PIERCE WAS UPSTAIRS vacuuming guest rooms when his phone buzzed against his hip. Off the job for another week at least, he knew it wouldn’t be work. But it could be Jamison or one of the other guys checking up on him.
He almost let it go.
It just wasn’t in him to do so.
Eliza! He saw her name on the screen and turned off the vacuum.
“What’s up, Liza?” She was supposed to be in the green room. Ready to go on stage for taping.
His heart started to pound as she told him that the change of plans had been neither official nor legitimate. He hated her driving in such a hurry on unfamiliar roads. Hated that she was all alone. Hated that he couldn’t get to her quickly and easily.
He hated that he didn’t have a clue what was going on. And most of all, he hated that he hadn’t taken the previous incidents more seriously.
Insisting that she stay on the phone with him until she’d arrived and was safely in the green room, Pierce wished her luck. Told her to have fun cooking and they’d worry about the rest later. He told her he loved her.
He hung up.
And was on the phone with Palm Desert police before she would have had time to put her phone away.
* * *
BY THE TIME Eliza called him after the show, Pierce had done all he could do for the moment. He’d been in touch with law enforcement, had opened an official report and had someone standing by to speak with Natasha, Eliza, Grace and anyone else they deemed necessary.
Maybe it was overkill, since there’d not even been a threat of personal harm, but he’d unabashedly pulled the cop card. Asked for a favor.
Questions would be asked. People put on alert.
Before any personal harm could happen.
He might have failed Eliza in a lot of ways, but he was not going to let her down on this one. Protecting her was his duty, and he was going to get it right.
He geared up to tell her so, to let her know about the police escort she’d have back to the hotel, but he didn’t even get a word out before she said, “I won! Pierce, I won again. Can you believe it?”
He’d hoped. Wasn’t surprised. Her fried vegetables were about the best thing he’d ever eaten. But he hadn’t put a lot of stock in the win since she was already going to the final round.
It was clear that the further accolade mattered to her, though.
Surprised that he hadn’t known how talented she was, he congratulated her. Smiled as she talked a mile a minute, telling him about the runners-up. One of the twins. And Grace again.
His news could wait a minute. Or even two.
“So, there were no problems on set?” he asked her when she finally slowed down. She was in a hallway outside the green room—as she’d been each week when she’d called to let him know how taping had gone.
“None,” she said. “Natasha knows about my mix-up this morning, but she asked if we could keep it quiet until after the taping, and I agreed.” A note of unease had entered her voice, and he took the opportunity to let her know that the police were waiting to speak with her.
He half expected her to be upset with him. To tell him that she could take care of herself. Or that Natasha wanted to handle things her own way.
“Thank you, babe.” Her words warmed everything cold inside him. “You have no idea how much better I feel knowing you’ve got my back.”
“I always do, Liza. Always.”
And if that was the best he could give her, at least there was that.
* * *
ELIZA WAS HALFWAY back to the hotel, with a police car directly behind her, when she started to feel the thump. It was like she’d run over something and it had stuck to her tire.
She’d been watching the road. It had been clear.
What would…
Red-and-blue lights started to flash in her rearview and side mirrors. The cruiser behind her was signaling her to stop.
She’d thought Pierce was being overprotective when he’d arranged her escort back to the hotel, but was glad he had as she pulled off.
What was wrong now?
And when was this all going to end?
Pulling to the side of the road, she waited for the officer to approach. And was more confused than anything when she heard that she had a tire that was severing. She called Pierce. Got in the police car as he instructed. And talked to him until she was safely in her hotel room.
They talked for hours that night.
About life. Vacations they’d always wanted to take but hadn’t. About a guest she’d never met, an elderly gentleman who’d amused Pierce when he’d checked in. They talked about the show. The dishes others had made. The reasons the judges had chosen her dish. They talked about social hour, and she hung on while he made certain that Margie was okay doing it without him. They talked while he did all of the dishes afterward so their friend could go up to the room she was staying in that night so she could serve breakfast early in the morning and be on-site should anyone need anything.
They talked about a lot of things. But not one that mattered. He told her he loved her. She told him back.
And meant it.
Still, when she got on the plane to go home the next morning, she was nervous about what the coming week would bring.
* * *
FOR ALL HER WORRY, the next days were almost eerily placid. As the week wore on with no emails or texts or phone calls from her son, Eliza started to realize that she’d built his one visit to the adoption agency months ago into something much bigger than it was.
Started to realize that she probably hadn’t needed to tell Pierce about the boy at all. Hadn’t needed to train-wreck her marriage or her husband’s peace of mind.
Not that her marriage was falling apart. It wasn’t. She and Pierce were as in love, as good to each other, as always. She needed him. He needed her.
But there was something missing.
The something that meant the most.
There was no intimacy between them. Off work for another week, at least, Pierce was around more. Tending to her, the inn, as much as he could. He was kind and thoughtful. Present.
He just wasn’t hers. Not in the way he always had been.
An element of trust was missing.
A sense of ending had taken its place.
They didn’t talk about their baby, the one that she’d given away.
He never asked if she got a call or email or text.
They didn’t talk about the future—not even to discuss the painting they’d been planning to do in a couple of the upstairs rooms that month.
It could wait.
Pierce got his stitches out. He could stop wearing the elasticized bandage around his wrist whenever he felt comfortable doing so. His bruises had healed, and he’d been released to go back to work in another week.
They tended to their guests. They chatted with Margie. They got along.
And she practiced making her Bolognese sauce for the last competition. The final week’s category was sauce, but the contestants were expected also to prepare whatever the sauce was meant to complement.
Her secret ingredients, other than dual meats and very little tomato, were cream and wine—something her grandmother had taught her. Bay leaves gave it an Italian flair. Thyme, sea salt and olive oil were finishing touches to the otherwise classic mixture.
Sea salt was one of Eliza’s signatures, she’d been told by the judges the previous week. She found unique and different ways to use it. She hadn’t realized it but could see that they were right.
The ocean, coming to Rose Harbor to be with her grandmother—they’d saved her life. She clung to them.
Loved them.
And incorporated her love for them in her cooking.
She wondered if Pierce loved the ocean and Shelby Island. A month ago she’d have been certain he did. Now, she didn’t feel like she knew him well enough to be sure.
Was he just there because she’d been so rooted?
She wanted to ask him. But she didn’t. They weren’t that close anymore.
Instead, she made the sauce and spread it on pizza dough, timing herself, on Tuesday night.
And then made it again, timing herself, mixing it with pasta the next night.
Either base would be doable from ingredients stocked in the general pantry on the set.
Pierce preferred the sauce over pasta, he told her Wednesday night as they were eating a late dinner. Then, “I’d like to come with you this weekend.”
In the beginning, she’d guarded her time in California as her own.
Because of her son—about whom he knew nothing.
And then later, too… She didn’t know why. But she’d needed the space. To be focused on her task there.
Now, the thought of herself in that hotel room for another weekend felt…lonely.
She smiled at her husband. From the inside out. “Okay,” she told him. Talked about her flight, the airline she was on, getting him a seat, maybe even getting them seats together. Talked about them renting a car for Friday afternoon and driving around the area. And arranging for Margie to have help at the inn.
Pierce listened. Smiled once. Let her go on until she was finished.
“I had a call from the Palm Desert police department,” he said in response. A reply she felt like a slap in the face.
He wasn’t deciding to join her because he wanted to sit next to her on the plane. He wanted to come because of the unexplained attacks.
Still, it was something.
He had her back.
Eliza decided to be happy with what she could get.