Chapter 9
Gage sat across the dining room table from Tonya, staring at her over the rim of his wineglass. The shrimp cakes topped with avocado-wasabi sauce accompanied by the salad with thinly sliced red onion, escarole, endive, citrus, and tossed with red wine vinegar with cubes of Gruyère and fine slivers of prosciutto, created an explosion of different textures and flavors. The bitterness of the escarole was offset by the sweetly acidic taste of the citrus fruits, and the subtle saltiness from the cheese and prosciutto were completed by the red wine vinegar.
“I can’t say which I enjoyed more: the shrimp cakes or the salad.” Or the chef who prepared them, he thought.
Tonya raised her glass. “Thank you for your assistance.”
He touched his glass to hers. “It was my pleasure. Would you be opposed to standing in as my sous chef?”
Tonya smiled and then took a sip of rosé. “Of course not. When and where?”
Lines fanned out around Gage’s eyes when he smiled. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected Tonya to be that agreeable. “My place. Sunday afternoon.”
She set down her glass. “How many people are you expecting?”
“There will be just the two of us. Will that pose a problem for you?”
She stared at him wordlessly and Gage wondered if perhaps he was moving too quickly for her. It actually wasn’t his style to come on strong or even attempt to overwhelm a woman when he found himself intrigued by her, but Tonya was so very different from other women. First, she was closer to his age, mature and definitely more urbane than the others.
Her mouth curved into a smile. “No, Gage. It doesn’t pose a problem.”
“I don’t want to insult you by coming on too strong, but I—”
“Don’t say it, Gage,” she said, cutting him off. “We’re not teenagers playing head games. You know how old I am, and at this time in my life, I find that I don’t have a filter when it comes to speaking my mind. Whether it is a date or just hanging out, I’m looking forward to our getting together because we share a lot in common. We both speak French, we’re chefs, we’ve lived abroad, and we like jazz. However, you have one up on me because I don’t play an instrument.”
“Have you thought of taking piano lessons?”
“When am I going to have time to take lessons?”
“What’s the projected date for opening the restaurants?”
“Hannah’s still awaiting approval for the installation of an elevator, so the completion date for renovations on the main house and the café is the end of summer. Converting this guesthouse into a restaurant should take at least a month, which means I’m predicting an October grand opening.”
“That gives you enough time to take lessons.”
Tonya shook her head. “Have you forgotten that I’ll have to interview, hire, and train my kitchen staff? Then I’ll have to make certain to bring on an experienced dining room manager who will supervise and train employees. I’m hoping one of my former coworkers will decide to come in with Hannah and me to monitor the financial end of the businesses.”
“Shouldn’t your dining room manager take care of food and beverage costs and buying supplies?”
Tonya shook her head again. “I don’t want to give him or her that responsibility. I lost my job at an upscale restaurant when agents from the IRS showed up one morning and padlocked the place. We later discovered the restaurant manager had been literally and figuratively cooking the books and owed the feds millions in back taxes.”
Gage had heard of restaurants closing not because of less than palatable dishes or bad service but because of mismanagement. Chez Toussaints could not begin to compare with many of the larger restaurants in New Orleans, yet its longevity and viability were based on secret family recipes and the edict that it would always be owned and operated by a family member.
“I see your point. And you’re certain you’ll be able to trust your friend?”
He was asking a question Tonya did not have to think about. “I’m very certain,” she said confidently. She trusted Nydia to take care of her apartment, and she would trust her to manage the restaurants’ finances. The astute accountant, in good faith, had given her twelve bank checks totaling a full year’s rent rather than one totaling more than twenty thousand dollars. She said she didn’t want to raise a flag with the IRS when Tonya deposited it. Her only other wish, other than opening the restaurants, was for Nydia and Jasmine to become innkeepers with her and Hannah. She had grown rather close to Jasmine and Nydia after Hannah moved to New Orleans. They met once a week for dinner, either at a restaurant, ordered in at Jasmine’s condo, or Tonya prepared dinner for them at her apartment.
Dating Samuel in high school had had its drawbacks. She spent all of her free time with him rather than cultivating friendships with girls her own age. Then at nineteen, she found herself pregnant and married when she should have been at clubs dancing until all hours of the morning or traveling with a group of young women in between college semesters. She exhaled an inaudible breath, chiding herself for ruminating on her past. Tonya had come to the realization a long time ago that if she hadn’t gone through what she had with Samuel, then she would not be who she was today. And it had all been worth it because of Samara. Becoming a mother had given her the strength to take the steps to secure not only her future but also her daughter’s.
“I’ll give you a penny for your thoughts.”
Tonya blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Right now my thoughts are worth a lot more than a penny,” she countered with a brittle smile.
“How much then are you charging?” Gage asked. “Because I’m willing to pay any amount just to know a little bit more about you.”
Tonya lowered her eyes and stared at the tablecloth. She wasn’t ready to talk about the circumstances surrounding her failed marriage. To do so was a reminder of how she had been innocently gullible, malleable, and unquestioningly trusting of a man who did not deserve her love and trust.
“I cannot accept your money at this time.”
“In other words, you’re going to remain an enigma?”
Tonya looked up, staring into the large gray eyes with glints of green that seemed to go through her, and tried to ignore the palpable virility he exuded effortlessly. He’s just a man, the silent voice reminded. Gage may have been just a man, but he possessed something that stirred every emotion that appealed to her as a woman.
“I’m hardly an enigma, Gage.”
“If not an enigma, then you’re definitely a woman of mystery.”
She gritted her teeth in frustration. It was apparent he had no intention of letting it go. “I can’t believe you want me to tell you my life’s story when this is only the third time we’ve been together.” Tonya knew she had hit a nerve with Gage when he sat straight. “I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“No, you’re not. Weren’t you the one who said you don’t have a filter, and what comes to mind comes out?”
“That may be true, but I could’ve been a bit more tactful.” Much to her surprise, Gage smiled.
“I don’t want you to be tactful, Tonya. I want you to be outspoken—that is if we’re going to have anything that resembles an honest and open friendship.”
A powerful relief filled her once she realized Gage wanted friendship and not a relationship. At this time in her life Tonya did not believe she could balance starting up a new business with becoming involved with a man—no matter how attractive she found him.
She extended her hand across the table. “I guess this means what you see is what you’ll get.”
Gage took her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “I happen to like what I see.” He dropped her hand and came around the table to pull back her chair. “Come dance with me.”
Tonya wasn’t given time to protest when Gage looped an arm around her waist and led her into the living room. She had turned off the chandelier, and the only illumination came from candles lining the fireplace mantelpiece. Her defenses fell away as he pulled her into a close embrace. She closed her eyes, smiling when he sang along with Brenda Russell’s “Piano in the Dark.”
“I love this song,” she whispered against the column of his neck.
“Me too,” Gage agreed, as he spun her around and around in an intricate dance step.
“It appears the men in your family are wonderful dancers.”
His deep chuckle caressed her ear. “If you’re talking about St. John, then there’s no comparison. I saw the video of the wedding with him dancing the tango with Hannah.”
She eased back, trying to make out Gage’s expression in the diffused light. “You’ve already seen the video?”
“Yes, and I have to say you were incredibly sexy in that orange gown.”
Tonya laughed softly. “I spent the entire time praying not to have a wardrobe malfunction and upstage the bride.”
It was Gage’s turn to laugh. “That would’ve been the talk of the town for a long time, and I’m certain the videographer would’ve replayed it over and over before editing it out of the final copy.”
She playfully pounded his shoulder. “You’re so bad.”
“Bad like good bad?”
Tonya paused for several seconds. “Yes. I know Hannah and St. John take lessons, but where did you learn to dance?”
“My mother made me take lessons for a couple of years because my father had two left feet. His idea of dancing was to move his feet from side to side. I hated going, because at seven I didn’t want to hold a girl’s hand. Mom would drop me off at the front of the studio, and as soon as she drove away I went out the back. When the dance teacher sent a note home that I’d missed a number of lessons, my mother grounded me for the entire summer. I told her I didn’t want to go back, but I was willing to take piano lessons. The first time I placed my fingers on the keys I knew I’d found my calling.”
Lacing their fingers together and tightening his hold on her waist, Gage dipped Tonya until she was only inches from the floor. “I’ll never forgive you if you drop me,” she gasped in fear.
Gage eased her upright. “That’s not going to happen. I can bench-press twice my weight, so there’s no way I won’t be able to hold on to you.”
“Bragging?” she teased.
“No. I swim laps and lift weights.”
“Where?” Tonya asked.
“At a downtown gym. Now that I’m teaching full-time, that’s going to change. Instead of working out during the day, I’ll have to switch to nights.”
“You’re definitely burning the candle at both ends with teaching, catering, working out, and playing at the club on weekends. Careful you don’t overdo it, old man,” she said teasingly.
Gage dipped her again. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have smart mouth?”
Tonya nodded. “Yes, my grandmother. She used to call me ‘miss sassy.’ I was never disrespectful, just outspoken.”
She didn’t tell Gage that it was her straightforwardness that irritated Samuel whenever she refused to go along with whatever decision he made without first asking her input. In the end he would sweet-talk her, and in order to keep the peace she would give in to him.
“What about your mother?”
Tonya chose her words carefully. “My mother was born in Florida and came of age during the civil rights movement. As a high school student, she was involved in a number of peaceful demonstrations. The one time she was arrested for unlawful assembly, my grandfather bailed her out, and then warned her it was the first and last time he would go to the bank to withdraw money to get her out of jail. The ordeal left her traumatized, because she’d witnessed one of her classmates clubbed to death.”
“That’s something no one, regardless of their age, should have to experience.”
Tonya nodded. “It took years before she was able to talk about it without breaking down.”
“How did she meet your father?”
“They met at Bethune-Cookman College. He was a math major and my mom was a nursing student. After graduating, they moved to New York and lived with Dad’s sister and her husband until they saved enough money to buy their own home. They liked living in Queens, so they bought a place in St. Albans. My mother had a job at a city hospital and eventually became a nursing supervisor, while Dad taught math at a community college.”
“Do they still live there?” Gage asked.
“No. After Daddy retired, he decided to move back to Daytona Beach. He fixed up the house where he’d grown up, sold it, and then he and Mama moved to a retirement community. One of the reasons I decided to accept Hannah’s offer to go into business with her is to live closer to my parents and my daughter.”
“Did you ever think you would become a Southerner?”
“No. I really love the Big Apple and all it offers, but I’m finding myself slowly falling under the magical spell of NOLA.”
Gage cradled her face in his hands. “Good.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m going help you clean up before I leave.”
Tonya held onto his wrists. “There’s not much to clean up. Everything can go into the dishwasher.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He dropped his hands, and in that instant she felt his loss even before his leaving. “Go and get some rest before you have to get up tomorrow to deal with a bunch of rowdy high school students.”
“They’re not as rowdy as they used to be, but I’ll tell you about that when I see you again.”
Tonya walked Gage to the door, watching as he sat on an oak bench in the entryway to slip into his shoes. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Thanks again for helping me with dinner.”
“I should be the one thanking you for covering for me at the restaurant.”
“Please let’s not get into that again.”
He dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “You’re right. Good night, Tonya.”
She nodded. “Good night, Gage. I’ll activate the gates so you can get out.” He was there, and then he was gone. Tonya reached for her cell phone. Hannah had given her the remote device for her car and also sent her the link to download the icon to her phone.
Tonya walked into the living room and flopped down on the loveseat. She half listened to Kool & the Gang playing the hauntingly beautiful “Summer Magic.” A smile parted her lips when she realized Gage would have been an incredible therapist. He unknowingly had gotten her to open up enough to talk about her family. Fortunately for her, he hadn’t asked whether she had siblings, which meant she would have had to talk about her brother—a topic that usually left her in a blue funk for days. It had taken her years before she was even able to mention his name without crying. Not only had Ian been her older brother, but also her protector. Boys in the neighborhood knew not to mess with Ian’s sister, or they would have to deal with him.
It was years before Tonya discovered her brother was living a double life. He worked as an occupational therapist during the day and sold heroin and cocaine at night. However, the lure of the streets and fast money proved too much for Ian, and he began a downward spiral once he became hooked on the drugs he sold to other addicts.
The ringing of her cell phone shattered her dark mood; she saw the name and number come up on the screen. “Hola, Señorita Santiago.”
“Your Spanish accent sounds French.”
“At least I’m trying, Nydia.”
“And you get an A for effort. I wanted to give you a few days to settle into your new spot before calling you. How are you?”
Tonya got up and walked into the kitchen. “I’m good. Hannah had the guesthouse cleaned and fully stocked by the time I got here.”
“You know Miss Thang is up on everything. How is she?”
“Ecstatic.”
“That’s because she’s married to one of the finest brothers in the Big Easy. I’m not looking for a father figure, but if I met someone like St. John I’d be all over daddy-love like flies on a meat skin.”
Tonya laughed. “I had no idea you liked older men.”
“Not really, but I’m tired of guys my age who refuse to grow up. If they’re not trying to shack up with a woman because they need someplace to lay their dusty asses, then they’re living like a mole in their mama’s basement.”
She grimaced at Nydia’s acerbic declaration. When Nydia had announced she was “so done” with her longtime boyfriend, Tonya was skeptical the thirty-one-year-old would keep her promise. “I’m glad you’re finally getting your love life together.”
“Right now I don’t have and don’t want a love life,” Nydia admitted, “and for the first time in a very long time I’m enjoying my own company. That never would’ve happened if you hadn’t offered to let me sublet your apartment. I come home, close the door, and shut out the world. I don’t have a nosy-ass landlady watching to see who I invite over. Some of my cousins keep asking when they can come and see the apartment, but I’ve been putting them off because I know they’ll want to use it as a hangout. And that’s not going to happen, because every time I turn around they’ll be in my face. Enough talk about me. How’s the weather down there?”
“It’s not bad. It was in the low sixties this afternoon.”
“That’s a lot better than it is here; it’s snowing. They’re predicting at least a foot before it’s all over. This is when I envy you and Hannah. You don’t have to deal with the cold and snow.”
“You wouldn’t have to deal with the cold and snow if you decide to come on down and work with us.”
“Give me a couple more snowstorms and I’ll definitely start thinking about it. Luckily, I don’t have to go out until the weekend, and hopefully by that time most of the snow should be cleared away.”
“Have you heard from Jasmine?” Tonya asked.
“She called yesterday to tell me she has the flu. I asked her if she wanted me to bring her some homemade chicken soup, but she told me to stay away because she’s been barking like a seal.”
“Has she seen a doctor?”
“Yes. He told her to stay in, get some rest, and drink plenty of liquids. He did give her a prescription for cough medicine, but she claims the codeine makes her feel loopy.”
“Call her back and let her know you’re going to order from Grub Hub and have them deliver soup and whatever else you think she needs to keep up her strength, because we know she eats like a bird.”
“That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“It’s because you’re not a mother who’s had to take care of a sick child.”
“You’ve got that right. I’m going to hang up now and call a restaurant close to her place, and hopefully they’ll deliver in this weather.”
Tonya wanted to tell Nydia that blizzard conditions slowed down the city, but did not shut it down completely. “Tell Jasmine to call me once she feels better.”
“I will. Adios, mija.”
“Good-bye, Nydia”
She disconnected the call and began the task of cleaning up the kitchen. After stacking dishes in the dishwasher, she turned off the radio, and settled down to watch television. The large flat-screen sat on a shelf in the massive, ornately carved armoire. When Tonya first saw the two-bedroom guesthouses, she likened them to luxurious suites in some upscale hotels. They were furnished with exquisite reproductions that only an expert in antiques would be able to authenticate. The electricity had been updated to include cable and Internet access.
Hannah had shown her the architect’s renderings for the café and supper club, and Tonya was caught completely off guard with the incredibly beautiful depictions of her new restaurants. He had divided the café with an area for dining and another into a parlor with chairs, loveseats, and sofas where guests could relax before or after breakfast.
The supper club was designed for intimacy, with loveseats instead of individual chairs at more than half the tables. There was a dance floor and a raised stage for a band. He decided to keep the wood-burning fireplaces and replace the chandeliers with hanging fixtures resembling late-nineteenth-century gaslights. The kitchen, streamlined to provide optimum dining room space, was to be equipped with top-of-the-line commercial appliances. The architect’s specs also included a central cooling unit for each building. The supper club was configured with a capacity to seat forty at any given time. Once the club was open to the public, she planned to offer open seating Tuesday through Thursday, and reservations for Friday and Saturday.
Hannah planned for nine of the eighteen bedroom suites in the mansion to be set aside for guests, which meant at any given time Tonya knew she would have to prepare enough food for no more than twenty-five if the inn was filled to capacity. Seven suites were doubles, and the two remaining suites were triples.
She watched the news on CNN, then picked up the remote device and began channel surfing and saw that The Best Man Holiday was scheduled to begin in ten minutes. It was one of her favorite movies. The highlight for her was the scene when Morris Chestnut, Taye Diggs, Terrance Howard, and Harold Perrineau danced to New Edition’s “Can You Stand the Rain.” Their smooth dance moves never failed to make her smile. Once the movie ended, Tonya turned off the television and made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and shower. No more sitting up late watching movies and talk shows or reading because she had to get up early to go into Chez Toussaints to bake bread.
Patting the moisture from her body with a thick velour towel, she walked on bare feet into the bedroom. How different, she mused, her new, although temporary, home was from her East Harlem apartment. She didn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs or share the fifth floor with three other apartments. Tonya rarely encountered her neighbors, and when she did they usually acknowledged one another with nods, smiles, and not much more. They, like most New Yorkers, were in a hurry to get where they were going.
Opening a drawer in the mahogany chest-on-chest, she took out a cotton nightgown and pulled it over her head, and then climbed into the four-poster canopy bed draped in white mosquito netting and dotted with tiny embroidered yellow butterflies. Whoever had decorated the room favored butterflies, which were stamped on the window seat cushion and the padded bench at the foot of the bed. She thought of the bedroom as romantic and whimsical.
Although she had settled comfortably into the house, she still needed to unpack two more boxes that were in a corner of the smaller bedroom, boxes filled with books and magazines she still had not read. Reaching over, Tonya turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. In her second day as a transplanted Louisianan, she was involved in preparing the dishes that made Chez Toussaint a popular eating establishment. Spending hours in the restaurant kitchen reminded her why she had made the decision to become a chef. Although the activity was not as frenetic as it had been for her when working in larger, fully staffed restaurant kitchens, she still had to bring her A-game. Despite being professionally trained, she had a lot to learn about authentic Cajun and Creole cuisine with its unique flavors and textures.
Her day had begun with and ended with Gage. There was no doubt he was shocked to see her when he opened the door to her ring. And her day had ended with him when they shared cooking duties, dinner, and a dance. It wasn’t vanity that communicated to Tonya that he was interested, if not intrigued, with her. There was something in his personality that reminded her of Cameron Singleton when he had questioned her about Jasmine. And it was obvious that if either man saw someone or something they wanted, they wouldn’t allow anyone or thing to deter them, even if it meant it wasn’t good for them.
Tonya recalled her grandmother’s warning: What may be good to you may not be good for you. Her grandmother was right when she flew up from Florida to New York for her granddaughter’s wedding to Samuel Alexander. Grandmamma Martin took one look at Samuel and tried to dissuade her from marrying him, even though she was carrying his child. In hindsight, she wished she had taken her grandmother’s advice. She’d grown up when she had the option of terminating the pregnancy, bringing it to term, and/or choosing whether to marry or become a single mother.
She closed her eyes, smiling and wondering if becoming friends with Gage Toussaint was good for her. Tonya knew she had to be very careful or she would find herself succumbing to his captivating presence. He made her think about things that had nothing to do with a shared passion for cooking. Sleep was slow in coming, but after tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep.