“Who says?” he teased. “There’s no such thing as too many cookies.” He shoved a handful of them into his mouth in a weak imitation of the Cookie Monster fromSesame Streetin a desperate attempt to cheer her, and indeed himself, up.
She giggled, a sound that always made his heart lift. “Dad, you’re silly.”
“No, you are.”
“No,youare.”
And as Ethan continued to banter with his beloved daughter, he remembered that no matter what, there was always at least one woman in his life who made everything seem better.
Chapter 13
“I know, isn’t it justwonderful?” Rachel sang giddily into the phone. She and her best friend, Terri, had been playing phone tag over the last day or so, and this was the first time they had connected.
Despite that very scary turn he’d taken at the hospital earlier, Gary was once again in a stable condition but barely lucid, which meant that Rachel was still waiting for her grand proposal.
As there was little point in her hanging around the ward, Kim had advised her to head back to the hotel and get some rest, and she had promised to call if his condition changed. In the meantime, Rachel had taken the opportunity to call her friend back and tell her the big news.
“All I can say is when he does ask you, he’d better get down on one knee, or the next time he comes in here, the only beer he’ll get served will be right over his head,” Terri muttered.
Rachel had to smile. The two typically shared this sort of good-natured banter about Gary, but beneath it all was an undercurrent of mutual love and support. They had met in catering school many years before, and right from the time they were partnered up during a bakery class, their connection had been instantaneous.
That day, as they were braiding dough, Rachel broke off a piece, cupped it beneath her nose, and breathed in the aroma and warmth of it. “God, what is it about the smell of fresh dough?” she’d asked, moaning softly and closing her eyes.
“I don’t know, but maybe save your enthusiasm for my sourdough,” Terri quipped. “It’ll make your mouth water and your legs quiver.”
Rachel laughed out loud. “Nah, just wait till a warm piece of my Sicilian olive bread passes your lips and melts on your tongue. Then you’ll know all about it.”
“Bring it on.”
And so it went. At the time, Rachel was new to Dublin and without many friends, whereas Terri was Dublin born and bred. The next day after lectures, the two got together at a nearby greasy spoon for dinner, and from then on, they were inseparable.
Weekends were spent in St. Stephen’s Green over baskets of their own freshly baked bread as well as cheeses, fruit, and lots of wine. In the course of the next few months, they bonded over shared recipes—a blend of tastes, textures, and fragrances—and respective life stories.
Their mutual love of food and cooking, especially baking, made the friendship seem fated, and after graduation, the two spent a whirlwind summer traveling throughout Europe. Afterward, they both spent the intervening years in various different catering jobs but remained firm friends and strongly entwined in each other’s lives.
Then, a year before, Terri’s father—who ran a small café/bar in Dublin city center—became ill, and the friends decided to look into buying him out and refurbishing the café, turning it into a more high-end Mediterranean-style bistro, which they called Gillini.
One thing could be said for certain: there was nothing like it in all of Dublin.
An eclectic blend of art, furniture, fragrances, and Mediterranean food, the bistro drew people from miles around. The artisan bakery section was practically becoming a tourist destination in itself, following write-ups first in local newspapers, theIrish Times, and then a special mention in theDublin Food Guide. Within a few months of opening, she and Terri had to post a “Reservations Recommended” sign in the window.
Their focus on creating an authentic palette of individual dishes and blending flavors and textures from various countries had paid off in greater ways than either had imagined. Although they originally intended to keep the off-site catering aspect to small and intimate gatherings, their services were increasingly in demand.
When it came to their shared enterprise, Terri’s business sense and Rachel’s creativity worked well together. Although their arguments were vehement at times, the laughs generally trumped the quarrels. While Rachel loved her friend’s pragmatism and wit, Terri in turn admired Rachel’s passion and impulsiveness.
“You’re the looker, I’m the leaper,” Rachel would tease whenever their roles blurred at work, and while ordinarily Terri would have been the one organizing the café’s renovations, on the day in question, her dad had taken a turn, and Rachel had agreed to meet with the builder instead.
Who just happened to be Gary Knowles.
Now, sitting with her feet up on the windowsill of her hotel, she couldn’t believe the strange twist of fate that day had ultimately led to her meeting the man she was going to marry.
It could just as easily have been Terri here in New York now bringing her up to speed on what had happened, but at the same time, she couldn’t see it. The two people Rachel loved most in the world didn’t always see eye to eye (if ever), and as such, she definitely couldn’t see those two engaged and planning the rest of their lives together.
Not that she and Gary had managed to do that yet either…
“Never mind getting down on one knee,” she said to Terri now. “I couldn’t care less if he stands on his head, just as long as I get to reopen that little blue box.”
“Tiffany’s—who’d have thought it?” her friend mused. “Not that you don’t deserve it, of course, but I must admit I didn’t think Gary had that kind of…taste.”
