Читать книгу Feels Like Family - Sherryl Woods - Страница 5

2

It was nearly seven when Helen finished with her last client. Barb had left an hour earlier, so she turned off the lights and closed up the office, relieved to have the workday behind her.

Outside she weighed the prospect of going home to her empty house against dropping in at Sullivan’s for a decent meal and a few snatched minutes of Dana Sue’s time. Anytime she could see one of the Sweet Magnolias, as they had once called themselves, she grabbed it. Maybe she could lay some groundwork before she and Karen met with her formally tomorrow at the restaurant. Barb had already set up that appointment for two o’clock, after the lunch crowd thinned out.

The restaurant, which specialized in what Dana Sue called new Southern cuisine, was packed, as it was most nights. Though Serenity’s population was only 3500 or so, the restaurant’s reputation had spread through the entire region thanks to excellent reviews in the Charleston and Columbia newspapers.

Helen was greeted at the door by Brenda, the harried waitress. “I should have a table opening up in a few minutes,” she told Helen. “Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all. Do you think I’ll be risking life and limb if I stick my head in the kitchen to say hello to Dana Sue?”

Brenda grinned. “I’d say that depends on whether you’re prepared to pitch in and help. She and Erik have their hands full tonight. It’s been crazy ever since that review in the Columbia paper. If it’s going to stay this busy, she needs to hire some additional prep staff for the kitchen and some more waitstaff. Paul and I have just about run ourselves to death tonight, even with the busboys pitching in. And just so you know, we ran out of all the specials an hour ago.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Helen said, then headed for the kitchen.

When she pushed open the door and stepped in, she saw Dana Sue at the huge gas stove. Face flushed from the heat, Dana Sue juggled half a dozen different sauté pans, then slid the contents onto waiting plates, added the decorative sauces and spicy salsas, and moved them to a pickup area for the waitstaff.

Her expression filled with relief when she spotted Helen. “Grab an apron,” she ordered. “We need you. It’s nuts in here.”

“Looks to me like what you need is more trained help. Where’s Erik?” Helen asked as she whipped off her suit jacket, hung it on a peg in the pantry, then found an apron and put it on over her two-hundred-dollar designer silk blouse.

“Right behind you,” a deep voice rumbled. “Watch your step. I’m loaded down.”

She turned and found him carrying a tray laden with pies fresh from the oven. She could smell the heady aromas of peaches, cinnamon and vanilla.

“If you’ll give me a slice of that, I’ll be your slave for the rest of the night,” she said.

Erik grinned at her. “I’ll save you a whole pie, but you don’t have time to eat it now. I need you to mix up another batch of the mango-papaya chutney for the fish.” His gaze skimmed her outfit and he shook his head. “You realize that blouse is heading straight for the dry cleaner’s after this, don’t you?”

Helen shrugged. She had a dozen more in her closet. It wouldn’t be a huge loss. “Not a problem.”

His dark eyes warmed. “That’s what I love about you. No pretensions. Underneath that icy courtroom demeanor that I hear you possess lies the soul of a woman ruled by a passion for food and a willingness to help out a friend in distress, no matter the personal cost.”

The compliment caught her off guard. When the usually taciturn Erik popped out with something unexpected or insightful, as he occasionally did, it made her wonder what his story was. She winked at him. “I’m only this cavalier because I figure with the size of tonight’s crowd, Dana Sue’s good for the cost of another blouse.”

“Don’t,” he protested. “You’re ruining my illusions. Do you remember how to make the chutney?”

Helen shook her head. “But don’t worry. I know where the recipes are. I’ll get that one and find the supplies in the storeroom. I’ll have another batch whipped up in no time. You don’t need to supervise.”

“As if,” Dana Sue called out from her station by the stove. “Erik is so thrilled to have someone to supervise for once, he’s not going to pass up the chance.”

Within moments, Helen had fallen into the frantic rhythm of the kitchen. When she could, she snatched glances at Erik, admiring the efficiency with which he moved almost as much as she craved the desserts which he excelled at making. Though he’d been hired primarily as a pastry chef right after graduating from the Atlanta Culinary Institute—which he’d attended after apparently leaving some other career he never mentioned—his role in Sullivan’s kitchen had been expanded over time. Dana Sue relied on him as her backup and had officially named him as assistant manager just a few weeks earlier.

In his late 30s or early 40s, he had a wry wit, a gentle demeanor and was fiercely loyal to and protective of Dana Sue. Helen liked that about him, almost as much as she liked his pastries and occasionally lusted after his six-pack abs and competent hands. That she lusted after him at all was a surprise, because she’d always preferred polished executives over the strong, silent, athletic types.

Helen was relegated to the most basic duties for the next two hours, but she liked being part of the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. The aromas were delectable, the excitement and stress palpable. If cooking at home were half this much fun, she might do it more often. Instead her culinary endeavors ran to scrambled eggs, when she remembered to buy any, and the occasional baked potato. She did make a damn fine margarita, though, if she did say so herself. That was the result of a few summers in Hilton Head working as a bartender during law school. She’d made great tips, great contacts and learned a lot about human nature.

By the time the last meal had been served and only a few customers were lingering over coffee and dessert, she was exhausted from being on her feet for so long, to say nothing of being half-starved.

“Okay, you two, that’s it,” Erik said, hustling them toward the door to the dining room. “Get in there and sit down. I’ll bring you both dinner in a few minutes.”

Dana Sue shook her head. “Only if you’re going to join us,” she told him. “You haven’t had a break all night, either.”

“Sure,” Erik said. “But you need to eat now and Helen needs to kick off those ridiculous heels she insists on wearing.”

Vaguely miffed by the comment, Helen stuck out her foot in its sexy high-heeled sandal, her most extravagant indulgence. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”

Erik’s gaze lingered on her foot with its perfectly manicured pink toenails, then traveled slowly up her leg to the hem of her skirt, now hitched up to show a couple of inches of thigh. “Speaking as a man, there is nothing wrong with those shoes,” he told her, regarding her with amusement. “Speaking as someone who’s watched you hobbling around in here for the past couple of hours, I’d say they’re inappropriate for being on your feet for very long.”

Mollified, she grinned. “You may have a point. If me pitching in around here is going to become a habit, I should probably keep some sneakers in Dana Sue’s office.”

Dana Sue gave her a startled look. “You own sneakers?”

“Don’t be snide. What do you think I wear when I work out?”

“Oh, yeah, those customized things you created online in colors to match your workout clothes,” Dana Sue said.

Erik looked at Helen in amusement. “What’s wrong with the sneakers you buy at the mall?”

Helen gave him a disdainful look. “Everyone has them,” she replied. “Come on, Dana Sue. I can’t possibly deal with a man in faded jeans and a grease-stained T-shirt who doesn’t understand fashion, no matter how sexy he thinks he is.”

Erik chuckled, while Dana Sue said, “Right now, all I care about is that he understands food.” She gave Erik a wink as she and Helen headed for the dining room and a corner booth away from the few remaining customers.

As soon as they were seated, Helen groaned and kicked off her shoes under the table. “Please don’t tell Erik, okay? These things are torture if I’m on my feet too long. They’ll definitely never be my dancin’ shoes.”

“Still, it’s a small price to pay for looking sexy.” Dana Sue grinned. “I haven’t worn shoes like that in years. I’d break my neck.”

“Next time you want to knock Ronnie’s socks off, I’ll let you borrow a pair of mine,” Helen said.

Dana Sue’s eyebrows rose and fell. “I knock his socks off no matter what I wear.”

“Then the honeymoon’s still not over?”

“You can stop asking me that, you know,” Dana Sue said smugly. “Ronnie and I expect to be in the honeymoon phase for months and months. Maybe years. And this time around, I’m going to do everything in my power to see to it that the marriage never ends, even if the glow does wear off.”

Helen regarded her wistfully. “I never thought I’d say this about you getting back together with Ronnie, but I envy you.”

Dana Sue regarded her with compassion, but she quickly shifted to impatience. “Then what are you doing about it? When was the last time you went on a date, and I don’t mean sitting down with some male attorney to discuss torts or writs or whatever else it is you talk about over coffee.”

“Who has time?” Helen said defensively. “Between work, keeping up with things at the spa and trying to exercise more regularly, I don’t have five spare minutes a week.”

“Really?” Dana Sue said skeptically. “You just spent two solid hours in my kitchen. That’s enough for a quality date.”

Helen shrugged. “That’s fun. There’s no pressure in there.”

Dana Sue lifted an eyebrow. “Really? No pressure? Not even with Erik’s exacting orders flying at you? He scared off the last two prep guys I brought in for a tryout.”

“He’s a perfectionist, that’s all. Lord knows, I get that and respect it. And there’s more at stake in there for you and for him. I’m just a volunteer worker bee from time to time. If I mess up, what are either of you going to do about it?”

“I’d probably banish you forever, but I can’t speak for Erik,” Dana Sue said. “By the way, was there some reason you came by tonight other than the chance we’d put you to work?”

“To be honest, I was hoping for a few minutes to talk to you,” Helen admitted.

“About…?”

“Karen.”

Dana Sue’s eyes widened. “You want to talk to me about Karen Ames? Why? Is that why Barb called to set up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon? I thought it was about the spa.” She held up her hand. “Wait. Here comes Erik with our food. If it involves Karen, he probably needs to hear this, too. And he should be at any meeting we have.”

Erik set three plates of grouper, with its garnish of mango-papaya chutney, wild rice and a side of baby carrots in a brown sugar glaze on the table. Everything was as artfully arranged as it was for the paying customers.

“Where’s my pie?” Helen asked immediately.

“Not ’til you’ve cleaned your plate,” he teased, sliding into the booth beside her. “Pie’s your reward, not your meal.”

Helen frowned at him. “Who says?”

“The chef,” he told her. “So. Dig in.”

All three picked up their forks and started eating. After a minute, Erik asked, “What were you two talking about when I got here? You looked awfully serious for a couple of women who were supposed to be kicking back and relaxing.”

“Karen,” Dana Sue told him, her expression somber. She took another bite of food. “Helen brought her up.”

Erik stared at Helen, his expression immediately shifting into something far more cautious. “What do you have to do with Karen?”

“She came to see me today. She thinks she’s about to be fired.”

Dana Sue exchanged a rueful look with Erik that spoke volumes.

Helen sighed. “I see she was on target. It’s because of the amount of time she’s missed lately, right?”

Dana Sue nodded. “It makes me very unhappy, but I don’t have a choice, Helen. I can’t operate a kitchen if one of my key employees is absent half the time. Even if I do find the right prep person, as busy as we are I need an assistant I can count on.”

“Do you know why she’s absent?”

“Every time she calls in, it’s always about the kids,” Erik volunteered.

“And I sympathize with that, I really do,” Dana Sue added. “But it comes back to my ability to keep this place running the way it needs to. It’s not fair for Erik and me to have to pick up the slack all the time. I have to have an employee who’s reliable.” She studied Helen worriedly. “Is she going to make a legal issue out of this? Is that why she came to you?”

“No,” Helen said, putting down her fork. “I don’t think it needs to come to that and I wouldn’t represent her if it did. I just want you to sit down with Karen and me tomorrow and see if there’s not another solution, something that will enable you to run this kitchen the way it needs to be run, yet keeps her from losing her job.”

“You’re putting Dana Sue in an impossible position,” Erik said protectively. “Come on, Helen, she’s not the bad guy here.”

“I know that,” Helen said. “But Karen’s not some irresponsible kid, either. You’ve spent a lot of time training her. Just let her explain and see if we can’t come to some kind of solution.”

Though Erik looked less than thrilled with the idea, Dana Sue nodded. “I can do that much.”

“Thank you,” Helen said, then turned to Erik and added sternly, “And you, reserve judgment, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, since the champion of the underdog requests it, but I’m not happy about it. I intend to be at that meeting. And so you know, I’m a little surprised that you would take Karen’s side over your best friend’s.”

Helen bristled. “I’m trying not to take sides,” she retorted. “Successful negotiating means making this a win-win situation.”

“Then tell me exactly what Dana Sue is getting out of this,” he demanded.

“She gets to keep an excellent, well-trained employee,” Helen replied, determined to keep her tone reasonable, though his attitude was starting to grate on her. He wasn’t the only one who felt protective about Dana Sue. She’d been looking out for her friend a lot longer than he had. Her appetite fading, she said, “You know Karen’s good. I’ve heard you say it more than once.”

“Doesn’t matter if she’s never here,” Erik said.

His refusal to give Karen a break riled her. “That’s an exaggeration,” she snapped, losing patience.

“Whoa,” Dana Sue protested. “It’s a meeting, Erik. We owe Karen that much. Helen’s right. When Karen’s here, she’s been terrific.”

“Just as long as you don’t let your pal here railroad you into doing something that’s not in the best interests of the restaurant,” he said.

“I’ve never railroaded anyone in my life,” Helen said, annoyed. Her appetite for her food completely vanished.

“Really?” Erik scoffed. “Whose idea was it to get Ronnie Sullivan out of town when he and Dana Sue split up? That really worked out well for their daughter, didn’t it?”

Dana Sue regarded him with dismay. “Old news, Erik. Annie’s fine now, and so are Ronnie and I.”

“No thanks to Helen’s interference,” he said.

Helen glowered at him, stung by his accusation. When Dana Sue would have responded to his comment, Helen stopped her with a look. “I can fight my own battles,” she said tightly. She faced Erik. “You weren’t here. You have no idea what was best at the time.”

“No,” he agreed, leaning forward, his gaze intense. “I came along just in time to see all hell break loose when Annie landed in the hospital.”

“That was not my fault,” Helen said fiercely.

“Really? Her eating disorder was brought on to some degree because her father abandoned her, or did I get that part wrong?” He didn’t wait for an answer before charging, “You made that happen.”

“That’s a little simplistic,” Dana Sue said, though neither of them even looked at her.

Helen was practically nose-to-nose with Erik. “Where do you get off making an accusation like that?”

“Just calling it like I see it, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell,” Helen said, nudging Dana Sue until she moved out of the way so that Helen could slide out of the curved booth on the opposite side. She glanced at Dana Sue as she grabbed her shoes out from under the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, then scowled at Erik. “I suggest you skip the meeting.”

“Not a chance,” he said. “Somebody has to make sure common sense reigns.”

“And you have to be that somebody?” Helen asked. “How do you feel about that, Dana Sue?”

“I’m pretty much shell-shocked by the way this entire conversation has spun out of control,” Dana Sue responded. “What is wrong with you two? I’ve never seen either of you act like this before.”

“I guess know-it-all attorneys bring out the worst in me,” Erik said stiffly.

“And judgmental men, who won’t even listen to reason, bring it out in me,” Helen said.

Erik gave her a once-over that made her blood almost as hot as her temper. “I guess that means you won’t be wanting your pie, since I baked it.”

The reminder of that peach pie, which had been all she could think about as she’d worked in the kitchen, created a major dilemma. Her mouth still watered when she thought about it. Her pride dictated she not let him know that.

“I never said that,” she said huffily, then stalked into the kitchen and picked up the entire pie from the counter.

One bite, she thought as she drew in a deep breath and savored the aroma. What could it hurt? She put the pie down, grabbed a fork and dug into the fragrant peach mixture and flaky crust, then sighed as her temper simmered down a notch. Maybe two bites, she decided. Erik would never know. She ate the second mouthful, then picked up the pie again, marched straight back into the dining room and, before she could talk herself out of it, threw the remainder straight into his shocked face.

Beside him, Dana Sue sucked in a startled breath, then fought to contain laughter. Helen watched as the pie oozed down Erik’s face and onto his T-shirt. She was so intent on watching it spread across his impressive chest that she apparently missed the wicked glint in his eyes until it was too late.

Before she could make a dash for it, he’d wiped most of the pie off his face and was on his feet. In an instant, he had his arms around her, his hot, demanding mouth on hers and the remains of that incredible peach pie crushed indelibly into her silk blouse.

Helen figured she could always buy another blouse, but it was going to take a whole lot longer to erase the memory of Erik’s breath-stealing kiss from her head, especially with Dana Sue as an obviously fascinated witness. Dana Sue wouldn’t let her forget it in this lifetime. And since there were still a couple of diners left in the restaurant and this was Serenity, it would be all over town by morning. Helen Decatur, the Sweet Magnolia with the most common sense, the one who got people out of trouble, had just landed in a pile of it.

When Erik finally released Helen from that ill-advised kiss, he cast Dana Sue an apologetic look, then headed for the kitchen. He needed to figure out what kind of insanity had possessed him to first taunt and then kiss a woman like Helen Decatur.

She was a pushy, arrogant, know-it-all attorney, but she was also his boss’s best friend and a regular customer at Sullivan’s. Moreover, on more than one occasion including tonight, she had willingly pitched in to help them out of a jam in the kitchen.

Maybe that was the problem, he concluded. It was one thing to disapprove of the fancy clothes and pretensions, but in the kitchen at Sullivan’s he’d seen another side of her. He’d seen a woman who cared more about her friend and what she needed than she did about such superficial things as her designer clothes. She also checked her ego at the door and did whatever was asked of her without complaint. She did it damn well, too, if he was being totally honest. He actually liked her, most of the time, anyway. Tonight she’d just gotten under his skin for some reason. Despite what he’d said, he did know she’d never choose someone else’s side over Dana Sue’s.

Baiting her, he could understand. Kissing her, well, that was a whole other story, one destined for an unhappy ending. He’d crossed a line, a move for which he’d have to apologize eventually.

Of course, he couldn’t help remembering that she’d kissed him back. In fact, she’d kissed him with such unexpected heat and passion, it had sent him running for cover. He hadn’t run from a female since Susie Mackinaw had planted an unwanted kiss on him in third grade to the accompaniment of jeers from his friends.

No, he amended, pouring himself a cup of coffee and drinking it as he methodically began to clean the kitchen. The truth was he’d been running from women since his wife had died in childbirth. An EMT in Atlanta at the time, he’d been with Samantha in the ambulance after she’d gone into premature labor and begun hemorrhaging. The ride to the hospital had taken an eternity, and even before they’d arrived in the emergency room, he’d known it was too late. Sam had lost way too much blood, her vitals were fading and the baby was too early to be saved.

That was the day his heart had been ripped from his chest, right along with his ability to function in his job. If an EMT couldn’t do something to save his own wife, how could he ever trust himself to help anyone else?

After a month’s leave, during which he’d drunk himself into a stupor every single day, he’d walked into his boss’s office and quit. Gabe Sanchez had argued with him, pleaded with him to get some counseling and then come back, but Erik had known that his days in any career tied to health care were over.

He might have drifted aimlessly after that, but a friend of his wife’s had suggested he go to the Atlanta Culinary Institute. Erik had laughed at the idea at first, but Bree had kept badgering. Her husband had added his support for the idea as well.

“Out of our entire crowd, you’re the best cook, hands down,” Bree had told him. “More important, you enjoy it. If nothing else, taking the classes will get you out of this funk you’re in. Once you graduate, who knows? Maybe you can open your own restaurant or become a caterer or just come to my house once a month and cook for Ben and me and the kids. It doesn’t matter. The distraction is what’s important. Sam would hate what you’re doing to yourself. She wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.”

Erik might have dismissed the whole idea if Bree hadn’t shown up on his doorstep a few days later with application forms. She’d sat right there while he filled them out, then written a check herself, tucked it all in an envelope and taken it with her to mail. Obviously she hadn’t wanted to leave anything to chance.

“Consider it a gift toward your future from Ben and me,” she said. “When you’re running your own restaurant, you can pay us back with free dinners on our anniversaries.”

A few weeks later, he’d been accepted and shortly after that he’d taken his first classes. By the end of the first month, he knew it was the best decision he’d ever made, next to marrying Samantha. By the time graduation rolled around, he wondered how he’d ever considered, much less worked in, any other field.

Then Dana Sue had contacted the school to find a pastry chef, which was Erik’s specialty. He hadn’t been convinced he wanted to move to a small town in South Carolina, but after he’d visited Serenity and seen Sullivan’s, he’d been hooked. It was just the change he needed, a chance to get away from Atlanta and all of its memories. Moreover, Dana Sue had created something special in a community that was trying to turn itself around after some hard knocks to its economy. As all of the reviews had glowingly stated, Sullivan’s was a rare culinary treasure and he was glad to be a part of it.

As for Dana Sue, she was something special, as well. He’d even harbored a vague notion that someday their relationship might move from professional to personal, but it had quickly become clear that the shapely blonde was still in love with her ex-husband.

Even so, Dana Sue, her daughter, Annie, and even the annoyingly unreliable Karen had become his family. And as hard-hearted as he’d obviously sounded to Helen, when it came to Karen what he most cared about was the toll her problems took on Dana Sue, who simply didn’t need the added stress.

Unlike Dana Sue, Helen was not a woman who needed anyone to look out for her, which was yet another reason Erik was at a loss to explain why he’d kissed her so thoroughly a few minutes earlier. He was by nature a nurturer, a self-proclaimed knight in shining armor. The idea of tough-as-nails Helen needing nurturing was laughable.

Then again, maybe the kiss had been inevitable. She was a gorgeous woman, a little too uptight for him, a lot too opinionated. But sometimes just such a mix guaranteed an explosion sooner or later. Now that the kiss was behind him, the steam was released, and odds were it would never happen again.

He was just congratulating himself for making it all seem reasonable when Dana Sue came into the kitchen and joined him at the sink, where he was scrubbing pans. Picking up another pan from the sudsy water, she nudged him with her hip.

“So, what was that kiss all about?” she asked, keeping her gaze on the greasy pan in her hands.

“Pure impulse,” he said, dismissing it.

“Something tells me the impulse has been coming on for some time. There’s something in the air every time you two are in the same room.”

“Tension,” he suggested.

“Sexual tension, I think,” she retorted, a glint in her eye. “Why haven’t you done anything about it before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Helen and me? Are you crazy?”

“I don’t think so. You’re an incredible man. She’s an incredible woman. Both of you deserve someone special in your lives.”

“I don’t know about Helen, but I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said.

“You used to say you wanted me,” she reminded him.

He grinned. “Because I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d say yes.”

“So you claimed to want me only because I was unattainable?”

“Exactly.”

“Not buying it. If you like the challenge of the unattainable, then Helen’s an even better bet. Think of the fun you could have trying to change her mind.”

“And then what? Tell her it was all just a game?”

“No, you idiot. Then you fall madly in love and marry her.”

Erik laughed. “I don’t see that happening. Somehow I just can’t picture Helen’s designer duds hanging next to my Levi’s in the closet.”

“After that kiss tonight, I can see it,” Dana Sue told him. “And judging from the way Helen ran out of here, I think she can see it, too.”

“Stop meddling, Dana Sue. She’s your friend and that alone is reason enough for me to stay away from her.”

“Why? I’m giving you my permission to pursue this. In fact, I’m encouraging it.”

“And what happens when one of us gets our heart broken? Whose side do you take?”

She looked vaguely disconcerted by the question. “It would never come to that,” she declared.

“Really? You can see into the future?”

“No, but I have faith in both of you, and I saw something tonight, a spark, that hasn’t been there before in either one of you. Passion—the real deal that leads to love—is a rarity. I’m here to tell you that a spark like that shouldn’t be ignored.”

“Well, I’m ignoring it,” he said flatly.

“We’ll see,” she taunted. “I’m sure I can think of some way to change your mind.” She shrugged. “Or Helen’s. It’ll only take convincing one of you to get this ball rolling.”

“It’s not up to you,” he said, even though he could see he was wasting his breath. He was just going to have to be on high alert from now on.

Damn. That meeting tomorrow. He’d have to be in the same room as Helen and Dana Sue when the memory of that searing kiss was just a little too fresh in his mind.