Читать книгу Party of Three - Joan Kilby - Страница 10

“TIPPERARY SPRINGS Restaurant thinks it’s the only fine dining establishment in town. We’ll show them.” Steve stroked his trim silver goatee and paced the kitchen floor in front of the serving window. He wore a navy cashmere jacket and designer blue jeans pressed with a knife-edge crease. Upper crust effing nerd, Gord called him. “I must have that chef’s hat,” Steve went on. “Ben, you will create a new dish using…scallops.” He stroked his goatee some more. “Yes, scallops are good. I like scallops.”

Ben just nodded and took out his frustrations on a batch of sourdough, pummeling it beneath the heel of his hand. There was no more demanding employer than a frustrated amateur cook. “Scallops it is.”

Over by the sink, Baz was hulling strawberries destined to be made into a coulis for Beth’s panna cotta dessert special. Gord was throwing roasted chicken bones and roughly chopped vegetables into the enormous stockpot simmering on the stove. The yeasty scent of the sourdough, the chicken stock, the aniseed aroma of tarragon clinging to the cutting board, created a pleasing melange of smells. The radio was tuned to popular music, loud enough for everyone to hear over the clang of pots and slam of oven doors.

Out in the restaurant, the phone rang. Steve roused himself from his reverie about scallops and went to answer it.

What had happened to Ally? After breakfast, Ben had wandered past the Cottage Rentals and poked his head through the glass door, but she hadn’t been at her desk. Instead, an evil-looking crow of a woman had glared at him over the top of narrow glasses. He was pretty sure he’d interrupted her in the middle of putting a hex on the other girl, the stocky blond one. By now, she’d probably been turned into a toad.

“We have a problem, gentlemen,” Steve announced on his return to the kitchen, adding belatedly, “er, and Beth.”

“What is it?” Ben rubbed at his nose with the back of a floury hand.

“Cassie,” Steve said. “I did her a favor hiring her and already she’s quit.”

Gord threw double handfuls of fresh thyme, parsley and rosemary into the stockpot. “Good riddance. Did she give a reason?”

Steve turned to the sous chef. “As a matter of fact, she did. She didn’t like your attitude, Gord.”

“What the hell does she mean my attitude?” Gord growled.

“Maybe she means you telling her to get her fat arse out of the kitchen and to the front of the house where she belonged.” Baz’s fingertips were red and a telltale dribble of crimson juice stained his chin.

Gord turned on him. “You keep your effing mouth shut. And stop eating them berries or they’ll come out of your effing pay.”

“Stow it, you two,” Ben said. “Steve, can you hire someone else in time for tonight?”

“Julie will have to cover for her,” Steve replied. “I’ve given Cassie until the end of the week to change her mind, otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it from my wife.” He sighed. “If anyone needs me I’ll be in my office nursing a migraine.”

A busy waitress doubling as maître d’. Ben shook his head and folded over the wad of dough, slamming the heel of his hand into the yielding softness till the compressed gas bubbles squeaked. This was a surefire recipe for disaster.

ALLY PUSHED THROUGH the front door of Mangos into the dining room. The twelve-foot ceiling and padded high-backed wooden bench that ran along two walls gave the bistro a European flavor, while the marble fireplace, crisp white linen and mismatched wooden chairs lent the room a funky elegance. A huge vase of fresh flowers sat at one end of the polished mahogany bar. The only jarring note was the expanse of bare gray walls devoid of decoration.

A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and a lean swarthy man with a shaved head were setting the tables with cloth napkins, cutlery and wineglasses. They must be the waitstaff. Ally recognized the woman as Julie Marsden, a school friend of Melissa’s. “Hi, Julie,” she called out. “Is Ben here?”

“Hi, Ally. He’s in the kitchen.” Julie gestured to a short hallway to the left and behind the bar. “Go through.”

“Thanks.” Ally went in the direction Julie had indicated and found herself in the serving area of the kitchen. Heat radiated from the bank of ovens in the center of the room. A short man with wiry red hair was cursing at a spotty-faced youth, and a young woman with wispy blond hair was mixing what looked like cake batter in an enormous stainless steel bowl.

Ben was shaping dough into mini cob loaves, cutting off even-sized lumps with a pastry knife and rolling them into smooth balls between his palms. Ally found herself mesmerized by the sensual movements of his scarred hands. Her gaze followed his fingers up forearms taut with muscle and sinew to broad shoulders, to his full mouth, strong nose and forehead frowning in concentration.

No one had heard her come in over the sound of the music. She cleared her throat. “Ahem.”

Ben glanced up and his expression lightened. “I was just thinking about you.”

Ally looked at the mound of creamy dough in his hand and couldn’t help but blush. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to finish this.” With speed and dexterity he shaped the remaining loaves and placed them on flat pans to proof. Moving to the sink, Ben washed his hands with soap and hot water and dried them on the towel tucked into the waistband of his apron. “Let’s go into the dining room.”

Ally followed him out to the bar and hoisted herself onto a stool.

“Brandy?” Ben asked innocently.

Ally shuddered. “No, thanks—” she began, then noticed his grin. Her lips tightened in disapproval and she drew herself upright. “I have a place for you and Danny to live. It’s a house, not a cottage, but there’s no fixed-term lease.”

“When can we move in?” Ben picked up a swizzle stick from a glass container and twirled it between his fingers.

“Right away, but there’s a catch,” she added. “You’d have to share. You see, it’s my house. I live there, too.”

“I don’t know…”

“There are three bedrooms,” she added hurriedly. “We don’t have to share in that sense.”

The swizzle stick snapped between his fingers.

Shut up, Ally. Shutupshutupshutup—

“This is the first time Danny’s lived with me since my divorce five years ago,” Ben explained. “I was planning on it being just me and him.”

“I understand.” She’d scared him off with her crazy talk about sharing. Gathering up her purse she prepared to leave. “I’ll see what else I can find for you.”

“On the other hand.” Ben flashed her an easy grin, “I’m flexible.”

Ally gave him a strained smile. “Have a look and then decide. I can take you there now.”

“Great. I’ll just let Gord know I’m going.” Ben slid off the stool and headed for the kitchen, untying his apron as he went.

Ally picked up the broken pieces of the swizzle stick and found a rubbish bin on the other side of the bar to dispose of them. Behind the counter little metal containers of green olives, cocktail onions and maraschino cherries were neatly lined up in the drink mixing area. The olives were just a touch out of alignment so she nudged the container into place.

Hearing footsteps behind her she turned. Ben was back with Danny in tow. The boy regarded her warily. She guessed she couldn’t blame him. “Hi, Danny.”

Danny said nothing until Ben nudged him. “Hi.”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t really a dipsomaniac but felt it beneath her dignity to explain herself to a twelve-year-old. Besides, if they moved in with her the boy would soon see how upright and responsible she was.

Ben followed her in his battered blue utility truck and parked behind her in the driveway. He got out and turned slowly, taking in the view of the town and the distant hills. “This is fantastic.”

Ally was used to it but she knew what he meant. His prediction about the clouds burning off had come true. The rain had washed the air clean and every leaf and blade of grass was etched against the brilliant blue. The air was fragrant with jasmine growing over the back fence.

She hurried him inside before the wind changed and he got a whiff of the farm on the other side of the hill. She didn’t mind the smell of cows and horses but Ben was from Melbourne and if she’d learned anything from renting out cottages, it was that most city people could only handle the country in small, sanitized doses.

“Nice house,” Ben said, gazing around at the saffron walls with the triptych of moody clouds-at-sunset photos, the overstuffed maroon sofa covered in pink and persimmon silk cushions and the orange tulips in a glass vase on the walnut coffee table. Ally especially loved this room at the end of the day when it glowed with the sinking sun.

“The bedrooms are this way,” she said, leading them down the hall. Every room had a different theme color, tied together by glossy white trim. Ben’s room, painted a warm cobalt-blue, contained a double bed and not much else besides a chest of drawers and a chair. Ally threw the curtains back on the north-facing window and the room was flooded with natural light.

“I like this,” Ben said, nodding.

“Danny can sleep in here,” she said, leading them across the hall to the study. It was the most utilitarian room in the house because she’d shared it with George. She was annoyed to see that although her ex was gone his things weren’t. “There’s a single bed under all those binders and the rest of this will go,” she said waving at the filing cabinets and bookshelves. “Well, the computer is mine but I can put it in my room.”

“I don’t mind if you leave it here,” Danny piped up.

“Why would you want it?” Ben said. “You’ve got one.”

“I can network the two and play games against myself.” Danny’s bright blue eyes glazed over at the thought. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“We’re not talking chess, are we?” Ben asked.

“Search and Destroy,” Danny said enthusiastically. “Command and Conquer. Gory and Gorier.”

“I’ll move the computer into my room,” Ally said, settling the matter. “Excuse me a moment. I need to make a phone call.”

While Ben and Danny moved on to the bathroom Ally called George’s mobile and got his message bank. “I’m renting the spare bedrooms so you need to move your things out,” she said. “Today.”

She snapped the phone shut with a smile. That felt good. Draconian but good. Exhilarating, even.

When she got back to the others she found Ben inspecting the plastic trays in which she stored her bits and pieces, each neatly labeled; first aid, hair accessories, makeup, etceteras.

“Very organized,” Ben observed.

“I have more of these trays,” Ally told him. “You and Danny can have your own.”

Ben exchanged a glance with his son then smiled at Ally. “That won’t be necessary.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she assured him.

“Can we see the backyard?” Ben asked.

She’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask that but she headed down the hall to the kitchen and the sliding doors that led onto the back deck. “Right this way.”

Put mildly, the yard was a shambles. Oh, it was big enough, huge, in fact. There was a large grassy area, some shade trees, an old veggie garden she’d never gotten around to cultivating and a tumbled-down shed. The lawn hadn’t been mowed in weeks—okay, months. The weeds were waist-high and just thinking about what might be lurking in the heap of rusted metal and wood scraps tossed in one of the back corners made her shudder.

Ben was entranced. He didn’t even seem to mind the barnyard odors now wafting their way. He strode over every inch of turf making excited noises. Ally followed, treading heavily to frighten away snakes.

“You could grow anything in this soil—herbs, veggies, anything.” He dug into the dirt and watched it sift through his long fingers like gold dust. Shaking off the remaining particles he strode over to the derelict shed. Ally had stored gardening tools there until she’d encountered a redback spider. After that she’d erected a new prefab shed.

Ben seemed to think the old shed was still good for something. “With a little work we could convert this to a chicken coop.”

“Chickens?” Ally said dubiously.

“Fresh free-range eggs,” Ben said, already in chef nirvana. “What do you think, Danny? Shall we live here?”

Danny shrugged. “It beats the apartment.”

“We’ll move in today,” Ben said to Ally. “If you’re sure you want us, that is. Maybe you’ll reconcile with your fiancé.”

“No chance,” she said firmly. “Today, it is.”

Ben and Danny went away and returned that afternoon, the back of the ute loaded with suitcases and boxes. The furniture belonged to the apartment, which was just as well since Ally didn’t have room for it. What Ben did have a lot of was kitchen gadgets.

There was a pasta maker, espresso machine, commercial juicer, industrial-strength electric mixer and what looked like a nuclear-powered food processor. Then there were copper-bottom saucepans, heavy-gauge roasting pans, Italian casserole dishes, French cast-iron grill pans, stainless-steel mixing bowls—the largest of which Ally swore she could have taken a bath in.

While they were unloading the ute George showed up. He didn’t look happy when he saw Ben and Danny. Ally wasn’t happy that George hadn’t brought a truck. She met him on the veranda. “You’re supposed to be moving your stuff out.”

Ignoring her, George jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Who are they?”

“My new tenants, Ben and Danny.” Ally shifted impatiently. “I need you to move those filing cabinets.”

“I’m not moving the cabinets,” George said, his jaw jutting forward.

She used to think his stubbornness showed strength of character but now she saw he was merely inflexible. “Then why are you here?”

“Excuse me.” Ben edged past them up the steps, carrying two heavy suitcases in each hand. Ally’s gaze followed him. All that whipping and beating certainly put muscles on a man.

“Yesterday morning you wanted to talk,” George said, forcing her attention back to him. “I’m here to talk.”

Ally stared. He was serious. “It’s an expression, George. It means, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Why?” He saw her gaze stray back to Ben and a knowing expression lit his nearsighted eyes. “Oh, I get it. I’ve been feeling guilty about having an affair and here you’ve been having it off with the cook all along.”

“Shh,” she hissed as Danny, carrying a huge cardboard box that blocked his vision, felt his way up the steps.

Danny paused and rested his box on his bent knee to say to George, “Don’t let him hear you call him a cook. He’ll go after you with his cleaver.”

“You’re having sex with a maniac!” George grated under his breath.

“He’s not a maniac!” Ally said. “You call yourself a psychiatrist? You can’t even tell when a boy is making a joke. I am not having sex with Ben. I only met him yesterday.”

At the top of the stairs Danny turned. “I wasn’t joking. He’s a chef, not a cook.”

“Yesterday!” George dragged her to the other side of the veranda, out of Ben and Danny’s earshot. “Yesterday you were going to marry me. I know you still love me,” he said. “You’re upset over Kathy and now you’re acting out. I don’t blame you. But I’m telling you, she’s nothing to me. I’ll stop seeing her. In fact, I’ll fire her.”

Ally couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was this what he imagined would appease her? If possible, George sank even lower in her estimation. “Don’t you dare fire her. Not even Kathy deserves that kind of treatment. Look, George, I don’t want to fight. I just want you to get your things and get out of my life.”

“Where do you expect me to go?”

“If Kathy won’t have you, the apartment over Mangos restaurant has recently been vacated.”

“Can’t we talk this over?” he pleaded. “Things are happening too fast.”

Events were unfolding quickly. After living in slow motion for the past year the current pace of her life was a bit unnerving. But now that she’d involved Ben and Danny she couldn’t turn back. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she said. “You’re moving out.”