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Two days later, Emile was released from the hospital. That morning, Paisley went to bring him home, and Sarah planned to meet them at his apartment above the restaurant.
Originally built in the early 1900s, the brick building had a wine cellar and storage area in the basement, the restaurant and kitchen on the ground floor, Emile’s spacious apartment on the second floor, and Paisley’s tiny studio on the top floor, where a door led outside onto a flat rooftop. The chicken coop and greenhouse there supplied the restaurant with fresh eggs, herbs, and greens.
Whenever Sarah entered her grandparents’ home, she thought of Grandma Annie. Despite the fact that this venerable lady had passed away more than five years ago, Annie’s apron still hung on a hook in the kitchen, her perfume and silver combs still adorned the bedroom dressing table, and her loving spirit lingered.
Sarah imagined she felt the brush of a ghostly kiss against her cheek when she walked through the door, as if the space had welcomed her. She tidied up and changed the sheets on Emile’s bed, listening for the sound of the elevator coming up from downstairs. The peculiar silence that came just after a voice had finished speaking vibrated in her ears as she moved from room to room, preparing for Emile’s arrival. It was as though Annie were there with her, holding the other end of the blanket and helping smooth the pillowcases.
“Okay, Grandma. I get it. We need to watch him carefully, or he’ll be downstairs, baking brioches at five o’clock in the morning.”
The atmosphere seemed to swell and warm as the sunshine brightened, and a tiny waft of cinnamon led Sarah to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and put it on to boil then cleaned out the refrigerator and threw away everything that had expired. She took the garbage downstairs to the dumpster in the alley, picked up a plate of Paisley’s chocolate scones from the kitchen, and climbed back up the stairs.
On her way, she checked to make sure Blake Harrison wasn’t lurking around again, as he had been the past couple of mornings. They’d already discussed the chocolate wedding and his sister’s need for a job. Yesterday, she’d hired Carrie to work as hostess for the summer so Sarah would be free to deal with other things during Emile’s absence. There really wasn’t anything left to talk about, except town gossip or the weather, but Paisley was betting he’d be back today, anyhow. The idea both delighted and terrified Sarah. She was relieved when she reached the apartment without bumping into him.
Her flourishing new cyber-relationship was about all the intimacy she could handle right now. Meeting HotNCold online had become a nightly ritual, but they still hadn’t come around to actual cybersex. The incredible dialogue they were having kept them together until late. At that point, a quick emoticon kiss was the best farewell. But tonight was going to be special, he had promised. She wondered what he had in mind.
Sarah heard the elevator coming up from the ground floor parking lot entrance, bringing with it the sound of her cousin and grandfather arguing. Reassured by this familiar dynamic, Sarah waited in the second-floor hallway. As they approached, she could make out what they were saying.
“Grandpa, we’re going to do exactly what the doctor said.”
“But... the wedding? We’ll lose our shirts.”
“I told you, we’ve got it covered. Nothing to worry about. You trained us well.”
“Paisley, dear, it’s too much for her to learn so quickly...”
Their voices paused as they reached the landing, and the gears engaged to open the door. They were frozen in an awkward tableau as it slid to the right, their faces suddenly smiling when they saw Sarah waiting there.
She knew what they’d been talking about, of course. The idea that in just a few weeks she could learn enough to run a big chocolate catering job was crazy. The thought made her break out in a sweat.
“Grandpa! Welcome home.” Sarah stepped forward to kiss him.
He folded her into a hug and patted her on the back. She felt him trembling slightly and reached around to support him. With Paisley holding one arm and Sarah on the other, Emile entered the apartment living room and sank into his favorite armchair in front of the window. Sarah had already put the newspapers from the past few days on his lamp table.
“Glad to be home?” Paisley pulled up the footstool for him and covered his legs with a knitted afghan.
“Ah,” he said, sinking into the cushions. “That’s more like it.” A blissful smile creased his face, lined by many years of living life with gusto.
Sarah went into the kitchen and returned with chamomile tea and scones. She put the tray on a low table and passed around steaming mugs then sat on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her.
“Heaven,” Emile murmured. “Though I’d rather have a glass of pinot noir.”
Paisley gave him a stern but loving look. “Grandpa, you know what the doctor said. No alcohol.” She turned to Sarah. “He can’t drink at all anymore, no caffeine, and he’s on a low-fat, low-salt diet. There are two new medications for him to take. More tests coming up soon.”
Emile sighed and pouted. “How can you expect a French chef not to cook with butter? It’s ridiculous.”
Sarah teased him. “You and Devon can have a pity party. He’s not thrilled with his dietary restrictions at the moment, either. He’s off sugar, lactose, and gluten.”
“Between the two of us, we can’t eat anything at all! It’s a conspiracy to starve off all the men in the family. How can we ever manage this?” Emile looked stricken, his eyes tearing up.
Paisley patted his hand. “Don’t worry so much, old man. The women of the family have everything under control, right, Sarah? New recipes are in progress as we speak. We’re very creative!”
“At least we can still cook normal food for the restaurant, so my fifty years of experience isn’t all wasted,” Emile said.
His granddaughters exchanged a glance.
“About the restaurant,” Paisley began, but she seemed to chicken out. She looked down and fiddled with her fingernails then glanced at her cousin.
“Since you can’t work in the kitchen for a little while”—Sarah spoke in a confident tone, though she was totally winging it—”it’s a perfect time for you to tutor me. You know I’ll never be able to run the chocolate wedding without lots of help, Grandpa. It’s going to be a ton of work.”
He stopped grumbling and seemed to consider what she had said.
“I suppose there is quite a bit of organizing that I can do right here, from this chair.”
Sarah encouraged him. “That’s right! You’ll be the brains. I’ll do the running around and handle the crazy clients.”
“But don’t think you just get to sit on your derrière the whole time,” Paisley said. “We’ve got to get you out walking every day too. Doctor’s orders.”
“Maybe Hershey can help with that,” Sarah suggested. “He loves to stroll around downtown and visit the shopkeepers, but he needs a chaperone. It sounds like a win-win to me.”
Emile started to look less anxious, his face relaxing. “Brilliant. You two are quite a pair of conspirators, aren’t you?”
“We love you, Grandpa.” Paisley leaned toward him. “You should let us take care of you.”
“All right, then. Sarah, bring me everything from the top shelf of the bookcase, and I’ll give you some reading assignments. Paisley, get down to the kitchen and start figuring out what you’re going to cook for lunch that won’t make me gag. I suppose we’ll get through this.”
Sarah put her hand on top of his, and Paisley added hers on top of both, a ritual from their childhood. Their fingers intertwined in a three-way squeeze, and Sarah realized that now she was really going to have to go through with it.
Crash course in food safety and cocoa cookery, coming right up, she thought. But what if I’m not good enough? What if I ruin everything?
Inside Sarah’s head, Grandma Annie’s voice was like the sound of a distant bell.
“It is what it is, dear,” Annie had always said.
I know, Grandma, Sarah thought. Don’t worry. I’ll try.
A shaft of sunlight shot in through the window and dazzled her for a moment. She squinted, and when she looked at her grandfather, a glowing shape seemed to embrace his shoulders for a moment, gilded by the backlighting. Then it flickered and was gone.
Focused on the wedding, Emile and Paisley were already making lists and discussing an electrical plan to accommodate the lighting and refrigeration needs. Emile dog-eared several chapters in his books and handed them to Sarah, peeking at her over his reading glasses.
“We’ll discuss these tomorrow at lunchtime,” he said. “Start paying attention when Paisley cooks. She’ll teach you a lot if you watch and ask questions.”
“Okay, I’ll start on the books tonight, my night off. But Devon has a game this afternoon, so I need to get home.”
Remembering her “date” with HotNCold tonight, Sarah wondered how to manage everything. She didn’t want to let Emile down, but no way did she intend to miss the closest thing she had to a social life.
Luckily, she had always been an excellent multitasker. And it seemed appropriate that she’d be reading about chocolate and having a virtual love affair at the same time. All she needed was some dark, delicious goodies to munch on, and she’d be in cocoa paradise. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.
After kissing Emile and giving Paisley a hug, Sarah ran down the stairs to raid the kitchen on her way out, making sure she had plenty of supplies for an evening of education and indulgence.