Page 29 of Windward Hearts

There was a nostalgic look on Miriam’s face, and Hope knew that she was thinking of her late husband. It had been a long time since they had lost Grandpa Harry, but some forms of sadness never went all the way away. Losing a beloved husband or grandfather was one of them.

But Miriam had lived a wonderful life since that loss. And Hope would figure out her next step forward too. And there was comfort in knowing that her professional loss would fade a lot more quickly than a personal one would.

Maybe that was a good enough reason to start paying more attention to her dating life. Maybe having something that mattered enough that losing it would hurt forever… yes, it was a risk, as all relationships were. But she knew without question that her grandmother would never regret the time she’d had with her husband, even if it had ended in sadness.

“I could open myself up to that kind of love a bit more,” Hope admitted.

Miriam reached over and patted her hand.

“It will come in time,” she said. “All good things do. You’ll find the right person, and you’ll find the right job. And in the meanwhile, I’m going to hoard you all to myself.”

She winked and Hope laughed.

“Is that code for trying to set me up with all the eligible bachelors you know?” she asked. “Because when I said I could open myself up, I didn’t mean right this minute. I’m not going to be in town for that long, and Magnolia Shore is pretty small. It’s not exactly the biggest dating scene on the planet. What are the odds that I would find someone I clicked with? And even if I did, what would happen when I left?”

To her dismay, her thoughts flickered back to Jared. She felt like she could click with him, maybe.

But, no. She’d already proven that she was so awkward when the handsome, interesting, kind man paid her any kind of attention. Probably because she was struck by his handsomeness and kindness.

Sheesh. She really was like a kid with her first crush.

“It’s not about odds, sweetheart,” Miriam reminded her. “Because when you meet the right person, it only takes one.”

Hope nodded, but she didn’t say more, instead turning her attention back to the quilt in front of her.

She could think about romance when she got back to Boston. For now, she needed to focus on helping Miriam recover and on figuring out her next steps, so that when she did find romance, she would have a life built, a steady foundation for that relationship to rest upon.

And that meant that handsome chefs were absolutely out of the question.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

There was a huge, well, rush in making it through one of the meal rushes at a restaurant, a kind of satisfied decline in the adrenaline needed to keep up with the hectic flow of orders that came with each mealtime. Jared rolled back his shoulders as he finished up with the very last lunch order that was likely to come in, given that it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon.

He stretched out his neck; he flexed his fingers, which had been curled tightly around a knife, spoon, or spatula for practically every second of the last three hours.

He paused, let out a long, slow breath and waited a beat for the second familiar feeling to set in.

Gosh, he was starving.

This feeling always hit a bit like a freight train, slamming him as it went from zero to sixty in an instant. For some reason, working with food tricked his body into thinking that it was being fed, or maybe it just kept him too busy to think about his own physical needs. But the moment he was done…

It was like he hadn’t eaten in a year.

Luckily, he had been a chef for long enough that he knew perfectly well that this feeling would arrive with a vengeance, and he had set aside a meal for himself. Today, he had saved some of the roast beef he’d been serving and turned it into a sandwich, made with thick slices of meat and hearty slabs of freshly baked sourdough bread. Jared himself wasn’t much of a baker, but he had a partnership with Honey Bee Bakery, who supplied him with fresh bread every day. He was grateful for the collaboration, especially as it saved him from having to come into the restaurant at four in the morning every day.

He’d taken some of their bread, the meat, and added several slices of crispy iceberg lettuce for the texture. Finally, he’d put a whole-grain mustard on both slices of bread to add some bite. Not everyone loved the intensity of unground mustard, but Jared had become a big fan when he had trained at culinary school in France, and he’d never lost the taste for it.

On the side, he’d whipped up a simple spinach salad with balsamic vinaigrette. On top of the loosely torn baby spinach, he’d added a crumbled handful of goat cheese, some chopped pecans, and pickled red onions.

Not to toot his own horn, but it was a darn good-looking meal.

Jared always put attention and care into his lunches, because he had so many ingredients prepped already and it was a small thing to set aside some for himself. By dinner, he was usually too wiped out to go to much trouble. The night prior, he’d just eaten a pork chop. He hadn’t even gone to the effort to make himself a plate. He’d been so tired that he’d just wrapped the thing in a napkin to protect his fingers from the sauce, plunked down in an empty booth, and eaten it, too exhausted to notice much of what he was consuming.

He never wanted to let weariness steal his love of food. That was what had gotten him into cooking in the first place, after all.

So, lunches were his “me” time.

He carried his plate out to the main dining room, which was nearly empty. There were a few stragglers still finishing up their midday meals, and Jared gave a nod of thanks to the waitstaff for their efforts. Fortunately, he’d found time to give each server a break to eat their own lunches earlier in the shift, so they wouldn’t be feeling their stomachs trying to collapse in on themselves, as his was currently doing.