He laughed. “I know the feeling.”
For the first time, Zach felt a pang about moving away from Chicago. If he convinced Anne Green to give him a job and he landed on the West Coast, he’d likely never see Ava again. Then again, if the job with Paul Hawkeye panned out, he could be in Chicago indefinitely.
He should find out what neighborhood she was moving to. Maybe they would live closer now.
“Where—”
“Zach!”
He whipped around. His dad strode toward them.Great timing, Dad.Like always.
“I thought that was you.” His dad looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht in his slacks and a sport coat. His hair ruffled in the wind. A gold watch glittered on his wrist. He’d spotted him earlier but hadn’t stopped to chat. “And Ava, right?”
Zach suppressed a nearly involuntary grimace. “Dad, this is Ava Harper. She’s a food writer for theChicago Heraldand my teammate in the competition this weekend.” He gestured at his dad. “Ava, this is my dad, Daniel Sullivan.”
Ava’s eyes rounded. Was she remembering that this was the man who’d burned down the hotel ten years ago?
“We actually met earlier, though we didn’t really get to chat. So much was going on.” To her credit, Ava’s mouth turned up in a smile as she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sullivan. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Zach’s dad roared with laughter as he shook her hand. “I just bet you have. Don’t worry. I’m a changed man. Or at least, I’m trying.”
Zach’s thoughts tangled. Anger, regret, and love all fought for dominance. He needed to sort these things out. Another person he would have to practice forgiving.
“Are you two walking back over to the reception? I’ll join you.” Without missing a beat, his dad fell into step beside them. “Ava, tell me something about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m a food writer.” Ava clutched the strap of her bag with both hands. “I’m hoping to move into a position that offers travel. My editor is basing that on how well my articles do from this trip.”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten?” His dad’s eager question made Ava laugh.
With a rueful glance at Zach, Ava answered. “I think it was whatever Zach was trying to serve last weekend. Sorry, Zach.”
He put both hands in the air. “No harm done. I know it was terrible. Those flavors should have worked. But also, I never should have tried something new for a competition unless I’d already done it before.”
“We’re making pasties for the charity competition,” Ava said.
“Ahhh.” Daniel nodded. “Very Michigan. I like it. How about the starter course?”
“We’re going with mushroom tarts for the appetizer,” Zach said. “Going traditional to showcase the very best parts of the Midwest and Jonathon Island.”
The picnic tables for the reception came into view just beyond the space where the ceremony took place. Mason jars holding candles glowed in every available space between platters groaning with fried chicken.
“Smart.”
“This competition means a lot to me.” He squared up his shoulders. “I’d like to win for the Silver Platter. They could use the funds.” Young RJ from his cooking class at Escargot flashed through his mind. If the Silver Platter got a fresh infusion of funds, they could help lots of RJs.
“Right. The Silver Platter. I looked them up. Great organization.” His dad patted him on the shoulder, then did the same to Ava. “Best of luck to you both.” He gestured to the dessert table. “Anyone need some chocolate cake?”
“Always,” Ava said. “I’ll walk with you.”
Feeling like a very obvious third wheel, Zach trailed behind them, the silence amplifying his awkwardness.
“Ava,” his dad said, “did anyone ever tell you about how Dani got me to agree to rebuild this place?”
Ava gave Zach a look of apology before turning back to his dad. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version.” His dad put an arm across her shoulder and led her toward the desserts. “Maybe you’d want to use it in your newspaper article.”
Ava looked back at Zach over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
