Dismissed, Georgia returned to the kitchen. Gerard and Leonie looked up anxiously as soon as she entered. She delivered Michel’s message.
“How do you think it went?” Leonie asked. “He enjoyed your dessert.”
“Meringue lacks imagination,” scoffed Gerard under his breath. “Even a monkey can make a meringue.”
Leonie sent him a look of pure disdain.
“Perhaps, but he ate all of it, unlike some other dishes,” Georgia said tartly. Leonie giggled and Gerard scowled.
“Come, let’s look around,” Leonie said, gesturing for Georgia to follow. She did. They surveyed the dining room—the fine linen-covered chairs, the sleek zinc bar and airy elegance—then explored the back of the restaurant more thoroughly.
“Can you imagine?” Leonie asked, a touch of longing in her voice, looking around the kitchen. “To be at the helm of this place. It’s the most talked-about restaurant opening of the year in Paris. It could very quickly get its first Michelin star. It will be a success, and whoever is the chef, they will steer that success. It would be an honor to be the chef here.”
Georgia gazed around, trying to picture herself in the gleaming new kitchen, serving the upper echelons of Paris. She thought of the hours she would spend here. This would be her life, more home than anywhere else. But try as she might, every time she pictured it, she could summon no enthusiasm. Instead, her mind kept skipping to the kitchen of Anemone, the sheer terror and delight she’d felt during her days there, two sides of the same coin.
“Georgia,” Leonie hissed, bumping her shoulder. “Michel is asking for you.”
Michel was at the door to the patio, gesturing to her. She went out, and he offered her a seat across from him. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, surveying her, looking calm and collected in a navy jacket, slim trousers, and very expensive leather shoes.
“I have before me a difficult decision,” he said without preamble. “On the one hand, I have a French chef of significant talent and drive. Leonie would make a fine chef for La LumièreDorée. And on the other hand, I have you and this spark you have rediscovered. It is thrilling, what has reawakened in you. I have glimpsed it before, but now it has come to fruition. You have come into your own. You are in love, no?”
Georgia startled, thinking for a wild moment he was talking about Cole. “I barely know him,” she protested, wondering if Michel might see something she did not.
“Not with a man.” Michel laughed. “You are in love with a place. It has captured your imagination and your heart. Whatever happened on that island, it has brought back your spark. Such a thing is precious and rare. You found your spark, but I think even more than that you found your heart again. I knew it as soon as I tasted the first bite. I could sense it immediately. You have come more fully into your gift, and make no mistake, it is a rare gift that you have, Georgia.”
He paused, steepling his fingers and considering her.
“Those few bites of your food transported me to places, memories, emotions I have not felt in years. Your dessert... filled with such sweet longing. It has made me decide to take a long overdue trip to see my mother next month. That dish reminded me that time is precious with those we love. It urged me not to waste a second. Now your spark is brighter than ever, Georgia. However, something gives me pause. Do you know what it is?”
She shook her head. “What?”
He looked at her, assessing. “This restaurant is in Paris. We are in Paris. But tell me, Georgia, is Paris where your heart still wants to be?”
Georgia sucked in a breath, opening her mouth to give a pat answer, the obvious and correct answer. But Michel was watching her with a calm, curious expression, and Georgia hesitated, his question bringing with it a whisper of doubt. Was Pariswhere she wanted to be? For a moment, she was overcome by the remembered taste of honey and herbs, the salty scent of the sea, the warmth of Cole’s stubble rasping against her cheek, the feel of Star’s strong and sinewy hand gripping hers.
She swallowed hard. How could she even consider for one instant turning her back on the thing she’d been working toward for so many long years? It was madness.
“This has always been my dream,” she said helplessly.
Michel smiled slightly. “But is it still? Dreams can change, ma chère. You must embrace what is in your heart now.”
Georgia closed her eyes, hearing the timbre of Star’s voice, telling her what it meant to be a Stevens woman, about her gift and her legacy. She thought of the island, of the magic Star claimed was there. Her fingertips tingled as she imagined them running over the ridges of an oyster shell, scooping a bit of honey off the waxy comb. She didn’t know if it was magic, but something was drawing her heart back to that place in a way she’d never felt before. It was illogical. It was foolish. And yet it felt so very right.
“I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly. She opened her eyes. Michel was watching her with an amused smile.
“Really?” he said. “Are you sure?” The gentle question needled her.
“It’s a big decision,” she protested.
Michel nodded. “Yes, you are right. One you should consider carefully. I will tell the others that I need a day to make my final decision. I can give you that much time. The restaurant is yours if you want it, Georgia. Let me know as soon as you gain clarity in your heart.” He took a sip of water and asked conversationally, “Do you know why I picked you up and gave you a ride that first day I saw you?”
Georgia shook her head. “You felt guilty for running into me with your car?”
“Oh, that was unfortunate, yes,” Michel agreed. “But no. It was because when you stood there in the glare of the headlights, bruised from the impact of the hood on your hip, you did not look afraid. You looked impatient, surprised maybe. More than a little fierce. But there was no fear in your eyes. I have never known you to be afraid of anything, not when my driver struck you with his car, and never a day since then. Your courage is extraordinary, my dear. I’ve never seen you back down from anything you wanted. Don’t start now, hmm?” He reached across the table and patted her hand. “Go figure out what it is your heart really wants.”
And so for the second time in her life, Georgia packed up her knives and left a kitchen she’d thought she would stay in forever. She headed out into the afternoon sunshine of Paris, hoping to clarify the desires of her heart and figure out if the dream she’d worked toward for so long was still the dream she held most dear.
37
