Harvest Moon (16 page)

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Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: Harvest Moon
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“But she said there were other women! That there were children outside your marriage!”

“Women, yes—my marriage was over and sometimes I was lonely. From time to time, with the greatest of discretion, my eye wandered. But not for a long time, Bella, I promise you. And there were never children.” He shook his head. “So many lies.”

“Unbelievable. What if I hadn’t left the restaurant? We’d have found her out!”

He laughed remorsefully. “We’d only have learned that she tried to drive you away by lying to you and asking you to end our friendship. She would have played the desperate, injured wife. She’s been making excuses about not feeling the divorce was right, that we should continue as we were for the sake of the family, but I wouldn’t go along with that idea. I never found my phone—I’m sure it’s at the bottom of a river. It was finding
your
phone that pried open all the lies. One confession led to the next.”

“Who confessed first?”

He lifted a brow. “Who do you suspect? Phillipe, of course. Under the threat of losing his position and never finding another one in the Bay Area. Next it was young Shannon, in a flood of tears. Then some of the accounting staff admitted they answered to Olivia. Durant was also her man. That doesn’t even account for household staff.”

“What did you do to Phillip?” she asked.

“Oh, I fired him on the spot. He accused me of not keeping my word and I confessed that he was right.” He grinned a bit evilly. “But not until he told me where he mailed your last check. How could I keep a man like that around? He’d sell me to the devil!”

“Olivia said she lifted your phone from the nightside table…”

“No, Bella. I don’t have proof of this, but I believe I left it in the car. We were riding into the city together and I remember using it en route. Shortly afterward I couldn’t find it and had the driver tear the car apart in search of it.”

Kelly rested her forehead in her hand. “She must have worked very quickly after that,” Kelly said.

“Very quickly, with Phillipe agreeing to steal your phone from your purse while she talked to you in his office.”

Kelly laughed lightly. “And shortly after that, I was taken out of the kitchen on a stretcher!”

“What?!” Luca said, sitting forward with a shocked look on his face.

“It didn’t have all that much to do with you, or with Olivia for that matter. Her visit was a blow, but at that point I didn’t even know my phone was gone. I thought it fell out of my purse in the kitchen.”

“Bella, what happened to you?” he asked, grasping her hands.

“Oh, Luca, I wasn’t going to survive in that kitchen. The stress was too much. I’m not as stubborn or hard-headed as you are—Durant was eating me alive and Phillip was constantly conspiring against me. And that was before either of them knew our friendship was special.” She gave a shrug. “I crashed in the kitchen. Grabbed my chest, could hardly breathe, passed out cold.”

“And now?”

She waved her hand at Jillian’s kitchen. “Now? Clean bill of health, feeling well, rested and I have very little stress in my life.”

“And the man?”

She smiled fondly. “A wonderful man. I’m sorry, Luca,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m no longer available, even if you are.”

“Ah,” he said, dropping his chin. “This is the worst of what Olivia has done to me. She took you away from me.”

“Not really. I wasn’t really yours and you were never mine. Your life is too complicated for me and it’s far too late for you to have a simpler life. And for that matter, I may not be able to work things out with my very special man for similar reasons. But I’m going to try, Luca.”

“It makes me very sad,” he said. “I don’t know where I’ve met a more perfect woman.”

“What’s happening with Olivia now?” she asked. “Did you leave her in the Bay Area to wreak havoc on your home, family and business?”

“No, darling, no. She’s in lockdown,” he said with a smile. “That’s what we used to call it when the children were in trouble and we removed all their entertainment as punishment—no cars, no phones, no TV, no friends. Bank accounts are frozen, credit accounts on hold, lawyers and auditors on the premises taking an accounting, many people terminated. I called all the children, explained that the thing we’d been talking about for years was taking place—there
would
be a separation and divorce. I promised them it would be fair, amicable and wouldn’t affect their plans. I hope I can count on that, but there are no guarantees.”

Whew, she thought. Certainly not with Olivia backstage, orchestrating all kinds of melodrama and deceit, it could be a horrible ordeal. But that wasn’t her problem. It was even more evidence that she wasn’t cut out to take on a man like Luca.

“I should leave you,” he said. “You have a good life here, that’s obvious. And there’s a special shine in your eyes. I only wish I’d put it there.”

“You know I care about you. That I wish you well.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “Thank you, sweetheart. I think I’ve put you through enough. Me and my complications.”

“What will you do? Drive back to San Francisco today?”

He shrugged. “Slowly, perhaps. I might stumble on a hidden gem in restaurants or something along that order. I’m in no hurry. I have too much to think about and I found I liked the driving. It felt good to be in control once again.”

“Don’t go,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Stay over. There’s a guest room. Jillian and Colin, my sister and her partner, will welcome you. We’ll cook together tonight, though you’ll have to make do on what I have in the kitchen. We’ll eat, drink wine, sleep well, and tomorrow you can drive back.”

“What about your very special man?” he asked.

“I’ll call him, invite him to join us.”

“He can do that without being jealous?”

She laughed softly. “He’s neither Italian nor a temperamental chef. If he’s available, he’ll do it with class.”

When Luca opened the refrigerator, he exclaimed, “Duck!”

“From the wilds of Idaho,” she explained. “But there’s one small complication—Lief will be bringing his fourteen-year-old daughter and she thinks duck is gross. Probably because he shoots them and plucks them himself.”

“Hah! A minor inconvenience. Does she like pasta?”

“I assume so,” Kelly said with a laugh.

“Good, we’ll fix her up. And we’ll enjoy duck! How would you like it? Honey-orange glaze? Cassoulet? Confit?”

She laughed at him, watching his excitement grow as he considered the possibilities. “I don’t have juniper or allspice berries on hand for confit, Luca. I do have bacon and sausage if you feel like cassoulet. Or we can rub it down with garlic, stuff it with wild rice, serve it with vegetables…”

“Do you have sherry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And merlot?”

She frowned. She recognized the sherry marinade—so Italian—sherry, oregano, garlic, rosemary, basil… “What do you need the merlot for?”

“To drink!” he said, lifting his hand in the air.

And she burst out laughing. Ah, she remembered now—there was so much about him to love. He was so full of fun, of life! And she also realized, not for the first time, that didn’t put her
in
love with him. They were birds of a feather in the kitchen and it was wonderful, but not necessarily right anywhere else.

The cooking commenced. She was more than happy to take orders. He entertained himself so thoroughly, walking her through each step even though she already knew it all by heart. Once she said, “Luca, I know the recipe.” And he said, “Pay attention, my darling Bella! I could throw you a curve! And it could change your life.”

She just laughed—as if a new twist on perky sherry duck could change her life!

Colin and Jillian came home after a long day away shopping. After introductions, Colin stowed his new art supplies in the sunroom and was back in the kitchen. He sat at the table for a while, laughing at the choreography in the kitchen. Jillian went out to her greenhouse and returned with a basketful of lettuce, leeks, a few small tomatoes and some skinny green beans. Luca snatched it out of her hands and tossed it all in the sink to wash, cook and serve—Kelly couldn’t wait to see how.

Lief and Courtney arrived next, and the moment they were all seated comfortably, Luca had an antipasto tray sitting before them, made out of the contents of the refrigerator and cupboards. He had warmed one of Kelly’s frozen French loaves, exclaiming proudly on the texture and aroma, and added that to the table. He poured olive oil and a few spices onto bread plates for dipping. He put Courtney at the head of the table, completely blew off her pique, and never set a place for himself.

Next he served them duck liver appetizers, deviled eggs spattered with inexpensive caviar and cheese and tomato slices. He had always said the true measure of a chef is what he can bring out of the cupboard at last notice. He continued to serve and pour, talking nonstop as was his way, until he had everyone laughing and swooning over his food. Courtney was brought a small casserole of her very own macaroni and cheese, Italian style, which she couldn’t keep away from everyone else. As their forks constantly threatened her casserole, they had her giggling!

By the time Luca delivered the duck to the table for a viewing before carving, even Courtney was impressed. He applied a sharp knife to a few key places and the meat, usually tough and gamey, fell away from the bone.

“Aren’t you going to sit down, Luca?” Jillian finally asked.

“Why? I eat constantly. My passion is to bring it to your mouths.
Mangia!

He never stopped talking, joking, prodding, stopping just short of spooning the food into their mouths. Even Lief was enjoying the performance, and for Luca, every meal he prepared
was
a performance. Of course it was no small matter of reassurance that Kelly sat beside Lief and often had a hand on his thigh.

But she was reminded by Luca’s good mood, his joy, his humor and his energy that it was
cooking
that set him right. It was not his fame or wealth, not his many restaurants nor his picture on the labels of specialty foods, but creation in the kitchen. He might indeed be fond of her, proud of her, but he was
not
in love with her any more than she was with him. He was in love with his craft. And it would sustain him.

Finally, even though everyone at the table was stuffed to the button-popping stage, he brought out the tiramisu.

“I had nothing to do with this,” he announced. “Except that I’m sure I showed her the recipe and method to such perfection!”

“Always taking credit,” Kelly said with a laugh.

It was nine o’clock before the gathering broke up. Courtney had school the next day, Jill had the garden, Colin had things he wanted to do, and, as Kelly pointed out, Luca had to get back on the road.

But that didn’t prevent Kelly and Luca from sitting up with a new bottle of merlot. He picked the bones of the duck carcass, congratulating himself with every bite. And he also had opened the precious jars of her sauces, relishes and chutneys, raving about each one as he tasted.

“There is a fortune here,” he said.

“Hopefully there’s enough to pay the rent, though I won’t turn away a fortune.”

“If you had the right factory and backing, a fortune,” he insisted.

“Right now, I’m just testing the market. I already know it’s good—it comes from my great-grandmother. It’s always been good.”

“Let me take some back to San Francisco and show them around, see if you find a market there.”

“That would be lovely, Luca.”

He grasped her hand and said, “All the things I promised—your own kitchen, your own trademark, your own restaurant—anytime you want to take me up on that, you have only to call me. I will have you in place in a day.”

“I won’t work in another restaurant like
La Touche,
” she said. “It’s suicide.”

“You will choose the sous chef, the manager, the staff, the line chefs. And you will make the rules,” he said.

“Thank you, Luca. Your faith in me means a great deal.”

“And production of these recipes? I’ll pay and pay well. I’ll supply the production—we’ll work out a contract so you never have to worry about the rent again!”

“The recipes are precious to me,” she said.

“I understand,” he answered with a nod. “I want you to know, I wasn’t just talking—I meant it when I said you had my support. You could be a success without it, but if I can be a part of it…”

“I’m happy here,” she told him.

“If you’re ready for a change in a month or a year, in two years, it doesn’t matter. Call me. In the meantime, I’ll have one of the new interns put together a distribution list for you for northern California. I’ll write a letter of endorsement you can use.”

“That would be so generous. Thank you.”

They sat up drinking and talking until well after midnight, and still, Kelly was up in the kitchen at six the next morning. Luca followed soon after, ready for coffee and something to eat. By seven they were standing on the front porch, and his car engine was running.

“I mean it, Bella. No matter when you call me, I will not let you down again.”

“Thank you, Luca. That means a lot to me.”

He leaned toward her for a kiss and she obliged. He sucked in a deep breath, pulled her close, covered her mouth with his and worked his magic.

But for Kelly, it was like kissing an uncle. After two years of fantasizing unspeakable passion, it was nothing like their last kiss. What happened to the thunderheads?

It was over for her. Luca was a friend and mentor. She adored him, admired him. And didn’t want him as her partner, lover or even fantasy anymore.

Finally he let her go. He smiled into her eyes and said, “Nevertheless, I will support you in your success.”

And she smiled back. “Thank you, Luca.”

“Call if you need me. If you need anything, at any time. If you ever decide to leave the mountains, just let me know. I will put you to work.”

She nodded. “And good luck with the family. And all that.”

“I believe we could have made a good couple, Bella.”

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