Chapter Eighteen
Colby clipped the newspaper article about the Maverick Foundation’s upcoming fund-raising event that Gentry had submitted. The piece, she thought, should cause a few folks to look up the website and click on the “Donate” button. She stared at the grainy photograph of the executive committee. The one in which she’d been uncomfortably sandwiched between Todd and Alec. Her mother, blissfully unaware of any awkwardness, had smiled broadly for the camera. Julie, like Alec, remained inscrutable. To strangers, Sara’s smile probably looked welcoming, but Colby knew the difference between her forced and genuine smiles.
Miraculously, despite the fractures in the ragtag group, all their plans were coming together. Thanks to Alec’s initiative, something good would finally come out of the tragedies. The peace she’d been craving seemed just within her grasp. In fact, she’d been enjoying the foundation work more than running the restaurant and dealing with customers. If her finances weren’t tied to A CertainTea, she could see herself committing fully to a nonprofit career.
While she placed the clipping in a frame for her embarrassingly sparsely decorated office walls, Chris knocked on her door. Although the lines in his face had deepened since she’d first hired him as sous chef, his shoulders remained proudly thrown back. “Alec hasn’t returned. Has he called you?”
By the time she’d arrived at work this afternoon, she’d learned that Alec had left suddenly without explanation. She’d tried calling him, but it had gone straight to voice mail. Initially, she’d assumed the urgent matter had something to do with a supplier. Now she wasn’t sure.
A quick glance at the clock warned that the doors would open in twenty minutes. “Guess you’re in charge of the kitchen tonight.”
A grin spread across Chris’s face.
“Is there anything else?” She kept her gaze locked with his, her voice calm and steady, showing none of the turmoil gnashing her stomach lining.
“No.” Chris nodded and left the office.
She stared at the framed news clip with the dawning realization that it might have something to do with Alec’s absence. Colby impatiently tapped her pen on the desk and then dialed Alec again. Voice mail. Of course.
Why hadn’t he called? Then again, she’d told him she wanted easy, and his family didn’t exactly fall into that category. Mr. Morgan’s temper dwarfed Alec’s. A rising dread slowed her movements. What if Alec needed her and she didn’t get to him on time? Alarm triggered memories of Mark’s final moments.
She was getting ahead of herself. If something had happened to Alec, surely Julie would let her know. She texted him again.
WHERE ARE YOU? I’M WORRIED.
When no response came, she called Hunter without thinking it through. When he answered, she blurted, “Have you heard from Alec today?”
“No. Why?”
“He left work suddenly before I arrived, and I haven’t heard from him.”
Hunter paused. “If he needs you, he’ll call. Otherwise, let him sort out his own family emergency.”
Family emergency. The words she’d used when calling off work the morning Mark jumped. At the time, she’d been in shock, locked in a hazy sort of limbo, unable to voice the screaming in her head. Horror had consumed her. She’d acted on instinct, with monosyllabic replies to voice mails and texts. Now her body trembled at the memory.
“Sis?” Hunter’s voice shook her back to reality.
“What family emergency?” she asked, her pulse fluttering irregularly now. “Tell me what you know.”
“Only that Alec wouldn’t leave someone else in charge of his kitchen for anything other than some kind of family emergency.”
No, he wouldn’t.
“Please call me if you hear anything,” she said.
“I will.”
She tossed her phone on the desk and tapped her foot incessantly. Every pore in her body decided to perspire. Hunter was right. Nothing less than a serious emergency would pull Alec out of the kitchen on a Saturday night.
Drawing a deep breath, she picked up her phone and called Julie. That call also went to voice mail. Apparently Alec had learned his cell phone habits from his mother.
Holding her breath, Colby called the hospital. Her breathing settled when she confirmed that neither Alec nor Frank Morgan had been admitted to the ER. Then it caught. Julie Morgan was a patient, but no further information would be given.
She sat, frozen by indecision. Mr. Morgan would lose his shit if Colby showed up, which would only increase Alec’s stress. If he’d wanted her there, he would’ve called. He mustn’t think she could handle it, which didn’t make her feel better. Nor did the fact that, once again, he’d chosen not to share important, if unpleasant, news.
Each time her mind wandered—practically every ninety seconds—she refocused on the tasks at hand. Outside her office, they’d be servicing a full house on this Saturday night. She knew she should be happily checking on customers instead of pacing in her office and checking her phone for messages.
Attachments were complicated. How had she thought she could have a simple, fresh start with Alec? She fingered the white tulips Alec had placed in the vase on her desk on Wednesday. A reminder of exactly why she’d fallen for him.
After four yoga breaths, she forced herself to return to the dining room. Clyde, her most experienced waiter, rushed over, surreptitiously pointing toward table eight. “Ms. Baxter, I think that’s the Trib’s food critic, Gordon Jeffers.”
Tonight? She’d been overwhelmed with foundation work these past weeks and had forgotten all about Gentry’s gossip. This was not good! Alec wasn’t even on the premises. “Are you sure?”
“Not one hundred percent, but I’d bet on it.”
“Please inform Martha, so she’ll be extra attentive. I’ll let Chris know.” Colby beelined to the kitchen. As usual, the flurry of frenzied activity and bursts of noise and heat made her want to run in the other direction. She much preferred the casual elegance and relative serenity of the front of the house.
Carefully, she picked her way over to where Chris was supervising the lines. “We think Gordon Jeffers is seated at table eight with a guest, so pay particular attention to that order, okay?”
“No word from Alec?” Chris’s expression remained unflappable.
“No.” Colby pushed that worry aside for the moment. She couldn’t lend her support at the hospital, but she could protect this aspect of Alec’s life. A good review would be a crucial step in his comeback plan. She’d make sure the staff did everything in its power to earn an outstanding one. “This is it, Chris. Your chance to shine. I trust you’ll be on top of it?”
“Of course.” He kept working at a steady clip, which reassured her.
“Excellent. We’re counting on you.” Colby left the kitchen and methodically worked the room until she arrived at table eight. Gordon Jeffers—at least, that was his pen name—didn’t look like she’d imagined. His name and position implied a certain power that his long, narrow face and nose, thinning blond hair, and, as Gentry might describe it, boring navy blazer failed to convey. At present, his “date”—a middle-aged woman of similar nondescript appearance—sampled Alec’s twist on a French onion soup gratinée.
With her warmest smile, Colby greeted them. “Good evening. Welcome to A CertainTea. I’m the manager, Colby. Is this your first time with us?”
“Yes.” The man smiled.
“Wonderful. Are you a local?” She feigned polite interest while trying not to overplay her hand.
“Close enough. Portland.”
“Well, we’ll make sure it’s worth the journey.”
“So far, so good. The ambience is outstanding.” His smile loosened the knot in her stomach. With a little luck, this could turn out well. They’d been open several weeks—long enough to work out the major kinks—and the cooks had worked with Alec even longer. Alec’s absence didn’t need to be a disaster. In fact, a good review might give him more faith in his staff and make things easier on everyone going forward.
“Thank you.” Colby nodded. “Please let me know if you need anything. Enjoy your meal.”
Rather than hover, she meandered through the crowd. As the evening progressed, she barely recalled a single conversation with any customer. With each minute, she grew more concerned about the Morgans. If she was the impetus for another family tragedy, how could she and Alec stay together?
Alec was in hell. Why did a CT scan take so long? He paced the waiting room, avoiding his father—the asshole who’d clocked his wife in the head with a vase thrown in anger after reading the newspaper. If it hadn’t been for that photo, his dad would’ve likely skimmed right over an article about a local charity.
“I didn’t mean to hit her.” His father drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “She practically jumped into the line of fire.”
“So it’s her fault she didn’t duck?” Alec muttered, keeping his back to his dad.
“I wouldn’t have thrown anything if she hadn’t been sneaking around working on your damned foundation, for chrissakes.” His father shifted noisily in the chair.
“Stop talking.” Alec stood in the doorway, muscles pulsing with quiet rage. He glanced up and down the hall, hoping to catch a doctor or nurse. No luck. He couldn’t sit still in the cramped waiting room, with its plastic chairs and months-old magazines. He needed to put more than a few feet of space between his father and him, or one of them might also end up needing X-rays. “What’s taking so long?”
“Red tape.” His dad cleared his throat twice. “We’ll be here forever.”
“We wouldn’t be here at all if you weren’t such a bully.” Alec finally looked his dad in the eye. “Considering how many things you’ve smashed in my lifetime, it’s a wonder this is our first visit to the ER.”
“Don’t start with me.” His father stood, crossing his arms. For most of Alec’s life, he’d found that posture intimidating. Today he almost itched to take the man down. “If anyone’s at fault, it’s you, for bringing Colby back into our lives and starting this blasted foundation.”
No point in arguing with him, because crazy never listened to reason. Alec’s failed plans to reunite his family brought back unpleasant memories of the way he’d lost Une Bouchée, too. Not that that mattered at this point. His priority now would be keeping his mother safe. “Mom’s coming home with me tonight.”
“Like hell.” His father’s face darkened.
“Look around, Dad. You’re in no position to argue. And if you try to stop me, I’ll press charges.”
His father peered up at him, his eyes filling with something other than disdain for a change. Alec recognized that look, actually, because he’d envied it whenever his dad had bestowed it upon Joe.
Respect.
It figured that the first time Alec earned it—something he’d sought for years—it didn’t thaw one bit of his ice-cold feelings for his father.
“You can’t press charges. I didn’t do anything to you. Besides, your mother knows it was an accident.”
An ironic justification.
“Funny how that works,” Alec snorted, forcing his father to meet his gaze. “Hitting Mom with a vase was an accident, but Joe’s taking a dare was homicide?”
“Dammit, Alec.” His father jutted out his chin, the vein in his temple pulsing visibly. Alec thought his dad’s head might actually explode like a potato in a hot oven. “Don’t start defending Mark Baxter.”
“Just calling it like I see it. Mark’s not the problem. You are.”
“Me?” he huffed.
“Yes. And since you’re so intent on assigning blame for Joe’s death, then you ought to take a look in the mirror.”
“You want to blame me?” His brows rose so high on his forehead that they looked like part of his hairline. “If it weren’t for your girlfriend and her husband—”
“Mark made an idiotic dare. One he quite obviously regretted. But that isn’t the whole story.” The day’s events had pushed Alec beyond reasoning. “Actually, you and I both share some blame.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
They were in a hospital, possibly the safest place for Alec’s confession. With everything falling apart, the time had come to man up and get years of pain and guilt off his chest.
“When I was little, Joe thought I was funny and smart. He used to follow me around. Even sat and did puzzles with me. I’m sure you must remember that.”
He couldn’t tell if his dad had tuned him out or just become lost in his own memories. He wasn’t screaming, so Alec continued. “We were friends, but the older I got, the more it bothered you that I wasn’t athletic or aggressive. Instead of accepting me, you tried to bully me into being more like you. When that didn’t work, you teased me until it became a bad habit. You taught Joe to disrespect me as being weak, and that drove the wedge between him and me.”
His dad’s menacing-cop face surfaced. Alec should’ve been afraid, but calmness settled over him. It was almost as if Joe had stepped into his body as he recited the events that took place with Joe and Beth that night two years ago. With each word, his dad’s face turned deeper shades of purple, but he pressed on. “For two years I’ve felt guilty because of that fight. But as awful as I behaved that night, none of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t rewarded Joe with affection every time he teased me. Joe learned how to avoid your disdain by distancing himself from me and being the kind of tough guy you wanted for a son. So if my lie that night emasculated Joe, that’s only because Joe took all his cues on masculinity from you.
“And even if that fight had never happened, Joe probably still would’ve jumped off that cliff knowing how cool you’d think it was when he came home and told you about it. Let’s be honest. If Joe had survived, you would’ve been bragging about that dare. So, in a way, I can trace Joe’s death right back to you and your inability to appreciate me for who I am.”
Alec watched his dad blink as if he’d been the one clocked by the vase. For a split second, he wondered if one of them would throw a punch. Then the doctor walked in. Doctor? Hell. Dr. Kang looked younger than Alec, and even more exhausted, if that were possible.
“We’ve looked at the scans. There’s no skull fracture, so your wife’s fall won’t require any intervention other than stitches to close the gash. She has a mild concussion, so she should be cocooned for a week—no stimulation, TV, radio, reading. Just rest and dim lighting.”
Her fall? Not even a doctor that young could buy that story. Alec clenched his jaw to keep from calling his dad out. The only thing stopping him was the fact that it would make things worse for his mom.
“Thanks, Doc. When can I see her?” Alec’s father asked, still appearing out of sorts, which meant he was still processing Alec’s tirade.
“The nurse will be in with release paperwork and care instructions. If you need anything, call this number.” The doctor handed him a card. “If you notice symptoms like vomiting, dizziness, or double vision, bring her back.”
“Okay, thanks.” His father shook the doctor’s hand. After the doctor left, he raked his hand through his hair.
“Give that to me.” Alec reached for the card.
“I’ll be taking care of your mother. Once she finds out about how you treated your brother, I doubt she’ll want to see you for a while.”
That might be true, but that would be her choice, not his father’s.
“I don’t trust you with her.” Alec glared at the man he’d forgiven so often throughout the years. “Honestly, maybe I’ll file a restraining order on her behalf. If you won’t get counseling to deal with your grief, that’s your choice. But I already told you, I’m not going to sit by while Mom’s safety is in doubt.”
A plump, elderly nurse disrupted their stare-down. She crooked her finger at Alec’s dad. “Your wife’s ready to be released. I just need to go over this paperwork with you.”
Alec ducked out of the waiting room while they spoke, sneaking back to find his mom sitting at the edge of the bed, slipping on her shoes. She hesitated to make eye contact with him, as if she should be ashamed of what her husband did.
He crouched down, setting one hand on the mattress. “Mom, I want you to stay with me for a while.”
She sighed. “Where’s your father?”
“With the nurse, signing your release papers.”
“I don’t know, Alec.” She touched her bandaged stitches. “I just don’t know.”
“Be honest with me. Has this happened before?”
She shook her head. “I promise, he’s never hurt me. I’m not afraid of him, I’m just tired.”
“I’m afraid for you. We’re lucky that blow didn’t do more damage. How many chances will you give him?” Alec stood and rubbed her shoulder. “He’ll never change if you don’t take a stand.”
His dad walked in then, worried smile fixed in place. “Let’s get you home. Doc says you can’t do anything, so I’ll be your handservant for the next week. You should like that for a change.” His lame joke fell flat as he moved awkwardly around the room, trying not to spook her.
The three of them waited in silence, listening to the sounds of shuffling feet and bleating equipment coming from the hallway. Alec held his breath, awaiting his mom’s decision.
“Frank, I’m going home with Alec.” She slid out of the bed, keeping one hand on the mattress to test her balance.
“Julie—” His dad stepped toward her.
“No, listen to me.” She held up a hand. “I’ve warned you about the anger and bullying. Joe left a bottomless hole in our hearts, but I’m tired of living in mourning. I’ve begged you to try to move on, but you can’t or won’t, so now I need to think about my future.”
When his father’s jaw slackened, Alec realized he’d never seen his father shell-shocked.
“What are you saying, Julie? Are you leaving me?” His dad’s wide eyes and slumped shoulders almost made him look sympathetic. Lost, even. At the very least, that bombshell stopped his dad from blurting out Alec’s fight with Joe, which meant Alec would be able to tell her on his own.
“Thirty-five years of marriage doesn’t entitle you to assume that you can run our lives however you want without consequence. If you want me back, you need to make some changes, and not just with me. We lost a son, but we have another one right here. One who’s been willing to forgive you for years of hurtful parenting, yet you continue to push him away. I’m not going to lose another son because you think you’re the only person whose feelings matter.” Her eyes watered, but her voice didn’t waver. She linked arms with Alec. “I need to stop at home to pick up a few things.”
“Okay.” Alec wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her shaking.
“Julie, for God’s sake.” His dad drew a deep breath. “Come home and we’ll talk about this, but don’t go to Alec’s.”
“I have to.” She didn’t even look sad so much as she looked defeated.
“What do you expect me to do now?” His dad’s hands went out, palms up. “Take a knee and beg?”
“I don’t expect anything. All I know is that I’m not happy with the life we’ve been living. I don’t deserve to be standing here in this hospital room, either.”
If his dad looked lost, his mother looked detached. Alec took no joy in this moment, but he did feel safer knowing she’d be with him for the night, maybe a little longer.
“Let’s all take a deep breath and talk tomorrow,” Alec suggested. “Hand me the instructions and get some rest. Nothing permanent is being decided here.”
Alec’s mom laid one hand on his father’s chest. “I love you, Frank. I just can’t live this way any longer.”
She strolled out of the room without looking back.
“Alec, don’t think you’ve won.” His dad’s voice was low and lethal.
“No one’s winning anything, Dad. If you can’t see that, I don’t know what else to say.”
“Go on and go. I can’t stand the sight of you right now.”
“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.” Alec shook his head, having nothing left to say, and followed his mother.
Confessing his fight with Joe and argument with his dad to her on their way home hadn’t been easy. She seemed more sad than angry, which he regretted. Still, a burden had lifted by telling the truth. Even as his family crumbled around him, he knew a certain sense of freedom from having finally stood up to his father.
It wasn’t until he had his mother settled in his apartment that he’d even thought about work, or Colby. When he plugged in his phone, it lit up with a dozen messages and texts. He dialed the restaurant and waited for Becca to pull Colby off the floor.
“Where are you?” she asked without preamble. “When I couldn’t reach you, I called the hospital. Is your mom okay?”
“For now. I’m getting her settled.”
“You’re still with her?”
“Yes. She’ll be staying at my place for a while.”
He heard Colby suck in a breath. “Where’s your father?”
“At home. She’s threatening to leave him.” He sighed and began reciting the details of his afternoon.
Colby listened to Alec describe his traumatic day, her heart sinking with each sentence. “I’m proud of you for telling the truth and standing up to your dad.”
“Little good it did. Both my parents are hurting and disappointed in me, and it doesn’t change the fact that my mom ended up in the hospital because of me and our foundation.”
Colby repeatedly stabbed her pen into the notepad on her desk. Once again, she’d been a catalyst for trauma in the Morgan family. “I’m sorry. I would’ve kept her name out of the article if I’d known her involvement was a secret.”
“It’s not your fault. She posed for those photos.” Alec sighed. “Maybe she wanted to shock him.”
A huge risk, considering how that vase could’ve caused much more damage. An image of Mark’s cracked skull flashed, turning her stomach. Why couldn’t she escape violence and tragedy? Her thoughts circled that question until Alec’s voice brought her back.
“How’d Chris handle the dinner rush?”
“I think well.” She pictured Gordon Jeffers sampling his entrée—flared nostrils, impeccable table manners. The enigmatic man had given no sign of his opinion. Her stomach dropped at the thought of telling Alec the news, but better he hear it from her than someone else. “Clyde thinks Gordon Jeffers was here tonight. I warned Chris, and the waitstaff was on top of the service end, so I’m confident it went well.”
After a pregnant pause, Alec asked, “Are you sure it was Gordon?”
“I didn’t ask, but we think so. He was with a woman, and they paid with cash.”
“Fuck!”
Silence.
“Alec?” Had he put down the phone? “Alec?”
“I’m here.”
She envisioned him sitting alone in the dark, stabbing his hair with his fingers. No doubt this would go down as one of his worst nights in recent memory. She hated feeling so powerless. “Please don’t worry. Everything went fine.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “That’s probably true. But it wasn’t exceptional, I’m sure of that.”
She heard a rattling, as if his fist had pounded against some object. “Don’t overreact.”
“Overreact?” A strangled laugh followed. “I think I’ve earned the right to some anger tonight. Everything I’ve done to rebuild my reputation has been sideswiped. Trust me, Chris can’t do what I do yet. Dammit, I’m screwed.”
A mix of anger and anguish, so raw it hurt her heart, tore through his voice.
“I’m sorry, Alec. About your family, about the bad timing tonight. But getting worked up now won’t change anything. My finances are wholly tied to A CertainTea, and yet I’m not ranting.” We still have each other. Even as she thought the words, she knew not to say them. Not now, when they’d sound trite—even condescending—given his current state of mind.
“I told you before, the executive chef gets all the credit and all the blame. You can fire me and get a new chef. A CertainTea will go on, with or without me. My reputation follows me wherever I go.” Alec fell silent, so she waited, listening to the sound of his breath through the phone. “I can’t talk about this now. My mother needs me.”
“Should I stop by after closing?”
“Thanks, but I’m exhausted, and I doubt my mom wants company.” Alec sighed. “For all I know, my dad may come storming over later to drag her home. Seeing you wouldn’t help. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Heaviness bunched up in her chest. He might not have meant for his offhand remark to hurt her, but it had. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t involved with me.”
When he didn’t respond, she let out a long sigh, hoping the release would ease the ache in her lungs.
“I don’t regret the time we’ve spent together.” Alec’s words might’ve been reassuring if his voice hadn’t sounded so hopeless.
“Take tomorrow off to help settle your mom.” They needed time to regroup, and she didn’t want Alec taking out his frustrations on the staff. “We’ll manage brunch without you.”
A sour laugh came through the line. “Guess the damage is already done.” After another muttered curse, he said, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault.”
Would he think that if he knew that she’d ignored the rumor? Now would be the worst time to tell him, though. “Alec, maybe the review will be fantastic, and you’ll see that you’ve got a whole team to count on. That you’re not alone.”
A beat of silence passed. “Let’s just talk tomorrow. My family has to be my priority right now.”
Colby hung up and cradled her head in her hands. The navy-blue fund-raiser invitation, edged with silver glitter, lay on her desk, taunting her. The Maverick Foundation and its potential for good had inadvertently caused irreparable harm.
Two years later, the aftershocks from their families’ tragedies were still wreaking havoc. What would they claim next?