“Did something happen?” Libby asked.
“I think it’s been building.” He unpacked a family-size container of lo mein, peeling off the lid. “There I was, following Jacques’ recipe for croquembouche, and I thought to myself,You know what would take this to the next level? A lilikoi glaze.”
“And that was the problem?” Jean prompted, when he lapsed into a reverie. “Jacky boy didn’t like your special sauce?”
“I didn’t even ask him about it.” Keoki sighed. “I knew he would say no because he’s not interested in trying new things. Especially if it’s not his idea. And then I thought,You know what was more fun than this?”
“Dental surgery?” Jean guessed.
“Nah, having the freedom to create. Like when I got to inventall those recipes for Lillibet. That was cool. Really flexing my muscles. In a culinary way. That’s what I want my daughter to see. Her dad stood for something. He went after his dreams. To make her proud.”
Not it,Libby mouthed at her roommate, who was better at delivering harsh truths. Or in-your-face partial truths, depending on the situation. Jean patted Keoki’s arm.
“That’s beautiful, K. But she also needs diapers and shit.”
He frowned at her. “You’re the one who said we had to be bold.”
“You guys seriously need to stop listening to me.” Jean slid the container of noodles closer to her plate. “I try stuff on. Throw it out there and see what sticks.”
“What are you going to do?” Libby cut in, hoping to distract Keoki from that terrifying window into their friend’s mind. And maybe also pick up a plan she could loosely copy for her own life.
His shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. That’s why I came to you guys. You always have ideas.”
Libby assumed he was talking about Jean, but he looked back and forth between the two of them, wide-eyed and trusting, like maybe Libby had something to contribute, too. Not as a wannabe influencer but as his friend.
“Okay.” She set down her plate. “Let’s figure this out.”
Two hours later, Libby was folded up in a corner of the couch, a notebook balanced on her knees. Keoki reclined on the opposite end, feet propped on the table and his hands linked behind his head, while Jean was upside down in their only other chair, to increase the blood flow to her brain.
Righting herself with a groan, Jean checked her phone. “I think I’ve been awake for two days.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Keoki asked.
“No.” Libby glanced down at the list of search terms they’d already tried. Using Google as a Magic 8 Ball wasn’t getting them anywhere except a state of depression, so it was time to switch tactics.
“What do you most want?” Libby asked Keoki, as if she were a therapist instead of his failing-at-life childhood friend.
“To be a good dad,” he said at once.
“Right.” Libby pretended to make a note. “I think we’ve established that.”
“Gourmet baby food?” Jean suggested.
“I think I’d rather cook for people with teeth.”
“See? That’s good.” Libby pointed the pen at him. “We’re narrowing it down. What else?”
His cheeks puffed as he made popping sounds with his lips, like a fish on dry land. “Not having to do the same thing every day. Be able to go outside sometimes. Enough work for a small crew but not filling out paperwork for hours and hours. I want to be able to think about the food, you know? Seeing people’s faces when they eat something amazing. Not stuck in an office. Or yelling at sous chefs.”
“You never yell.” It sounded like Jean was accusing him of something.
“Why start now?” he replied reasonably. “I want to be the person who says,Hey, welcome. Let me feed you.Like at Tutu’s house. A place people come to relax. Sit awhile. No pressure.”
Libby felt the first stirring of an idea, followed by a wash of doubt. Her faith in herself was at an all-time low.
“What?” Jean was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Do you have something to share with the class?”
“It’s not that original.”
