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“He was asking me to pay attention, to try and look at both sides.” Tears welled up, and this time she let them go. “Not so horrible, huh?”
Kim looked down with a sympathetic half smile. Candy shook her head, barely perceptible. Only Marie made full eye contact, nodding encouragingly.
“But…you know his last girlfriend was a piece of work,” Candy said. “According to Justin, she was always in some crisis or other that she wanted him to fix for her.”
“But this was a real threat to my business.” She stopped, aware of the uneasy silence at the table. “It felt like a real threat to my business.”
“Of course it did,” Marie said. “There are no bad guys here. Only two people struggling with strong emotion.”
Darcy nodded, wiping tears, fighting to get herself back under control. What now? Call Troy, apologize for overreacting, for not listening to his side? Open herself up to trying again with this wound still festering, with the underlying fear that he was liable to turn against her when she needed him? Would he even want to be with her anymore now that she’d poured such familiar poison into their well of happiness?
Her phone rang. She dug it out, feeling relief at the chance to escape the conversation. Her relief didn’t last long. Ace’s cell phone. Why wasn’t he calling from the restaurant?
“Chef, sorry to bother, but I need to talk to you right away.”
Oh, no. Darcy sighed, reminding herself to treat him with respect, but to be firm and objective, and not to let her fear carry her away this time. “What is it?”
“It’s not good. Raoul’s new dishwasher is Sam, who happens to be a good friend of mine. I asked a while back if he could get me an advance copy of Raoul’s menu. This morning he dropped it by on his way to work.”
“Okay.” Her heart was pounding. She didn’t even want to think about what he was going to say.
“All the specials are yours. I was right. The bastard stole them.”
Darcy gasped. “Oh, my God. Ace.”
Kim, Marie and Candy stopped eating and stared in alarm. Darcy looked away, unable to bear their curiosity.
“There’s more,” Ace said.
“Tell me.”
“Sean, the only person who knew the Chef Bible file password besides you, just accepted a job as sous chef at Raoul’s Place.”
12
MARIE AND QUINN WALKED OUT OF the theater where they’d just seen the glorious revival of one of Marie’s all-time favorite musicals, The Sound of Music. She’d be humming the tunes all week. “I love happy endings.”
“I noticed that about you.” Quinn squeezed her hand, which he’d gotten into the habit of taking when they were walking in crowds. As far as Marie was concerned, they should spend lots and lots of time walking in crowds.
They’d had a cozy drive from Milwaukee, a cozy dinner at Aria, an Asian fusion restaurant where Marie had roasted duck breast with coconut polenta that she could cheerfully drive down to eat at least once a week. Then the show. Now, maybe it was her imagination but as the evening wore on, Quinn seemed to get less and less talkative, seemed to be brooding over something. Of course Marie, with her infinitely large self-esteem, immediately had to talk herself out of the conviction that she was boring him and he was disappointed in the evening.
The good news was that once she confessed her feelings tonight—yes, Marie and when exactly were you planning to do this?—at least she’d be over the suspense and the worry. Either he was open to returning those feelings someday or he wasn’t.
They reached the garage in silence, got into Quinn’s car in more silence. Marie arranged her skirts, buckled her seat belt, then abruptly couldn’t stand it anymore. One of them had to talk.
“Party plans are going really well for the Milwaukeedates celebration. Candy got a travel agent to donate a Caribbean cruise for an anniversary or honeymoon. Isn’t that amazing?”
“That’s great.” His enthusiasm was honest but halfhearted. Something was definitely bothering him.
“Darcy is planning fabulous food, too. Stuffed shrimp and spring rolls, puff pastry wheels and tiny baked brie sandwiches with roasted garlic.”
