Across the Line (In The Zone) (27 page)

“I see.” She pulled out her iPad and spoke into it. “Remind me to call my lawyer tomorrow regarding a formal contract with Calder.” Then she looked at him with cold eyes. “There was something else I forgot to tell you. The insurance claim was finally processed. I should have the money, they said, by close of business on Friday. As soon as I get it, I’ll sign it over to you. Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to cover everything I’ve spent, so I’ll have my attorney write up—”

“Becca, stop it. That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. I knew something like this was going to happen, but I...” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. Now if you excuse me, I have work to do.”

She brushed past him and he stood there, shell-shocked. What a fucking disaster.

Chapter Forty-Eight

I
think legally this all belongs to me.

While that statement was accurate, Becca couldn’t believe Calder had come right out and said it. He
knew
she was touchy about borrowing the money. He
knew
she’d had to conquer some inner demons in order to accept his financial help, but he’d still thrown it in her face.

Fuming over the implied threat, she drove home. Thankfully, Calder had a game, because she didn’t want to lay eyes on him. She didn’t even want to stay in that house tonight. She decided to sleep at Cups. Her office was big enough now for her to shove the furniture against the wall and sleep on the floor. But just as she was packing up a change of clothes, Erin called.

“Hey, I have two tickets to the game tonight and Claire bailed on me. You want to go?”

“You know, I do happen to be free tonight, but I do not want to go to the game.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Calder and I had a fight. A pretty big one.”

“Oh, no. Is this your first fight?”

“No, but it might be our last.”

Erin gasped. “That bad?”

“That bad.”

“Okay, tell you what. We got a million bottles of wine left over from the wedding, so let’s pop open a bottle and you can tell me about it.”

“What about the game?”

“Screw the game. I’ll record it. It won’t be the first home game I ever missed.”

* * *

When Calder got home, it was pretty late. Pulling his tie loose, he made his way quietly into the bedroom so as not to wake Becca. He was exhausted and not in the mood to talk to her about what had happened at Cups that afternoon. Tomorrow was soon enough for him.

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the empty bed. The moment he saw that, he got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

His phone rang. It was Tim.

“Buddy, are you home yet?”

“I just got home.”

“Well, Becca’s here at my place. Erin wanted her to go to the game with her tonight, and Becca told her about the fight you had, and so they drank wine together—well, Becca drank wine. Erin had tea—and they had a girly powwow. Now, Erin’s settling her into the guest house so I guess Becca’s staying here tonight. What happened?”

Calder sat on the bed and sighed. “I don’t know. I went to Cups to see the new tables and chairs. One minute I was putting the moves on her in her office and the next she was making an appointment with her lawyer.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

Calder walked around in a circle. “Some stupid shit. Some really stupid shit.”

“Did she say stupid shit too? Or was it all you?”

“She did make a crack about hockey not being a real job, but that was nothing compared to me rubbing it in her face about the loan. Damn it. I know that was a low blow, but she’s got to know I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sure she does, but she needs some cooling off time. Give her the night to sleep off the wine while you think about how to apologize. Flowers work for me, but you know her better than I do.”

* * *

A few hours later, Calder woke with a start and tried to turn off the alarm on his phone. He’d fallen asleep in his shirt and slacks. His tie hung off the side of the bed.

Then he heard Tim’s voice. “Calder, are you there?”

He realized it wasn’t his alarm. Tim was calling him.

“Tim. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Heads-up, Becca’s on her way over to you and she’s mad as hell.”

“Why? What happened?” Calder sat up. It was 7:30 a.m. He was due at the BIC at ten for practice. He hadn’t slept well at all and felt groggy.

“I’m not sure. She was in the middle of making breakfast for the three of us, waiting for the waffle iron to heat up, and all of a sudden, she swore all up and down, apologized to us for having to take off, then grabbed her keys and left.

“She’d been looking at her laptop, so being the nosy type, I checked it out hoping to find a clue as to why she lit out of here. I find an email from Rochelle Narritt, that reporter from the
Tattler.
Hold on. Lemme get her computer so I can read it to you.”

Calder went to the bathroom and took a leak while Tim was gone.

“Okay...here we go. There’s an intro where she introduces herself, gives her creds, then she talks about the interview she did with you last week—quote, ‘I wanted to get your take on how Calder has taken you under his wing. He’s a hot ticket lately in town and people want to know about him and what he does off the ice. It’ll be great publicity for Cups. When celebrities like him open restaurants, there’s always a lot of curiosity about whether the food will actually be good or not. That’s where I hope you can fill me in.’ Unquote.”

When celebrities like him open restaurants.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, that’s about it. The rest is asking when a good time to meet would be.”

“Thanks, Tim. You’re a lifesaver.”

Calder figured he had about fifteen minutes before she got there. He quickly stripped and got into the shower. He felt like crap and the hot water would clear some of the mental cobwebs.

He tried to form a game plan, but all he could come up with was to tell her what he’d actually said to that reporter, which wasn’t much of a plan. Maybe he could—

Bam.
Downstairs, the front door slammed.

“Calder!”

Obviously he’d underestimated how fast she could drive. He rinsed as quickly as he could, shut off the water and managed to wrap a towel around his waist by the time she got to the bathroom.

“You bastard.”

His hair was dripping. His whole body was still wet as he stepped out of the shower.

“Good morning to you too. What did I do?” he asked, not about to let her know that Tim was feeding him information.

She vibrated with anger. Her voice was shrill. “You told a reporter that you were opening a restaurant.
My
restaurant. That it was yours. Now I see where that comment last night came from. You really
do
think Cups is yours. Her email said you gave that interview a week ago!”

“Whose email?” He went to his dresser and pulled out underwear and warm-up pants. Damned if he was going to face Becca’s wrath wearing only a towel. “Are you talking about that woman from the
Tattler?
”

“Yes. She sent me an email wanting to ask me questions about your restaurant. She even hinted that my food was questionable and that Cups’ only draw was that you owned it.”

He put his hands on his hips and tried to stay calm and rational. “I can see why you’re upset, but I never said it was my restaurant. I told her about the fire and how you moved here. I also told her I was helping you reopen the café. That’s all.”

A little wind came out of her sails. “That’s what you actually said? That you were helping me?”

“I may have said helping you
out.
”

After a moment, her shoulders lowered about two inches. “I’m sorry. After what you said last night, I jumped to conclusions.”

He’d won this round. Hopefully, he could win the next one too.

“Apology accepted. Let’s go downstairs and get some coffee and breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I need it.”

While he made coffee, she toasted bagels and slathered his with peanut butter and organic honey. She liked hers with butter. It should have felt normal, but it didn’t. She was physically here, but emotionally as distant as if she’d stayed in Ithaca.

They sat at the table and she looked uncomfortable.

“So,” he said, “I guess I’ll talk to this woman and set her straight.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said that about everything belonging to me. I was way out of line and I really really regret saying that. It’s just...I feel like we don’t spend any time together anymore. Ever since you decided to reopen Cups, I never see you. You’re always at work. If you’re not at work, you’re thinking about work.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one whose job takes up a lot of time. You’re out of town literally half the time.”

He sighed. “I can’t do anything about that.”

“Well, I can’t either. The restaurant business is not for sissies. You have to oversee every detail. You’re prepping hours before you open and you’re cleaning hours after you close.”

“But isn’t that what employees are for? You hire people to prep and to clean.”

“But when the cat’s away, the mice will play. You have to keep on top of them, maintain the standards, make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing.”

“Same point. Isn’t that what a manager is for?”

“Calder, I’ve told you before, I can’t afford a manager. I couldn’t when I was in Ithaca, and I certainly can’t now. I barely have enough to run a skeleton staff.”

“And I’ve told
you
before, I have plenty of money. All you have to do is—”

“Go deeper into debt. You thought I was spending too much money before? That’s nothing compared to what I’d have to pay a manager. No. I won’t do that. Especially after what happened last night. I have to be honest with you, Calder. I’m not sure I can forget what you said. That was like you punched me in the face. All I could think about last night was, what if every time we fight you bring that up? Like a bargaining chip?” She dropped her voice to a low register. “‘Well, you wouldn’t even
have
Cups if it wasn’t for me.’”

“Christ, Becks, I wouldn’t do that.” At her look, he said hastily, “Okay, I did it once. That’s all. You can’t hold that against me forever. I mean, give a guy a second chance.”

She turned her gaze out the window. The clouds and haze that blanketed the beach every morning put a gray cast on everything. Down on the street level there would be people jogging, walking their dogs. Surfers and body boarders would be doing their thing in the waves.

When she spoke, she sounded as distant as the surf. “I used to think our problem was the miles between us.”

Fuck. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“It was, Becks. We cleared that hurdle. We weathered that storm. Yes, that fire was devastating, but we came out of it together—like that phoenix bird, right? Isn’t that the bird that sets itself on fire and then is reborn in the ashes?”

She didn’t respond.

“I think it is. The fire brought us together. Together we’re making Cups a reality again. We’re making it bigger and better and it’s going to take this city by storm. You’re going to have so much business you won’t know what to do with yourself. It’s gonna be great.”

His pep talk seemed to be having an opposite effect. The more he talked, the more she seemed to withdraw.

“You don’t understand, Calder. What you just said...I agree with you. I think Cups is going to be very successful, but that just makes it harder for us. It means I’m going to have to spend even more time and effort on it.”

She looked down at her coffee which she hadn’t touched. Neither of them, in fact, had taken a bite of breakfast or sipped their coffee.

“So, I think maybe we should separate.”

His response was immediate. “No.”

She went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “It’s for me, really. I’m being selfish. I admit it. I don’t think I can be a good restaurant owner
and
a good girlfriend at the same time right now. Erin said I could stay in their guest house until I can find a place of my own.”

You have a place.
With me.
Here.

“Becks, come on. You can’t be serious. We can work this out.”
I
swear I won’t complain anymore about how we never spend time together.
I’ll never mention money again.
I’ll do fucking anything you want.
Just please don’t leave me.

“Of course we’ll work it out. This is part of how we’re going to do that. We’ll take a break and then after Cups opens and things settle down, we’ll reassess. Stop looking so stricken. I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Bullshit. You damn well are breaking up with me. You’re just doing it in stages. It started weeks ago. You started pulling away kind of gradual like. Today, you want to get serious about it, but you’re too damned chickenshit to do it clean.”

“That’s not true. I think we can work it out eventually, like I said.” She finally sounded a little freaked out, which he guiltily enjoyed. He was tired of trying to please her and help her when all she did was resist. Right now, he wanted to hurt her feelings. He wanted to lash back at her and make her own up to the fact that she was ending it.

“You know what, Becks? I think you’re wrong. I think this is it. We’re never going to work anything out because the issue between us is that you
already
work too damn much, and I travel three months out of the year. That’s not going to change. So, let’s work out a reasonable payment plan and be done with it, because I don’t want to pretend we’re going to get back together when it’s obvious we’re not. Lesson learned. Let’s move on.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Ruthlessly shutting out her heartache, Becca threw herself into her work like a woman possessed. She rode her crew like a drill sergeant. Any time a thought of Calder intruded, she slapped at it like a gnat. She’d planned to open on Black Friday and nothing was going to stop her from accomplishing that. After that, she would focus on working the kinks out before a bigger, more publicized grand opening two weeks later.

Black Friday and her official opening eclipsed what she’d expected and the numbers only continued to grow. As she’d hoped, the food struck a chord with the community. As in Ithaca, people came in, curious about the lettuce cups and what different types there could possibly be. They left pleasantly surprised and usually with a couple options on their list of things to try next time.

That “next time” attitude was what she was aiming for. Repeat customers were the heart and soul of the restaurant business. The soups sold nearly as well, which surprised her. San Diego was famous for its temperate climate, and so she’d wondered if people felt the same sort of craving for soup as people back East did. If the weather never got crazy cold, why have soup?

But she eventually realized that to San Diegans, anything below sixty-five was “cold.” So her soup sales, while not as stellar as they’d been in Ithaca, were better than expected. But she couldn’t keep up. She was on the verge of being overwhelmed every minute of the day and only with an iron will and lots of caffeine was she able to survive. There weren’t enough hours in the day for her to accomplish everything she needed to.

Ever since her break with Calder, she’d been burning the candle at both ends. Switching to robot mode, she shut off all her emotions. It wasn’t easy, but she did it. She had to. Their argument had stirred everything up and made a crazy mess—like a pot of pasta bubbling over. So she’d taken their relationship figuratively off the heat, slapped a tight lid on it and set it aside.

And yet when Anson Lau, a chef of some renown from New York, visited Cups the day after she’d opened, Becca got so nervous she almost threw up.

“Chef Lau, it’s an honor to have you here,” she’d said, shaking his hand over the counter. “I’m Becca Chen, the owner.”

Lau was Chinese but had trained in France. He’d established himself creating dishes that fused French and Asian cuisines. Becca had never eaten his food—she hadn’t been able to afford it—but wanted to someday.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“I’m a native New Yorker.”

He smiled. “And you moved here to open your restaurant?”

“In a roundabout way. What brings you to San Diego besides the weather?”

He chuckled. “I am opening a restaurant here. I’m here to meet with my partners.”

“You have partners?”

“Of course. It’s the only way to build a restaurant empire.” He chuckled.

“Do you have partners in all your restaurants?”

“Yes, I do. Having partners spreads out the risk and if ever there was a risky business, it’s the restaurant business. Now, tell me what I should order. None of the food in the airport looked appetizing.” He eyed the menu board briefly, then shook his head. “Never mind. Make me anything you like. I trust your judgment.”

Shit, the pressure.

“All right. Have a seat. Your meal’s on me.”

He protested, but she wouldn’t allow him to pay. Hurrying toward the back, she took over the cooking duties. Her cook was good, but he wouldn’t attend to the details required for someone like Lau. She did, however, bark orders to get her this or that while she worked. She gave Lau samples of all four soups for the day and one each of the five cups. She picked over the warm rolls for ones that looked perfect. She wished she had fancier dishes and flatware, but then reminded herself Cups was Cups. It didn’t pretend to be anything fancy. Surely Lau would understand that.

He thanked her profusely when she delivered the feast.

“I’m hungry, but not that hungry,” he said. “Can you sit and join me?”

She glanced at the line. It seemed as if Dominique had things under control. “All right, but only for a few minutes. We only opened a few days ago and the staff is still finding their feet.”

“I completely understand.”

He sampled the food and Becca’s stomach cramped as she waited for the verdict. Lau closed his eyes and smiled. “This is very good.” He took in another spoonful of soup. “Very good. Deep flavors. Interesting flavors.”

“That’s the Surf and Turf.”

“The beef is delicious.”

“I braise it in beer.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lau nodded. “Delicious. The lobster flavor is right there too. It’s a well-balanced, well-thought-out dish. I like it very much.”

“It’s turned out to be my number one seller here in San Diego.” Which surprised her. Because of the lobster, the Surf and Turf was by far the priciest item on her menu, but people didn’t seem to care. “We run out every time it goes on the menu.”

“You should consider making it a regular item then.”

By that time, the line had grown longer than she felt Dominique could handle on her own. She apologized to Chef Lau, but he waved it off. “I understand. Go.”

A while later when he left, he handed her one of his business cards, which she pocketed until the lunch rush was over. The minute she had a chance to breathe, she saw he’d written something on the back. He’d liked the food very much, he thought she had a wonderful career ahead of her and told her to call him if she ever needed advice. She immediately went to her staff and showed them, but none of them seemed as impressed as they should have. None had ever heard of Anson Lau. She told herself that was okay. It didn’t diminish what Lau had said, but she wished she had someone to share it with, someone who would have gotten as excited as she had.

She sighed. Someone like Calder.

Calder would have rejoiced with her. He would have told her that Chef Lau’s praise was no surprise because Calder believed people who didn’t like her food had malfunctioning taste buds. When he’d said that one day after she’d told him about a customer who had given her a horrible online review, she’d laughed. Calder also would have strutted around like a peacock over what Lau had said about the Surf and Turf Soup. He would have tried to jokingly take all the credit and then probably peppered her with more recipe ideas.

But that was never going to happen. She and Calder were done. She needed to accept that and stop feeling sorry for herself. She had a lot to be grateful for. Today was a triumph. Anson Lau’s note was evidence that her hard work was paying off. It wasn’t every day a famous chef came along and praised her.

She put Lau’s business card in her wallet, intending to frame and hang it in her office. That way, anytime she felt overwhelmed, she could look at that and boost herself up.