Текст книги "The Coincidence of Coconut Cake"

Автор книги: Amy E. Reichert

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

• CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE •

Lou sat at the center table, her empty restaurant still and peaceful. She usually liked the pristine solitude of an empty restaurant right before open, when the silverware lay ready for use, the bread warmed in drawers, prep cooks smoked their cigarettes behind the Dumpster having finished their mise-en-place for the night, the entire restaurant waiting for action. Today was different.

Dishes lay wrapped in boxes and the last few bottles of wine sat along the counter, ready to go home as gifts for her guests. Blank walls studded with nails bespoke the decorations that once hung. The tables sat bare, all the tablecloths sent back to the rental company. Most of the pots and pans sat on a counter in the kitchen, recently scrubbed and ready for auction. All the cupboards and shelves echoed with emptiness, their contents packed in boxes or set out to be used for tonight’s feast. Yes, today was definitely different.

Open cookbooks and a scribbled-upon notebook covered the table. Lou had searched for a few ideas to add to Luella’s last meal. Tonight she’d hold a dinner for the restaurant’s remaining staff, Otto and Gertrude, and Al. Yesterday had been the last official day. Today, she’d use the last of her supplies before packing it up. Sue and Harley were starting new jobs after the New Year.

She should probably find some work, too. She picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and swallowed her pride.

After a few rings, Chef Tom’s booming voice said, “Are you finally coming to work with me?”

Lou laughed, feeling better already.

“Get out of my head. Yes, I’m calling to beg for a job.”

“It’s me who’s begging.”

Lou’s eyes began to tear up.

“This means a lot, Tom.”

“You’d do the same.”

“I owe you one.”

Her voice cracked.

She hung up the phone, one more step away from her past and toward her new future. The bells jangled on the front door, a reminder to pack them before she forgot. She quickly wiped her tears away.

“Hey, love, I didn’t expect you until later. I thought your parents were getting the grand tour,” Lou said as she turned around to greet Al. But instead of Al’s warm British accent, she heard a familiar voice, colder than she remembered.

“It’s time we had our discussion, Elizabeth.” Devlin’s eyes reflected the chill in his voice. Lou inhaled as she stood up.

“We have nothing to discuss. Leave, please. You never came here when we were together, and I don’t want you here now.”

Devlin took his time walking toward her, observing all the packed boxes, empty walls, and clear tabletops like a general studying the enemy’s weaknesses.

“I won’t be long.”

“Get out before—”

“Before what? You call the police?” A corner of Devlin’s mouth turned up. “Really, you’re going that route?”

“Fine.” Lou waved her hand, indicating he should get on with it.

Devlin stopped to stand in front of Lou, and his eyes softened as he took in her appearance: her hair piled on top of her head, her clean but tired face and white chef’s coat.

“We had a good plan together. We could still get back on track.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. Lou swatted it aside.

“Don’t.”

Devlin’s eyes hardened like those of a hawk spotting its prey, and his lips pressed firmly together.

“I see. So, what does my replacement do for work?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think it is. I still want you in my life, even after all this time. I need to know he can take care of you better than I can.”

Lou huffed, but she realized the sooner she played his game, the sooner he would go.

“He writes.”

“Ah yes, a writer. Sounds almost as stable as a restaurant owner. What does he write?”

“He’s a freelancer. And he just started as food critic for the paper.”

“Just started? Huh. It took him a while to find a regular job.”

Lou sensed Devlin building his argument, setting up his points as he would in front of a judge and jury.

“Quit the grandstanding. This isn’t court.”

“Isn’t it? I think there’ll be some judging needed after I tell you what Wonder Boy did.”

“Are you so petty you’ll try to ruin the one good thing in my life right now? That’s below you, Devlin.”

“I’m only thinking of you. I want to make sure you know who you sleep with at night.” Devlin picked up a pen and flipped it between his fingers. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so committed to the man who destroyed your business.”

Lou’s face scrunched. “What are you talking about?”

“A. W. Wodyski.” Devlin tilted his head, studying her reaction. “Haven’t you ever wondered who he really was? You had to know that wasn’t his real name.”

Lou stilled.

“I did some research after I saw you at Irish Fest. I wanted to know who my future bride was spending time with.” Devlin paused and looked Lou in the eye. “I really do care for you, Lou. You’ll realize soon I know what’s best for you.”

He looked as if he meant it, every word. Lou’s spine shuddered.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions you have no business making.”

Devlin leaned in toward Lou, but she took a step back. He inhaled and nodded.

“Imagine my surprise when I found out your toiling young writer’s big secret. When you think about it, it starts to make sense. Wodyski started about the time Al moved here. Wodyski died, then your Al happened to get the open position. What if Wodyski never died? What if he just started using his real name?”

Lou’s stomach twisted as she sucked in all the awful words. She wanted them to bounce off, to not stick.

“You . . . you know nothing,” Lou whispered, then found her voice. “That’s all circumstantial.”

“You don’t have to believe me now. I know the truth. Now you do, too.”

“You’re lying.”

It hurt to fight back the tears, but she would not cry in front of him.

“I don’t lie, Lou. I may shape and bend the facts in my favor or make tactful omissions, but I don’t lie. You know that.” He paused, studying her clenched jaw and fists. “For when you’re ready to accept the truth.”

Devlin tossed a thick red-and-white paperback book on the crowded table and left, leaving behind echoes of doubt and disbelief. Lou read the title; it was a Polish-English dictionary. He had tucked one of his expensive personal note cards into it. She could see his slate-blue initials, DP, in the corner of the snow-white, thick stock.

She stared at the book, afraid of its contents. Her fingers twitched toward it. No. She shook her head to reinforce the sentiment. No.

Lou knew Al. He laughed at her silly jokes, savored good food, respected his parents, and showed kindness to Otto and Gertrude. A. W. Wodyski could not, could never be the same person she loved. They were not compatible.

With trembling hands, Lou stacked her cookbooks and the offending tome to carry into the Lair. She should know better than to let anything Devlin said distract her. She had a meal to cook, guests to entertain, and a man to love. Tomorrow, she’d finish packing up this life so she could begin her new one. Screw Devlin.

• • • • •

Al watched the delays flash across the airport monitors as he played with the square box in his pocket. It thrilled him to think about what it contained. How could a tiny thing hold so much hope and happiness? As Gertrude had said a few months ago, when you knew, you knew. Tonight, Lou would leave one path alone and start another path with him. Tomorrow, she could meet his parents, but they had to land first.

The first hard blizzard of the season charged toward them, forcing flights to delay their arrival and land in different airports. His parents’ flight was due to land any minute. It was a race to see which would arrive first, the storm or the airplane.

“Dude, if you want to play pocket pool, choose a nice quiet bathroom stall, not the middle of the airport,” John said.

“What?” Al looked down and realized what it looked like. “What do you expect? I haven’t seen Lou since yesterday morning.”

He chuckled at John’s shock that he played along with his joke rather than act embarrassed as usual. That’s what the Al of ten months ago would have done. That Al would also never be at the airport waiting for his parents. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt under a plaid button-down. He’d thought about wearing the Brewers cap Lou had given him at his first game, but that might prove too much for his parents to take in at one time. He no longer stuck out when they went to bars. Milwaukeeans just didn’t dress up for most nights out. Sure, they had the occasional bar or restaurant where the clientele wore trousers or dresses, but most places were casual. And he liked it.

Al started pacing to calm his nerves.

“You’re starting to make me nervous. Is there something I need to know about your parents before they arrive?”

“No, sorry. I haven’t seen them in over a year. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until they bought their tickets. But a lot has changed since I left. They weren’t thrilled with me leaving the country. I want them to see I’m happy. Does that make sense?”

“Give me a squish then and tell Mum all about it,” a feminine voice said from behind him.

Al spun, grabbed his mum, and hugged her tight.

“Now that is a proper way to greet me. Step back so I can look at you.”

The tiny woman dressed in black pants and a jacket, with a splash of color from a scarf, gave Al a once-over.

“Tsk, I expected you to dress up a bit more. But I have to say, it seems to suit you.”

“Where’s Dad?” Al said, looking around.

“Oh, he told me to come ahead and find you. He’s getting the carry-ons down. He knew I couldn’t wait to see my boy. Ah, here he comes.”

A short man, looking like a slightly older version of Al, walked toward them wearing tan trousers, a white oxford shirt, and a tweed jacket complete with patches on the elbows. He pulled two small suitcases and carried another across his body. Al went to take them, but before he could grab the suitcases, his dad pulled him into a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you. Take these—I’m positively knackered.” He handed Al the bag and a suitcase. They joined his mom, who was eyeing John with curiosity.

“Mum, Dad—this is my friend John. He’s one of the finest writers I’ve ever met. John, my parents, Katherine and James.” John grasped Katherine’s hand and bowed over it.

“Pleasure to meet you. And may I add, that scarf is stunning. Vintage Hermès?”

“Yes, how did you know?” She looked pleased at the greeting, quickly forgetting his unusual appearance.

“John’s the style editor for the paper. Look closely and you’ll notice he’s wearing couture from head to toe. He works very hard to make it look like he dresses out of the laundry bin.”

“Yes, yes, we can focus on my deficiencies later. But now that they’ve landed, let’s get back downtown before the worst of the snow hits,” John said. The small group headed toward the parking garage, where John had his car.

Katherine looked around, then asked, “Al, where is your lady friend? I had hoped to meet her.”

“You’ll meet her in a day or two. She closed her restaurant yesterday and tonight is the farewell party, with only close friends.” Lou didn’t need strangers around on such an emotional evening, even if they were his parents. “That’s why you’ll be hanging out with John. I imagine you’ll want to rest. Then tomorrow we can start seeing the city. I’ve picked up some movies and takeout menus.”

“But you can’t go out in this weather. The pilot said the storm coming was quite nasty,” James said.

“Ha, welcome to Wisconsin. We don’t let the weather stop us. We just drive slower and dress warmer,” John added.

“It’s true. Her restaurant is close enough to walk and I finally have boots and a coat warm enough. I’ll be fine. And they won’t cancel—not tonight.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her. From what you’ve mentioned on the phone, I may have a daughter-in-law soon.”

“One can hope,” Al said with a smile. The wind whipped around them in the small parking garage, but Al could only think of the warm kitchen where the center of his universe prepared a feast. With luck, they would find plenty to celebrate tonight.

• • • • •

Cooking always cleared Lou’s mind. Planning a menu was the mentally taxing part; making food soothed her with the repetition of chopping, the simplicity of following a recipe, even if it was in her head. In her kitchen, everything was so familiar, she could almost close her eyes and prepare a full meal. Three steps to the fridge, bend down to get the limes, plates were in the warmer next to the stove, exactly as they should be.

After Devlin’s visit, she needed the calm to soothe her rattled nerves, stop her shaking hands. While chopping, sautéing, and blending, Devlin’s words replayed in her mind, pinging off her exposed heartstrings while her faith fought them off. She refused to believe what Devlin’d said was true.

She could hear the wind whoosh around the buildings, sending sheets of white snow across the front window like a thick curtain, blocking out the buildings across the street. She’d thought about postponing the dinner, but she didn’t have any options for rescheduling. She called Harley to see whether he could pick up the Meyers. They shouldn’t be coming out in this weather, but Lou knew they didn’t want to miss it. He assured her he’d already called and made plans to pick them up in his large truck.

She’d finished all the prep. The rest of the cooking would wait until right before serving. Time to get ready. As she entered the Lair, her eyes passed over the Polish-English dictionary she’d thrown at her desk—the red-and-white cover contrasting with the scattered paperwork. She picked up the dictionary and turned it over in her hands, trying to feel the truth it might contain. If she looked, then she could set the issue aside, prove Devlin wanted to cause doubt. But looking would be a testament to her doubt. If she looked, that meant she didn’t trust Al.

Lou tossed the dictionary in the garbage. Done—now she’d shower and get ready for the party. Grabbing the dress hanging on a nail in the wall, she ducked into the bathroom. By the time she dried her hair, put on a smattering of makeup, and slipped into her dress she felt better, more put together, even though her work life had completely imploded. Today she ended one life and began another, one in which Devlin held no sway.

Lou looked at the clock; she still had a half hour before people would start to arrive. The mountain of papers, bags, and random objects on her desk threatened to topple. Now seemed a good time to at least remove the top level. Lou moved a stack of old menus and tossed them in the garbage can. Underneath she found her favorite red purse. She’d been looking for it at the apartment but must have forgotten she had left it here months ago.

She sat in the desk chair to go through the contents, hoping to find a forgotten twenty. Old receipts and State Fair ticket stubs went straight into the garbage. Lou pulled out another handful to discover a wadded piece of newspaper. She flattened it on her desk to see A. W. Wodyski’s review of The Good Land. Now she remembered—Al had given this to her last summer at the State Fair. She’d been so angry she’d crammed it in the bottom of her bag and forgotten it.

Her stomach twitched, signaling something important was about to happen. Before she could second-guess herself, Lou read the article. At first, reading Wodyski’s article calmed her worries and she enjoyed the well-written description of a delicious meal. The same delicious meal she and Al had shared, down to the special items Chef Tom had sent out. Lou paused her eyes on the page. Those dishes wouldn’t have been served to a normal customer; he had created them for her.

Lou’s body knew the truth before her mind did. It thrummed with numbing energy, making her limbs move sluggishly. The article trembled in her hands. She lifted and dumped the garbage can. Menus fluttered around her, covering the ground in white; the red dictionary lay amidst them—a fresh cut on new snow. Moving as if she were in taffy, she bent to pick it up; it felt as if the hand closing around the book were someone else’s. She drew out the note card, written in Devlin’s hand:

A = Al

W = Waters

Look up Waters in dictionary.

Shaking, Lou paged through the English side to “water.” It read “woda, plural = wody.”

Wody. Waters. Wodyski. A. W. Wodyski.

Lou’s legs wobbled, then folded, and the dictionary thumped to the floor. Devlin hadn’t lied, but it was she who had the real proof—the article. Everything else was ash on the already burnt fish. A. W. Wodyski and Al Waters were the same person. Wodyski never died; instead, he made love to her every night. Her heart burst into flame.

Al knew the entire time. Lou shivered, holding her knees close, grappling with the trickery. She recalled meeting him that day with the coconut cake, the day her engagement ended, the day he reviewed her. The day that review appeared, he seemed jubilant at the bar. He had just crushed her restaurant. And the days at Northpoint Custard, the art museum, Irish Fest. All those days he watched her restaurant fail and did nothing; no retraction, no remorse, no feelings.

Her hand still clutched the wrinkled article. Why would he give it to her? Did he intend to show her how clever he was? That didn’t ring true. It would be easier if it did. Then she could be angry and anger could protect a broken heart while it mended.

This time she couldn’t climb out of the pit to get to the anger. The hurt was too much, the deception too clear. Tears finally loosed themselves, washing away her minimal makeup, leaving mascara tracks. She remembered his words on Thanksgiving: I’ll help you do anything. Don’t give up on your dream. It’s not fair that I get mine and you don’t. Was that guilt or guile?

He had promised to be honest.

The fire in her chest fizzled into cold ash. Lou crumpled onto her side, letting the pit swallow her whole. When Sue opened the door, she found Lou curled on the floor, surrounded by white papers.

“Oh my God, Lou. Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Lou held up the article for Sue and tried to sit up.

“I don’t understand. Almost everyone’s here.” She took the article from Lou. “Are you sick?”

Sue’s presence reminded Lou she did have people who cared about her, believed in her. It bolstered her enough to sit up and shake her head that she wasn’t sick.

“Is Al here?” Lou whispered.

Sue looked baffled.

“No, he’s the only one not here yet.”

Lou looked up at Sue, her destroyed heart visible on her tear-soaked face.

“Al is A. W. Wodyski.” Lou’s voice cracked as she said it, as if she didn’t want to say it out loud because that would make it real. Sue laughed.

“Don’t be absurd. How could he be? He just got the job at the paper. His reviews are nothing like Wodyski’s.”

“Read that.”

Sue quickly read the review, then looked up, more confused.

“It sounds like he really enjoyed the meal.”

“That is the meal Al and I shared at The Good Land. Chef Tom sent out some special dishes for me. You know how he likes to spoil other chefs. A normal customer would never have gotten those.”

“I’m sure there’s a million explan—”

“Yes, I’ve already thought of them. The simplest explanation is often the right one. ‘Wodyski’ derives from the Polish word for ‘waters.’ It’s right there in the goddamn name.” Lou got up off the floor and handed Sue the dictionary and note card with a shaky hand. She breathed deeply. The anger trickled in her, burying the pain a little, helping her continue.

“Why do you have a Polish-English dictionary and this?” Sue asked, waving the card.

“I got it from Devlin.”

“Devlin gave you this? I think you have your answer right there. You know—”

“I’m not wrong about this. Al is A. W. Wodyski,” Lou shouted. “I’ve looked at it from every angle. It’s true. Regardless of Devlin’s intentions, he didn’t lie.” Lou could tell when Sue accepted the truth. If she had been a dog, her hackles would have risen. That was one of the things Lou loved most about Sue—she always protected with ferocity and determination. Al better hope Lou got to him before Sue did.

After she wiped the tears from her face, removing the worst of the raccoon eyes, Sue and Lou left the Lair to join the party. As they entered the kitchen, Harley’s voice boomed.

“We’re all here. We’re waiting for the guest of honor.”

Lou looked out the pickup window to see Harley standing next to Otto and Gertrude at their favorite table. Both looked happy, but shaky and pale from their adventure out in the blizzard. The large front window looked covered in Styrofoam from all the snow sticking to it. Al walked around the bar, snow clinging to his hair. He shook the snow off, set his coat over the back of a chair to dry, and dried his face with a napkin while chatting with Harley and Gertrude.

Lou’s face paled and her breath came fast and shallow.

“You can do this,” Sue said in her ear.

She blinked several times, as if she were trying to move a grain of sand out. With a deep breath and clenched jaw, Lou tightened her grip on the article and grabbed her favorite chef’s knife from the counter. Sue raised her eyebrow at her, but grasping the blade comforted her, brought things back into perspective. Sue carried the book and card, like a soldier carrying extra ammunition into battle.

When she emerged, Al sat with Otto and Gertrude. Though her attention focused more on Al, she registered that Gertrude looked even thinner and Otto had worry lines on his previously smooth forehead. When Al saw her, he paled and looked fidgety, but a bright smile crossed his face. Lou’s heart panged.

He looked so believable, and part of her still wanted to be with him, forget this awful mistake. Lou strode across the empty dining room, each step adding to her anger at him for making her feel betrayed, humiliated, hurt. It was his fault she had to close her restaurant, shutter her dream. Her nostrils flared. Al noticed and the smile melted off his face, like the snow on his hair: slowly at first, but faster as the heat of her anger became more palpable. Lou’s lips were thin and tight; red anger tinged her cheeks.

“Lou?” Al asked as she stopped in front of the table. Four faces looked up at her with confusion, Sue standing behind her like a proper lieutenant. Lou banged her fist on the tabletop, causing the water glasses and silverware to knock together.

From behind clenched teeth, she said, “Out.”

Her body vibrated with the anger racing through her system along with the blood flushing her cheeks.

“What the hell, Lou?” Harley said, starting to stand.

Al sat still, resolved as her anger slapped at him. Lou slapped the review on the table in front of him, then stabbed her knife into the review. The handle quivered when she removed her hand.

“Get! Out!”

Her hands shook; her whole body twitched. Tears singed her eyes, nearly sizzling as they slid down her heated cheeks. Sue set the dictionary and note card next to the article.

Al’s eyes went to the note card and a look of confusion crossed his face. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and nodded with a deep breath, understanding the full story. As Lou towered over him, he rose, put his still-damp winter coat back on, then reached into his inner coat pocket to pull out something. He moved his hand over the review and opened it. Al looked into Lou’s stony face, hoping for some softening. Instead, she turned her face from him. She would give him no break. When he pulled his hand away, a small, square, red leather box with gold trim sat next to the knife, still wobbling from being thrust into the table. With another nod, Al turned and walked to the door.

Before pushing it open, Al turned and said, “I’m so sorry, Lou . . . about everything.”

Then he walked out into the blizzard. Lou watched him disappear into the whiteness and wind, a shadow figure, then gone. Gertrude and Otto raised their faces to Lou. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the little box, staring as if it were a rat in her kitchen.

“What in the hell just happened?” Harley said.

Sue grabbed his arm, then pulled him aside to explain.

“What’s in it?” Gertrude asked with her soft voice.

Lou looked at her blankly; her lungs stopped working. As if it might bite her, she picked up the box. She hesitated, not sure she really wanted to know. If she never opened it, she could pretend it contained a pair of earrings. Gertrude interrupted her thoughts.

“Open the box, Lou. You know what it is. He loves you.”

Using her thumb as if she were opening a mussel, Lou popped the box open. Her eyes widened and Gertrude leaned over to see the contents. A brilliant round diamond hung suspended in a platinum band. The simple band emphasized the modest gem. It was simple, romantic, and elegant. Lou slumped in the chair, head in her hands, and wept. Gertrude rubbed her back with a delicate hand and whispered soothing yet ineffective words.

What could she say?

Lou thought she knew loss after ending it with Devlin and her restaurant failing, but that seemed pleasant compared to right now—watching the beautiful ring sparkle, taunting her with its promise of a perfect future. Instead, she had to watch it disappear into the snow. Lou put her head on the table as Gertrude rubbed her back, wishing she could disappear into the storm, too.