to, of course, Alex. But today, I realized we haven’t exactly been welcoming to you. I’m sorry. Especially for my part. You don’t deserve that.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Emma,” I tell her, taken aback by her statement. “If our roles were reversed, I’m sure I would have had the same reaction toward you.”
“But the roles weren’t reversed, Alex,” she says. “We can’t change what’s already happened. But we can try to move forward. Rhonda told me she heard you’ve been sticking close to the inn. Don’t do that. You have every right to explore the town and enjoy your time here. I want you to. And movie night’s a good time to start.”
“I’ll consider it, then,” I say.
“Good.” She smiles at me, this time it reaches her eyes. It makes me notice how beautiful she really is. She’s genuine and pure.
I don’t have a lot of roast to offer her, but I’m trying to summon up the courage to invite her to eat with me because I don’t want her to leave.
“I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Emma says as if reading my thoughts. “I hope it’s still warm.”
“Would you like to stay and eat with me? I mean, I don’t have a lot to offer, but I’m happy to share. Or we can order another?”
Please say yes.
“That’s really thoughtful, Alex, but I should go. I need to get Frankie.”
I want to ask her for a rain check, but the words aren’t reaching my lips. The fear of her turning me down keeps me silent.
“Good night, Alex,” she says.
“Good night, Emma.” I manage. “And thank you for coming by. It was commendable of you.”
I open the door for her, and she walks out of the room, making her way down the hall. Closing the door, I lean against it.
Should I go to the library’s movie night? Or should I stay in this small room at the Elmwood Falls Inn? I cross the distance to the window, sitting in my seat. Looking out at the night, I’m only wanting to see Emma again. I want to watch two James Stewart movies with Emma nearby.
I take a bite of the roast, savoring the juiciness.
Perhaps Emma’s right. I shouldn’t hide in the inn all the time. And I want to know more about Emma. The very thought of opening up to her unnerves me. I feel like a schoolboy when she’s around.
A giddy, lovesick schoolboy who won’t be able to sit alone in a small room while Emma’s watching James Stewart films. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe things can change. But there’s only one way to find out. My decision made, I finish my dinner.