Recipe For Redemption. Anna J. Stewart
altogether and he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “I need to go, Gary.”
“Before you hang up.” Gary cleared his throat, an indication he’d been rehearsing whatever he was about to say next. “I thought you should know there’s a food festival coming your way in a few weeks. You should stick around long enough to check it out.”
His stomach rolled as if he’d eaten spoiled seafood. “There’s a what?” Jason considered chucking his phone into the ocean as his hands went clammy.
“It’s a new event they’re using to drum up business in the area. They’re calling it the By the Bay Food Festival. Coastal cuisines and wines, niche food companies looking to help small towns build up their presence in the tourist industry. Lots of local sponsorships. The National Cooking Network’s covering it for a series of specials later this year about small-town celebrations.”
“Suddenly Butterfly Harbor feels more like a setup than a hideaway.” Of course. Now the three-week booking made sense. “When are they due to show up?”
“Not sure, but so you know, Roger Evans is heading up the production crew. He’s, ah, been promoted. To assistant vice president of programming.”
“Great.” His former producer coming to town was the icing on the cake. Only the Best had been yanked from the airwaves days after word of Jason’s cheating hit the internet and sent the crew into unemployment overdrive. Leave it to Roger to come out ahead of the game. No doubt elevating Jason’s former sous chef to star status had assisted the producer up the ladder. “You do remember Roger and I didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“Maybe it’s time to rebuild that bridge now that he’s in a position to help you.”
Even Gary had to get tired of tilting at windmills sometime. “No one with NCN is going to want anything to do with a scandalized ex-chef.”
“You’re not an ex-chef yet, Jason. Not as long as you’re still answering your phone. We can salvage the book deal, and it’s not as if they canceled your contract with the network. Suspended, sure, but there’s always hope. Especially if you change your mind. If nothing else, let’s get you back in the kitchen at JD’s. Fight for what’s yours. Fight for that future you and David wanted for yourselves.”
“You still don’t get it, Gary.” Jason had to open his eyes to stop the ghostly image of David from appearing. “That future went down in the plane with David. Please don’t ask again. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Jason disconnected before he said something he’d regret. He was already down a father and brother—he didn’t need to alienate the last person still on his side.
He didn’t have answers to much right now, but he knew one thing for certain: he was done with the cooking world.
And nothing Gary or his father said would ever change that.
* * *
“DOUBLE MOCHA SHAKE, extra whipped cream, cheeseburger and fries, Holly. Stat.” Abby slunk into a booth at the Butterfly Diner and dropped her head into her folded arms. Not even the comforting confines of her best friend’s throwback diner decked out in hues of orange and black in honor of its monarch namesake were enough to lift her normally sparkly mood.
She gave a weak wave to Matt Knight and Fletcher Bradley as the two deputies dived elbow deep into drippy cheeseburgers of their own in the corner booth. It was nice to see the diner flush with customers, most of whom were longtime residents and business owners. Too bad none of them needed a room for the...year.
“Uh-oh.” Holly Campbell set a coffeepot on the table and crossed her arms. “The last time you ordered like this you had just gotten dumped on prom night. All that’s missing is the onion rings. What’s up? Did you have another online dating disaster? You couldn’t have found someone worse than rented-bowling-shoe guy.” Holly tightened her ponytail and aimed a sympathetic gaze Abby’s way.
“The newly engaged are not allowed to mock the emotionally unattached.” Nonetheless, her best friend’s teasing eased her mind. She honestly couldn’t remember a worse day. “And for the record, I wasn’t dumped. It was a mutual parting of the ways.”
“Rewriting history, check.” Holly grinned, but the concern in her eyes brushed lightly against Abby’s bruised heart. “What’s going on, Abs? You haven’t been your usual shiny self for a few weeks.”
“Oh, nothing much.” Abby took a deep breath as she realized Holly, and not lunch, was the real reason she’d come to the diner. There wasn’t anyone else she could confide in who would keep things quiet. “Aside from all the time-suck repairs the inn needs, I started the day by almost burning the kitchen to the ground—”
“Again?” Holly groaned. “You should come with a warning sign.”
“Not you, too.” It was bad enough to have Mr. Cranky Pants Corwin denounce her negligible cooking skills—she didn’t need to hear it from her best friend. “Believe it or not, that was the highlight of my morning. I just came from seeing Mr. Vartebetium at the hospital.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Pretty good for an eighty-two-year-old man who’s had his third heart attack.” At least he was getting the break he needed. “They’re still debating whether to send him to a transition facility before allowing him to go home. Remember all those months ago when I told you I thought maybe the Flutterby was in trouble? Yeah, well, I was wrong. It’s in huge trouble with a great big F for financial. He finally confided in me how bad things are. His words? The Flutterby would be better off if we launched it off the cliffs.”
“Oh, no.” Holly sagged onto the bench across from her. “That can’t be true. The Flutterby has been here forever. Maybe he’s exaggerating. Do you think?” The hope in her friend’s eyes didn’t do much to bolster her own.
“He wouldn’t come out with the details, but he gave me the keys to his filing cabinet,” Abby said. “It must be pretty bad considering he stopped letting me oversee the books months ago.” She’d assumed Mr. Vartebetium had wanted to keep as much control of his lifelong business as he could. Now Abby had to wonder if it was his way of keeping the truth about the finances secret. “How early is too early to crack open a bottle of pinot?”
She blinked back tears, which only made her mad. Abby Manning didn’t cry. Abby Manning was the town optimist—she got things done, and if she didn’t know how, she found a solution. Abby Manning never saw a gray cloud in the sky even when it was storming outside.
“The inn can’t close, Holl,” Abby whispered. “It’s the only home Gran’s ever known. It’s her last connection to Gramps, and now with her Parkinson’s diagnosis, ripping her out of that place will only make her decline faster.” And it would kill Abby. The Flutterby was the first home she’d ever known. “I’ve got to save it somehow. I won’t let it go without a fight.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Holly said. “I wish I could help, but between this place and Simon’s school tuition, not to mention Luke’s and my wedding—”
“Do not make these stupid tears spill over, do you hear me?” Abby ordered, appreciating more than words could say how much she loved Holly for the thought. Holly had her back, just as Abby had had hers a few weeks ago when Holly hit a rough patch with her son, Simon. That was before Holly went and fell tail over teakettle in love with the onetime bad boy of Butterfly Harbor turned sheriff, Luke Saxon.
Looking at Holly’s engagement ring glinting in the early afternoon sun made Abby’s heart ache and sing at the same time. Her friend deserved to be happy, especially after all she’d been through.
“I don’t suppose Simon is around?” Holly glanced at the half-filled diner. Whatever boost she needed, she’d bet her overly precocious eight-year-old godson could provide.
“He’s at the community center with my dad and Charlie. I swear my son and Paige’s daughter are tethered constantly,