Page 13

Chapter 13

Sawyer

What had changed between them? McCoy hadn’t so much as batted her eyelashes Sawyer’s way in the last week and a half. Why? And, more importantly, why was the lack of attention so disconcerting?

As Sawyer glanced around the front house dining room, observing the faces she’d come to know over the years, those questions circled her thoughts like vultures to prey. Had McCoy met someone and quickly gotten bored with Sawyer? She couldn’t imagine jumping into bed with a stranger. Passion hadn’t stolen her common sense since she was sixteen, so she couldn’t see any logic behind a one-night stand. To each their own, she supposed. Still, the thought of McCoy sleeping around unsettled Sawyer.

Sawyer massaged the tension in the back of her neck, spotting Barb in her peripheral vision. Her sous-chef watched her, likely waiting for Sawyer to commence the pre-shift meeting. Picking up her glass of ice water, Sawyer took a long drink before saying, “Let’s get started, shall we? Mikey, what have you got?”

“Thank you, Chef.” Mikey, Sawyer’s front house supervisor, glanced at the notes he’d written down. “We’ve been getting a lot of compliments on this season’s added menu dishes, namely the fresh take on our bouillabaisse . And I’ve heard quite a few customers commenting how nicely the new light fixtures suit the dining room.”

“Very good,” Sawyer acknowledged. “By the way, let Kelly know by shift’s end what inventory needs to be ordered.”

“Certainly, Chef.”

“What else do you have for me? Kelly, what about you? Any potential hires coming my way?” Sawyer asked, sparing a glance at her phone resting on the table before her. She toyed with it absently, her gaze trained on her manager, but her mind wandered. McCoy had showed up that morning sporting a fresh undercut, the fine hairs trimmed low to her scalp, and the urge to slide her fingers over it had come on so strong that Sawyer had dug her nails into her palms. Hours later, she still bore the indents. Since when did she fantasize about burying a piece of herself into someone’s hair of all places? She was off-kilter, thinking and almost doing things she’d never considered pre-McCoy.

Kelly filled her in on the handful of résumés passed in, but only two seemed promising for an interview. Sawyer gave her the go-ahead to set them up, preferring to stay out of it as much as possible. Cindy’s offer of coming to work for her circled back more often than not, but it was more of a last resort for Sawyer. She liked things done her way, and Cindy, well, she wasn’t one to easily fall in line. Truly, Sawyer would be doing her friend a favor by not hiring her.

“I have news,” Sawyer informed everyone once Kelly was finished. “Last night, while Desmarais was closed, I had video surveillance installed in all the storage rooms.”

Murmurs broke out over the dining room, loud enough to drown out Sawyer’s next words, so she paused and took a sip of her water. When she held her hand up, the voices abruptly died off as all eyes focused on her once more. Sawyer curled her lip, disgust slipping past her collected features. “In light of recent … events going on behind closed doors, higher security is a must. Furthermore, the surveillance company replaced the cameras near the washrooms and walk-in fridges with newer models.”

It was truly a shame. Having an outstanding ability to float in the kitchen had allowed Dustin so many liberties in the three years he’d worked for Desmarais. She'd spent a long time waiting for her husband to install cameras in the storage rooms, especially after a significant theft years prior, but he always gaslighted her when the topic came up. She later found out why. Dustin wasn’t the first she’d stumbled upon with his pants down. As rumor had it, Olivier had been with at least two of the servers while Sawyer was on shift. He’d always found some way to humiliate her. Needless to say, surveillance was long overdue.

“It should go without saying, but I feel like I need to remind everyone to keep Desmarais as drama-free as possible. That includes sneaking alone time with any of the staff.”

“Olivier used to,” someone in the back murmured, probably hoping Sawyer couldn’t hear.

Fury mottled her cheeks, and her fingers gripped the edge of the table hard. “ Esti !” she said through gritted teeth. “Olivier is dead, and quite honestly, I could do with never hearing his name spoken in Desmarais again. Now that he’s gone, I not only run my kitchen, but I’m also the sole owner of the entire restaurant. You’d do well to remember that. I’m paying you to work when you’re here, not slip away from food prep when it suits you. Do I make myself clear?”

Sawyer’s gaze swept the room, landing on each one of her staff to make certain they were all on the same page. Kelly sat across from her, pride evident in her warm eyes. “Yes, Chef.” A chorus of replies rang through the room.

“Good.” Sawyer took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she spoke again. Taking another drink, she said in a much calmer voice, “Just so everyone understands, I’ll have Kelly draw up new contracts for everyone to sign at the next meeting. That’ll be all, then. Thank you all for the hard work.”

“I thought you handled them well,” Kelly said, picking up her notepad and mug of coffee. Her office was just off the dining area. She used to share it with Olivier, when he seldomly made an appearance, and hated every minute of it.

“Oh yeah, the staff love when I lay down the law,” Sawyer wryly replied. She picked up her phone, swiping the passcode in to see that her daughter had replied to Sawyer’s latest text. They’d been trying to schedule a video call, but so far, their schedules weren’t lining up.

Bree: I can try to stay awake if you want to call when you get off work? Xoxo

“Bree,” Sawyer explained to Barb, who stood waiting for her. She gestured to her phone, “We’ve been playing phone tag.”

“Good to see Bree is still a mama’s girl,” Barb said with a fond smile. “I’m lucky if my kids call me once a week, let alone FaceTime. Kylie has the new baby, and Trent is so caught up with getting his Masters.”

“That’s life, unfortunately.” Sawyer sighed, following Barb into the kitchen. “I’ll be in my office for a bit if you need me.”

“Got it, Chef.”

Sawyer sunk into her office chair the moment the door was closed. Tension radiated through her shoulders, neck, and up behind her eyes. Lately, it had been taking less and less to get her to this point physically. How would she get through the next eight hours if stress was taking its toll so soon?

She took two Advil before opening her text thread with Bree again.

Sawyer: Okay, I’ll let it ring twice and then hang up so I don’t wake you or Scott. Je t’aime , darling.

Sawyer pressed Send before returning to her home SMS screen. At once, she saw the thread she’d kept of her and McCoy’s conversation. She’d found herself slipping into the thread repeatedly over the past week, rereading McCoy’s daily facts she had previously deemed annoying and attention-seeking. Now, she was shocked to find she missed the consistent interaction with the younger woman.

Is this somehow a punishment in McCoy’s eyes?

It was the only thing that made sense. McCoy had been acting off since Sawyer had instructed her to show up that Sunday evening, almost two weeks before.

“She’s certainly sensitive,” Sawyer commented, opening the thread yet again. McCoy never complained about the one-sided conversation, and Sawyer secretly enjoyed learning about her this way. It was informal and much less daunting than trying to connect with someone face-to-face. Interpersonal connection had never been Sawyer’s forte. But this … this was doable. If McCoy had continued, Sawyer might have relented with a few facts of her own. Now, they’d never know.

She settled more comfortably into her chair, scrolling mid-way up to McCoy Miller’s fact number six she’d sent weeks before.

McCoy: 6. I want to backpack through Europe. It’s always been a dream of mine but I’ve never been able to save for a trip just for the sake of it. Something always delayed it.

McCoy: 7. I’ve had the same password since highschool. Iluvb00bies96 lol. I’ve tried to change it a bunch of times but can never remember the new one.

McCoy: 8. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Just in case you’re into cybercrime, ya know?

McCoy: 9. You have the most beautiful eye color I’ve ever seen.

She watched from the living room as her friends spoke in hushed tones in the kitchen. They were washing up the dishes together after a delicious meal of chicken cordon bleu and herb and garlic rice. Occasionally, one of them would giggle, and then a minute or two of silence would follow as they kissed. And each time, Sawyer looked away, uncomfortable. It wasn’t sex itself that bothered her; she and Olivier had quite a regular sex life at one time. No, it was the unbridled passion emitting from both Cindy and Lori. Twenty-three years later, they still wanted to be together. Was it lust, or love, or both? Olivier had never looked at Sawyer like that, but maybe it was because he’d known. He’d known she’d never look at him the way Lori looked at Cindy.

“Admit it, you’re glad you came over.”

Sawyer looked up from where she was perusing the extensive vinyl record collection. Cindy was standing a foot or two away, two glasses of wine in her hands.

“What’s not to enjoy? The meal was superb, the company lively.” Sawyer accepted one of the glasses Cindy offered.

Cindy clinked Sawyer’s glass of wine lightly with her own. “Cheers. It’s good to see you too, old friend. Don’t tell her I told you, but Lori was beside herself last night when I confirmed you were coming. I woke up to her baking fresh sourdough bread.”

Sawyer’s answering grin was small, but the confession left a comical image of Lori racing frantically around the kitchen before she had to leave for work. Lori wasn’t a chef by any means, so the effort made it all the more special to Sawyer.

“Ugh, I’m stuffed.” Cindy patted her stomach and led the way to the sofa. She flung herself down, some of the wine tipping out onto the sofa and floor in the process. Sawyer’s eyes widened as she tried not to think of the stain it would leave in the microsuede. “How’s Bree doing? She’d mentioned something about social work not being what she’d had in mind the last time she FaceTimed Lori and I.”

“Really?” Sawyer was genuinely confused. And disappointed . It was the first she’d heard of it, and she usually spoke to Bree at least once a week. Why was she the last to know about the goings on with her daughter? She opened her mouth to say so when Lori strolled into the living room.

“What’ll it be? Scrabble, Pictionary, or Ticket to Ride?”

“ Master Chef ?”

Cindy and Lori groaned at Sawyer’s innocent question. “What? I haven’t watched the latest season yet.”

“You can watch that at home. C’mon, when was the last time you stayed for a board game?” Cindy asked, tossing the throw pillow in Sawyer’s direction.

“Fine, then. Scrabble.”

“Scrabble it is, then,” Lori announced, setting the game down on the coffee table.

“You’re nothing if not predictable,” Cindy added with a chuckle.

Sawyer narrowed her gaze on Cindy between sips of her wine, but it was true. At least with Scrabble, she could surmise the best way to accumulate the greatest number of points. She was a little tipsy, so she wasn’t thinking when she said, “Will there be snacks with this game?”

Lori laughed, climbing to her feet again. “I’m on it, Chef Lavoie.”

A gush of air left Sawyer as she blew a raspberry. “What an awful nickname.”

“Oh, you love it. Don’t even pretend otherwise.”

Sawyer rolled her eyes but found herself smiling. She stared after Lori as she disappeared into the kitchen, her long, flowing dreadlocks bobbing back and forth as she walked. Sawyer sighed.

Cindy nudged Sawyer’s hand, which was draped over the back of the sofa, her gaze trailing after Lori as well. A soft smile breached the edges of her mouth. “You could have what we do, Sawyer.”

Sawyer frowned, her good mood quickly fading. She was sick and tired of Cindy constantly in her ear about romance. It was highly overrated, short-lasting, and quite often fiction. “I had that, if you recall. All it proved was how resilient I was. That, and someone actually being home when you got there wasn’t set in stone.”

“You had Olivier.” Cindy shook her head sadly. “He wasn’t your first, second, or third choice. Do you remember? You told me that shortly after we met, how akin you felt to me right away. That seeing how I lived gave you the realization you’d needed.”

“Cindy, please.”

“The acceptance to be yourself.”

“I knew who I was. And so did Olivier,” Sawyer hissed, not wanting Lori to hear them. She looked away, lifting the wine glass to her lips. “Knowing and living your authentic self are two very different things, but you’ve never had to figure that out. Be glad for it.”

“It wasn’t always easy for me either, Sawyer.”

“Oh? Were you forced into conversion therapy, too?” Sawyer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. Four glasses of wine were probably her limit. “I didn’t think so. It fucks you up, Cin. To grow up believing you have an illness, terrified to even look at a girl, let alone befriend one. To love one.”

“Well, this conversation changed drastically in the few minutes I was gone,” Lori commented, letting out a strained chuckle. She placed two bowls down, one of chips and one of M&M’s.

“I’m just explaining to Cindy how we can’t all find happily-ever-afters. Some of us are better off alone.”

“And I’m politely disagreeing with you. You’ll never know unless you try. You have a lot to give, Sawyer. Someone out there deserves to know the real you.”

For some ungodly reason, McCoy’s lazy smile the first time Sawyer had seen her came to mind. It was like a sucker punch to the already crater-sized hole in her gut. If she had been standing, her legs probably would have buckled.

“I have Bree,” she replied, softer than she’d thought possible. She thought of the babies she’d lost, especially Brian. Olivier used to say Sawyer’s miscarriages were God’s way of making certain she atoned for her sins. As if marrying him in the first place hadn’t been enough penance. She’d buried who she was out of fear that everything her father and the church had stuffed down her throat was the truth. She’d endured a loveless marriage, and for what? Even her parents had turned their back on her after Brian’s death, choosing to side with Olivier rather than offer her and Bree emotional support. It was then she realized how much of a monster her father truly was. He’d excused years of abuse against her for the sake of his church, and Sawyer had refused to live a second more of it. She turned her back on that faith and vowed to herself never to speak to her parents or Olivier’s family again. Fifteen years later, they were all as good as dead to her.

No, life had dealt her too much pain to start over, even if it meant finally coming out of the closet. Bree was all Sawyer needed to remind her of the goodness still left in the world. Her throat was raw as she added, “I’ve done my time. Why would I voluntarily submit to another sentence?”

This time, Lori reached out to comfort Sawyer, her soft brown skin on Sawyer’s a stark contrast. All the hand-touching and sympathy had her cringing. “I’ll say this, and then I think we should move on to our game. Falling in love with the right person is the opposite of a jail sentence. It feels like you could have all the time in the world with them, and it still wouldn’t be enough. They see you, heal the brokenness inside. They become the other half of you, the best half.”

Sawyer swallowed, aware of her pulse slowly picking up at Lori’s words. All Olivier had ever done was bring on more misery than he was worth. She’d never once felt that kind of love for someone. How was it she was in her forties and still felt so monumentally inexperienced?