CHAPTER 22

“Hans!” Sebastian yelled at his line cook for what must have been the hundredth time that week. “This béchamel sauce is garbage. Throw it out and do it again.” He tossed his spoon onto the counter and stalked down the line, tasting, criticizing, and—to his abject disgust—screaming. Since he’d returned to New York, he yelled his assistants’ names so often they had become like epithets.

“Too salty.”

“Needs more pepper.”

“Crap. I can’t serve this.”

And on and on.

When had his temper gotten so bad that he had resorted to yelling? Even at his worst, he’d never been like this. Tonight he’d made two of his female servers cry and a line chef storm out of the kitchen. Worse, his sous chef, Jorge, was constantly on edge.

After dressing down everyone in sight, Seb retreated to his small office. Once he was away from the clutter and din of his kitchen, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. If he’d taken a page from Lexie Meyers, he would have simply given his staff quiet encouragement and direction rather than a verbal beat-down. But all his good intentions had gone out the window the day he’d left Star Harbor.

And Lexie.

It had been two weeks. Two long weeks since he’d seen her, touched her, spoken to her.

At first, he was too busy to call. He’d gone from that dinner with the TV execs to his restaurant to meeting after meeting after meeting. He’d barely had time to catch any sleep, let alone call. And now? Now it had been so long that it was uncomfortable. He wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but he just didn’t have the energy to remedy the situation. He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t yet know how to make it happen.

Of course, Lexie hadn’t called him, either. She wasn’t the type to sit and pine for anyone. In fact, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t ready to leave Star Harbor. Still, there had to be some way they could make this work.

But a terrible suspicion nagged at Sebastian, invading whatever fragment of peace he’d managed to achieve since he’d returned, which admittedly wasn’t much. Was there some other, hidden meaning behind Lexie’s reluctance to visit him? Was Lexie unwilling to consider a trip to New York because she didn’t take him seriously?

Seb shook his head, as if to shake away his thoughts of Lexie. Damn, but it was near impossible. He stuck his head out of his office door and glanced around the kitchen. Line chefs stood at their stations, looks of deep concentration on their faces. Waitstaff scurried around, grabbing dishes here, dodging busboys there, as Jorge shouted orders.

Sebastian sighed. He’d been doing a lousy job since he’d returned. He should be managing them better. All he’d done was bark and holler and snipe.

Poor Ivana wasn’t immune to his wrath, either. He’d given her an earful for making him come back to New York City early, even though she’d only been looking out for his best interests. She’d taken his yelling like a champ. He’d make sure to give her a nice holiday bonus.

Seb swore, his muttered curse swallowed up by the din of the kitchen. This was all because of Lexie. She had bewitched him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her tart retorts to whatever zingers he managed to send her way. Her mischievous smile. The way she sank against him when he kissed her. The way she gave herself to him completely when they made love.

Seb groaned softly. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Had he been utterly blind? He was in love.

He had the sneaking suspicion that if he told Lexie how he felt, she’d laugh in his face. Leave it to him to fall for the one woman who was emotionally immune to his charms.

And why hadn’t he called her? God, he was so stupid sometimes. He’d likely screwed everything up.

Before he could fix things with Lexie, though, things needed to change professionally. Starting now. Sebastian thought for a few long minutes—about work, about life, and about Lexie. Suddenly, he knew what he needed to do to turn things around. Mentally steeling himself, he took a few more moments before facing his staff.

He grabbed his chef’s hat and slapped it on his head. Snaring his apron from its hanger, he tied it around his body. Then he stalked back into the kitchen. Without saying a word, he took up a place on the line, replacing the cook who’d left earlier that evening.

Seamlessly, he launched into the duties of a saucier—a lowly line cook. Duties that were at once familiar and comforting.

Side-by-side with his cooks, he measured, he poured, he stirred, and he tasted. His assistants watched him silently, obviously wondering what he was up to. Was he mocking them? Seb’s quiet work and subdued attitude spoke louder than any words he could say. That he respected them. That he was one of them.

As they grew more comfortable with his presence, they began to call out their needs to him, to include him in their banter. Slowly, they relaxed. Although he desperately wanted to, Seb didn’t smile. He knew it would take time, but his plan would work. Hell, it had worked for Lexie and her kitchen ran more smoothly than anyone’s.

He’d build their trust back up, bit by bit, until they understood that he was their colleague, their leader, their inspiration. He was Helena. As the heart and the soul of the kitchen, he wanted to keep his staff happy just as much as he wanted the restaurant to succeed. And there was one other thing he wanted to succeed—his relationship with Lexie. She was his.

* * *

A few days later, things seemed to be back on track. A week and a half later, things were going even better. Good cheer abounded, and Sebastian noticed that everyone was a great deal more productive.

Score one for the Lexie Meyers playbook.

Sebastian himself couldn’t have been working any harder. He spent between sixteen and eighteen hours a day at Helena, prepping lunch and dinner services and using his downtime to plan out the details for the new show. When he wasn’t at the restaurant, he was either in meetings with the television executives or speaking with Ivana. He hadn’t given up on opening a new restaurant, either, and Ivana was still working with folks in Boston to get him the space he needed. It was slow going, since the Realtor still hadn’t been able to come up with the right fit, but he was optimistic that Ivana would find something worth his while. She always did.

One thing still wasn’t right. Lexie. He had called her several times—unfortunately at odd hours due to his intense schedule—but she hadn’t picked up. She was probably working just as hard as he was, but leaving her voicemail messages just wasn’t going to cut it. As soon as he could, he was going to make things right—really right—with her.

Realizing he had a meeting with the studio heads in thirty minutes, he quickly shrugged on his heavy coat and emerged from his office. “Jorge,” he said, interrupting his sous chef, who was giving instructions to one of the line cooks, “you’re in charge. I’ll be gone until five, but I’ll be back in time to man the line for dinner.”

“You got it, Chef.”

Sebastian nodded and walked out the kitchen door to the alleyway behind Helena. He flung a leg over his bike, kicked up the kickstand, and revved the engine. Then he was off, swerving around potholes and taxicabs.

Street signs, people, and advertisements passed by him in a blur. He heard a street vendor shouting out as he drove by, his voice warped by the speed of Seb’s bike and the sound of blaring car horns. And the lights, always the lights—blinking, flashing, throbbing, pulsing—the heartbeat of the city. Sewer smells wafted up to him as he drove and were just as quickly whisked away by the brisk wind howling down the side streets.

As much as he loved Star Harbor, he loved this, too. It was a different kind of living—a fast-paced, open-throttle, twenty-four-hours-a-day kind of living. He reveled in it. This was his home, his city.

Sebastian pulled up outside the studio headquarters and parked his bike. Removing his helmet, he walked into the building. He passed through security and made his way to the twenty-second floor. Giving a saucy wink to the receptionist, he strode into the conference room where the meeting was being held.

Seven of the studio executives were seated in huge leather chairs around a large walnut table. Ivana was there too, looking perfectly poised, her back straight and her legs crossed, her ever-present BlackBerry on the table in front of her.

“Gentlemen,” Sebastian said as he walked in, “and ladies,” he smoothly added, giving a raised eyebrow to Ivana and a big smile to the sole female executive, who was a dead ringer for Hillary Clinton. “Have you thought about my new proposal for the show?”

Keith Waters, a large man with a florid complexion, spoke up. “Yes, and frankly,” he took a quick glance around at his colleagues, “we think it’s brilliant.” The seven other executives nodded and murmured to themselves. “It’s not just a travel show. It’s not just a cooking show. It’s an alchemy of the two, with you visiting sites around the United States, doing a feature about the regional cooking, providing a focus on a few famous dishes or restaurants, creating recipes of your own based on the local cuisine and maybe challenging a local chef to a friendly cook-off.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian said, slipping into one of the large black leather chairs and leaning back so that his legs were fully stretched out. He placed his hands behind his neck and looked around. “The audience will get the adventure of visiting a new place, the flavor of the local cuisine, a healthy dose of competition, and of course, original recipes by Sebastian Grayson.”

“It’s a winner,” the Hillary Clinton clone said.

“I agree,” said Sebastian, smiling. Ivana looked smug. “So it’s settled? We rewrite the existing episodes—with input from me?”

“Absolutely,” Keith said.

“Great. I have just the place to focus on for our first episode.”

“Where?” one of the other executives asked.

Seb unhooked his arms from behind his neck and placed them on the table. He leaned forward and grinned. “The place where I plan to open up my next restaurant.”

* * *

All Hallows Eve. Swaying lanterns lined the Star Harbor Green, casting an eerie pallor. On one side of the Green there was a maze of hay bales and a haunted house. On the other, local merchants had set up tables to hand out candy and treats to the children who were going to spend Halloween night here instead of out carousing about town.

Cole Grayson had been sheriff of Star Harbor for only a few months, but he had some great ideas about youth safety. A lot of folks—Babs included—said he only had such good ideas because he’d been so bad as a boy, but Lexie thought Cole’s proposal of having a town-sponsored Halloween event was brilliant. The best way to keep kids out of trouble was to have them where you could see them.

Last year, the windows of the LMK had been soaped, top to bottom. It had taken Dennis a full day to scrub the soap off. Lexie was happy to donate her time and energy to the event if it meant that her restaurant would be left alone this year. She and her staff had made cupcakes—chocolate with black-tinted vanilla frosting and pumpkin with orange-tinted cream cheese frosting—each spookily decorated with a spiderweb of icing. Trick or treat, right? “This year it’s going to be treat,” she said with determination as she set up her display.

After a few minutes of arranging, Lexie was satisfied, and just in time. Evening was upon them, and the children would soon be arriving. She shivered in the chill air and zipped up her puffer jacket, happy she’d opted to wear jeans.

She tucked the extra cupcakes underneath her section of the table and turned to Babs, who had hand-dipped a hundred candy apples.

“You good, Babs?” she asked the older woman, who was setting out the treats.

“Yeah, girl. Almost done,” Babs said. “Look good, don’t they?”

“They sure do.”

“Can’t eat ’em myself, you know,” Babs said ruefully. “On account of my teeth.”

Lexie shook her head in sympathy. Across the Green, she saw Joanne Martins, her silver head bobbing as she organized a display of gourds, squash, and miniature pumpkins, which she and Will had volunteered to hand out to the children. Joanne looked up, and Lexie waved at her. Joanne waved back and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Just then, Cole Grayson strode up to their table. He wore his full sheriff’s uniform, minus the cap. With his black-as-night hair, blue eyes, and impressive physique, he cut quite an imposing figure. While Lexie tried not to stare at him—he looked so much like Seb it almost took her breath away—Babs struck up a conversation.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the man of the hour,” Babs said. “You did a fine job organizing this, Cole.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take all the credit. The Halloween Committee did most of the work.”

Lexie forced a smile onto her face and tried to keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t easy, given that she’d done her best to forget about Sebastian over the past few weeks, when here she was, face to face with his look-alike brother.

“Yes, Cole,” Lexie spoke up. “I’ve talked with a lot of other merchants, and we’re so happy you decided to centralize the celebration this year.”

Cole trained his sharp gaze on her and Lexie felt a shiver run up her spine. He wore the same hawkish look that she associated with Seb. He eyed her speculatively, then warmed his expression with a smile. “I’m glad you feel that way, Lexie,” Cole said, his voice too similar to the low rumble she knew so well. “Local business safety was one of the reasons we decided to do this.”

“Well, we’re all pleased. The treasure hunt area for the little kids is great, and the hay bale lounge area for the teens is brilliant.”

“Keep ’em where we can see ’em, right? Can I speak with you in private for a moment?”

Lexie nodded, and she and Cole walked a few yards away from the table.

“I still haven’t heard anything about Frank Doherty’s whereabouts, but I followed up and your restraining order has been entered into the statewide database. If he comes near you, it’s a violation of that order.”

“Okay.” It made her feel a bit better to know that the order was in place, but she didn’t want it to lull her into a false sense of security.

“So, has my brother called you?” Cole asked.

“He has, but I haven’t had time to pick up,” Lexie answered honestly.

“But he hasn’t followed up? Emailed? Told you he’s coming back to visit?”

“No.” She felt miserable saying it. That she even felt miserable galled her.

Cole muttered something mostly unintelligible, which sounded suspiciously like a very dirty phrase. Lexie put her hand on his arm to stop him from walking. “Cole, it’s okay. We had a good time while he was here, and I don’t regret anything. He has his own life in New York, and that’s all there is to it.”

Cole looked down at her. “My brother,” he bit out, “is very, very stupid.”

Lexie smiled ruefully. “Thanks, Cole. I appreciate hearing that.” She glanced back at her table. Babs was leaning toward them, as if she was trying to catch what they were saying. “I’d better get back to my cupcakes. A lot of little ones are about to arrive.”

“You take care, Lexie. I’ll be by to check on you soon.”

“Well, what was that all about?” Babs demanded when she’d gotten back to the table. “Sebastian Grayson, I imagine.”

Lexie deliberately changed the subject. “Hey, look, Babs. We have our first customers.” She pointed surreptitiously at two little girls toddling toward them, each holding one of their mother’s hands. “Let’s get ready.”

Babs grunted and turned to the approaching children. The girls looked to be about three years old and were obviously twins. They had matching faces, with sparkling blue eyes and golden ringlets. They were also wearing identical princess outfits, complete with tiaras and magic wands. Each twin had a plastic pumpkin container for holding candy. They approached the table, looking adorably shy.

“What do you say?” prompted their mother.

“Trick or treat,” they whispered in unison, looking uncertain.

“Happy Halloween,” smiled Lexie, all thoughts of Cole—and Sebastian—banished from her head. “You two make beautiful princesses.” She looked down. “I love your satin slippers.” The little girls tentatively smiled at her. “Would you like an orange cupcake or a black cupcake?”

“Choose one, girls,” their mother said, taking their pumpkin containers from them so that the girls could hold the cupcakes.

“A black one, please,” one of the twins said.

“Orange,” the other spoke up.

“Good choices,” Lexie said, picking up one of each color. “Here you go!” Each little girl took her cupcake and stared at it, seemingly mesmerized.

“What do you say?” their mother asked.

“Thank you,” they said in unison, still staring at the miniature cakes. Lexie looked over at Babs. Even the older woman was charmed, and she gave the girls a warm, sweet smile.

“You’re welcome. If you’d like to eat your cupcakes now, I have napkins for you.”

“Thanks,” their mother said, holding out her hand. “I’ll take them. Girls, let’s go sit on that hay bale over there and enjoy our treats. “Thank you again,” she said.

“My pleasure,” Lexie said. “Have fun!”

“If a sight like that don’t warm my heart, I’m surely dead,” Babs said with a sappy smile on her face.

“They were really cute, weren’t they?” Lexie said. “Oh, look, we have three little pirates to serve.”

The pirates chose some candy apples. One small boy with an eye patch and a tricornered hat immediately crunched into his apple, squealing with delight as the hard exterior crackled under his teeth.

Lexie grinned. Throughout the early evening, a stream of charming monsters, ghouls, firemen, and ballerinas made their way over for treats. Lexie even saw a few small police officers in outfits identical to Cole’s. She pointed them out to Babs. “Looks like our new sheriff has made quite an impression on the town’s youth,” Lexie said.

Night had fallen rapidly, and their portion of the Green was now relatively dark, except for the dim lanterns hanging around the perimeter and the flashlights that were being held by older children and adults. Lexie flicked on the two portable gas lamps she’d brought to illuminate her table. The glow from the lamps extended only about two feet, but it was better than nothing.

The trick-or-treaters were no longer smaller children accompanied by their parents, but older children who traveled in packs. Lexie was glad that the high schoolers were extremely polite, despite the gruesome costumes they wore. She’d just finished handing out cupcakes to a group of gangly teens dressed like the Boston Patriot football team when a figure in a black leather duster and a Freddy Krueger mask approached, stopping three feet away from her table.

“Happy Halloween,” Lexie said cheerily. “Chocolate or pumpkin?”

The figure didn’t respond.

“Are you supposed to be the character from the movie Halloween?” Lexie asked, trying to make conversation.

The figure was silent.

The smile faded from Lexie’s face. She took a moment to truly size up the person standing in front of her. She’d initially thought that it was a high school student, but as she looked more closely, she realized she’d been mistaken. The shoulders were too broad, the stance too assured to belong to a teenager. She noticed that the man—she was sure it was a man—was clenching and unclenching his gloved fists by his side. The gesture was even more threatening than his silence.

“What do you want?” Lexie said, speaking firmly and loudly. “If you don’t want a cupcake, then leave.” She glanced toward Babs for support, but the older woman had disappeared.

She was alone.

The man stepped forward another foot and faced her dead on. As he moved, she caught the scent of sandalwood. It was Frank. She knew it was—the way he moved, the way his body looked—it all matched. Lexie felt a well of fear bubbling up inside her. She had to do something. Now.

“Frank, I know that’s you under there. I have mace on my key chain and I’m not afraid to use it,” Lexie said with a bravado she didn’t feel. To show she was serious, she pulled her key chain from her pocket and held it out.

He stepped forward until he was flush against her table. Lexie still held out her arm. It was shaky, but she didn’t waver in her determination. “Go away,” Lexie whispered, her hand quivering.

Frank looked like he was about to lunge over the table, when Lexie heard Babs’s voice from across the Green. She sounded like she was about fifteen feet away. He hesitated only a fraction of a second more. Then he turned and ran, disappearing into the inky blackness.

Within moments, Babs was back, carrying a steaming paper cup of apple cider. “Got it from Luke Bedwin,” she said. “He’s handing out cocoa and cider at his table on the other side of the Green.”

Lexie ignored her statement. “Where’s Cole?” she said. Her whole body was shaking, and for the life of her, she couldn’t lower the small canister of mace.

Babs turned back toward Lexie and really looked at her.

“Oh, Lord, girl, what’s happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have,” whispered Lexie, still unable to lower her hand. She turned to Babs with a stricken expression on her face. “I saw the man who attacked me on movie night. Frank Doherty is here in Star Harbor.”

* * *

Cole certainly didn’t take any chances, Lexie thought as she bounced over the rough country road in the passenger seat of Cole’s squad car. It had taken all of a minute for him to get to Lexie and he had immediately radioed his deputies to search the surrounding area, but Frank had disappeared.

Cole had insisted on having Hank shadow her for the rest of the event, and immediately afterward, he had personally driven her home to collect a bag of clothes and toiletries.

“You’re staying with me at Emma and Jimmy’s place,” Cole said, staring straight ahead while he drove. The headlights of the car shone brightly into the darkness on Harper Pond Road. “There’s no way you’re going to sleep out here by the Pond, alone, and I don’t think you’d be comfortable sleeping on Val’s boat. The Bishops will take care of you and I’ll be there to keep guard.”

If he was expecting an argument from Lexie, he wasn’t going to get one. “Fine by me,” Lexie murmured. There was no way she was going to sleep, anyway. Frank’s seething menace had really gotten to her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him there. Standing. Staring.

“So,” Cole said, his voice deliberately lighter, “I heard that the catering event you did for Pru Miller last week went well.”

“Yes,” said Lexie, relieved by the change in subject. Relieved that she could think about something other than the menacing figure who’d threatened her. “The luncheon went very well. We had to drive everything up to Boston, but nothing got crushed and we just did a reheat in Pru’s kitchen. Pru loved the menu we selected, and so did her guests. Congressman Ted Kirkland was there, too. I shook his hand.”

Cole let out a brief cough. “Kirkland’s a good man. He’s represented our district well. So, will you get some more business from this?”

“Thankfully, yes. Pru hired me to cater the Millers’ Thanksgiving dinner in Boston, and some of her friends asked for my card, too. It was a good day’s work.”

“I’m glad to hear your business is thriving.”

“Things are going better than I’d hoped. So far I haven’t needed to hire extra staff, but at the rate I’m growing? Well, we’ll just have to see.”

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

“So far just the Millers’ dinner. But if business continues to go well, we might get some other work catering Thanksgiving events, too. Right now, any business is good business.”

“I guess you’re planning to stay close to home then. At least for the near future.”

“That’s the plan.”

“And I heard from Buster that there have been no new notes.” Cole’s voice was more serious.

“No.” Lexie swallowed back a rising tide of nervousness.

“We’re still monitoring that.”

“Good.”

As they pulled up the gravel driveway at the Bishop farmhouse, Lexie saw that the front door was open. Emma’s silhouette came into view against the hall light. The moment she’d walked through the threshold, she felt at home. Emma directed Jimmy to take Lexie’s small overnight bag up to the guest room and immediately invited her into the kitchen for some tea. She was doing her utmost to ensure that Lexie felt like a houseguest.

A houseguest who was under police protection.

After an hour or so, Lexie excused herself and starting preparing for bed. She placed her cell phone on the night table and plugged its charger into a nearby outlet. Then she unpacked her blouse and skirt for the next day and laid them on a wingback chair. It was so cold in the farmhouse that Lexie waited until the very last possible minute to undress. As quickly as possible, she shrugged into her flannel sleep shirt.

Shivering, she jumped into the bed, pulling the soft down comforter up to her neck. Despite the comforter’s weight, the sheets were freezing. She curled up into a ball and tucked her head under the covers, rubbing her arms over the goose bumps on her legs.

It took ten minutes before any semblance of warmth crept through Lexie’s bones, and another ten before the small pocket she’d formed with her body started to fill with heat. She tried to focus on slowing her heart rate down, a trick she’d learned from a Zen master back in California. She concentrated on breathing in and out, slowly, slowly. Breathe in and hold. Breathe out and hold. Breathe in and hold. Breathe out and hold. Breathe in and—Lexie let out an impatient huff. Her heart was still pounding, and all she was doing was making herself lightheaded.

What could she do to calm herself? Think up new recipes? Not so appealing. She’d done that plenty over the past few weeks. She could think about the triumph of her recent catering events. Better, but still not terribly calming. Thinking about catering made her think about everything she still had to do to expand her business, which was anything but calming.

She could think about Seb.

That was the worst idea of all. Thinking about the man with the smoldering gaze and the infuriating attitude would only rile her up, not calm her down. She was still peeved by the way he’d handled his departure. Leaving with barely any warning, and then a few smattered phone calls in the middle of the night when he knew she’d be asleep.

She didn’t care. At least that was what she kept telling anyone who asked.

But, deep down, she knew she was kidding herself. She did care. Deeply.

Still, calling him and baring her soul wasn’t in the cards. It would only make her feel foolish and embarrass them both.

Lexie slowly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.