“What are you doing here?” I pulled back, wiping at my eyes.
“Holden invited us,” Mom said. “He called yesterday and said you might downplay what you’re doing, but that we shouldsee it for ourselves because, and I quote,‘Your daughter is pretty fucking spectacular in the kitchen.’”
“He did?” I blubbered. When? Before or after I told him we were over?
Dad looked around, impressed. “This place is fancy.”
“Holden built it. I’m trying not to ruin it,” I chortled.
Mom gave me the same look she’d used when I was six, upset I had baked crooked cupcakes, but she insisted they were perfectly edible. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You sound like your grandfather.”
The mention of him brought on a new set of tears that I attempted to swipe away. “I don’t know if I’ll ever live up to his reputation. He had stars. Reviews. People still talk about him as if he were a god.”
“My father had unreasonably high expectations for himself and those around him,” Dad explained. “Why do you think I never followed in his footsteps? For me, the diner always suited us fine and put plenty of money in the bank. We supported our family with it.”
Mom slid her arm around my shoulders. “We figured out a long time ago that the only standards we could really live up to were our own. We were proud of your grandfather. But we’re also proud of ourselves and of your siblings, with their bagel business. We’re proud of you, too, not because of the name on your chef’s coat. Because you’re Lilah, our brilliant daughter. Since we arrived an hour ago and had a fine meal of your signature dish, I’d have to agree with Holden. You are pretty spectacular.”
Dad squeezed my hand. “If Pops were here, he’d be proud of you. And he’d be telling everyone in this lodge that his granddaughter is opening one of the most exciting kitchens in the country.”
I let that settle into the cracks of my doubts like glue, binding me back together. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thanks for being here.”
“Now, show us your kingdom.” Mom linked arms with me.
I gave them a tour of my suite first, then back down for the kitchen tour. We laughed and talked. They tasted some of our other dishes. Dad moaned at each. Mom asked for recipes. I bagged up two go-boxes of cookies and desserts for them to take home.
Although I didn’t tell them of my plan to leave yet another restaurant, I needed my family more than I realized. I had Holden to thank for getting them here in the first place.
When they left—with my promise to visit soon—I stood there for a minute, breathing in the smells of the kitchen: garlic, wine, herbs, truffle. As my team buzzed with activity, Holden’s absence became more noticeable and raw.
It terrified me that one look at him would undo me. Yet he’d somehow saved the day with truffles by special helicopter delivery. He’d sent my parents to see me. He kept showing up for me in ways no one ever had.
As I requested, he hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen. According to chatter from my chefs, word around the lodge was that Holden was pitching in to get everything ready for opening day like a champ. No accidents reported. Several employees looked up to Holden for how he was stepping up as a true leader, keeping everyone motivated to get things done and be ready for tomorrow.
I filled with pride hearing these things about him, like he’d finally found his stride to manage the lodge. Taking true ownership of it. Through it all, I doubted he’d stopped to eat or even tried my signature dish yet.
I plated a perfect portion, slipped a note beneath it—Compliments of the Chef—and asked Ridley to deliver it to him.
Resisting him suddenly felt impossible if I were to see him again. But more than that, as I reflected on the day, maybe I’d been wrong. My past had ruined nothing today. The kitchen ran like a dream, guests raved over the signature dish, and even my parents beamed ear to ear praising my recipes. I wasn’t a liability.
Today hadn’t fallen apart because of me or my past. It thrived despite itself.
If Madison’s interview ever aired with every messy headline from my time in Europe? People might gossip and whisper. But it wouldn’t burn Holden’s dream to the ground the way I’d feared. Not when the work he put in screamed louder. Not when the truth had legs of its own.
Suddenly, I no longer wanted to run from my fears, but face them head-on. I wanted to runtohimand hold on tight, and see where we might end up a year from now. What if staying didn’t break Holden’s dream… but helped build it?
Or was it too late to try to fix things between us and revive the fling?
19
LEAP AT MIDNIGHT
LILAH AND HOLDEN
Lilah
With under an hourto midnight on New Year’s Eve, Ridley and I scrubbed the last of the countertops until stainless steel gleamed under the lights. The kitchen was spotless, stocked, ready for the biggest day of our lives. My feet throbbed. My heart was another matter entirely.
“We’re ready for tomorrow,” Ridley said, pride lighting her face. “Now go on, Chef. Get out of here before you fall over.”
