Rusty watched Becca dab the napkin to the corner of her mouth, fold it then place it on the plate. God, she was just so cute.
Becca quirked her head to the side. “Why are you staring at me? Do I have food in my teeth?”
Frank took a swig of his orange juice. “At least you got teeth.”
Rusty chuckled. “Sorry, I just can’t stop staring at my beautiful fiancé.”
The yellow phone on the kitchen wall rattled disturbingly as it began to ring. Rusty pushed his chair out and grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Hi, Rusty. This is Mr. Francisco.”
“Yes, Mr. Francisco. I’m so sorry. I had someone cover my shift. Did he not show?”
“Relax, son. I’m not calling about that.” Mr. Francisco cleared his throat. “I have an issue with our meeting today.”
Rusty’s stomach rolled, churning the Eggs Benedict he’d just eaten. “Is there a problem?”
“No, nothing like that. I just need to move the meeting time.”
Rusty glanced at Frank. “To what time?”
“Now would be good. I’m afraid I’ve been called out of town this afternoon unexpectedly, so I’ll need to leave before noon.”
“I’d like to, sir, but is it okay if I bring my grandfather along?”
Becca stood, waving her hands to get his attention. “I can watch him. Go.”
Rusty cupped the phone. “You sure? I mean—”
Frank beat his cane against the side of the table. “You heard the girl. We’ll be fine. I’ll get a chance to get to know my future granddaughter-in-law.”
Rusty smiled and removed his hand from the phone. “Actually, never mind. I’m good to come now. Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”
“Splendid. That will work well. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.” Rusty hung up the phone.
Becca rushed to his side. “What is it? What kind of opportunity does he have for you?” Then she gasped, a smile spreading across her face. “Maybe he’ll ask you to cook for him.”
Rusty chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. I didn’t want to say anything, but he wants to speak to me about working as a sous-chef. I don’t know any of the details beyond that, though.”
Frank tapped his cane against the worn wooden floor. “Well, you’re not gonna find out unless you get goin’.”
Rusty placed a hand on each of Becca’s arms. “You sure this isn’t too much? I mean, you have a shift at the diner tonight and you want to finish your project for Cathy.” He glanced at his grandfather. “And let’s face it, he can be a handful. You can’t let him out of your sight for five minutes.”
“It’ll be good training so I can babysit Amelia when she starts toddling around.”
“Great. Now, I’m a toddler,” Frank huffed and marched from the room with a little more agility than earlier. Rusty sometimes wondered if his grandfather didn’t just use his age to get what he wanted.
Becca tapped his chest. “Go, seriously. We’ll be fine here. We’ll play some cards, watch television, do stuff.”
Rusty laughed. “Just don’t play poker. You’ll end up in the poor house before you know it. He’s a card shark.”
“Noted. Now, obey your elders and get.” Becca winked at him.
He cradled her face in his hands. “I love you.”
Becca smiled and stood on her toes, her lips whispering a kiss across his cheek. “I love you, too. Now, go find out the details of that opportunity. I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
Rusty didn’t want to release her. He never wanted to leave her once they finally got time together. Every minute of every day, for the last six months he’d thought about her. How to win her over, court her and propose. Now, he’d get to think about marrying her. It still seemed too unbelievable to be real.
His grandfather had always talked about how he’d fallen in love with one look. Rusty had thought the man was crazy, but now he realized the same thing had happened to him. From the first time he saw Becca, no other woman in the world existed.
With a full heart, he headed to his truck then raced down the drive. The quicker he figured this out, the quicker he could get home. Very few cars were on the roads this time of morning. Not that Creekside had much traffic anyway. He made his way down Old Hwy 5 and found the restaurant parking lot empty except for a few employee cars. Pulling into a spot, he killed the engine and hopped out, realizing his stomach was in knots. Mr. Francisco said he’d be working as a sous-chef, but how? He didn’t have proper training or any education beyond high school.
With his shoulders back, the way his father had taught him years ago, he marched through the back door and into Mr. Francisco’s office. The aromas of fresh baked bread, garlic, and oregano filled the air. “Mr. Francisco, I’m here.”
“That was fast. Don’t worry. This won’t take long. Please, have a seat.”
Rusty sat in the worn burgundy chair across from Mr. Francisco’s desk. He forced his foot to remain still despite its tendency to tap with nervous energy.
Mr. Francisco smoothed his thin layer of hair over to the side then placed some papers on his desk and clasped his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on the desktop. “I received a phone call from Cathy Mitchell about you yesterday.”
Rusty stiffened.
“Don’t worry, son,” Mr. Francisco said. “It wasn’t a call to complain, which I’ll admit is out of the ordinary for her. I think that Mr. West is good for her. He seems to tame her more meddling qualities. Although, she‘s still…spirited.” He shook his head. “Anyway, she called to let me know that I was a fool for wasting your talents busing and waiting tables. Apparently, you create—wait, let me get this right.” He tugged a scrap piece of paper from under a coffee mug and put his reading glasses on. “And I quote, ‘the most imaginative and delicious dishes she’s ever tasted. Certainly better than the slop Chef Blanc serves here.’”
Rusty blanched at his words. “I promise you I had no idea. I’m not sure what possessed her to say something like that, but please accept my apologies.” Rusty’s foot mutinied and started tapping like a galloping horse.
“I know. But as happenstance would have it, this call came at a perfect time.”
Rusty quirked an eyebrow at him.
“As I mentioned, Chef Blanc will be retiring in three years. I knew that when I brought in one of the sous-chefs four years ago. I’d planned for him to take his place, but they’ve both been offered jobs elsewhere. One only gave me five days notice. The other one walked out on the job.” He sighed heavily. “I want someone I can trust. Someone like you, with roots in this town, so you won’t leave if another offer comes along without giving me a chance to speak to you. The job would be yours under a few conditions.”
Speechless, Rusty’s gaze searched the room, as if he’d find the words he was looking for. “Sir, I’m flattered. I mean, I’m elated, but there’s a huge problem. I don’t have any formal training.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. Which brings me to my conditions. First, Chef Blanc made a call to the culinary school in Riverbend. Apparently, his one phone call and a few references have swayed the administration to accept your application.”
“But, I didn’t file an application. Well, I mean, I did, but that was back in 2010 before my parents died.”
“They still had it on file, but you’ll need to update it.” Mr. Francisco leaned back in his chair and crossed his hairy arms over his well-endowed belly. “There’s still another condition, though. One that I’m not sure how you’ll handle, but it’s important.” He looked squarely at Rusty. “You need to be reliable.”
Rusty nodded. “I’m a hard worker, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Mr. Francisco nodded. “I know you’re a hard worker, son. That’s not what concerns me. You see, I can’t have my chef off every other night because something came up with his grandfather. I know you’ve never missed a shift here until today, but it isn’t as easy to find a substitute when you’re a chef.”
Air deflated from Rusty’s lungs. “I understand, sir. I’m not sure how to work that out to be honest.”
“Well, son, I need someone by tomorrow evening, but I’ll hold the job for you until the end of the week. Then I’m going to have to hire someone else. There’s a line of candidates who want to work with Chef Blanc. But I want to give you this opportunity because of loyalty.”
Rusty clutched his knees, fighting the whirl of excitement, fear, and grief consuming him. “I understand, sir. I’ll do my best, but to be honest, I’m not sure now is the time. My grandfather‘s deteriorating.”
Mr. Francisco stood and offered his hand. “I see. Well, you think on it and get back to me by the end of the week. Oh, I forgot to mention, there’s a raise in pay involved as well. It’ll be enough to cover the loss of the part time work you do over at the inn.
Rusty shook Mr. Francisco’s hand. “That’s generous, sir.”
“No, it’s good business.”
Rusty nodded then headed for the door.
“And Rusty?”
He stopped short of the exit and turned back. “Yes, sir?”
Mr. Francisco lowered his glasses to the desktop and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your mother and father wouldn’t have wanted you to sacrifice your entire life to care for your grandfather. They worked hard in the hope that you’d make it to college and pursue your dreams.” He stood up to walk around the desk then leaned against it. “Back before you even graduated high school, your father spoke to me. He asked if there was some way you could intern here when you went to culinary school. You see, it’s not just Cathy Mitchell who wanted this for you. Your parents did, too.”
Tingles raced up Rusty’s arms to the back of his neck and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He had no idea his parents even suspected he wanted to attend cooking school, let alone that they supported the idea. He’d applied in secret and didn’t receive his acceptance until after their crash. “I didn’t think they even knew I wanted to be a chef. My father always spoke about my baseball scholarship to UT. I was afraid it would destroy him if he knew his son wanted to cook for a living.”
Mr. Francisco straightened and walked toward him. Placing one hand on each of Rusty’s shoulders, he squeezed. “He knew, son. And he was proud of you for pursuing your dreams. You know, he used to supply our restaurant with fresh vegetables from the farm. They were so delicious, our customers would rave about them. We became good friends over the years. The last few years before he died, we’d have coffee every morning after his delivery. I realize now he was doing that partly for you. Always dropping hints, telling about how great the meal was that you’d made the night before. Trust me. Your father supported you, and now, I’ve been able to help an old friend. Try your best to work this out, son. It’s a great opportunity for you.”
Rusty could barely form words. Discovering that his parents knew about his dreams and supported him was beyond comprehension. All these years, he’d felt like he had let them down for not being able to manage UT and his grandfather. “Thank you. I will,” he choked out before heading to his truck.
The cold wind whipped through to his soul, as if his father tried to wake him up from the fog he’d been living in the last few years. But how would he manage to juggle his grandfather, school, and work? He’d been working two jobs for a while now. Certainly he could handle one job and school. Perhaps Trianna could recommend someone to help watch his grandfather while he was at class or work. Or Cathy. She always seemed to be full of ideas. In the years since his parents had passed away, the people in this town had offered to help him, give him money so he wouldn’t have to work so hard. But he could never accept. They worked just as hard as he did. No, he wouldn’t take money, but an idea would be good.
Maneuvering around the garbage truck doing its rounds on Wilson Avenue, he eyed the old folk’s home on the corner. For a brief moment, just after his parents’ accident, he’d thought about placing his grandfather there but knew he’d never agree. The old man was stubborn to the core and had made it clear he would die in his home someday.
The thought of his grandfather dying terrified him, yet at the same time he felt guilty, thinking about how much easier things would be if his grandfather wasn’t here. He’d be able to go to school and marry Becca.
He shook his head, shame filling him. No. He loved his grandfather and he respected the old man’s wish to live out his days with family, in the home he grew up in. That was how Rusty would want to spend his final days.
Eyeing the newly constructed senior center at the end of the tree-lined street, he veered toward it in the hope of finding Trianna. Maybe Cathy would even be there, helping out. She usually delivered cupcakes on Wednesdays with Karen Wanke, so Karen might be there now, too. He found several familiar trucks and Judy Benjamin’s car parked out front. Perfect. He’d be able to pick all their brains. If his father wanted him to be a chef, that was motivation enough. Not to mention a better life for Becca and him. Maybe he’d even get the chance to ask Devon about marrying his daughter now that he had options for his future.
He entered the building to the smell of fresh paint, the sounds of furniture screeching and people running about. He spotted Cathy first. “Hi. Need some help?” Rusty called out as she retrieved some afghans she had undoubtedly knitted from a box and placed one on each chair in the lobby.
Ten sets of eyes shot to him.
From behind a stack of boxes, Devon said, “Where’s Becca and your grandfather?”
Rusty fought the urge to bolt. He hadn’t thought about how Mr. West would feel with him leaving the man’s daughter with his mad grandfather. “Um, well, I came to speak with you and Cathy then I’m heading straight back. Becca’s watching TV with him now.”
“Good for you, boy.” Cathy pointed to another box and Devon plopped it on the table. She took out small pillows, and held one out for Devon. “Do you mind setting one of these back supports in each chair, darling?”
Devon took four. “Be happy to.”
“What’s on your mind?” Cathy dropped the box to the floor and put her hands on her hips. “It looks like you need something.”
Rusty grabbed the other four pillows and headed for the chairs opposite the ones Devon was setting pillows on. “Well, actually I need some ideas more than help, but I think you already know why.”
Cathy shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you fill us in on what this is about?”
“You called Mr. Francisco about a sous-chef job for me. Starting to ring any bells?”
Cathy’s eyebrows rose and she touched her fingers to her chest. “How would I know anything about that? I did call to tell him his chef wasn’t the best and he should take a look around town.” She tapped her forehead. “Now, that you mention it, I might have mentioned you were a good cook. I don’t really remember. We were just chatting, is all. If you received a new job offer, I can assure you I had nothing to do with it. I guess the man just wised up.”
Devon slid his arm around Cathy’s back. “You’re a remarkable woman.”
“I hope you already knew that.” She hip-bumped into his side then turned her gaze back on Rusty. “As for you, don’t you dare let your grandfather ruin this for you. Between everyone in this town, we’ll work something out.”
“I don’t want to bother—”
Cathy huffed and stomped her foot, sending Devon to return to his work nearby. “Now you listen here, Rusty Miller. Did I bother you when my hot water heater went out and I couldn’t get a repair man to my house for three days?”
Rusty shook his head. “No. Of course not.”
“Did Mrs. Hatfield bother you when the radiator went out at the inn on the coldest night of the year? Or Mrs. Cramer, when her house was broken into and you went to fix her front door in the middle of the night? Do the homebound people of Creekside bother you when you drop off food to them?”
Rusty held up his hands to make her stop. “It’s not the same.”
Cathy crossed her arms over her chest the way she did when she’d get her way, no matter what. “You tell me how it’s different.”
“Because…they just needed me to fix something once. We’re talking about taking care of a man who might pinch you, run away or Lord knows what else. I don’t want to put that on anyone.”
“Are you saying we’re not family? You grew up in this town. Heck, I remember when you were in diapers and your mother would roll your buggy through town to go shopping. Your father delivered fresh fruit and vegetables to the homeless after the great flood that hit this area before you were even born.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect.”
Cathy dropped her hands to her sides. “Then stop disrespecting. You’re more stubborn than that old mule of a grandfather. Do you want to be a chef or not?”
Rusty mulled over what she’d said in his head. Did he dare say the words out loud? He’d kept them to himself for so long.
“Well, I’m not getting any younger over here.” Cathy propped her hand back on her hip.
Rusty cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s what I want to do.”
“And do you love Becca?”
Rusty eyed Devon, but didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes. More than anything. Actually, I wanted to ask Mr. West something while I was here.”
Devon fluffed one of the back pillows a little harder than necessary. “I can tell you my answer will be dependent on your ability to provide a good life for my daughter. That means not working yourself into an early grave.”
“Then it’s settled,” Cathy announced. “We’ll figure out an emergency rotation for him during the day, in case there’s a problem at the senior center. I’ll take a day.”
Trianna set a box down on one of the chairs and directed a helper to the window on the far side of the room. “I can help after hours. I wouldn’t mind the company when Jimmy’s on shift.”
“I know Judy and James would be happy to take a shift, and there are many others. It’s settled.” Cathy flashed him a bright smile. “Operation Old Geezer is under way.”
While he was relieved to have so many offering to help him, at the same time it made him more anxious. That was a lot of people that would be disrupting their lives just for him. And there was how his grandfather would take it to consider as well. “I don’t know. Won’t all that shifting around cause him to become more agitated?”
“If it does then we’ll deal with it. Now, you go home and tell Becca the good news. Better yet, call her on the phone over there. This is your chance to have it all, so don’t be stupid.” Cathy maneuvered around a chair to Devon’s side. “And trust me, once you have something worth holding onto, you’ll regret it if you ever let it go. No matter how many challenges you face.”
A shot of adrenaline raced through his body. Could this really be happening? Could he move forward with his life, despite the challenges he’d faced the last few years? Of course, none of it would mean anything without Becca. “Mr. West, if I’m able to make this work and create a better life for Becca and I, would I have your blessing to marry her?”
Devon stood there, staring at him, until Cathy jabbed him in the belly. “Okay, okay. Yes, son. You’d have my permission to marry my daughter. Although, she’d say yes without my permission.”
“I know, but I wouldn’t want that.”
Cathy snuggled into Devon’s side. “Rusty’s a man of honor. He wouldn’t feel right about doing anything without your blessing.”
Rusty scratched his head and shifted between feet. “Well, um…”
Devon released Cathy. “Um what?”
Cathy scooted between them. “Devon, honey. I still need your help.” She tried to hand him another box, but he scooted around her.
Rusty slid his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “I kind of proposed to her today. I hadn’t planned on it because I hadn’t asked you yet. I just meant to ask her if she wanted to marry me so I’d know to ask you. Without a ring or your blessing, I wouldn’t go forward.”
Devon narrowed his gaze. “What happened?”
Rusty pushed his shoulders back. “My grandfather produced the engagement ring he’d bought for my grandmother and told me I had no more excuses.”
Cathy gasped. “Frank gave you the ring? Are you sure he was coherent at the time?”
Rusty laughed, relieving some of the tension in the room. “That was my first thought, too, but he was more aware of what was going on than he’s been in months. He told me he said he’d never pass the ring on because he thought I’d give it to some bimbo and he wanted to save it for the right girl in my life. He said Becca’s that girl.”
“That old dog.” Cathy straightened the collar on Devon’s shirt and ran her hand down his chest. “Trust me. This boy didn’t stand a chance. Frank made sure of that. But Becca could do worse. Now that he’s moving up to being a chef and going to be trained, all’s well.”
Devon didn’t say anything for a long moment and Rusty worried he’d retract his permission. Cathy looked between them then smacked him in the ribs.
“Okay, okay. I had to make the boy sweat a little or he wouldn’t respect me.” Devon held out his hand. “Welcome to the family, son. I’m glad you’ve made Becca so happy. I haven’t seen her this healthy and excited about life since she was a little girl.”
Rusty shook his hand with a firm grip, looking him in the eye like his father had taught him. “Thank you, sir. Hey, can I borrow that phone of yours, Trianna? I want to check in and see if everything’s okay at the house. If it is, I’d like to go run an errand.”
“Sure. It’s on the desk in my office.” Trianna pointed to a room near the front door.
“I think the first thing you should spend your money on when you get that raise is a cell phone. Save me from having to listen to Becca fret all the time,” Cathy said.
“I’m not getting paid for being a chef yet. We’ll still be tight for awhile. Besides, I want to help Becca go back to school, too.”
Devon’s eyes lit up, but Rusty didn’t want to say any more, not without talking to Becca first. Before he could ask, Rusty bolted for the front office. He dialed home and waited. After five rings, the answering machine picked up. A twinge of panic caught his breath for a moment. What had his grandfather done this time?
He cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “Hey there, guys. I was just calling to see how things were going. I thought I’d stop and run an errand on the way home, but I guess I’ll do it later. See you guys soon.” He hung up the phone then tried Becca’s cell, but still no answer. The feeling he’d suffered the night his parents died gnawed at him with that sensation of impending doom.