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After lunch Tanner lingers, but when I’m done and stand to put my plate in the sink, he’s still sitting at the table. “Go,” I order him softly. “Caitlyn’s probably waiting for you.”
He glances up, startled, the harsh lines of the billionaire CEO fading away to the grieving brother. “Yeah?”
I nod, prodding gently. “Go and see.”
Leaving him to move at his own pace, I go upstairs to put on shoes and brush my hair. When I come down again, he’s gone and I head out on the path that seems like it ought to lead to the lodge.
It does, but there’s probably a more efficient route. I don’t mind the extra time in the sunshine. It seems like forever since I had an afternoon with no particular agenda. As I approach the giant timber and glass building from the rear, I think I spy the service door, most likely to lead to the kitchens and Chef, I should think.
I pull it open, but it’s heavy so I’m breathless as I slip into the corridor. Maybe this isn’t it. There are laundry carts lined up and cleaning supplies. A little further on, though, I catch the tantalizing scent of chocolate and orange. I follow my nose. Straight into a stalky man of about seventy who’s watching me with twinkling eyes.
“You must be Tanner’s girl,” he states in a heavily accented tenor.
I blush and hunch my shoulders. “I guess? I’m Mika and you’re Chef?”
He bows and pronounces with great drama, “I am Chef Bronisz Bozdankiewicz.”
“Chef Bozdankiewicz, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for all the beautiful food.”
He looks overcome with delight, practically dancing in place, and then rattles off a question in Polish. I have to shake my head. “Sorry, my grandma didn’t learn enough to pass on to me. Just pronunciation.”
“Ah well, it’s clearly a sign you are meant to be here. Wait until I tell Mrs. Donnelly. Now, are you hungry? Can I fix you a plate?”
I have to laugh. “How could anyone be hungry after that beautiful lunch? No, I came to find you so that maybe you could tell me about Tanner. I… I can’t quite figure him out.”
“Hmm. That boy has always kept things too much to himself, but maybe I can shed some light. But for this, I think we need wine. Yes?”
Without waiting for an answer, he leads me by the elbow past the busy kitchens and into an alcoved sitting room with a bench seat under the windows and a small coffee table. “This is where Mrs. Donnelly and I meet to discuss the business of the day. And sometimes to gossip.” Chef slightly resembles an impish gnome as he confesses and immediately I feel like I belong. He hands me a stemless wine glass full to the brim with a lovely fruity white wine that’s dry initially and then explodes with flavor.
“Oh! This is really good.” I eye the glass with surprise. Chef nods. “That is the wine that first put Finlay Vineyards on the map. Now, what else is confusing you about Tanner?”
“Well, you heard that his sister sent me on a quest?”
Chef appears slightly confused but then nods. “But it’s not like Tanner and I know each other and he’s not… he tells me it’s up to me, but I don’t know…”
“You don’t know what you want?” Chef quizzes me gently.
I shake my head vehemently. “No, I’m pretty sure I know what I want. It’s just…” I let it all out, “I don’t think I can have it. Not really.”
“Ah. That is a difficulty.” We’re both glum as we sip the beautiful wine.
“When I have these sorts of problems, I find that cooking helps me think. Have you ever experimented with spun sugar?” he asks kindly.
I shake my head no.
“Then I think it’s time you learned. Sugar often holds wisdom.” His blue eyes twinkle with kindness, so I eagerly follow him into the kitchen for a dose of sugar therapy.
6
Tanner
Mika was right. Caitlyn was waiting for me at the dock. Not a ghost exactly but all the memories of her as a scruffy six-year-old, a wan eleven-year-old, and the feisty teenager that couldn’t do a quarter of the things she wanted because of her heart condition. But fishing always moved past all that. We were both shit at it, but then neither of us really tried either. Sitting at the end of the small pier, her health didn’t matter, the years between us didn’t either. Settled there with my unbaited line drifting on the water, I feel like I can finally say goodbye. I’ve been avoiding the lake house and the dock for the last year, stopping in at the lodge only briefly when business demanded it because I didn’t want to face this.
When I’ve had enough, I head in, but Mika’s nowhere to be found. I check the library again, but that’s empty. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her to explore the trails. There aren’t that many, so she should have been back a while ago. I’m starting to think I should go search for her when I hear the rumble of the farm cart that gets used to move around the grounds. Chef uses it once a week to stock the pantry when I’m here, but mostly he walks over to lay out the meals. Something I’ve told him over and over he doesn’t need to do, but he won’t delegate — particularly not when he’s hoping to gather intel ahead of Mrs. Donnelly. Maybe I’ll borrow the vehicle to find Mika.
But I don’t have to. She’s in the cart perched next to Chef, carefully balancing a plate with a glittering tower of spun sugar dusted with gold flakes currently catching the sunlight. She’s also beaming from ear to ear.
“Look what I made!” she announces with pride as soon as the cart comes to a halt.
