Chapter One

Celeste

 

“Sorry, I’m late,” I said, immediately, as I walked abruptly into Owen’s private office to grab the keys to the wine cellar. Luckily, my boss knew my situation and was always flexible, but I hated to not be on time.

Owen Walker, also known as the great celebrity chef, responded in a casual tone. “Relax. You’re not late.”

“You’re right on time.” Sienna, Owen’s wife, giggled. “I was trying to break free.”

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry to interrupt.” I had complete tunnel vision—focused on getting started with my work—and hadn’t even noticed Sienna sitting on Owen’s lap. Not that it was anything out of the ordinary. Those two were always cuddled up to each other. Thank God I had never walked in on any naked snuggling going on between them.

“Is Veeta okay?” Owen had concern in his voice.

“Yes.” I sighed. “She just treated me to a bit of a fit. She’s learning too much at school. She informed me all about the importance of families sitting down together for dinner.” I shook my head, grinning.

Sienna laughed. “You have your hands full with that adorable little one.”

They had no idea. Veeta had just turned five years old a few months back and would be starting real school in the fall. She had been going to pre-school a few days a week since she had turned three. Her friends were adored by her and she rattled on about a series of stories involving tricycles, sandboxes, swings, and snack time. Nap time was a completely different story. She had never been fond of them and that was why I picked her up right before her class went down for a nap. I didn’t mind, it gave us time to spend the rest of the day together until I had to go to work.

She was usually good about me leaving her with my parents a few nights of the week, but for some reason, she was in need of more attention.

“Veeta, we eat together most nights. When I go to work it’s too early for dinner.”

“I will eat early so you can eat too, Mommy.” Her light blue eyes sparkled up at me. They were such a dramatic contrast to her dark brown hair which was usually in one long braid down the middle of her back.

Instead of explaining to her that I nibbled on plenty of food at work, I gave into her cute little freckled face and headed for the kitchen. That seemed to excite her and she began to shout to my mother, “Coco, we’re eating dinner now.”

Veeta called my mother Coco like she heard her teenage cousin Cord do. My mother said she was too young to be a grandmother when my brother, Conrad, became a father at the ripe age of sixteen and told him her nickname “Coco” was to be used.

“You know, Coco might want to wait and eat with Grandpa—my father had no problem with the title bestowed on him.

“Oh yeah! Don’t want him to eat all by his lonesome.” Her voice was animated.

I shook my head and proceeded to pull a couple of boxes of store-bought mac and cheese from the pantry along with unsalted butter, sour cream to replace the milk, and grated cheddar cheese. I was a master at doctoring that stuff up. However, it appeared to not be enough for my little one.

“I need balance.” I looked at her to make sure she was safely standing on a chair next to me. Apparently, I was not in tune to what she meant. “No, Mommy. I need vegetables and meat. Something from all of the food groups.” She really was too smart.

“Peas,” I said as I placed a cup full of frozen peas into the microwave. “Protein is what we need. Vegetarians don’t eat meat.” I continued before I had to defrost some ground turkey to add to the pasta. “We have protein, dairy, vegetables, and a starch with the pasta... You can have peaches for dessert. That will be your fruit.” We always had peaches on hand.

Redeemed for my quick work, Veeta praised me. “You’re a good mommy.”

Smiling, I kissed her goodnight, told her I loved her and then headed to work.

Owen and Sienna seemed to get a kick out of my story. I apologized again for barging in on them and vowed to knock the next time.

“No apology necessary.” They nearly said in unison.

“Off to work,” I said, walking out the door.

I loved working at Saphyre for Owen. The restaurant was incredibly beautiful with its plush and sultry atmosphere which included dark woods mixed with rich blues, burgundies and golds. It was truly warm and inviting, I thought to myself as my eyes scanned the dining room before I unlocked the wine cellar door and stepped inside.

So many great wines surrounded me. I tried to make a practice of sampling the wines, but some were out of my reach budget wise. However, I did research each one and based on their attributes, I was usually able to pair them with items on our menu. Once some of the high-end wines were selected and opened by me, a taste was often offered and warranted with my tastevin vessel—a shallow silver saucer that hung on a long chain around my neck.

“Good evening, Celeste. There’s a table wanting your expertise.”

I said hello to James, the manager, as he filled me in on my first customers of the night. “Not sure if they’re wine snobs or wine reps testing us. Something about them tells me they’re about to make a pitch.”

“Thanks. I’ll be on my toes.” He smiled, nodded and walked out of the cellar.

Ready to be my most charming self, I straightened my dark grey, custom pencil skirt, smoothed my white French cuffed blouse and slipped the fashionable chain for my tastevin cup over my head, attaching my sommelier knife—corkscrew—to an extra link on the brass chain.

I was armed for the night.

I wasn’t prepared for the guests—guest, singular—seated at the table that had requested me. Well, not me as in “me,” but the sommelier me.

How was I going to function? I thought for a brief second but then I remembered my training and part of it included remaining calm even if you’re approaching a table filled with celebrity clientele. He wasn’t a celebrity, but he was a blast from my past.

My first love.

The first boy to ever kiss me.

The first boy to have sex with me.

The first boy to break my heart.

The first boy to crush my soul when he left town.

Skeet Remington.