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‘Déjà vu, huh,’ Bridie said by way of intelligent reply. Her friend looked at her quizzically. ‘Have you been bitten, too, hun?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Bridie scoffed but Maggie laughed.
‘Well, just saying that I wouldn’t mind biting that cherry, too,’ and like everyone else in the hall, she turned to watch Caleb saunter into the room. Perhaps if the guy walked normally and didn’t own the room when he entered, he’d draw less attention? Perhaps if he wasn’t so damn cow-boy good looking with his tight jeans and messy hair, then the town wouldn’t be so interested in him? Bridie couldn’t tear her eyes away either.
On the positive side it had the town’s people turning up.
They reached the item on the agenda about catering for the festival. All eyes turned to Caleb, like a king upon his throne, his subjects waited for him to speak. And in true Caleb style, he didn’t offer what they sought.
‘The menu, Caleb. Everyone wants to hear what you’ve planned,’ it was Jacqueline who eventually spoke. He remained silent, his features not giving anything away. ‘And it needs to be approved.’
Caleb stood and stared them down from his full height. Anger flashed in his eyes and his fists balled. It was the first time she’d witnessed his head chef persona where the critics said he was a hard arse in his own kitchen and there was only one boss, him.
She willed him to sit down and not wreck their hard work so far in repairing his image. Seconds passed and she detected him calming, his hands loosened and fell to his sides. ‘No one said anything about approving the menu. If you want me to cook for your festival, I’m happy to. I’ll stick to the brief and you’ll have your French food. That’s it.’
‘I’ll help him,’ a voice sang out from the second row.
Evelyn. Shit.
Having relocated to Bellethorpe five years ago, she was still considered a newbie. Her Hollywood, old-style glamour still caused heads to turn. Tonight, she wore a vibrant green dress with her long blonde hair pulled back off her face. She matched him in the sauntering stakes as she cat-walked towards him. Bridie watched Caleb instead. His eyes narrowed as they raked from Evelyn’s toes to her head.
‘Oh, that would be fabulous, Evelyn, thank you,’ Jacqueline replied. What, no!
‘I work alone,’ Caleb replied. Yes!
Evelyn stared up at him from her diminutive five-foot stance. Height did not intimidate her. Hands on hips, she said, ‘Before relocating to Bellethorpe I worked at an exclusive hotel specialising in French food. I know a thing or two.’
‘Wonderful,’ Jacqueline commented. ‘We’ll set up a time for you two to chat,’ she continued.
The door opened and Ruthie, Caleb’s sixteen-year-old neighbour entered. ‘Caleb?’ her voice shook. ‘Sybella is sick.’
‘What?’ Bridie stood.
‘She’s vomited a few times now. You need to come home.’
Caleb grabbed his jacket hanging off the chair and shrugged it on.
‘I’m coming with you,’ Bridie said. ‘Jacqueline, you take over as chair and cover the last few items,’ she blustered as she rushed out the door.
Caleb turned and said with a parting jab to the group assembled, ‘I work alone.’
Far out! Was it his lasagne? It had to be. He paid special attention to how he felt, but his tummy didn’t rumble, he was okay. But he was also famous for his cast-iron will. It wasn’t his stomach, though, it was the ache shooting through his chest that made him ill. He and Sybella had been the only ones to eat the dish. Conscious of Bridie following, Caleb walked fast ignoring the chill.
‘Hey, sweetie,’ he said as he reached her bedside. Her forehead was on fire and clammy. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m okay, just feel a bit sick in the stomach.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said as she retched into a bowl again.
Bridie came in with a wet washer and held it to her forehead and placed a glass of water to her lips forcing her to drink. ‘You know what’s great? There are special ice blocks for kids when they are sick. I’ll pop out to the chemist and get some.’
Sybella gave Bridie a thumbs up, but her eyes were shut before her hand landed back to the bed.
Caleb followed her out. ‘I’m sorry about dinner. I would have liked to try that place.’
‘That’s okay, we’ll go another time. You’re needed here.’
He placed his hand on her arm, wanting, needing to say more but he didn’t know how to express what he was feeling. ‘Thanks,’ was all he managed.
