Really? Since when was he interested in Zach’s profession? “Great, Dad. Thanks.” He gestured at the table in front of him. “I’ve really got to get back to…”
A few people Zach didn’t recognize made their way to the cooking stations at the other side of the tent.
His dad uncrossed his arms and then rapped the table with a knuckle. “Look, Zach. I hope we get some time to talk while you’re here. But if not?—”
Zach held up a hand. “No worries, Dad. We don’t need some big conversation.”
“No, really, Zach. I want to apologize. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come with this cooking thing. I wish I’d been supportive of you back when you were in school.” His dad raised an arm like he was going to put it around Zach, but then dropped it again.
Zach lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I managed.” His dad’s words at the time came back to him.What do you want to waste your life cooking for? There’s no way I’m going to pay for that. Come work with me instead.Zach had refused, and his dad had refused to give him any money for school. “I got a scholarship from an organization called the Silver Platter.”
“I’m glad you figured it out, despite my shortcomings.” His dad ducked his head. “Maybe I’ll have to look into this Silver Platter. Sounds like a good group.”
Too little, too late, Dad.But he was supposed to be working on forgiveness. He rolled his shoulders forward and then back again before relaxing them.
“I know I’ve never come to your restaurants, but I always recommend them when I hear of friends traveling to your area.” His dad chuckled. “Of course, it was hard to keep up with whereyou were at all the time. Maybe someday you’ll be ready to put down roots.”
Roots.Longing tugged at Zach’s heart. Roots would be good. Amazing even. If only he could find a place that felt like home.
“Anyway, the friends who took my recommendations always came back with glowing reports.”
“I’m glad they liked the food.” Zach’s chest expanded as he took a full breath. “Maybe someday I’ll open my own place again. Then they can taste some of my original recipes and not someone else’s.”
“Whenever you’re ready for that, I’d like to talk to you about investing.” His dad’s smartwatch buzzed, and he glanced at it. “Speaking of investing, I’d better check this email. Let’s talk some more later, son.”
Zach blinked several times as his dad made his way out of the tent. What even was all of that? His dad had asked for forgiveness, but Zach would need more time.
A tapping sound came over the speakers installed around the tent. He looked to the center stage. Uncle Seb Jonathon—Mom’s brother—was tapping at the microphone. Arranged around him was the Jonathon Island Flavor Fest committee. He didn’t see any of the judges.
“If the contestants could come to the stage for a brief meeting, we’d like to get started,” Uncle Seb said. As mayor of Jonathon Island, Seb would be Master of Ceremonies for the Flavor Fest activities.
A general murmur rose as everyone converged on the stage.
Uncle Seb, casual today, his shoulders broad under a light-blue short-sleeve button-up, laid out the plan for the next day. They would begin with an opening meeting and then there would be three rounds for the contest.
“You should have all prepared to cook an appetizer, a main dish, and a dessert,” Uncle Seb said.
Around him, the other contestants nodded. Zach took a minute to assess them. It appeared to be a mix of local talent and some from outstate. He recognized Henrietta Hudson, the white-haired retired baker. She wouldn’t be too much competition. Next to her, Patrick Kelley from Kelley’s Bar & Grill squared up. The slim man with a bristling mustache already wore an apron. He would be one to watch. He was used to cooking under pressure. Three other women and two men made up the rest of the group. He didn’t recognize any of them, but one woman, short, blonde, and probably ten years older than his thirty-six, wore a T-shirt withAlicia’s Kitchenembroidered on the pocket, and one of the men had a cap with Moosehead Crossings. He knew those were two popular restaurants across the lake in Port Joseph.
Onstage, Uncle Seb was wrapping up. “Good luck to each of you. Whatever happens tomorrow, I’m sure the food will be amazing.”
Zach would be bringing his A game. His future depended on it.
Chapter Six
One day to prove himself. At least the weather was cooperating. Zach looked out the rectangular window at Ollie’s overlooking Main Street. The early morning sunlight glinted off the red awning on the building opposite.
His smartwatch buzzed an alarm. Time to make his dreams come true.
He swung his chef’s white jacket off its hanger and made his way through town and to the festival grounds.
Patrick Kelley, mustache bristling, was setting out plates on his booth. “Hi, Zach! How are you feeling about today?”
“Confident, but hopefully not overconfident. I know I’ve got some tough competition, including you.” After the meeting for the contestants broke up last night, he’d learned the names of two more. Kim Beebe from Trixie’s and Enrique Perez from Fiesta.
“Yep. It’s a good lineup. I’m not sure if I’ll be much competition, but Val Anderson is a chef at Lion and Dragon. I hear they’re up for a Michelin Star.” Patrick reached under his booth and set out more plates. “You’re not planning to stay on island, are you? With your skills, you’ll give Kelley’s a lot of competition. Do I have to worry about that?”
“Nah. No worries there.” He wasn’t ever moving back to this island. He wouldn’t have even come back if Dani hadn’t lured him in with the talk of impressing Paul Hawkeye and Anne Green. Maybe even to impress one of them enough to earn a permanent place in their kitchen. “I’ve got my eye on a different prize.”
