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“Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you, umm, I’m sorry, but I should have asked, what is it you do here, Seline?” I ask, gesturing to the seat opposite me for her to sit. She pauses for a moment, but then pulls out the chair and sits opposite me.

“I manage the housekeeping staff and reservations.”

“Oh, cool. So how are the reservations for this place?”

“We fill up over the spring and summer. Winter is quieter, though with the specialty desserts, even during winter, dinner is usually fully booked each night.”

“Specialty desserts?”

“It’s easier for you to see them for yourself. The first course will be delivered shortly. I should probably check on the staff,” she says, rising from her chair. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’d like to meet with Chef Remigius after dinner, if that’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you. He’ll be excited to start planning the future of the estate.”

“He will?”

“Oh, yes. Remigius loves this place as much as Jack did. Jack saw his heart was here,” she says, letting her gaze scan the room, and it’s like she’s looking at an old friend. What if I convince them to sell and she has to leave here? What if they all have to? “I guess that’s why he left it partly to him, too, so that he would always have it. I can have Remigius meet you in your room after dinner?”

“No. I mean. Umm, here is fine. I’ll stay back when service is finished.”

“Very well. I’ll let him know now,” she says and heads behind a wooden swinging door into the kitchen. I get a glimpse of the space, and of the golden curls of a man in a white jacket before the door swings closed.

ChapterFour

Rémy

Itry my best to stay focused through dinner service, but every time that door swings open, I can’t help but glance up to look at him. He’s changed so much but still has that stunning bright smile that sent butterflies swarming through my gut all those years ago. He hasn’t shaved in maybe a day, and light stubble covers his chiseled jaw. And while his hair used to be down to his shoulders, he’s cut it short now, tapered at the sides but longer on top, and styled with some kind of product that makes it look wet. Or it is wet. He might have just showered. And now I’m thinking about him in the shower. Shit. I have to stop. I have to focus. The kitchen is the place where I feel most at ease, where the world makes sense, but with Nate sitting out there, I feel completely off my game.

Every dish that has landed in front of him has brought a smile that makes his eyes sparkle, and my dessert is up next. Then I won’t be able to put off this conversation any longer.

“Hey, Rémy, man. Are these ready?” Lilah asks, reaching for the plates and pulling me from my haze.

“Oh, yes, thank you. This is the last of them.”

She carries them out, balancing three plates on one arm like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and when the door swings wide as she passes through and she places one down in front of Nate, his lips pick up in a grin of delight, and my stomach flips.

It flips in the same way it used to whenever we played as children and he would smile or laugh my way. Shit. I can’t be crushing on Nate, not again. He wasn’t interested ten years ago, and I have no reason to think he would be now. Besides, hitting on him would probably be a surefire way to get him to run for the hills. I have to keep this totally professional. Show him what a great investment this place is. How amazing it could be.

I walk out to the kitchen after cleaning everything and setting up for the next day, but Nate isn’t sitting at his table. He’s laughing with Lilah across the room as he helps her to reset place settings.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, drawing their attention.

“I know, but I was here anyway, so I figured I would give Lilah a hand. I’m Nate. You must be Remigius,” he says, picking up another water glass and setting it down in its place. He doesn’t remember me at all, does he? My mouth doesn’t move. I’m stuck. My mind and body are frozen in place just watching him. Lilah laughs.

She laughs a little and then shakes her head.

“Only his aunt calls him Remigius. We usually just call him Rémy, or Chef Rémy, and he’s clearly had a big night in the kitchen. How about you guys go talk? I can finish this up.”

My lips finally move.

“Oui. Yes, umm, you can call me Rémy. Itwasa big night. Did you like everything?” I ask, moving to sit at one of the booths on the far-right side. The booths were another addition to the space Jack and I reclaimed before it was destroyed to make way for something modern, shiny, and new. They were in the old diner in town. Jack and I would visit there every Tuesday and Thursday and eat cherry pie while going over my ideas for the estate. When the owner, Mr. Wellings, passed and the place was picked up by some city developer, we convinced his wife to let us take a row of booths before the sale. I run my fingers over the soft black leather, feeling the slight ripples of its age, and my nerves settle. This place is amazing. Nate will see that. He has to. This pace can’t end up just like the diner and the Morris farm.

“So, I was thinking—” Nate starts, but I suddenly cut him off and blurt out.

“You can’t sell.”