Glancing at me, Carolyn took my hand and led me further into her house, straight to the kitchen. On the countertop, there were three pans and a turkey.
Ola gave me a tour of the kitchen. “If you need anything, Mr. Young, I’ll be in the study.” After she made sure Carolyn was situated on her stool, Ola excused herself.
“Thanks for fitting me into your schedule,” Carolyn said.
Since I’d started cooking, I’d studied under some of the most talented master chefs in the industry, working my way up from dishwasher and kitchen porter to junior chef followed by station chef, then sous chef. I’d competed and won an ill-fated reality show and spent a year working as a head chef for one of the judges. Sometime after that, I partnered with a friend of mine and opened a restaurant where I was the executive chef. Now, I made a very comfortable living doing à la carte work, meaning I did what I wanted forwhoI wanted. Whether it was catering events, teaching a cooking class, or working as a personal or private chef for wealthy clients.
I opened my bag and pulled out my tools of the trade. I always brought my own ingredients, cooking utensils and equipment. As I sanitized the workspace, I asked, “How many people are you expecting?”
Carolyn watched me curiously over the rim of her coffee mug. “Maybe ten? Trinity told me she was bringing her new boyfriend.”
I froze at the mention of her daughter. The comment seemed innocent enough, but it was the first indication that something wasn’t right. “Okay.” When she didn’t speak for a while, I peered up at her. “Something you want to ask me?”
She shrugged as tears filled her eyes. “No, I’m just sitting here admiring you.” I knew her well enough to know that she never justsatthere. She didn’t become a millionaire by just watching things happen. Shemadeshit happen. Carolyn was a shrewd businesswoman who’d been a force to be reckoned with, despite her unassuming appearance. “Trinity’s getting engaged.”
“Good.” I opened the refrigerator to make sure she’d purchased the cheese I hadn’t been able to secure on such short notice. When I spotted it, I gathered it. On the other side of the island, she was still staring at me. “I’m happy for her,” I added.
Carolyn arched a finely shaped brow. “Are you really?”
I busied myself with the task at hand, filling a saucepan with water. “Yes,” I answered finally. “She deserves a full life.”
The conversation had taken a turn I wasn’t comfortable with, but I rolled with it. For many reasons, Trinity Fuller was a stark reminder of my wayward past. She was always a good girl. Although we dated for a short time, we’d never been intimate, never took it beyond a few dinners and museum visits. Unfortunately, she’d met me at a crazy time in my life, which was the downfall of our relationship.
I fell on hard times shortly after we ended things, lost a lot of money due to heavy drinking and heavy gambling. I didn’t go to my parents because… Yeah, that just wasn’t an option for me at the time. Carolyn convinced me to work for her as an escort. It was an easy out to my debt problems. The choice was clear. I started small, a few dates here or there with random, rich women. Sex wasn’t required, so I didn’t engage. Until I did. Not with a client, though. But with Carolyn herself.
Our affair was hot and heavy. I thought I loved her. In hindsight, though, I realized it wasn’t anything like true love. Obsession, maybe. Lust, definitely. But not love. My life spiraled out of control with her. It took Trinity finding out to snap me out of the trance. In her rage, Trinity not only exposed the affair to her father, she told my parents too. My actions devastated my family and fractured the trust they’d always had in me. I’d worked hard to get it back. To extricate myself from Carolyn and the fallout, I had to practically disappear. The best decision I made was traveling to Paris to study, not only for my career but for my sanity, for my life. Because I came back a changed man. That didn’t mean I didn’t fuck up every now and then, because I absolutely did, but I didn’t gamble away my money and I stopped drinking to excess.
“I miss you,” Carolyn said after a few moments of silence.
Sighing, I went to work on the turkey. “How’s retirement?” I asked, changing the subject. The last thing I wanted to talk about was me and her.
Carolyn caught the hint. “It’s going. I hate…” she trailed off, staring out the kitchen window. “The sun is shining.”
I didn’t press her to continue the conversation about her business. “It’s warm outside too. Nothing like a regular November in Michigan.”
Carolyn had formed The Fuller Group, a top HR Consultant firm. When her husband filed for divorce, he’d been relentless in his quest for revenge. By the time he was done, he’d taken mostly everything—the house, the cars, and half of her business. What once was a huge company had faltered under the weight of the scandal and had recently been sold to a larger corporation.
“Are you still painting?” I asked.
She met my gaze then, a pained expression on her face. “No. I stopped doing it right around the time you left.”
Avoiding her stare, I tried to focus on grating the cheddar cheese as the heavy feeling in my gut intensified. “Maybe you can pick it back up one day,” I suggested.
Over the years, I’d felt many things when I thought of Carolyn. Regret. Anger. Sadness. Shame. But mostly I felt guilty. Because I hadn’t really lost anything, and she… Not only had she lost control of The Fuller Group, but the scandal of our relationship had ultimately exposed her underground business and opened her up for criminal charges. And through it all, she’d protected me. She’d prevented everyone, including my parents, from discovering my role in her organization—even when her own world was crumbling around her. For that, I was forever grateful.
Ola returned to the kitchen and whispered something in Carolyn’s ear. Standing, she announced, “I have to take care of something.”
Once they disappeared around the corner, I started preparing the candied yams. When she’d called last week, she’d requested a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. My menu consisted of the usual holiday fare with a few surprises. By the time Carolyn had returned an hour later, the turkey and yams were in the oven, the greens were on the stove, and the mac and cheese was ready to bake.
She slid onto a barstool. “You’re fast.”
“You know I don’t play when it comes to food.”
I slid the mac and cheese into the convection oven on the wall while Carolyn poured herself a glass of champagne. “Should you be drinking that?” I asked.
“It’s just one glass. Won’t hurt.” She held up the bottle. “Join me?”
I shook my head. “Not today. I still have a lot to do at home.”
