Once and Again (2 page)

The end the end the end the end.

Like a runaway engine picking up speed on a track, the words kept chugging through Carolyn’s brain. Jake was going to fire her, no doubt about it.

And when she got fired, where would she go? Briarwood had been a lucky break—and it wasn’t even that lucky considering her family’s history with the place. The only reason Carolyn hadn’t raced out of the conference room and driven straight home after the staff meeting was because she
needed
this job and on the infinitesimal chance she was allowed to keep it, she actually had work to do.

How could she face him? She’d have to—all the key employees were supposed to meet with him. What would she say?
Sorry I never got in touch with you after my dad got you arrested
really wasn’t going to cut it. Nor was
I need this job, so even though I screwed you over, please don’t return the favor.

He was going to, all right. She could see it in his eyes. He’d looked right through her every time she dared to glance his way during that staff meeting. It was over, and the best thing would be to prepare for the inevitable. As soon as she got home tonight, she would update her résumé and start looking for a new gig.

How could she not have recognized him after everything they’d shared? Those damned sunglasses. If she’d been able to see his eyes…

But it was too late now.

“You can’t change what you can’t change,” she whispered. Summer had given her that little gem during last month’s staff meeting.
And look how well that’s working out for you, Carolyn.

Needing to do something to get her mind off Jake Gaffney, she phoned her dad at Greenwich Hospital. His doctors insisted he stay there for another few days, but he hadn’t picked up a single time she’d called. His cellphone rang, but once again, it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t bother to leave a message.

Sighing, she texted her younger sister.
I miss you,
she wrote. She hit the return button, sending the message off into the ether. At least she knew there would be no response. Blair had turned off her cell months ago when she’d joined the Peace Corps and moved to Ghana. She missed Blair so badly, but her sister was pretty much impossible to reach. She understood why Blair had left. Carolyn had stayed to fight, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized her sister was fighting, too, just in a different way.

It was funny, but Carolyn didn’t even think about calling Danielle, her youngest sister. Whereas Blair had completely abandoned the materialism of their old life, Dani had embraced it. At the first hint that something wasn’t right with the Rivington finances, and a mere week after they’d buried their mother, Dani had headed for greener pastures—to Los Angeles, where she now did God-knows-what in her quest to make it as an actress. She’d always been wilder than Carolyn and Blair, and it seemed as if their mom’s death just brought everything to the surface.

To be fair, Dani
did
have some bit parts to her name, but they were all on reality shows. Carolyn could have watched them online, but she couldn’t bear to see her sister making a fool of herself. It was better not to know, to keep her head down and focus on what she could actually change—and Dani’s attitude was not one of those things.

There was no one else she could bother right now, so despite the fact that things seemingly couldn’t get worse, she kept working. In fact, she’d just inked a contract for a majorly expensive party—a real coup, given that the hostess, Alicia Chelmsford, was the wife of the chairman of Briarwood’s Board of Trustees.

When Carolyn had come to Briarwood half a year ago, she’d known nobody except Richard, who’d hired her solely based on her history with the place. She’d spent long weeks in the trenches, building up relationships, forming friendships, and slowly becoming a part of what she considered a family. And just as she was getting to
really
know them, she was going to be forced to leave. At least she would go out on top. She’d started this job out of desperation—she needed the money and there was very little else she was qualified to do. Now, working at Briarwood was a point of pride. She was damned good at what she did, and everyone knew it.

Carolyn finished making copies of all the paperwork and squared away her preparation for the next day’s meetings, then glanced at her watch. Almost seven. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly.

One last meal.

Sighing, she put on her suit jacket and made her way down the carpeted corridor of the club’s offices to head to the kitchen. In a pinch, she could usually snare a sandwich or a roll, if they had extras, and Eric’s cuisine was really quite good. Not that she’d be in a position to complain if it weren’t.

As she approached the rear kitchen door, she heard yelling and swearing in French.
Oh, crap.
Eric was at it again.

Carolyn pushed open one of the double doors and poked her head inside to assess the situation. Eric had his back to her as he screamed something unintelligible to Madison Klein, one of his line chefs. Carolyn could see his head bobbing as he dressed down the poor young woman. Cheeks crimson, eyes on the ground, Madison looked like she’d rather be in the seventh layer of hell than in the spacious kitchen at the Briarwood. Had Eric found out that Madison was moonlighting at a seafood restaurant in New Haven on her off-days?

Susumo Norimoto, the very exacting pastry chef, stood to the left, using a miniature blowtorch to caramelize some sugar on the top of a delicious-looking crème brûlée. Spying Carolyn out of the corner of his eye, he stopped and turned fractionally toward her. Carolyn noted the imperceptible tightening of his lips. She could always count on Susumo to let her know the score. She glanced at Madison, then gave him a questioning look. In an incredibly minute gesture, he nodded
no.
Madison’s secret was safe, but things were not all right. Even Jane Pringle, the sometimes assistant pastry chef who was known for her cool head, looked rattled. Her brown eyes were huge, and her gaze flicked worriedly between Maddy and Eric.

Nick Landon, another line chef close with Madison, had taken a step toward the scene.
Not good.
Clearly, an intervention by a neutral party was needed.
Now.

“What is going on in here?” Carolyn demanded, stepping into the space. “I heard your screaming all the way down the hall!”

Eric immediately turned and switched to straight English. “That imbecile at table six sent the sole back again because it is too bland! He has no taste buds! And this one,” he made some Gallic gesture in Madison’s direction, “offered to fix it, but I am the chef de cuisine! I make the decisions in my kitchen!” There was more rapid French, and Carolyn caught a few choice swearwords. “Table six wants flavor? They get flavor!” He snatched the offending plate from a server named Will, who was cowering nearby, slammed it on the counter, and dumped a full cup of salt onto the fish. “Here,” he said, thrusting the plate back at the poor server. “It is ready now.”

The kitchen was silent except for a dripping faucet and the hiss of a forgotten burner. Everyone just stood there, staring at the mound of salt covering the fish.

“Go!” Eric screamed into the stillness.

The plate trembled in Will’s hand. He turned, and looked like he was actually going to deliver the plate to the table.

“Stop,” Carolyn said, and Will froze. Carolyn held out her hand. “Will, give me that.” Will looked back and forth between her and Eric, and then slowly handed her the plate. Without saying a word, Carolyn dumped the contents into a nearby garbage can and slid the dirty plate onto the counter. Then she turned to Eric. In top form, he was a younger, hotter, French version of Hugh Jackman. Right now, with his wild hair and his red face and his crazed eyes, he just looked like a madman.

She stared him down, and when he realized she wasn’t budging, he stalked back to his private office. She followed him in and shut the door.

“Have you gone crazy?” she demanded. “If I could hear you in the hall, they can
definitely
hear you in the dining room. Vernon and Alicia Chelmsford are out there, and Alicia just hired us for a twenty-thousand-dollar affair. Twenty thousand dollars, Eric!” The sad part was, in Carolyn’s heyday, she could have blown through that in a week. Now, it just seemed like an exorbitant amount of money that wealthy people threw away on fancy parties. “Do you want her to think the chef has lost his mind?”

“I have been insulted,” Eric said, sounding indignant.

“Ninety-five percent of the time, the criticism says more about the person making it than it does about your cooking.”

Eric pounded on his chest. “I am the chef here.”

“And an excellent one,” Carolyn said, sensing the shift. “But just like it is my job to make our guests happy, it is your job to give your guests the kind of food they want.”

Eric sniffed.

He really was a superior chef, and the problem was that he belonged in an elite Manhattan kitchen, not at Waves. He’d taken this job to be close to his sister, who was going through some experimental drug trial at Yale–New Haven Hospital. As his sister’s health had deteriorated, so had Eric’s mental state. He’d been on edge for the past few months, but the new acquisition of Briarwood had clearly gotten to him. This was the worst she’d seen him in a long time.

Carolyn shook her head. “I know you’re stressed-out, but so is everyone else. We are
all
under heightened scrutiny, and we need to be able to depend on each other.” Everyone worked together as a team and one person could easily make the difference between them succeeding and failing. Eric needed to realize that it wasn’t just his ego on the line; it was his job, along with those of everyone who worked with him—including hers. “Try to keep your temper in check, Eric.
Please.
” She put as much weight into the word as she could muster.

“
Je comprende,
Carolyn,” Eric finally said. “I understand. Tell Madison to prepare another filet and season it well. I am taking a break.” Then he stripped off his apron and left his office. In a second, she heard the back door to the kitchen slam shut.

She stepped back into the kitchen. Everyone else had already gotten back to work. Susumo gave her a short nod. Only if she looked closely could she see the relief in his eyes.

On cue, her stomach rumbled again, but given how jumpy everyone was, now definitely wasn’t the time to beg for some real food. Instead, she gave Madison her marching orders, then grabbed a roll from the bread basket and stuffed it in her mouth.

She wasn’t that excited about heading to her empty house with its empty refrigerator, but based on the stress emanating from everyone in the kitchen, it was time to beat a retreat. She pushed open the kitchen door.

And stopped short as soon as she saw who was waiting for her in the hallway—Jake Gaffney, leaning against a hall table, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hello, Carolyn,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

The bite turned to ashes on her tongue. Quickly, she snatched the roll out of her mouth and stuffed it into her suit pocket. Blood pounded in her veins, and her heart raced triple time, the same reaction she always used to have when she saw him. Seemed like her body had caught up faster than her brain, but reacting to Jake like this was just bad all around. His gaze raked her form and she didn’t flinch. She
wouldn’t
flinch.

“Fifteen years.” That summer was a lifetime ago, and the last time she’d been alone with him, they’d been half-naked and about to…

Think about something else, Carolyn.
Anything
else.

She ignored the heat licking her cheeks. Since all her money disappeared, she’d had plenty of practice in finessing awkward situations. She could finesse this one.
Treat this like the time you ran into Wetherly Roxwell after you had to beg off the auction committee at the eleventh hour.

“So what can I do for you, Mr. Gaffney?” It was safer to be formal.

“Call me Jake.” It wasn’t a request.

“Okay. Jake.”
Oh, God,
did her voice actually just get huskier?

He didn’t seem to notice. “Want to tell me what just happened in there?”

No
How are you?
No
How’s your family?
Just straight down to business. He never used to be like this. Commanding. Hard. She had a hundred questions, but asking them now would just tick him off. Instead, she searched for a hint of the old Jake—the Jake who’d helped her into the rowboat that starlit night. The Jake who’d wrapped her in his arms to show her the proper golf stance. The Jake who’d been achingly gentle when his lips had touched hers for the first time in the gazebo in the rain.

That Jake was long gone. In his place was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. But she couldn’t give it to him. Not this way.

She cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like ‘nothing’ to me,” he said, dropping his arms to his sides and taking a step toward her.
Good Lord,
he was big…bigger than she remembered. Or maybe she was smaller. Most days, it felt that way.

“It was truly nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, taking another step closer.

She desperately wanted to take a step back, but held her ground. “Just a minor disagreement between staff. It’s over now.”

“Do these
minor
disagreements
happen often?”

Susumo always snuck her food when he could, and Madison had given her more rides to New Haven and back than she could count. Even Eric had gone above and beyond the call of duty for her—making off-the-menu items so her clients would be happy. Selling them out was not an option. She pressed her lips together.

“C’mon, Carolyn. I used to work here, remember?” His voice had dropped a pitch. “You can tell me what’s going on.”

He was close now. So close that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. See if underneath the bulge of muscle and intricately inked flesh he was the same man he’d always been. Would he smell the same? Taste the same?