Chapter Seven
The ranch kitchen buzzed with activity as Eloise pulled another pan of rolls from the oven. Cars and trucks had been arriving ever since church ended, the sounds of greetings and laughter drifted throughout the large family home. Ever since she’d found out that she would be awarded the position of head chef at the new restaurant, she’d been playing around with ideas for the menu. In the few days she’d been here, the Sisters had let her try out a few ideas in the Parlor’s kitchen. Now, Aunt Eileen had agreed to let her use the family for guinea pigs this afternoon.
“Something smells amazing.” Hannah appeared in the doorway, her dark hair pulled back in a neat braid. “Aunt Eileen said you’re testing new dishes on us.”
“Your aunt insisted.” Eloise checked her tried and true specialty, beef bourguignon, simmering on the stove. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Are you kidding? We never turn down good food.” Hannah flashed a toothy grin. “Need any help?”
Before Eloise could answer, more family members crowded the kitchen doorway. Meg, Adam’s wife, carried a tray of Toni’s cake balls. She was probably more excited to taste the cake balls that the entire town raved about than the family was to taste her food.
Smiling brightly, a slim blonde carried a large platter in her hand with four small children running circles around her. “Hey, no one wants me to drop Aunt Eileen’s favorite platter. Either slow down or take it outside.”
Eloise had done her best to keep a run down on who was who, but there were just too many names for her to remember everyone.
“Hi there, I’m Becky, Declan’s wife.”
“Eloise.”
“Oh, my.” Becky set the platter down on the kitchen table. “This looks like quite the feast cooking. Not to mention the kitchen smells heavenly!”
“Thank you.”
The four kids that had been circling hurried around the table then ran past them and out the door just as Becky shouted, “Don’t slam”— bang —“the door behind you.”
Eloise chuckled at the I-give-up expression on the woman’s face. “Are they all yours?”
Becky’s eyes rounded like silver dollars. “Heaven’s no. Connor, Jamison, Adam, and us all had kids within months of each other. Only the blonde with the long ponytail is mine.”
Just as Connor’s wife Catherine crossed into the kitchen, Aunt Eileen hurried in behind her. “Out, all of you. Let the woman work. Shoo!”
Laughing and chatting, the women slowly retreated, each one pairing off with their spouses. Eloise took a moment to absorb it all. The whole big crazy family was something foster kids dreamed of, but even in her wildest of imaginations, she’d never come up with a family quite like the Farradays.
“Sorry about that.” Aunt Eileen winked. “They’re just excited. We haven’t had a professional chef cook Sunday dinner since… well, ever.”
Stirring her sauce, Eloise added a pinch more thyme. “I just hope it lives up to expectations.”
“Oh honey,” Aunt Eileen squeezed her shoulder and smiled, “you passed those the first morning you made breakfast. Now you’re just showing off.”
The sound of children’s laughter echoed from outside, followed by the deeper rumble of men’s voices. Her heart squeezed, imagining Danny here in little more than a week, part of this warm chaos. He’d always been the one taking care of her, even when his own world was falling apart. Now maybe she could finally give him something he desperately needed—a place to heal.
“You’ve outdone yourself.” Aunt Eileen surveyed the kitchen. The rolls filled three baskets, and a chocolate bourbon pecan pie—her grandmother’s recipe—cooled on the counter.
To go with the beef, Eloise had kept things simple with her signature dishes. “I wanted to try different things, something for everyone’s taste,” Eloise explained. “The beef with rosemary roasted potatoes, fresh green beans with toasted almonds, and honey-glazed carrots is my sure thing. We’ll also have Chicken Roulade—stuffed with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and goat cheese, served with a white wine sauce, or blackened redfish with crawfish cream sauce. For the sides, there’s roasted corn soufflé and Gruyere and green chili scalloped potatoes.”
“Wow. You’re spoiling us.” Aunt Eileen nodded approvingly. “Though I suspect you could serve shoe leather and this bunch would eat it if you made the sauce.” She straightened her shoulders and reached for serving dishes. “Time to get this show on the road.”
Whenever she cooked, she was in her own little section of heaven. Nothing could faze her. Suddenly, she was racked with doubts. Maybe she should have chosen all comfort standards. Maybe this part of the country wouldn’t appreciate goat cheese and whole fat French Gruyere. And maybe she should stop second-guessing herself.
“Ready?” Aunt Eileen picked up the bowl with the beef bourguignon.
Eloise surveyed her dishes one last time. Her favorite foster mother used to always tell her, fake it till you make it . Those words had brought her this far. Ready or not, there was no turning back now. Picking up the platter of fish, she turned to face Aunt Eileen. “Let’s do it.”
Finn and his wife Joanna came hurrying into the dining room, each carrying a platter of food from the kitchen.
“Sorry we’re late.” Finn set one platter on the buffet behind him.
Joanna sniffed at the air. “I haven’t smelled so many delicious aromas in my life. My mouth has been watering since I hit the kitchen door.”
The sound of chairs scraping the hardwood floors bounced against the family chatter as folks hurried into the kitchen to help carry out the remainder of the food.
The massive dining table groaned under the weight of Eloise’s feast. Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen this much food, not even at Thanksgiving. Everything smelled amazing. Already his brothers were eyeing the arriving platters like hungry wolves.
Food began circulating, accompanied by appreciative murmurs and the clink of serving spoons. Quinn couldn’t remember the last time his normally boisterous family had been too busy eating to talk. Even the kids were eating the vegetables without complaint. Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised, he’d already eaten the few things that Eloise had cooked at the ranch and knew she was a fabulous cook. No, not just a cook—a chef.
“Do we have a date for when we can all descend on the restaurant and try out the rest of your menu?” Catherine took the last bite of her chicken.
“That depends on staffing,” Eloise answered. “I’ll need at least two solid line cooks, prep staff, servers. Plus time to train everyone the way I want the kitchen to run.”
Aunt Eileen reached for another roll. “Are you a hard task master like that television chef who comes in and saves failing restaurants?”
“I hope not.” She chuckled, her cheeks pinkened, her eyes sparkled, and Quinn almost swallowed his tongue.
“Which reminds me.” Ryan stabbed at a piece of his corn soufflé. “The kitchen equipment arrives tomorrow.”
The way Eloise’s eyes lit up brought a smile to Quinn’s lips.
“What are you grinning at?” Ryan held his fork in mid-air.
All eyes turned in the direction Ryan was staring.
“What? Is it against the law to smile?” Quinn said.
“No.” One corner of Ryan’s mouth twitched with a hint of amusement.
“Hm.” Quinn grunted, returning his attention to the food on his plate. Ignoring all the eyes on him, he noticed his aunt watching him the most intently, not missing any of the discussion, or probably the smiles.
Still watching him to the point of making him want to shift in his seat—or better yet, hide under the table—Aunt Eileen shared a smile with her husband before turning back to Eloise. “I saw the help wanted signs for the restaurant up at the hardware store and the Cut n’ Curl.”
Becky dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “I saw them up at the café and O’Faredeigh’s.”
Eloise nodded, her grin bright. “I already have staffing interviews lined up tomorrow morning.”
“Ooh, that could be fun.” Valerie, ever the producer, chimed in. “We’ll film all the interviews for the show, then air the ones who are actually hired. The ratings will eat it up.”
Morgan closed his knife and fork on the plate he’d come short of licking clean. “I don’t see how the ratings can get any higher.”
“Now, now, no talk of ratings tonight.” Aunt Eileen pushed away from the table. “There’s dessert in the kitchen.”
“Let me get it.” Eloise stood.
His aunt looked ready to protest, and before she could object, Quinn pushed to his feet. “You can sit, Aunt Eileen. I’ll help Eloise.”
There was no need to look over his shoulder, he could feel his aunt’s gaze on his back as he followed Eloise into the kitchen.
“I left the pies cooling over here.” She went straight to the butler’s pantry.
The way Eloise moved about in the kitchen, she looked like someone who had lived at the ranch her whole life, especially her ability to cook for a massive clan of people. Of course, she obviously did that every night in her line of work. Still, somehow the idea of her being well suited to ranch life sat well with him. And wasn’t that absurd. What she was suited for was none of his business.
“Here you go.” She handed him two pies, one for each hand.
“I sure hope you have more than this. You may think that crowd is full, but don’t let looks deceive you.”
Her eyes sparkled with delight. “There’s a lot more where those came from.” Her fingers landed on the back of his shoulder. “Go on. I’ll be right there with two more pies.”
Like a branding iron, he could feel the heat of her touch through his clothing, searing his skin. His tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth so he nodded, forcing his feet to move, one in front of the other, wondering why did this woman make him feel so…different.
Setting the two pies down in the middle of the massive dining table, he made room for the additional pies. To his surprise, not only had Eloise cooked dinner and baked pies, she turned on her heel and returned with homemade ice cream.
“You made ice cream too?” Uncle Sean seemed beyond impressed.
“She had help.” The love in Aunt Eileen’s eyes softened her words.
The conversation bounced around, from talk of the new calves, to the superb dinner, to the upcoming arrival of Eloise’s brother next week. Heavy chatter just like any other Sunday evening dinner, and yet, gourmet food aside, nothing about tonight felt normal. Nothing at all.