Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I hesitated, not sure I wanted the answer to this question, but unable to resist asking it. “Do you mean in the kitchen?”
“Yes.” She paused. “But also beyond it. I know it makes me sound stupid, but I was really flattered to have his attention like that. And I thought maybe if I gave him what he wanted, he’d let up on me a little.”
I said nothing, because I was too busy being pissed.
“But he didn’t,” she went on. “In fact, he got worse. He told me my ideas were boring, my technique was average, and my palate was unsophisticated. When I’d get upset, he’d say I should be thankful for his guidance. And he had me convinced that only he could make me better. But his criticism didn’t make me feel talented. It made me feel stupid and worthless.”
Fury surged through my veins. I gripped the bottle in my hand so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter. Next time I had to channel rage for an emotional scene, I knew what I was going to think about.
“When I told him I was leaving, he told me I was being an idiot and a child. He told me I’d be nothing without him. But I realized I couldn’t feel more worthless than I already felt, and I was homesick anyway. So I came back.”
“First of all, you’re not nothing,” I seethed. “Second, I’m so fucking mad right now, I want to get on a plane and fly to New York just to punch this guy in the face.”
She chuckled. “You’d knock him out with one blow.”
“You want me to do it? Gimme a name right now.”
“Niall Hawke.” She put her bandaged left hand on top of my right thigh, as if to keep me on the bench. “But don’t bother, Dash. He’s an asshole, and I’ve moved on. I don’t even take his calls anymore.”
“He still calls you?”
For a moment, she was flustered. “Not a lot. Just every now and then—probably when he’s drunk. For a while he tried to get me to come back, but I have no interest in him, in that scene, in any of it.”
“What do you want?”
“I’d like to stay in Cherry Tree Harbor. I know it’s not a big culinary scene, but it’s home to me.” She laughed self-consciously. “I’m a small-town girl at heart. I’d like to have a family someday, raise my kids here. And I don’t need a Michelin star or a James Beard award. I just want to make feel-good food—meals that make people happy. I’d like to take classic diner fare to the next level.”
“Can you do that at Moe’s?”
She sighed. “It’s hard. I have ideas, but my parents are so resistant to change. They just want everything to stay the same—the menu, the decor—” She side-eyed me. “Even the photos on the wall.”
Chuckling at the dig, I elbowed her gently. “So open your own place. Something different, more upscale.”
“I can’t do that.” She shook her head vehemently. “Moe’s is the family business, and my parents are depending on me to keep it alive. I’d never abandon them.”
“Would they see it that way?”
“I see it that way,” she said. “They’ve done so much for me my entire life, paid for culinary school, encouraged me to chase my dream in New York City, and welcomed me back with open arms when I came home. They say all the time how happy they are that I’ll be there to take over when they retire. I can’t leave and open a place that would compete with them. It would break their hearts.”
I admired her devotion to her family, but it also seemed like a lot of pressure. “You’re sort of in the position Austin was in with Two Buckleys. He stayed there for so many years, even though it wasn’t his dream, because he didn’t want to let my dad down.”
“And I bet he doesn’t regret it. Family matters most,” she said empathically. “But let’s not talk about me anymore.” She hugged her legs to her chest again. “Let’s talk about you. Tell me what’s new in Hollywood.”
Finishing off my beer, I set my empty bottle back in the cardboard holder and took out another. “Hollywood and I are on a little break from each other.”
“How come?”
I uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. “Frustration, I guess. I’m trying to level up in my career and running into a lot of dead ends.”
“But you had a huge role on a hit show. You have tons of fans. I saw a bunch of them today.”
“Yeah, but Bulge is the only kind of part I’m considered for. I’d love to play a serious dramatic role. Something I can really sink my teeth into. The kind of part that would prove that I’m not just—” I frowned, shaking my head. “Never mind. When I hear myself say these things out loud, I sound like an asshole.”