Taste: A Love Story (6 page)

He was showered and throwing his bag into his truck by 7 a.m. He needed to be at the restaurant by 7:30 when the meat delivery arrived.

He turned the lights on in the kitchen, just as Anna and Lacey pulled up in their signature Mini Cooper delivery car. Both women were trained butchers, second generation, and local. They were old-school, from the way they treated their animals to the way they cut their meat. All of their animals were pasture raised and grew up naturally. It was slower, but it was fair, to Logan’s mind. The things done to animals in the name of mass-produced food was sickening and he sought out like-minded vendors.

“Hey there gorgeous.” Anna loaded up a cart with his meat order. Logan had recently started working with them and they delivered his order personally. He imagined after a while he would no longer get all the love and attention, so he took advantage of it while he could.

“How are my two favorite butchers?” He held the door for them.

“Pretty sure we’re your only butchers, honey.” Lacey smiled, pushing another cart through the door.

“We better be.” Anna winked at him as she passed.

“How are things, ladies?” Logan asked and locked the door behind them.

“Things are good. We got a new sausage maker, which is sort of like a Tiffany box to us.” Anna laughed loading the brown-paper-wrapped bundles onto the counter. Logan had been impressed the first time they had delivered. Their work was immaculate, right down to the way each package was wrapped, tied with white string, and marked with black wax crayon.

“We have a new apprentice. He’s a little squeamish so far, so we’ve got him working the counter until he gets it together.” Lacey helped load the last of the order. “And, we just started a new class.”

“Yeah, we’re calling it The Whole Hog. It’s a class on, well butchering a whole hog. We go over how ours are raised, the humane way to slaughter, and how to cut properly and use the whole animal,” Anna chimed in with an excitement that filled the kitchen.

“That’s incredible,” Logan said. “Are you getting many takers?”

“Three local butchers so far and two from out of state. The response has been fantastic.”

“You’re changing the world, ladies. Well, at least California.”

“Hey, that’s a start.”

They all laughed and went over the order. They’d run out of chicken thighs and promised to add them to next week’s order, but everything else was there. The lamb Travis had wanted Logan to ask about would not be a problem. Logan gave them each a cup of coffee to go and thanked them for doing what they do.

As they were leaving, Travis arrived. Logan fired up the music.

“Sorry I’m late. Man, let’s just say handcuffs are not all they’re cracked up to be,” Travis declared putting his helmet away. Logan was about to beg him to stop speaking, when Makenna suddenly came swirling into the kitchen. She grabbed Paige’s lunch box, kissed Logan on the cheek, and thanked him—for what he had no idea. Before he could ask her, she was gone.

“Any idea what that was about?” Logan asked Travis. Travis shrugged and another day at The Yard was underway.

“Olivia, I really don’t think there’s a story here. They’ve barely been open for three months and from what I can see it’s a slow go.” Kara sat on the opposite side of her editor’s desk, feeling like it was a little too early in the day for this conversation.

“Didn’t your father’s campaign just have an event there last week?”

“Yes, but that was for the volunteers and if you ask me, it was a little lowbrow, if you know what I mean.” Kara was desperately trying to appeal to the snob she knew her boss to be.

“No, I don’t. It looks like a very cool place. I’m excited about what it’s bringing to downtown and you should be too.”

“Right, I am.” Kara sighed internally. She wasn’t going to win this one. “I’ll go there tonight and work on a review. I should have something for you by the end of the week.”

Olivia twirled her glasses as she perused her computer screen. That was a sure sign of brainstorming.
Damn it!

“I want a feature.”

“What?” flew out of Kara’s mouth.

Olivia’s head popped up; she seemed a little startled at being questioned, let alone so enthusiastically. Kara smiled, mouthed a “sorry,” and tried to collect herself. She bit down on the tip of her pen hoping that would help calm her anxiety.

“Listen, I know he’s not your speed, but this guy lives at 920 Seco Street: 2009 winner of the Pasadena Historic Preservation Award,” Olivia continued moving her mouse around for more information that Kara already knew.

“He has an urban farm,” Olivia added.

Knew that
, Kara thought, and bit harder on her pen.

“That’s very ‘in’ these days, trending.” Olivia swirled her mouse on its pad.

Kara hated that word, “trending.” She loved technology, but some of the lingo made her feel like she was back in high school. Olivia loved the lingo, so Kara smiled and nodded in feigned interest.

“From what I’m told he’s a good-looking guy.” She clicked a few more times. “Holy Shit! Kara have you seen this guy? He’s hot.” Olivia quickly turned her monitor to Kara, and there—in however many pixels—was Logan Rye wearing jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. No glasses this time. It was taken at The Yard and he was leaning on the pizza counter. He had an easy smile and the camera perfectly caught the natural wave of his thick brown hair and those light whiskey eyes that were rimmed in a darker shade.

“Kara, I want this guy.”

Me too,
she thought. “I mean I used to, but certainly not anymore, that’s just . . .” Kara realized she had said that out loud.
Where the hell was that pen?

“What did you say?” Olivia asked looking at her like she was wearing last year’s Ferragamos.

“I was saying that I’ve met Logan Rye and I’m not sure he’ll have time for a feature. They are pretty busy. And with Election Day coming up, I’ve got a lot—”

“New restaurant,
LA Times
wants to do a feature on you. I’m guessing he’ll make the time. I want you on this. I’ve already put this in Harold’s ear. He likes it. So if the big boss likes the idea, and I like it, you need to like this. K?” Olivia smiled and just like that Kara would be spending at least a week—

“Let’s do a three-part series.” Olivia folded her hands on her desk, as if she could not have been more pleased with herself.

Make that several weeks with Logan Rye
, Kara thought.

“We need to get this on the front page of our section before some other paper or magazine or God forbid one of those damn foodie bloggers gets ahold of him. I want pictures, the whole deal.”

“Don’t you think you should talk to him first?”

“I’ll call him right now.” Olivia put her hand on her phone.

Kara took that as her sign to leave.

“Let’s talk more about this at our one o’clock. Oh, and close that door on the way out, hun.”

Kara walked out of Olivia’s office, poured some tea, and sat in her mesh, ergonomically correct chair. Kicking her heels off under her desk, she got comfortable and did something she hadn’t imagined herself doing when she woke up this morning. She Googled Logan Rye. This time it was in broad daylight, not tucked into the covers of her bed on her iPad. Then she searched urban farming. She also found several articles on 920 Seco Street and read the incredibly romantic background story of Bill and Rosemary Barbus. Kara made notes and started to put together some preliminary questions. If she had to do this feature, she was going to do it well. She learned that urban farms and even communal gardens were expanding and had, in fact, been around for years. She began to feel a little overwhelmed as she read about heirloom seeds and the differences between conventional and organic farming. She rubbed her eyes—it was time for a break. She was prepared with some research so she didn’t look ridiculous, but now she needed to prepare emotionally.

She decided to meet up with her friend Jake for lunch.

After Kara had finished giving Jake the backstory on Logan Rye, well most of the backstory, she asked Jake what she should do.

“Is this a trick question?” he asked, biting into his gyro and wiping his mouth. “Write a damn good feature, that’s what you need to do. I mean look, you had a fling with this guy in Paris. Sounds like a great memory. Sure it ended badly when the Wicked Witch made you come home, but most things end badly.” He took another bite, sipped his iced tea, and continued.

Kara loved Jake’s rants. They were like power talks.

“You’re in a job you hate most of the time.”

“I don’t hate my job.” Kara sipped her water.

Jake took her hands across the table.

“Honey, you’re a food critic who barely eats. After your shitty review of my all-time-favorite Vietnamese restaurant, I’m beginning to wonder if you even have taste buds.”

Kara shook her head and pulled her hands away.

“All I’m saying is, now’s your chance to do something different. I don’t see the problem. You’re not in love with this guy. I get all the ‘you got to be yourself with him,’ yada yada, but there’s no going back to Paris. You’re a grown woman Kara, and you need to figure out a way to be in your own skin. Be you, ya know?”

“Are you sure you’re just a plumber?”

“Sweetie, there’s nothing ‘just’ about being a plumber. We are literally the person everyone calls when the shit hits the floor.”

Kara laughed. She’d heard that joke before, but it was funny every time.

“I watch a lot of Dr. Phil, or I should say I listen to a lot of the guy. Almost every damn afternoon appointment I go on, Dr. Phil is on the television. He’s a big deal. Cotton thinks he’s hot.” Jake rolled his eyes at his husband’s crush and finished the last bite of his gyro.

“So before we conclude the emergency lunch,” Kara said, “how’s Eloise since she got her tubes put in?”

“Much better. Doctor says they will dissolve or fall out on their own and we haven’t had an ear infection in two weeks. Brilliant.”

“I can’t believe she’s going to be three next month.” Kara took the napkin off her lap and set it on the table.

“I know, right? It’s crazy. She’s all signed up for school, just waiting on the uniforms to come in.”

“Are you doing okay with sending her off to school?” Kara asked.

“I have to be. It’s a great school and with things picking up at work, we would need to send her to day care. This is the best thing. Can you believe they teach Mandarin in pre-kindergarten now? Frickin’ Mandarin!”

Kara laughed. “She’ll be smarter than all of us by the time she gets out of kindergarten.”

Jake’s phone vibrated. “Okay, sweetie, I need to get to my next appointment. Put your big-girl panties on and write something sensational.”

Kara touched his hand to slow him down for a minute. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Jake leaned over to kiss her. “I love you. It’s your turn to pay,” he confirmed, getting up from their booth. “Call me and let me know how it’s going.” And then he was gone behind the tinkling bells of the swinging front door.

Kara paid the bill, took a mint from the little bowl by the register, and pushed out into the afternoon sunshine. Jake was right. This was an opportunity. She wasn’t some lovesick child; she was an adult, a respected professional even. By the time she pulled back into the parking lot at work, she was ready to tackle Logan Rye. Well, maybe not him, but at least his restaurant.

Chapter Six

T
he Rye family met at the same diner every Wednesday morning. It was the family-business meeting to go over where things were on the farm and now at Logan’s place. In sickness and in health, they arrived at the second leather booth near the window every Wednesday at 6 a.m. sharp. Schedules, routine, it was the fiber of Logan’s family. As a grown man, he recognized it was the way they survived when it was suddenly just the four of them.

Logan’s father, Herbert Rye, seemed about two days from his monthly haircut, Logan noticed as he entered Libby’s Little Breakfast Place. He was listening intently to something Garrett was telling him. Most likely something about their crops or else he was complaining about their distributors. Logan slid in next to his dad and sure enough caught the end of Garrett’s lecture.

“The thing is, it’s tragic because most Americans have no idea anymore what a real damn tomato tastes like.”

Their father nodded and added cream to his coffee.

“And then this guy asks me the shelf life of our tomatoes.”

Herbert laughed. “What’d you say?”

“I told him we could can them for him if he was interested in shelf life.”

“Lo, your brother’s a funny guy.”

“Isn’t he though.” Logan met his brother’s eyes. “Morning.”

“Morning,” both men replied in unison just as the only female of the Rye family arrived. Makenna was holding file folders stacked on top of her laptop. She was in jeans, muckers again, and what looked like the same flannel shirt their father was wearing. Her long brown hair was still wet and piled on her head. She smiled a morning-before-her-large-Coke smile, and Paige, already dressed for school in jeans and her green sweater with a cow on the front, ran behind her mother and right into the waiting arms of their father.