Page 46 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)

Robin

I snap a lid on the last plastic container and stow it in the walk-in fridge. “All right, that will do it,” I announce.

“That went fast,” Jesse says, piling dishes into the industrial dishwasher. “So I can bring all of it to the inn tomorrow at four? Any special equipment you need?”

I point to a stack of crates near the back door.

“I put everything in those, and I put green labels on the stuff we need from the fridge and freezer.” I glance around the kitchen to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

“You might want to put a sign on the door tomorrow afternoon telling folks who didn’t read the email to go to the inn. ”

“Smart.” Jesse turns off the faucet and dries his hands on a towel. “Should we grab a drink at One More Round?”

I shrug. “I’d love to, but I’ve still got packing to do.”

“No worries. We’ll toast tomorrow.” Jesse maneuvers around a giant stand mixer to pat me on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you won’t be in the kitchen here anymore. What are we going to do without you?”

“You’ll be fine. You were before I got here.” I unbutton my white chef’s coat and toss it in the laundry bin. “Luisa has been killing it on the line. With a little mentoring, she’d make a great sous-chef.”

“Luisa is fantastic,” Jesse agrees. “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

“I already promised Key I’ll make it back to visit soon,” I say.

“Figured out what’s next yet?” Jesse asks, gathering his jacket and bag from his locker along the back wall.

I grab my bag as I say, “Getting closer. I’ve found so much inspiration being here with you. I think I’ll do some traveling, visit other cool new restaurants, see what speaks to me.”

“That sounds like it could be a TV show in itself.”

“It probably could.” I can’t help but smile saying it, knowing the decision I’ve made is the right one.

I haven’t told anyone about the Blue Plate Special offer.

I didn’t want anyone else telling me what they thought I should do.

Instead, I’m listening to my gut. I’ve taken twice the time Edgar suggested to reflect, and after a full day thinking about it while prepping for tomorrow’s dinner, I’m ready to call him with my answer.

“Well, keep me updated once you figure out what’s next,” Jesse says after realizing I’m not going to give him any hints.

“I never got a chance to visit your restaurants before. I don’t want to miss out on the next one.

” He points to the crates loaded up for tomorrow.

“Can’t wait to get a taste of Kindling.”

“It’ll be even better all plant-based, which I can only do because of what I learned from you,” I say honestly.

“When I got here, I was so creatively drained I could hardly fry an egg. Who’d have thought cooking without meat and dairy and eggs is what I needed to get my groove back?

The way you let natural ingredients guide you and push you out of your comfort zone is seriously inspiring, Jess.

You’re a wizard in the kitchen, and it makes me want to try out my own magic. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, the respect is mutual.” Jesse opens the back door onto a stone staircase. “Shall we?”

“One minute,” I say, turning back for a last look at this kitchen that I entered while at rock bottom, where I rebuilt myself tablespoon by tablespoon. I take a deep breath in, let it out, then flip the light switch.

I take the long route home after parting ways with Jesse, walking slow, admiring Eureka’s quirky architecture, listening to the cricket songs.

Halfway, I duck into one of my favorite natural springs, down a few steps into a circular grotto.

It’s less green than it was in the summer, but there are still a few late-blooming flowers.

I kneel down by the small pool collecting at the bottom of the spring.

Directly against the advice on the sign telling me this water is unsafe and I shouldn’t touch it or put it anywhere near my face, I put my hand under the trickle and bring drops to my forehead and both of my cheekbones.

I feel a sense of calm wash over me, an inner voice assuring me that I’m doing the right thing.

With that assurance still in my head, I pull out my phone and call Edgar.

—

When I get to the inn, my feet autopilot me to the back garden.

I sit on the bottom step of the gazebo, leaning back on my elbows.

Marmalade saunters over and sprawls in the grass next to me, belly up.

The early-November air is crisp and cool against my skin.

I’ve pruned the gardens back for the coming winter, but I still smell the rich, earthy fragrance of things growing.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been out here when the kitchen door creaks open. Molly pads across the grass in house slippers, a thick knitted throw blanket wrapped over her flannel pajamas. She stops in front of me to pet Marmee, then asks, “Whatcha doing?”

I exhale heavily. “Soaking it all in.”

Molly settles next to me on the gazebo steps, wrapping one end of the blanket around my shoulders.

I didn’t realize I was cold until I feel Molly’s warmth next to me.

We stare up at the sky for a couple minutes, listening to the wind shift the leaves on the trees and the chirp of crickets who have no clue the first frost will soon send them underground.

“Do you think the stars are different here?” I ask eventually.

Molly looks at me like she’s worried I’ve officially lost it. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got the same stars here as everyone else on the planet.”

“Right, I know,” I say quickly. “But don’t they, like, feel different? Closer? Maybe it’s the altitude. Less light pollution. Or maybe it’s just me.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Molly says, staring thoughtfully upward. “Everywhere else, stargazing feels like observing a big unknown galaxy out there. But here it feels like we’re part of that galaxy, in the middle of the big swirl of lights instead of just watching from afar.”

“Exactly!” I look at Molly, surprised that she so accurately put my feelings into words when I couldn’t.

But then I remember she’s known me for going on fourteen years, listened to thousands of my random thoughts, finished thousands of my sentences.

What a gift it is to be witnessed like that.

After this week, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever be seen as clearly by someone again.

But if these five months have taught me anything, it’s that life is long and full of surprises.

I turn back to the sky. “I got a big career opportunity the other day,” I say, feeling light and free, like I’m floating a few inches off the gazebo.

“Anders Prescott is retiring, and they want me to take his place on Blue Plate Special. ”

Molly gasps and pulls back, the blanket moving with her, exposing me to the cold breeze. “Rob! Are you serious?” she says, clearly elated for me, not an ounce of bitterness in her voice. “It’s everything you’ve been working toward. Congratulations! You must be—”

“I told them no.”

I didn’t think Molly’s expression could get more shocked, but I think her eyeballs might pop right out. “You what?” she squeaks.

“Being here in Eureka, getting my hands dirty fixing up the inn, cooking with Jesse at Counterculture…it may not have given me all the answers for my future. But it’s helped me realize what I don’t want,” I say, tucking the blanket back around my shoulder and looking up.

“I don’t want to be the one tasting other people’s food and nitpicking their art.

I don’t want to spend more time in a chair getting my makeup and hair done than in the kitchen.

I don’t want to focus more on how food looks for the screen than how it smells and tastes to real people in real time.

I don’t know how people will react to my dinner tomorrow night, but I’m so hyped preparing for it and imagining it that I know this is what I have to do.

I have to be in a kitchen, pushing myself creatively, and watching people enjoy it.

That’s what I love about being a chef. Not the fame or the sponsorships or the followers. The food. And the moments it creates.”

I turn to Molly and find her looking at me like I’ve hung the moon. “That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard,” she says. “I’m so proud of you. It must have been really tough to turn down an offer like that.”

“My manager, Edgar, took it pretty hard,” I admit, remembering how crushed he sounded on the phone. “But me? I feel like I’m in control of my own destiny. And it’s fucking awesome.”

Molly kisses me on the cheek and scoots in closer to my side as we both look at the stars above us.

“I’ll miss this view,” I say.

Molly leans her head on my shoulder. “I will too. But it’s almost one a.m., and we’ve got a big day tomorrow. Maybe we should get some sleep.”

I rest my head against Molly’s and ask, “Five more minutes?”

Molly nods gently, and my head moves up and down with hers. “Five more minutes.”