One More Taste (32 page)

Starting today.

This was bigger than the restaurant, bigger than the resort. He was going to fight for the woman he loved because the two of them deserved a chance to try for something real. And so, at dawn on the seventh day—seven days of unanswered voicemail messages to her, seven days of her being AWOL at the resort—he hoisted his gym bag into the back of his truck.

He pushed the key into the ignition, then paused. Ever since he'd been voted the new CEO of Briscoe Ranch, he'd felt his dad's presence all around him every time he was in the truck. What was his dad's spirit's opinion on everything that had gone down with the resort and with Emily?

Did it matter anymore what his dad thought? Knox was feeling less and less that it did. Knox had made enough decisions in his life with the goal of making his father proud, and he was starting to reach the conclusion that it was time for him to grow the hell up and stop worrying about his father's judgment.

He rested against the seatback, his vision softening as he pictured his father sitting in the passenger seat, as they'd done so many times in their lives, beginning when his dad had taught Knox how to drive. “Dad, my life can't be about revenge anymore. I did this for you, but I never expected her. I'd love your support, but either way, I know what I want now, and I'm going after her. And I'm not sure what that's going to mean for my plans for the resort. I'm not sure I can sell it off anymore.”

He'd never expected the way Emily had changed how he thought about passion and family and love. Just like he'd never expected to care about his grandmother or cousins the way he did. The idea of displacing them when he sold the resort made his stomach churn.

One thing at a time, man.
Nothing was going to happen with the resort for a couple of years, until the renovations were complete, so he had time to figure out how to handle the sale in a way that would keep the Briscoes on their property while keeping Knox's investors happy.

All he knew now was that there was more to life than revenge. And that he was in love with a woman worth fighting for.

He half expected his truck to break down on the way to Murph's Gym.

It didn't. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to his dad, then grabbed his gym bag and headed inside. Murph didn't look up from the game of solitaire he'd dealt himself on the counter. “She's not here.”

Knox had figured as much.

“She hasn't been here for a week.”

Panic made Knox's heart squeeze painfully. “She's coming back, isn't she?”

Murph shrugged. “She said she was, but I wouldn't hold her to it. People who've been through what she has, they're light as a feather. Doesn't take much of a storm to blow them away.”

Knox had to believe she'd be back. If nothing else, then for the birth of Carina's baby. He dropped his credit card on the glass countertop. “I'd like to become a member of the gym. And I'm going to need a personal trainer, someone to teach me kickboxing.”

Murph flicked the credit card back toward Knox. “What is this about? What's your move, here? You stalking our girl for real this time?”

“I'm in love with her.” It felt weird to say aloud, as the truth often did.

“Doesn't make you any less of a stalker.”

He wasn't going to get anywhere with Emily unless he could win over the men who protected her and show them that he was a stand-up guy who valued her as much as they did. “True. So run my ID and credit card, look me up online, start a file on me. Meanwhile, you can train me. I'll even let you or any of your guys try to beat the shit out of me in the ring.”

Murph's stone-cold expression cracked with a snort of laughter. “Need me to go over the rates?”

“Nope.”

“Pay by the month?”

“Let's do a year. Or two,” Knox said. “Whatever max amount your system is designed for.”

“That would be the lifetime membership.”

Sounded about right to Knox. He planned to stick around for as long as Emily would have him. A lifetime, even. “Sign me up.”

Murph raised a single eyebrow. “You want to hear how much that costs?”

“No. But get on with it. I could use a good fight this morning.”

Chicago, Illinois …

For the fourth day in a row, Emily sat at a café across the street from the building that had housed her parents' penthouse apartment, wondering if that was even their place of residence anymore. She supposed she could have made her life easier by looking them up online, but that ran the risk of discovering a gushing society page article about their participation in a charity gala or news of her father's latest business deal. She didn't want to see their pictures on the internet. That wouldn't do her any good.

When she'd set out on the trip, she hadn't been clear on why she was driving twelve hundred miles north, or what she'd do if and when she saw her parents. All she knew was that fear of them—and fear of who she really was—had held her back for far too long. As she had when she'd quit the resort, with this she knew that the only way to change the trajectory of her life was to ignore her misgivings and force change to happen with sheer will.

It wasn't until she crossed the state line into Illinois that she'd figured out her purpose for traveling there. She wanted to look into the faces of her parents and remind herself that she'd done the right thing by leaving. All she needed to do was see them, if only from across the street. There was no need for words to be exchanged, or for them to even know she'd been there.

Seeing them in the flesh was the only way she could bring them back down to the status of human beings rather than the larger-than-life, all-powerful monsters she'd created in her imagination. And then, once she'd corrected the image of them in her mind, she'd let go of all the fears and resentment she'd been harboring so she could move on to the next phase of her life with a clear heart.

The trouble was, she was running out of time. She had to get back to Texas soon because Carina's baby was due any day. As important as it was for her to discover what had happened to her parents, being there for her best friend was priority number one, even though it meant apologizing to Carina's family for leaving her job so abruptly. Even though it meant that she might see Knox before she was ready.

After her second day of fruitless surveillance, she'd debated approaching Louis, the doorman, who'd been watching over the building and the tenants who called it home for as long as Emily could remember. But she couldn't quite convince her legs to walk across the street. For reasons she didn't need to analyze, she needed a four-lane buffer between herself and her old life.

Of all the things she missed from her old life, Louis topped the list. Often, when her father would be dragging her along beside him, handling her too abrasively or quietly berating her, Louis would find a way to distract her dad and slip her candy. He was always ready with a smile and a willing ear when she got home after school, to listen to her expound about playground drama and the lessons she'd learned in class. Most importantly, he'd always kept her secrets, and was the last person to talk to her on the day she ran away with nothing but the clothes on her back and a full backpack, though he didn't know she was leaving for good at the time. He'd held the door open for her that day and had slipped her a twenty-dollar bill, explaining that he didn't have much, but he wanted her to go buy herself a sweet treat.

In the early afternoon on this fourth day of watching and waiting, Emily stood, once again trying to work up the courage to walk across the street and talk to Louis. She busied herself collecting the trash from her table, sweeping up crumbs from the muffin she'd eaten and bussing her dishes, as she tried to talk herself down from her fear. He was just a man. A very nice man. She had nothing to be scared of.

But what if her parents walked out at that exact moment? What if they saw her before she could hide?
She shivered at the thought, a reminder of how far she had to go in order to exorcise the residual fear about her parents from her heart.

The next time she looked up, Louis was no longer standing at his post near the door. She pressed her face to the glass and scanned the sidewalk in either direction but didn't see him. It was too early for his shift to be over, but maybe he'd had to use the restroom or make a phone call or something.

“Rebecca Youngston.”

She nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of her old name said in a man's baritone voice. She'd always assumed that if anyone called her by her given name again, it would either be her parents or the police. She whirled around to find Louis smiling down at her. “You saw me here?” was all she could think to say in her panic.

“For four days now. Did you forget that I know everything that happens in these streets? Especially when it comes to my very favorite tenant,” he said with a kindly wink.

Emily forced herself to take even breaths, then commanded her shoulders to drop and her pulse to slow back down. “I did forget that, yes.”

Louis's smile broadened, crinkling the edges of his eyes. “I knew you'd be back someday. I prayed for it. And here you are, Praise Jesus.” He opened his arms wide in an invitation for a hug.

She indulged his invitation and wrapped her arms around the kind soul who'd been such a steady, calming force in her childhood. As they hugged, she felt the broken pieces of her spirit healing. She felt the fear melt away. “It's so good to see you, Louis.”

“Likewise you, darlin'. Especially seeing you look so good.” He held her at arm's length and looked her over, the same way Granny June sometimes did. “You must have done all right for yourself.”

“I have. I'm a chef.”

He chuckled at that. “You? You never cooked nothing in your life when you lived in my building.”

She couldn't help but smile. “I know. I didn't learn to appreciate the art of cooking until later.” When scrounging up enough food became one of the most important elements of her survival.

Louis's smile fell. “I'm sure you're here looking for your parents.”

All she could do was nod.

“As happy as I am to see you, it's now my burden to let you know that your parents are no longer with us.”

“What?” The possibility had never crossed her mind. She really had believed that if they'd died, she would have sensed it, somehow.

“Your father of a heart attack not too long after you left. Your mother moved out of my building soon after, but she kept in touch with me. I learned a couple years ago that she'd passed on. Cancer.”

Emily went numb, cold. They were both dead. Had been for years. She dropped into the nearest chair. All this time, she'd been so fearful, so vigilant about concealing her identity. And for no reason. If she'd ever bothered to conduct that internet search, she could have spared herself years of unnecessary worry. “I don't know what to say.”

Louis eased into the chair across from her. “I bet you have a lot of questions, about your folks and where they're buried and other details about their passing, but I'm not the one to ask. They don't tell me nothing because I'm just the doorman. But I know someone who can help you.” He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

The name on the card was Charles Welk. Her parents' closest friend and lawyer. “How did you…”

“Mr. Welk has been convinced, just as I was, that someday you'd be back. Every time he comes around, he gives me his card. He said that if you ever came back, that you should go talk to him because he's the executor of your parents' estate.”

Emily fingered the corner of the card. Her stomach churned with dread at the idea of presenting herself to her parents' closest friend, of coming out of hiding. Whatever her parents had left her in their wills, she didn't want it. She wanted no ties to them, nothing to make her beholden to their memory. Then again, what if it was a letter, an apology? Her eyes pricked with moisture at the thought. Did she dare hope?

Louis patted her hand. “You have a lot to think about. I hope you go see this Mr. Welk. Don't give yourself something new to regret by leaving this stone unturned.”

Emily stood with Louis and embraced him once more. “Thank you.”

“Darlin', you just made my year, finding out that you're alive and well. All the thanks goes to Jesus for bringing you home.”

Home.
Not by a long shot.

She watched Louis cross the street and reassume his position at the door, then she walked through the café, out the back door and through the alley where her car was parked. On her phone, she pulled up directions to Charles Welk's office on the twenty-fourth floor of a building on West Jackson Blvd, downtown, and hit the road.

Welk's office was a cheery space, and quiet, with large windows affording a partial view of Lake Michigan. The secretary, a slim blonde who looked to be in her fifties smiled at Emily and waited for her to approach her desk before asking, “May I help you?”

Emily flashed the business card Louis had given her. “Mr. Welk isn't expecting me, but I was told to pay him a visit if I ever came back to Chicago. Is he in today?”

“He is. Let me see if he's available now. Who may I tell him is here?”

“Emily.” She huffed. Not today, she wasn't. “No, wait. He would know me as Rebecca. Rebecca Youngston.”

She disappeared through a door behind her desk. Emily walked to the window and settled her gaze on a sailboat that was little more than a white speck in the vast blue-gray water.

In a matter of moments, the door opened again. “Rebecca, could that really be you?” said a male voice.

Emily turned, but she was too nervous to smile.

Charles Welk had gone gray since she'd last seen him and now sported a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache, but she would have recognized his lanky frame and moneyed air anywhere. He looked like maybe he wanted to hug her, so she thrust out her hand between them, which he accepted.