Page 43 of Boss of the Year

“But you know what I learned?” She smacked the table. “Life is short. The love of my life was here one day, and the next he wasn’t. Just like that.”

Her voice cracked. Joni refilled her wineglass without being asked.

“I spent so much time when we were young being careful,” Lea went on. “Pushing him away. Waiting to have kids. Waiting to do so many things with him. And I still got hurt. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade a single day of the last twenty years, Marie. Even knowing how it would end.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Usually, Lea was the practical one, the one who told us to be sensible, to think things through.

“If you want this Daniel guy, then go after him.”

“But you said?—”

“Forget what I said. Job be damned. Life’s too short to spend it wondering ‘what if.’”

I tried again. “Butwhat if?—”

“What if he breaks your heart?” Lea predicted. “What if it doesn’t work out? Marie, what if itdoeswork out? What if this idiot is your person, and every day you wait is just one more day you could have with him in this short life that you gave away because of fear?”

I stared at her. Joni did too. Even the boys paused in their Lego construction to listen to their mother.

Nathan stood up from his chair, then pulled Joni up too and kissed her. Right there in front of all of us.

“Ew!” MJ and Petey both crowed until Tommy shushed them as he rocked Lupe to sleep.

Lea and I watched them until it was clear they weren’t going to stop, and then Lea turned to me.

“Just do it,” she said simply. “Seize the day. Because take it from me, Marie, none of us knows how much time we have left with the people we love.”

10

FRENCH OMELETTE

*the trick is low heat. The eggs should make a custard, not a shell.

The alarm chirped at 4:30 a.m., and I slapped it silent before pushing myself up and turning on the bedside lamp.

For a moment, it was like the last year hadn’t even happened. Last night, I’d fallen asleep in the rose-sprigged sheets issued to all the live-in staff with the familiar two-hundred-year-old oak whispering outside my window. Upon waking, I’d reached back for the braid that used to fall down my back in the mornings, ready to tie my hair into its bun before heading to the kitchen for breakfast prep.

It was only when I realized that my hair was still short that the rest of the year came back to me. Along with the fact that, as of today, I was no longer an assistant cook or kitchen maid, but the head chef-in-training at Prideview.

First, I had to shower.

The early mornings had always been my time at Prideview. It was one of the first things Ondine had delegated once I’d beenhired as her assistant, since she was a night owl of the first order. To my surprise, I never minded getting up well before the sun rose.

The world was quiet before dawn. Even on the stormiest days, the Sound would always be smoothest at this particular time, when the first glimmers of light were hinting at the horizon. I could think more easily at this time of day, without others around to cloud my ideas with their actions. Things were simple. Easy.

The kitchen was dark and silent as I stepped in, still buttoning my chef’s coat. I flicked on the lights and started my routine like I’d never stopped: espresso for myself first, then the morning breakfast prep for an hour. By six, I’d have coffee and toast for any early risers along with Winnifred’s post-Pilates protein shake. Ondine would join me at seven to prepare the formal breakfast, but these tranquil morning hours were mine alone.

I pulled out eggs, cream, and chives fresh from the garden. The menu for the day was already planned—French omelettes for breakfast, a simplesalade Niçoisefor lunch, and a rack of lamb with rosemary and garlic, accompanied bypommes Annaandharicots vertsfor dinner. Classic, elegant, and well within my comfort zone.

An hour later, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of Kenyan light-roasted coffee and chopped chives. I’d prepared the vinaigrette for lunch, marinated the lamb, and was slicing potatoes when I heard footsteps approaching.

Mrs. Lyons? Her training session must have finished early.

The kitchen door swung open, but instead of Winnifred, it was Lucas who strode in with the purpose of an army general. He was dressed for the day in a dark gray suit tailored for his tall body, a crisp white shirt, and a quiet, maroon paisley tie tucked into a vest.

Was it old-fashioned?

Yes.