A Place to Rest Part 3

Her frustration with the size of the bathroom was worth the trade-off for the rest of the apartment. The remainder of her loft-style living area was open and boasted plenty of natural light.

The apartment was tucked beneath the gable roof of the garage but had large windows at either end of the room. In the summer she opened them both and enjoyed a cross-breeze that nearly eliminated the need for air-conditioning.

Since she'd been saving every penny for a car, she had only furnished with the bare necessities. A futon and secondhand coffee table faced one of the windows, and an Asian-inspired screen she'd picked up at a yard sale divided the room from the * 33 *

platform bed on the far side. The corner opposite the bathroom housed what was really nothing more than a kitchenette. She didn't bemoan her lack of a full kitchen since she rarely put together anything more complicated than a salad at home.

Having been on her own since she was eighteen, she had sacrifi ced comfort at home to pay for her education. But after she'd graduated and got her fi rst job as an a.s.sistant pastry chef, she began saving for the day she could fi nd a new place. Then about a year and a half ago she happened to see the listing for this apartment in the newspaper and had quickly called the landlords, praying no one had already snapped it up.

It was much nicer than the last apartment she'd lived in, which was little more than a roof over her head in an undesirable neighborhood. The incredibly reasonable rent she paid made the apartment even more attractive. Her landlords were generous and had told her to do anything she liked to fi x it up.

She descended the steps outside and crossed the aggregate drive toward the main house. She actually enjoyed the fi fteen-minute walk to the bus stop on beautiful afternoons like this one, and as she strolled down the tree-lined drive she realized she was unusually excited about going to work. Since she'd started at Drake's, she'd always enjoyed her job, but today she buzzed with uncharacteristic antic.i.p.ation. She recalled the fl utter in her stomach while she had studied Sawyer's profi le against the backdrop of the city speeding by. She still didn't know much about Sawyer, but somehow she knew if they worked together for any period of time she would.

"Good afternoon," Sawyer called as she strolled into the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty except for Erica, who carried a clipboard and was checking off items in the large stainless-steel refrigerators along the far wall.

* 34 *

"You're early," she said with a note of surprise in her voice.

Sawyer shrugged. She knew she had arrived an hour before Erica expected her. She had awakened early, and even after showering, lingering over breakfast, and running some errands, she had plenty of time before dinner.

"Don't you have someone who can do that for you?" she asked, nodding at the clipboard in Erica's hand.

"Are you volunteering?" She turned toward Sawyer with a sigh and set the board down on the nearest counter. "Until you signed on, I was short a server. Brady and Chuck are handling dinner six days a week with their a.s.sistants fi lling the gaps.

Jori has been a G.o.dsend because my a.s.sistant pastry chef was defi nitely not ready to step up. So to answer your question, no, I don't have anyone else to do this stuff. I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Well, maybe you should hire someone to help out, at least until after the baby's born." The fatigue in Erica's voice had immediately made Sawyer feel guilty, and she could practically hear her mother chastising her for baiting her sister. She knew Erica was a chef at heart, yet she'd stepped in when neither Sawyer nor Brady had volunteered to take over their father's managerial duties, making her a heck of a lot less selfi sh than them.

"I can't hire someone just because I don't want to do this stuff. I have to consider a little thing called profi t."

"Geez, Erica, you don't have to talk to me like I'm a child."

"Well, stop acting like one," she snapped.

Sawyer bit back a sharp reply. A crack about hormones would only earn her a dose of Erica's temper.

"What the h.e.l.l are you so mad about?" Sawyer asked.

"I didn't plan for any of this. I'm supposed to be cooking, not running the place. I never thought I would be pregnant and facing raising a child alone. I always thought the father would be in the picture. And he's not."

"He's an a.s.shole. You're better off without him. And no one could've predicted Dad would get sick." Erica's outburst startled * 35 *

Sawyer. She seemed to have everything together, so much so that she had time to critique Sawyer's life. It had never occurred to her that it might be a faade.

"But he did. And here I am, ignoring everything else for Drake's. Just like he did."

"That's not fair. You know he wasn't ignoring us."

Sawyer didn't have many childhood memories of her father that didn't involve being at the restaurant. When she was old enough, she had come to understand that he didn't spend so much time away from his family because he wanted to, but rather because he felt he should. Examining her grandparents'

relationship, Sawyer had fi nally realized that Tom was raised to believe that working hard and making sure they didn't want for anything was his way of providing for his family. And he relied on Tia to fulfi ll their emotional needs.

Erica snapped up her clipboard from the counter and returned to the inventory. "Just forget it, Sawyer."

A strained silence still hung between them when Jori walked in.

Jori was several paces into the room before she noticed the tension that hung between its occupants. She hesitated, but it was too late to retreat so she continued silently to the pantry and pulled out the supplies she would need for that day's dinner. From the corner of her eye she saw Sawyer leave the room without a word.

Drake's was famous for varying their desserts. Instead of a printed menu they had several different daily selections. The servers were briefed before each shift and were responsible for letting the patrons know what the menu was. Usually Jori arrived in the early afternoon to begin preparing the evening's dishes.

She had picked up some fresh peaches from the farmers'

market the day before, so one of tonight's desserts was a cobbler. She set a large pot of water on the stove, then measured ingredients.

"Everything okay?" she asked when Erica came over, picked * 36 *

up one of the peaches, and smelled it, then absently pa.s.sed it back and forth between her hands.

"Yeah, just family stuff," she said dismissively as she slid onto a nearby stool.

"How are you feeling?" Jori sensed that Erica wanted to change the subject. She loaded the peaches in a steamer basket and lowered it into the boiling water.

"Well, other than the fact that by the end of the night my shoe size goes up two sizes, I feel good."

"It's no wonder. I rarely see you sit down until well after the dinner rush." She leaned around Erica and grabbed another large pot, which she fi lled with ice and water.

"I don't have time to sit down. What are you doing with these peaches?"

"Peach cobbler." She pulled the basket from the hot water and submerged it in the cold water. "This will make the skin come off easily."

"Cobbler? You're going to make me gain a hundred pounds before the end of this pregnancy."

"It's quality control. You have to taste the dish before we serve it, don't you?" Jori joked.

"Of course."

In the weeks after she'd hired Jori, Erica had worried that her new pastry chef wasn't fi tting in. After closing, when they would all gather around to talk, Jori busied herself cleaning up her area and rarely joined their conversation. But slowly she had begun to come out of her sh.e.l.l. And Erica soon fi gured out that she was just uncomfortable in a group.

She had soon seen Jori occasionally joke around with Brady and Chuck throughout the night and made an extra effort to converse with her when a lot of people weren't around. But Jori still seemed reluctant to talk about her personal life. She had responded to all of Erica's inquiries about her family with unspecifi c answers and a quick subject change.

Jori seemed uncomfortable talking about herself and * 37 *

obviously struggled with the social ease that came so easily to Sawyer, which was one reason they seemed an odd match. But clearly there was a glimmer of interest, at least on Sawyer's part.

Erica only hoped it didn't blossom into anything; maybe Jori's shyness would hinder Sawyer's efforts.

She felt a little guilty for rooting against Sawyer's success.

But she was still irritated with her a.s.sumption that she could solve all of her problems by simply hiring someone. She didn't expect Sawyer to understand what it meant to sacrifi ce her desires for the good of the business. After all, she was free to fl it from one job to the next and one relationship to the next, never caring about the state of the one she left behind.

Five years earlier one of Erica's closest friends had confi ded that she'd started seeing Sawyer. Erica had tried to stay neutral and wished them the best. But when Sawyer broke her heart, Erica lost a friend as well. Sawyer, however, went on about her life unaffected, as always.

Now that Erica had to make decisions for the good of Drake's instead of herself, her resentment of Sawyer was twisted up with jealousy of Sawyer's apparently carefree life.

Sawyer shoved through the swinging kitchen door and yanked off her ap.r.o.n. She resisted the urge to sling it onto the nearest surface and instead draped it over her arm. The aromas of that night's menu mingled in the air, each competing for her attention. She drank them in and they separated inside her senses-something fried, roasting meat, and a dish with a touch of jalapeno. She'd grown up in this kitchen; sorting the fl avors was automatic and something she'd done since she was a child.

Brady moved effi ciently between two saucepans, a frying pan on the range, and the large oven nearby. Sawyer pa.s.sed him up in favor of the counter where Jori worked. As she approached, Jori swiped her forearm across her temple, then picked up a * 38 *

lemon and rolled it between her palm and the metal surface. She pulled a knife from the magnetic bar attached to the wall. The sharp scent of citrus accompanied the smooth glide of the blade through the fruit.

"Hi." Sawyer leaned against the counter, one palm pressed to the cool surface.

"Hey," Jori said, barely glancing up.

"Sawyer." Erica crossed the kitchen, and when she got close enough to keep her voice down, she said, "I need you out front.

Not back here hanging out."

"I've been running my a.s.s off out there, Erica. My tables are covered, I'm taking a break." When Sawyer ignored the frustrated look Erica cast her, she rolled her eyes and walked away. "How do you work for her?" she asked Jori.

"She's a great boss."

"Yeah. Try being related to her. I think personal relationships interfere with supervisory ones."

"You're right about that."

Jori's tone piqued Sawyer's interest. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"It's a long story. Would you like to sample my lemon meringue torte?" She held up a plate she'd just fi nished garnishing.

A square of lemon cake was topped with fl uffy white meringue, the tips of the peaks tinged golden. A sprig of mint and a fan of thinly sliced lemon added to the visual effect.

"Ah, you're a quick study. You already know how to distract me." Sawyer took the plate, forked a bite into her mouth, and groaned. The tart lemon fl avor that practically burst on her tongue was tempered by the lightest meringue she had ever tasted. "This is amazing."

"Thanks." Jori smiled and again rubbed her arm against her forehead. "I have a piece of hair that keeps getting in my eye.

Could you push it back for me?"

"Sure." After setting down her plate, she studied Jori's face.

A lock of dark hair rested close to the corner of her eye. Sawyer * 39 *

brushed it back and tucked it under the edge of her bandana, resisting the urge to rub the silky strand between her fi ngertips to determine if it was as soft as it appeared.

"Thank you," Jori said quietly.

Sawyer searched her eyes and noticed for the fi rst time that her pupils were ringed with a halo of silver and the darkest gray irises she'd ever seen.

"Sawyer?" The question in Jori's voice made her realize she was still lightly touching Jori's temple.

She jerked her hand back and shoved it awkwardly in the pocket of her black slacks. "Sorry. I guess I zoned out for a minute there."

"I should get these orders done." Jori appeared as fl ustered as Sawyer felt.

"Yeah." She backed away from Jori. "I need to get out there before Erica comes looking for me again."

Sawyer walked through the front door to her apartment and dropped her keys on the table by the door. After only two days at the restaurant she was exhausted, her feet ached, and her back felt tight. Her only thought was of sinking into a steaming bath.

"Honey, I'm home," she called as she walked into the living room. Her roommate, Matt, sat at one end of the sofa with a book open in his lap.

He glanced up from his book. "How was your day?"

"Very long." She dropped down on the sofa opposite him.

His faded T-shirt and disheveled brown hair belied the smooth car salesman he portrayed during the day. She was always a bit taken aback to see the disorganized boy she'd met in college put on a shirt and tie, slick back his hair, and run his game. But he was actually very good, having garnered multiple awards for top sales. "Did you sell any cars today?"

* 40 *

"Two. My streak continues. How do you like working for your sister?"

"I don't know how long I can do this. Erica seems determined to treat me like hired help." She rested her feet on the oak coffee table in front of her.

"Well, she's probably under a lot of pres-"

"Don't you dare take her side, Matt. Erica has never been helpless a day in her life. Why, all of a sudden, does everyone want me to feel sorry for her because she's pregnant?" Erica was one of the strongest women Sawyer knew. Outside of their conversation earlier that day, Sawyer had never seen even the tiniest crack in her composure.

"I'm not taking sides, but you have to admit Erica is dealing with a lot right now. After your dad's heart attack and their retirement, then she found out she was pregnant and that deadbeat she was dating took off-"

"And I'm a heartless b.i.t.c.h because I don't want to run the d.a.m.n restaurant," Sawyer fi nished for him.

"Come on, Sawyer, this isn't you versus the world. Besides, martyrdom doesn't suit you."

She didn't respond. It wouldn't do any good to argue with him now, even though she felt like he should have her back instead of being so rational. After all, he was her best friend and he'd been supporting her since that time, freshman year, when Misty Simmons had accused Sawyer of cheating on her, when really she'd been in a gay bar with Matt all night. As it turned out, Misty was much less interesting than Sawyer had originally thought anyway.

* 41 *

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