Taste: A Love Story (7 page)

“Donk!” Paige exclaimed.

“Well hello there, angel. Let me take a look.” He pulled her out of their hug as if surveying her. “Yup, you’re beautiful even this early in the morning.”

Paige kissed his cheek and settled into the booth between her Donk and her Uncle Rogan. Kenna shook her head, set her laptop down on the table, and pulled her bag off her shoulder. Paige rested her head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Uncle Rogan,” she whispered.

Uncle Rogan. Logan couldn’t have asked for a cooler name. Paige had trouble saying the “L,” and for a while Kenna gently corrected her, but Logan liked it. Eventually, Kenna stopped trying to change it and even though Paige could now say his name correctly, he was still Uncle Rogan. It pissed Garrett off, of course, because he wanted a nickname too. Paige called their dad Donk, which no one could figure out. Makenna thought it had something to do with when she was very little and their father would carry her around on his back and say he was a donkey.

“Good morning, gorgeous. Why are we whispering?” Logan touched the top of her little head.

“Because Momma gave me the look.”

They both looked at Kenna who was now searching her bag for something.

“It’s the look Momma gets when she’s tired in the morning and needs a drink.” Paige was still whispering, but the whole table, even Makenna, erupted in laughter as Logan tickled her.

“Sweetie, you should probably add that Momma needs a drink of Coke when you tell people that. Otherwise, I sound like a lush.”

Paige nodded as if she knew exactly what her mother was saying and then rested both arms on the table. Garrett recognized his cue and rested his arms on the table in the same way on the opposite side of the table.

“One, two, three, go,” Paige counted out on her tiny pink-tipped fingers and then locked eyes with her Uncle Garrett. The staring contest had begun. Garrett came out strong, puffing his cheeks up and trying to get Paige to break, but she was not budging. How she managed to stare for so long without blinking, Logan would never understand. It almost seemed painful. As had happened dozens of times before, Garrett sneezed, Paige declared herself the winner, and Garrett pretended to argue with her until she climbed under the table and into his lap.

“How’d you get so good at that?” he asked her, kissing her button nose.

“My handsome and . . . what was the other word again?”

“Virile.”

“Right, my incredibly handsome, virile, and favoritest uncle taught me,” Paige announced and again the table, including Libby who had come over to bring Kenna a Coke, laughed. Paige giggled and disappeared under the table.

“Gentlemen.” Kenna nodded with some flair as Paige appeared at her side and climbed into her arms.

“Ladies,” they all replied together, raising their coffee cups and smiling at their baby sister and her daughter. It was a greeting that went back to when Kenna was little and used to come to the breakfast table in her nightgown,
Bear in the Big Blue House
slippers, and morning hair.

“Bless you, Libby.” Kenna took the first sip of her morning Coke.

“You’re welcome, honey.” Libby put her hand on Paige’s shoulder. “Miss Paige, we are shorthanded behind the counter this mornin’. Would you mind helping me out while Momma has her meeting?”

Paige jumped down from Kenna’s arms and put her hands on her hips.

“Sorry guys, Libby needs me. Carry on.” Without even a backward glance, she took the order book Libby handed her.

Makenna mouthed, “Thank you!” to Libby, and Paige walked away.

Kenna didn’t miss a beat. Knowing Paige was in good hands, she handed each of them a stapled packet of papers and slid in next to Garrett. Logan got two packets. Somehow he didn’t think that meant he was lucky. Just looking at it made him tired. He’d never been a numbers guy and definitely not at six in the morning.

“Okay, if you look at the second page, you’ll see that the farm did well this month and that’s before we add in the Fall Festival revenue for next month. Our first weekend of the pumpkin patch was a huge success and brought us back in the black, even with the tractor and blade maintenance expense from September.”

She glanced up and all three of them were staring into their papers in a sort of trance. They said nothing.

“Well?”

“So, we’re making money?” their father asked.

Before Makenna had a chance to answer, Libby’s oldest daughter came over to refill their coffee and take their order. Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, and chocolate-chip pancakes with whipped cream for Kenna. Logan was surprised the poor girl even wrote their order down the way she was ogling Garrett.

“How can you eat that crap?” Garrett asked Kenna.

“What? I’m only adding some chips to mine. It’s like a handful of chocolate. I skipped dinner last night. Wait, did you just wink at Libby’s daughter? Christ, who winks anymore?”

“Um, a lot of people wink.” Garrett appeared bewildered. “I wink. She’s cute.”

“She’s barely out of college.”

He gave her his “What’s the problem?” look.

“You’re thirty-four,” Makenna added.

“And?”

“Ugh, men are disgusting.”

They laughed and Garrett bumped her with his shoulder.

“I’m just kidding, Ken.”

“No, you’re not and don’t call me Ken. I’m not a man, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I always call you Ken.”

“Travis calls her Ken now too and she hates him,” Logan said.

“Hate is a strong word.” Kenna looked up from her spreadsheets.

Interesting.

“So we’re making money?” their dad tried to redirect.

“Dad, yes, the farm is looking good. We’re managing our money well and if we keep this up there will be reserves to buy another cultivator early next year.”

“That’s great news.” Their father flipped his packet of papers closed.

“Yeah, when we do that, I found this guy who refurbishes old equipment. I’d like to try him first, see what he has. Some of the older models are actually better. They’re tested in operation,” Garrett said.

They all agreed Garrett could handle the purchase when the time came and Makenna filled Garrett and their father in on The Yard. It was doing incredibly well and was poised to make a profit in only its second quarter. Logan wasn’t sure why good news tended to make him more nervous; it must have been the whole negative and positive energy thing again. After a round of coffee cup and Coke glass clinking to celebrate the good news, Libby, accompanied by Paige—who was now wearing a frilly apron—dropped off their breakfast. Paige paused for a moment so she could kiss her mom on the cheek. Kenna beamed and they all put away the money talk and passed around stories, gossip, and thoughts on the upcoming holidays. To no one’s surprise, Garrett shared that the ballet teacher he’d dated for all of six days didn’t work out. That led Makenna to ask the question that silenced the table.

“Dad, have you ever thought about dating?”

Garrett got the same look on his face he used to get when Makenna would ask him to pick up some tampons on the way home from work when they were younger.

“What? Why the hell would he want to do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s a man. He’s been single for over twenty years. What do you mean, ‘why?’ You date half the damn female population. Why should Dad be any different?”

“Yeah,” their father added with a smile, “why should I be any different, lover boy?”

Garrett shook his head and poured more syrup on what was left of his pancakes.

“Okay, are you serious, Dad?” Logan asked.

“I’m just giving him a hard time. Kenna, I can’t say I have thought much, or think now, about dating.”

“Really? I mean don’t you want to have someone to be with, someone to love and, you know, be physical with?”

“Holy hell! Do we need to be having this conversation?” Garrett looked like he was in pain. “I’m kind of visual, Ken and some of this shit I can’t unhear.”

“Oh, grow up. I’m just curious. It’s been the four of us for so long. I’m simply talking about Dad’s individual life.”

“And I appreciate that, honey. It’s nice that you still think of your dad as a human being. Truth is, I’m busy. I like what I do and sure I get lonely sometimes, but I have a full life. I’ve got you guys.”

“You get lonely?” Logan asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, give one of us a call next time that happens. I’ll take you to a movie. Can this little talk be over?” Garrett pleaded looking at Makenna.

“Jesus. Fine. Let’s talk fertilizer.” Makenna handed her glass to Libby’s daughter for more Coke.

“Now that’s a great idea.” Garrett finished chewing his last bite of pancakes. “I’m thinking we need to look into something different for those new avocado trees we planted. They look pathetic and we planted them with that great compost. They need a boost of something. About fifty percent of the leaves have fallen off.”

“I don’t think that’s the issue. Ricky was telling me the other day that he thinks they’re not getting enough drainage. He was thinking too much compost,” their dad added.

And just like that, Logan thought, the conversation turned. He sat back and considered his sister, who was now looking at her phone, and he couldn’t help but think that she was putting the dating topic up for herself instead of their father. It had been over five years since Adam died and Logan was sure his sister got lonely, but she never said a word. He thought it was probably a great sign that she was even thinking about dating. As if she knew he was watching her, Makenna glanced up. Logan tried to find something in her eyes, but she smiled quickly and returned to her all-important e-mails.

No one answered when Kara knocked on Logan’s front door at 920 Seco Street later that morning. His truck was in the driveway, so she walked around back. Logan was on the side of the yard, standing in a large planter, and Sweet Baby Jesus, it was far too early to see Logan Rye, complete with morning hair and stubble, reaching across a planter. She hadn’t had time to put up her hard outer shell yet, and there he was: T-shirt riding above the waistband of faded jeans spotted with dark soil and that damn tattoo winding up his arm and crawling into his short sleeve. Kara caught herself wondering if it continued on to his chest. Did it wrap around his back? It was as if his body heard her, because Logan turned and began digging or hoeing or whatever it was called. The muscles of his back bunched and released about a dozen times before she realized she was staring like some stupid high school girl.
Get your crap together, Kara.

She reached into her purse, pushing past some sand and the pebbles of glass she’d collected last weekend during a trip to Zuma Beach, and found her pen. Stepping closer to Logan, she cleared her throat; he turned and lifted his arm as the sun hit his eyes. She would never be able to explain it to someone, but Logan was like the earth that he was working, solid and real. Even when they were in Paris, before she knew who he was and what he did, Logan was this farm. Maybe that’s why when their eyes met for the very first time, she saw something she didn’t recognize but knew she wanted. He was the opposite of who she was back then. Even the way he sat in a chair or ate a sandwich was different. He was warm from the inside out.

But that was several years and one big lie ago. This was now, as Jake had put it, and the Logan walking toward her didn’t feel all that warm anymore.

“Kara.” Logan nodded and stepped in front of her.

“Logan, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Any ground rules we need to go over before we get started? Is this even a good time for you? You look pretty busy.”

“Irrigation pipe broke. I was fixing it.” He wiped his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “Rules, yeah, I have one.”

“I’m all ears.”

“The scene in my kitchen a couple of weeks ago, I’m not up for that if we’re going to be working together for a few weeks now. Basically, I just want it to be clear that I don’t do women anymore.”

Kara’s head tilted in confusion, and sarcasm got the best of her. “Really? Hmm . . . I didn’t see that coming, but if you’re gay that’s—”

“Not what I meant. I’m not gay.” He twisted the greased rag in his hand. “I don’t do the dance around, please like me, what are you thinking, woman game. Not my thing these days. I don’t have time for it.”

He had an edge. Kara didn’t think it was just her this time. He seemed like he had things on his mind.

“Oh, well then we will work beautifully together because I don’t do the look at what a stud I am and you’d be lucky to have me, but I’d like to screw around for another five years, guy game. Not my thing. No time.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.”

Kara noticed the bead of sweat dripping down his neck, into that little dip right below his Adam’s apple. She let out a slow breath and sat down on a concrete bench.

“Well, in the interest of moving on—as my editor already told you, the
Times
is interested in doing a feature on your new restaurant and more importantly your philosophy on farm to table and the local food scene.”

Logan smiled. “This is killing you, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea.” Kara focused back down on her pad. “Anyway, I’d like to start with your place here, some history, and how you’ve revitalized this particular urban farm. Then I’ll do a separate piece on the restaurant concept, the work that went into it, and surviving in the food world.”