Falling Sweetly: Starling Falls II Read online

  “We’ve had another cancellation,” Martina said, as she walked into the kitchen. “That’s the sixth one today.”

  “Motherfucker,” Tisha said, looking up from the food she was plating.

  “How many days this week have we actually had a full restaurant?” I asked Martina.

  “None,” she said bluntly. “You have to go see Marco and the accountant today. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to do this for. The overheads and the amount we’re paying for the lease alone are going to kill us.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get rid of the permanent migraine I seemed to have had for the past month, since that fucking review that still haunted my dreams had been printed.

  Not that I had been sleeping much at all, but when I did sleep, those vicious words kept floating through my thoughts.

  I supressed a shudder as the memory of the review I must have read at least a hundred times, because apparently I’m a masochist, echoed in my mind again.

  Leaning against the service area, I closed my eyes, wishing that it was late enough in the day to start drinking.

  Tisha poked me hard in the side to get my attention.

  “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you? Stop thinking about it, Jake! We still have our jobs to do.”

  “How the hell do I stop thinking about everything going to shit, Tisha?” I asked her, feeling annoyed, before turning to Martina.

  “Have you got an answer from the magazine about retracting the article, or having one of their critics to come here again, so we can cook for them properly this time?”

  Martina shook her head unhappily. “They finally got back to me. They’re not going to be able to send anyone out here again for the next couple of months. Apparently, their schedule is full. It didn’t sound like they believed our story about what happened anyway. The lady I spoke to said it sounded ‘too farfetched.’ And they’re not willing to write a retraction until they can send another critic.”

  “A couple of months? We can’t survive another couple of weeks of this.” I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation and tugged on the roots painfully.

  “We’re all trying the best that we can here, Jake. I’ve contacted other restaurant critics, and invited them to come eat here, to try to offset some of the damage, but there haven’t been many takers.”

  “Son of a bitch. The things that I want to do those two assholes…” I growled as I slammed my hand against the steel table, startling a waitress who walked by.

  “You know what? You’re no good to us in this state. Leave for the day, and go find Marco, instead. Then go talk to that stuffy accountant and see what we can do to try to salvage this,” Tisha said, putting the plate on a tray and handing it to the waitress.

  Martina nodded her head in agreement. “Go. Tisha and the rest of the staff can manage. It’s not like we’re bursting at the seams,” she said bluntly.

  Fuck it. They’re right.

  They way I’m feeling right now, being around all these sharp objects probably isn’t a good idea anyway.

  “I’m going to try and track down Marco first. Call me if you guys need anything, though the cell service up there may be bad.”

  “Up? What do you mean? Up where?” Tisha asked, with a frown.

  I sighed my answer at her, “Up in the mountains.”

  * * * * *

  I cursed as a branch I brushed aside, flew back and hit me in the face. As I spat out a mouthful of leaves, I wondered again how everything had gone to shit so quickly.

  Fighting my way through the dense foliage, I felt like kicking myself for not having worn more comfortable clothes. I tugged my shirt free from a bush with thorns, and cursed again when the shirt ripped and the thorns scratched my skin.

  I kicked out at the bush in annoyance and managed to snag the hem of my jeans on another deadly looking thorn.

  So this is what my life has come to, kung-fu fighting with plants in the mountains while on some weird expedition to find my insane old mentor.

  I was almost tempted to start shouting “Marco” to see if I would hear a response of “Polo” from him, but I resisted, as I had no idea if I was going in the correct direction.

  “Okay, think Jake, think. Where was he last seen?”

  By the lake.

  “Okay, he never stays in one place for long, so where would he go from there?” I grunted in frustration, ignoring the wary looks I got from a couple who walked past me quickly, obviously in a hurry to get away from the crazy, rapidly pacing man talking to himself.

  “He would need water. Where can you get water besides the lake?”

  Follow the river, idiot.

  “Right! The river. Shit. Which way is the river? Hey! Couple walking away quickly, do you know which way the river is?” I called after them loudly. “Hey, why are you running away? Don’t make me chase you, I swear I’ll do it! I’m a man on the edge!”

  I started to walk after them, as the man yelled over his shoulder, “Just keep going straight on the trail and you can’t miss it… lunatic.”

  “Thank you! And the lunatic comment was unnecessary but understandable! Have a good day!” I quickened my pace and continued along the uneven trail, listening for the sounds of running water.

  I stepped in a muddy puddle, completely soaking the sneaker and sock on my right foot. “Son of a bitch.” The sneaker squelched unpleasantly with every step I took.

  Fuck my life.

  When I finally got to the river, I looked confusedly in both directions, not sure which way I should start walking, when I saw a slender figure of a man with a long grey beard walking downstream holding a shovel.

  “Marco?” I called out hopefully.

  Please don’t be a serial killer in the process of burying a body.

  The man turned and my eyes widened in surprise as I took in my former mentor. The year he had spent up here in solitude had not been kind to his once smooth, now leathered and weather-beaten, skin. His hair was mostly grey and his beard was straggly and tangled.

  It’s as if a hippie, hobo Gandalf decided to recreate Castaway, but up in the mountains instead of on a deserted island.

  “Jake?” the older man asked in a confused tone, his French accent coming through strongly, “What are you doing here?”

  “You know, I was in the area. Thought it would be a good day to drag my tired self up here, and wander around for a couple of hours, looking for your crazy ass,” I told him, pissed off from the quest of searching for him.

  He frowned at me, not saying a word. And when those intimidating grey eyes bore into me, I immediately felt eighteen again. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” I said contritely. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long fucking month.”

  “Hm. Come. Let us have a cup of tea, and you tell me what has happened to make it so long.” Marco’s soothing voice acted helped to calm my frayed nerves.

  Marco Toussant was a half French, half Italian, wholly insane and eccentric man, who had moved to the States over thirty years ago when he’d become bored living in his native France. He came from a wealthy family, but had decided to leave that life behind him when he moved.

  He had worked at various kitchens, from dive bars to Michelin starred restaurants, before he happened upon Starling Falls, when hitch-hiking, and decided to stay and open his own restaurant here.

  From a young age, I’d known that I wanted to be a chef. As soon as I had been old enough to start experimenting in the kitchen, that was where I had chosen to spend most of my time. I’d like to think I had shown natural talent from an early age (Well, that was what Aunt Deb had said, though she may have been slightly biased.).

  Okay, so there may have been an incident involving peanut butter, jelly and catfish, which may have caused some dry (and some not so dry) heaving, but I still maintain that the recipe wasn’t that bad. It was certainly not bad enough to warrant upchucking on the rest of the food I’d made.
r />   After finishing high school, I had gone to Marco and asked him for a job. He hadn’t even interviewed me. He had just asked me to make him my favourite meal, and ‘to be honest about it.’

  After eating two mouthfuls of Aunt Deb’s mac and cheese that I had made him, he told me I had a job. Over the course of nine years, I had worked my way up from a kitchen assistant to Marco’s executive chef.

  When he had retired more than a year ago, to apparently go live out some sort of Bear Grylls impersonation fantasy in the mountains, being named head chef was an honour I hadn’t expected.

  And it’s also an honour you’ve managed to majorly fuck up.

  We walked in silence, up the steep trail for about fifteen minutes, until we finally reached a yellow pop-up tent, almost glowing neon in the surrounding dense shrubs.

  Marco put water to boil over a makeshift wooden tripod and sat on a rickety looking camping chair. He held out a hand, silently gesturing to a log opposite him.

  Sitting on the log, I tried my best to keep my balance and not fall over on my ass, as Marco’s perceptive eyes took in the bags under my eyes and weary expression.

  I opened my mouth to speak but stayed silent when Marco put a finger to his lips.

  We just going to sit here in silence? I didn’t ruin a pair of shoes and jeans and risk infection, to come sit here and appreciate the view.

  The water, in the tin can over the fire, reached a boil, and Marco threw in a handful of odd looking vegetation, stirred it and then poured it into a tin cup, before handing the sludge coloured mixture to me with a smile.

  Fuck. He’s heard about the restaurant and is trying to poison me.

  “A cup of tea makes everything better, no?” he asked, whilst taking a sip of his own sewage water.

  “Marco -” I started to say but was cut off again.

  “Drink,” he said firmly.

  I sniffed the brew in the cup and held back the urge to gag. “I don’t think-”

  My insane mentor frowned again. “Drink. It’s good for you. Very cleansing for the body and the mind.”

  I seriously doubt that.

  With a heavy sigh, I prepared for my punishment and took a sip of the tea that tasted every bit as disgusting as it looked and smelled.

  I shuddered and placed it on the ground, giving Marco a grimace that I hoped passed for a smile.

  “It’s good, no? I foraged for these wild herbs myself,” he said proudly.

  “Mmhmm,” I said, with a vague nod.

  “So… what is the reason you have chosen to come see me on this beautiful day?” Marco asked as he leant back and rested his chin on his hand.

  My mind went blank. I had no idea how to tell this man, that I respected and owed so much to, that I had managed to let everything he had worked so hard to achieve, turn to shit.

  Probably should have thought about that on the trek up here.

  “Everything got fucked up,” I blurted out.

  “I do not understand,” he said coolly.

  I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and took out a crumpled cut out of Scottie McKenzie’s review from the magazine, and handed it to him.

  He was silent as he read. My eyes stared at the small fire; my head was in my hands. I refused to look at him and see the inevitably disappointed expression on his face.

  I heard the paper crinkle as he finished reading.

  “Jake,” Marco said softly

  When I didn’t respond, he spoke again. “Jacob, look at me.”

  When I dragged my gaze away from the flames to look at Marco, I was confused by the humour in his eyes.

  Oh shit. It’s too much for him to handle, I’ve made him lose what remaining marbles he has left.

  “Jacob. You cooked for this man? You feed him stones and raw fish?” he asked, laughing manically.

  “No. Dillon did, he screwed us over to go work at Canatta’s,” I said, feeling both relieved and also shocked that he hadn’t ripped my head from my body in a fit of rage. I hung my head in shame.

  “But I should have known something like this was going to happen. He always gave off shady vibes. I should have been there. I shouldn’t have left him in charge of the restaurant and gone away. I’m so fucking sorry. People have been cancelling reservations ever since it came out. I don’t know how much longer we can keep going financially. When you made me your head chef, I told you I’d make you proud, but all I’ve managed to do is ruin all your years of hard work.”

  “Ah. I see. Dillon was the saboteur, but you, you are the one who feels guilty?” he huffed, still sounding weirdly amused, “You know what I think of this review?”

  Marco threw the scrap of paper into the fire and we both watched as the flames engulfed it, turning it into ashes in a matter of seconds.

  “That was of the only copy I had. I kind of wanted to keep it,” I said, still bewildered by his reaction.

  “Jacob, I left that restaurant in your hands because I had faith in you and saw how passionate you were about your work, but that man is no longer the man I see in front of me now.” He sent me a look of concern.

  “Truth is, when I retired I wanted to close Marco’s. I have no love for that place anymore, and I think if you’re honest with yourself, neither do you. I will go see the lawyers and the accountant, and talk to the staff about severance packages.”

  “Wait. What do you mean, you’re going to close it? Marco, no! I can try-”

  “I will not allow you to be held back because of your misguided loyalty to some mad, old man living in the mountains. You have so much potential. I’m freeing you, go spread your wings and fly.”

  Wings? What the fuck has he been smoking? And can I get a hit of some of that shit?

  “I don’t want to spread my wings and fly. I have no fucking wings to spread, I’m a man not some damn bird. My feet are happy firmly on the ground. Marco, listen, I’m sure I can-”

  Marco cut me off again with a tsk, “Everything in life is temporary, Jacob. Life can be easy, do not choose to make it complicated. Make every decision with your heart, not your head. You are too young to be afraid of change, leave the past in the past and move on to something better.”

  “What the fuck does any of that mean?” I asked him, completely confused.

  Marco simply patted me on the shoulder and went into his tent, and zipped it close. “You will figure it out.”

  My role model has turned into a fucking fortune cookie, and I’m more lost than I was before… awesome.

  CHAPTER 5

  Annika

  It was two o’clock on a Sunday and I had just flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed.

  We would ordinarily have been open until five, however Mitch had the day off, and both Laurie and Gloria hadn’t been feeling well, so I’d been running the bakery by myself, thankfully it had been a quiet day.

  I also had Debbie and Jeremy Jameson’s surprise anniversary party to be at in an hour, so closing the shop early had been unavoidable.

  Making my way back into the kitchen, I was about to place the anniversary cake I had made into a box, when I heard the bell over the door of the bakery chime.

  I really need to remember to start locking that door.

  I poked my head out of the kitchen doors. “Sorry, we closed early today. I keep forgetting to…” I trailed off at the sight of Josh in the middle of the bakery, doing the running man, really badly, to the song playing on the radio I’d forgotten to switch off.

  My jaw fell open as the running man morphed into the robot and then the sprinkler.

  “Wow,” I paused, at a loss for what else to say. “Killer moves?”

  The sprinkler morphed into the cabbage patch.

  Seriously. What on earth do they put in the water in this town?

  “Hey Niki, I know.” He threw me a wink before continuing, “I’m just warming up for Aunt Deb and Uncle Jeremy’s party. I’ve been tasked by Addie to come collect the cake and you. She said to make sure you carry the cake, so I
don’t ‘fuck it up, or eat it all before the party’. That was a direct quote from her.”

  “Oh. Um. Okay, I could have driven there myself though.”

  “My car’s bigger and I had to drive past here anyway on my way back from the garage,” he said with a shrug, and then pouted “Do you not want to spend time alone with me, Niki? Because that shit would hurt. I haven’t got cooties, you know.”

  Josh and me alone on the drive to the party. That’s not going to be awkward at all.

  I made a mental note to pinch Adelaide Jameson, when I saw her later, for not giving me a heads up about Josh coming to pick me up.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be alone with Josh. Being alone in a small, confined space with anyone of the male species generally made me nervous. Add to this neurosis, the fact that I had never been alone with Josh before, and this made for one seriously anxious me.

  Yep… definitely have issues. Don’t panic. You’re trying to change, remember. Just suck it up and embrace the inevitable awkwardness.

  I took a deep breath and tried to make my tense muscles relax.

  “Do you practise that pout in the mirror? I’ve just got to put the cake in the box, and then we can go.”

  I walked back into the kitchen and Josh followed me. When he saw the cake, he let out a loud whistle. “Damn, you got some serious skills, girl. That looks awesome.”

  I smiled and could feel my cheeks flush at the compliment. I wasn’t one to brag, but even I had to admit that I was extremely proud of this particular cake.

  Debbie and Jeremy had been so lovely and welcoming to Liya and me, I’d wanted to thank them for their kindness by making something exceptionally special for the couple who had essentially adopted us into their not-so-little family.

  The decadent three-tiered chocolate cake, was covered in a vanilla buttercream frosting. I wanted to capture both of their personalities, so the cake topper was a fondant replica of Jeremy’s prized black mustang, with two fondant figurines of Debbie and Jeremy sitting inside.

  The cake had been decorated with Debbie’s favourite flowers crafted delicately from sugar paste, and each layer had been piped to perfection in buttercream dyed a light green. The overall affect was beautiful, and one of the best cakes I had ever made.