Chapter 19
Guillermo’s mother lived in a beautiful old Victorian farmhouse. It was the oldest building on the little peninsula that held Pelican Point, and it sat on a rise with an ocean view on three sides.
Standing on the front porch, Keely could see the whole town laid out at the bottom of the hill. She found it endearing that the front door was pointed toward town instead of out toward the sea… though when the house had been built, there hadn’t been any town there at all. It had pointed back toward the mainland then. Toward the warmth of civilization. She felt deeply curious about the people who had built this place and the women who had lived there.
“Keely!” Sunday’s melodious voice greeted her when she opened the door. She wore a boldly patterned dress in bright shades of red and yellow with a matching cloth wound around her head in intricate twists and knots. “You are early.”
“Yes, sorry. I mean, is that okay? It’s a new kitchen, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time.”
“Of course, of course. Come in, look around. My boys can help you carry your things in.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I can do it myself.”
“I know you can, my dear, but you do not have to. My boys will not mind. They are good boys.”
The ‘boys’ in question turned out to be two stunningly handsome young men who towered over even their tall mother. They were nearly twice the size of Guillermo’s mother, who was still active and spritely despite being a few years away from becoming a centenarian. Keely had seen her around town once or twice; she remembered how the woman’s white hair shone in the sun at the farmers market.
“You must call me Frances,” she said when they were introduced.
“Yes ma’am,” Keely replied, cradling the woman’s delicate hand in her own.
“Guillermo tells me that you have a special treat for me today.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said again. All eyes were on her, Sunday’s handsome sons and a middle-aged couple and a woman who looked to be nearly of an age with Frances. She could feel her cheeks turn pink under their scrutiny.
“I’m turning ninety-three today, did you know?”
“Congratulations.”
Her laugh was high and musical. “Thank you.” She turned to her friend. “I think we should eat in the sun room, don’t you?”
“Aunt Frances, we’ve already set the table in the dining room,” protested the other woman.
“Well, now we can set the table in the sun room. I want a good view of the sunset. Who knows how many more I’ll have occasion to witness. I’ll never miss one, if I can help it.”
There was no arguing with that. While the party guests moved everything from one dining table to another, Sunday’s sons helped Keely carry everything through to the kitchen. They were near her age and resembled each other so closely that she would have had trouble telling them apart if not for the fact that one had short hair and the other had long dreadlocks.
Everything was made, but the main course would need to be heated while the guests were enjoying their appetizers. The long-haired brother disappeared, but the other one hovered in the kitchen as Keely transferred crab cakes to a platter.
“Should I take this through?” he offered.
“That would be great, thank you.”
He smiled so beautifully that she wondered if he was flirting with her. Any time before Pelican Point, she would have been completely smitten. As it was, she was still charmed, even in awe of his good looks, but she wasn’t the least bit interested. The man looked like he had just left a photo shoot for some brand of clothing that sold five-hundred-dollar shirts, but Keely didn’t feel drawn to him. Not like she did to Travis.
Travis magnetized her in a way that she didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t the best-looking man she had ever seen (though he was, she had to admit, very handsome). His career of bartender was less than ideal, given her history with addiction. The way he’d dodged her for weeks was a huge red flag.
And yet… she felt so happy when she was near him. Her anxieties settled. And when he smiled, really smiled, she thought that there was no face in the whole world more beautiful.
Not even the catalog model of a man who stood in front of her, who winked as he walked backward out the swinging door of the kitchen.
In spite of herself, Keely giggled. She felt her cheeks color.
And then she got to work.
Wish me luck, she sent Travis along with a photo of her second round of appetizers. She had made p?o de queijo with Parmesan cheese and tapioca flour. The spherical treats were crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. After realizing that trying to balance the things on a serving tray would be a disaster, she found a big shallow dish and used that to carry them through.
“I didn’t say that there was no good wine in California,” Frances’s niece was saying. She gestured with her wine glass for emphasis, and her cheeks were pink. “I just said that it can’t compare to what you’ll find in Italy.”
“That’s absurd,” Guillermo shot back. He thrust a glass in Keely’s direction. “Try this and tell me it isn’t the best wine you’ve ever had.”
“Leave the poor girl be,” Sunday told him.
“I just offered her a drink is all.”
“Let her alone. She’s working.”
Keely gave Sunday a grateful smile. She set down the food she carried and retreated back to the kitchen.
Sunday’s son was there waiting for her, and she felt a small flare of annoyance.
She had work to do.
“Need a hand?” He had the self-satisfied smile of a man who knows exactly how handsome he is, someone who was used to making people swoon. She got the feeling that people didn’t turn him down very often.
“Sure, thanks.” She quickly plated the final appetizer, crackers topped with dabs of mousse that was bright green with fresh herbs. “You can take this through.”
When she had the kitchen to herself again, she breathed a sigh of relief.
It was a good kitchen. Spacious and modern, though the original flooring and an old wood-fire oven had been left in a nod to its roots. The antique oven was cold today, though, and Keely warmed the main course up on a huge and shining stove that was several times more valuable than her car.
The main course was an old-fashioned chowder made with black cod. After texting back and forth with Sunday for a couple of days about what Frances loved best, they had settled on chowder. It wasn’t quite the haute cuisine that Guillermo had anticipated, maybe, but Keely was more interested in pleasing the nonagenarian. According to Sunday, Frances often reminisced about the chowders and bisques that her grandmother would make all winter long.
She had made garlic bread too, which she put in the preheated oven just as the soup was beginning to simmer. She turned the burner off to let the soup cool a bit while the bread crisped up.
She was all nerves, but not in a bad way. The food was good. She knew it was.
Landing this job had been pure luck, and she still felt a sense of disbelief that she was being paid to cater a party, even a little one like this. Maybe she would be back in the library basement tomorrow, wrapping a new shipment of books that she hadn’t even gotten halfway through that day. But for now, she intended to enjoy the moment.
She had made a big salad to offset the richness of the chowder, and she brought that out first. It was gorgeous, with bright prisms of orange and grapefruit shining over a dark bed of green and purple lettuce. She’d included thin slices of fennel as well and dressed it at the last minute with gourmet lemon-infused olive oil and white balsamic vinegar that she’d found in Santa Cruz.
The chorus of anticipatory oohs and ahhs that rose from the table when she set the salad down made her smile. She left them to serve themselves, family style, and went to fetch the bread. After that, she brought the soup out in two trips, four bowls to a tray.
Maybe it wasn’t professional of her, but she hovered in the doorway on her way out, waiting to see Frances take her first spoonful of the rich broth.
Frances stilled, and a hush came over the table. She looked up and met Keely’s eyes across the room.
“This reminds me of my childhood. In the best way. Thank you.”
Keely dipped her head in acknowledgement and retreated to the kitchen.
Unsure of what to do with herself while everyone ate, she decided to have some food herself. Maybe that wasn’t professional either but, well, she wasn’t a professional. And she didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t enjoy a bowl of the soup that she had made. Standing there inhaling the fragrant steam without tasting it felt like torture. And there was plenty left. She helped herself to a hearty serving and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter.
Once she had finished her food, she peeked into the dining room and saw that they were wrapping up their dinner as well. Or they seemed to be. As soon as they saw her, they requested seconds of the chowder. She was happy to oblige, and grateful that she had erred on the side of too much rather than too little. There was plenty of soup left to go around, and everyone got a second bowl.
Then, finally, it was time for dessert.
Again, she had erred on the side of abundance. She’d made the deconstructed lemon meringue that Guillermo had requested and a decadent chocolate mousse for Sunday. Eight servings of each option. The mousse was simple, but it was phenomenally delicious. It had taken her seven tries to land on a batch that felt good enough.
Plating the lemon meringue took some doing. Each plate got its own small bowl of lemon curd. She had considered just a swirl of it on the plate as a garnish, like you might see at some expensive restaurant, but decided that it was too delicious to dole out in such meager servings. So a bowl of lemon curd, lemon-infused meringue, and delicate butter cookies. Then a final garnished, candied lemon peel. She found a stack of deep blue plates in the cupboard that worked perfectly; the contrast made the pale dessert pop.
She brought out the lemon meringue first, then brought them the chocolate mousse as a final surprise at the end.
“No birthday cake could compare,” Frances told her as she spooned up the rich mouse that Keely had infused with a hint of peppermint. “This has been the perfect meal. Thank you.”
“We were very lucky to find her,” Sunday proclaimed. “She is an undiscovered gem. Soon she will be too busy to book.”
“I don’t know about that,” Keely said modestly.
“Oh, I think you will.”
“Never too busy for you,” she said with a smile.
“Good.” Sunday beamed at her. “That is good.”
“Would you send us this recipe?” Guillermo asked as he scraped the last traces of mousse from his glass. “I might have our chef add it to the weekly rotation.”
“Of course,” Keely agreed.
“You’ll send me her number?” asked the cousin. She looked at Keely and said, “If you’re half as good with cakes as you are with everything else, I’d love for you to cater my daughter’s birthday party.”
Keely just nodded, too stunned to speak, and started picking up the empty dishes.
It was logical that one good gig would lead to another – but even so, she was shocked. This thousand-dollar event had fallen into her lap, and it had felt like a one-time stroke of luck.
But she had pulled it off.
She felt her cheeks warm with pleasure as she carried a tray full of dishes into the kitchen.
She’d done it.
On an impulse, she checked her phone. She hadn’t so much as glanced at it since the start of the evening. There were a number of messages waiting for her, her friends and parents and brother all asking her how the night had gone. Two of them were from Travis.
Good luck! he’d texted just minutes after her message to him had gone through. Not that you need it.
And then, just a minute before she’d picked up her phone, he had texted: So? How did it go??
Rave reviews,she texted back. It was a success. I think… I might actually be able to make a living at this????
Of course you can! he replied. You’re amazing.
She grinned and pocketed her phone. She still had cleanup to do. She floated around the kitchen on a cloud of victory, as happy to be washing dirty dishes as she had ever been to do anything in her life.