Chapter Thirty-Four

“JOHNNY, PULL THE GRATIN out of the oven, will you?”

Rachel threw the question over her shoulder as she ran her knife through the pile of walnuts on her cutting board. She scooped up the pieces and transferred them to the salad bowl.

Melody appeared at Rachel’s elbow. “What can I do?”

“Slice up that beautiful miche you brought and put it on the table with the butter?”

Melody immediately pulled a serrated bread knife off the magnetic strip while Rachel finished tossing the salad.

“Wait, the soup. Behind you . . .” Rachel wove around Johnny, grabbed two towels, and lifted the enameled cast iron pot from the range top. This kitchen wasn’t designed for more than one cook, and yet somehow the inefficiency didn’t bother her. No one was watching or judging here. No one was anxious to get out and on with their evening. Tonight there was no agenda beyond food and conversation.

She placed the pot on a trivet in the center of the table and called, “Dinner’s on, everyone!”

Slowly, guests made their way from the living room, cocktails and glasses of wine in hand. Chairs scraped the wood floor while they seated themselves. Rachel remained standing at the head of the table.

“Welcome to the Saturday Night Supper Club, take two. It might be a little less fancy than the first version, but what we lack in refinement, we make up for in volume.”

The guests laughed, sending knowing looks at the crowd of dishes at the center of the table. No plated meals, she had decided. No fancy design or rare ingredients. Just good hearty food and plenty of it, served family style like the staff dinners she had loved. Appropriately, half of the guests were friends and coworkers with some connection to Paisley: Melody, Ana, Camille, and Johnny. The rest were newcomers to her table: Johnny’s roommate, Regan, a medical student who kept as odd hours as the cook; Camille’s friend Vanessa, who was a hairstylist at a downtown salon; and Melody’s bakery coworker, Hugo. It was a friendly, outgoing group that had found commonalities from the moment they walked in the door.

And yet Rachel couldn’t help but feel one conspicuous absence. It had been eight days, and Alex hadn’t returned her call. After she’d moped around for four of those with her phone glued to her hand like a permanent appendage, Ana had taken her by the shoulders and demanded that she pull herself together.

“Find something to do, Rachel,” she had said. “If he’s going to call, he’s going to call. But I swear if you’re that anxious to talk on the phone, I’m going to put you at the reception desk at my office and make you field the incoming calls. While wearing a business suit.”

Melody had shushed Ana, but the silly threat had been enough to snap Rachel from her melancholy, even though she feared Alex’s silence was an answer she didn’t want to hear. She’d asked Alex to call her back if he could forgive her. He hadn’t. Seemed like a pretty clear answer.

“So, Rachel, why do I think you’ve got something important to tell us?” Camille leaned forward hopefully, her eyes sparkling.

“I do,” Rachel said slowly, “but it’s probably not what you think.”

Melody and Ana looked at her in puzzlement. She’d told them that she’d turned down Mitchell Shaw’s offer, but even they didn’t know about her most recent conclusions. Now that it was time, jitters danced in her stomach. It was one thing to make a decision privately, another to say it aloud and make it true.

“I was recently approached by an investor who wanted to open a restaurant with me near Union Station —” Johnny and Camille grinned in anticipation —“but I turned him down.”

“What?” Johnny asked.

“I have decided that I want to go a different direction for my next restaurant.” She took a breath. “In the meantime, I have applied to CU Denver for the winter semester and I’m going to be teaching at a culinary school in the fall.”

Ana and Melody looked as stunned as Camille and Johnny.

Camille voiced what they were all no doubt thinking. “Why?”

“I always felt like I missed my chance by not going to college. I want to better understand all the disciplines I’ve been missing —marketing, accounting, economics —so when I do open my restaurant, I have all the tools I need to be successful. I won’t need to take a partner to fill in the gaps. And as for the teaching . . . I wouldn’t have the life I have now if it weren’t for cooking. I like the idea of passing my knowledge on.”

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Camille said. “Johnny and I were kind of hoping when we walked away from Paisley, we’d be going back to work for you.”

Before, those words would have spiked guilt in Rachel, but not now. She could only follow the path before her and trust God would send her the right people to join her at the right time. She had no doubt He would be there beside her. “I know you’ll find the perfect place. And if you two need a recommendation, you know where to find me. For what it’s worth.”

She seated herself and held out her hand. “What are you waiting for? Dig in.”

The lids came off dishes; bread was passed; wine was poured. Vanessa turned out to be an enthusiastic home cook, and she peppered Rachel with questions about the meal: ingredients, timing, technique. Rachel didn’t mind. She’d done the same thing in her days as a food runner, until they put a knife in her hand to shut her up.

Down the table, Camille and Melody were debating the respective merits of the music scenes in Austin, Nashville, and New Orleans, while Regan and Ana were talking about Manila. It turned out Regan had been an Air Force kid who spent his early years in the Philippines while his dad was stationed at Clark Air Base.

Rachel smiled and took the bread board as it was passed to her, warmed by the experience of strangers becoming friends over a table full of food. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted, both as a child and at her restaurant? To be part of the warmth, the particular intimacy that only came from sitting down and sharing a meal with people who were important to her?

A knock rattled her front door. She excused herself and rose to answer it. When she opened it, she blinked in disbelief.

“Alex? What are you doing here?”

He was dressed as always in jeans and a T-shirt, a week’s worth of growth covering his face. He looked more rugged than usual but every bit as handsome. She couldn’t quell the leap of her heart at his unexpected presence.

“I got your message.” He looked past her at a sudden spill of laughter. “Are you having a party?”

“Saturday Night Supper Club, part two.” She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her, her heart thumping a drumbeat. When she crossed her arms over her chest, it was as much a barrier against him as the night’s chill. “I had begun to think you weren’t speaking to me.”

“No! I was in Breckenridge and I forgot my phone charger. I didn’t even think to check my messages until I got home —” He broke off as if he realized that wasn’t really what mattered anyway. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to think I was angry with you.”

“What were you doing in Breckenridge?”

“Working. Finishing my proposal.” He grimaced. “Rachel, it’s not what you think. I know I should have told you what I was writing before I sent it to Christine, made sure you were okay with it. I truly never meant to hurt you or betray your trust —”

As much as she was enjoying seeing him flustered, he looked so miserable she couldn’t let him continue to think the worst. She stepped forward and stilled his words with a finger to his lips. “I read it.”

“And?”

“It was beautiful.” Even now, she had to fight the prick of tears. “I never imagined when you were writing about me, it would be something like that.”

“Then why did you turn down Mitchell? I almost didn’t believe him when he told me. That was your dream.”

“I realized that I’ve spent so many years trying to prove I could be successful, I never stopped to wonder what I should be successful at. I figured if I calculated my risks, played the odds, executed everything perfectly, no one would know I felt like a fraud.

“But your words that night, your essay —they made me realize I’m not going to be happy trying to be something I’m not. God made me this way for a reason, and it’s time to embrace it. See what else He has in mind for me.”

He captured her hand. “Does that mean I haven’t ruined everything between us?”

She stepped closer and looked up into his face, so filled with hope. “Not if you can forgive me. I said I trusted you and then immediately thought the worst of you when you’ve done nothing but support me. I’m sorry.”

He threaded his hand through her hair and tilted her head back so he could look into her eyes. “I love you, Rachel Bishop. I have for longer than you realize. And whatever we do from this point on, I want to do it together.”

He kissed her gently, a whisper of a promise, a hint of tomorrows to come. She had trusted him with the scared, uncomfortable parts of herself and he’d held her heart carefully, seeing her whole where she thought she was broken, strong where she thought she was weak. He didn’t complete her any more than success or acclaim did, but he’d given her the gift of seeing herself as God did, as someone who was worthy of love.

She stepped back and swiped away the sudden swell of tears. “Do you want to join us for dinner?”

“Do you have to ask?”

Rachel laughed as she took his hand and pushed the door open, her heart suddenly light. She led him into the kitchen, and the conversation immediately stopped.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Alex.”

Ana and Melody looked at her as if to confirm it was okay to welcome him in. Rachel gave a quick nod, and the guests reshuffled themselves at the table to make room for an extra chair next to Rachel. She retrieved a plate and cutlery from the kitchen, set his place carefully, and then settled beside him.

Beneath the table, he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

The group had already moved on to a heated discussion about what kind of restaurant Rachel should open, but she didn’t object, too filled with gratitude to spoil their fun. Besides, if she’d learned one thing, it was that their guess about the future was at least as accurate as hers.

For now, she had a man she adored, loyal friends, and a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt since those long-ago Sundays filled with love and powdered-sugar donuts. And that was enough.