11
The evening passed in a whirlwind of activity. The guests came in waves, filling tables, then lingering as others arrived. It was like regular dinner service on steroids. The kitchen was controlled insanity, with everyone working together to keep food moving.
Somewhere around ten, Linda came and got Ana Raquel and Greg. They walked out into the front of the restaurant only to find nearly everyone they knew in town crowding into the room. Ana Raquel’s sisters were there, as were Greg’s extended family. The mayor, of course, the city council, other small business owners and friends. Lots and lots of friends.
She and Greg were given a standing ovation. People called out, “Wonderful meal” and “Come cook at my house!” She laughed even as she felt tears burning in her eyes.
Greg led her over to the table with the books and they sat down next to each other to begin signing.
Ana Raquel signed until her fingers cramped, then kept on going. Sometime after midnight, the last of their guests left. The kitchen staff had already cleaned up, leaving the counters gleaming and bare and a couple of small pots simmering on the stove. As she inhaled the scent of their dinner, her stomach growled.
Greg flashed her a grin. “Me, too. Starving. I’m not sure I’ve eaten since breakfast.”
“I know I haven’t.”
She went to get the plates. When she returned to the stove, he was still there, but now he held a bottle of champagne.
“I thought we deserved a toast for all we’ve been through.”
“I agree.”
He opened the bottle and poured them each a glass. They raised their glasses to each other.
“To the Fool’s Gold Cookbook,” he said.
“The cookbook.”
They touched glasses, then sipped. The liquid was sweet and bubbly, tickling her nose and making her laugh. She carried the bottle to the small table in the back of the kitchen while Greg served their meals.
She was tired, she thought, but happy. She was still confused about her feelings for Greg and not sure what to do about his job offer. While she liked working with him, she wasn’t sure she could separate her personal feelings from her professional duties. She didn’t want to be one of those women mooning over her business partner. That was just plain sad and kind of embarrassing. She wanted better for herself.
Of course, a case could be made that thinking she might want more and not asking for it was stupid. Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe he’d secretly been in love with her for years.
That last thought made her chuckle. How preposterous, she thought.
He walked to the table, a plate in each hand. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m so tired, I’m getting punchy. I’m only having one glass of champagne so I don’t fall asleep in my soup.”
He set down the food. She waited for him to take a seat, but instead he moved closer and cupped her face in his hands.
“Ana Raquel,” he murmured, right before he kissed her.