The Baby Truce (10 page)

“And the kid who hit her?”

“Scared to death,” Reggie said, surprised he'd asked. “They were treating him for shock when I got there.”
He'd been getting almost as much attention as Eden. “Thankfully, he wasn't going fast, but a bump by a car going ten miles per hour still does some damage.” She tugged briefly at her ring, then said, “I need help from someone I trust in the kitchen. We can't handle the workload without Eden, and the temps we're familiar with are all booked.”

“So I rate after the temps?”

“Of course not. But I didn't know if you'd come back after…” she made a frustrated gesture “…you know…so I checked in with the temp agency.”

She fell silent then. She'd said her piece. Asked for help. Now all she needed was a quick answer. Hopefully not “Go to hell.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Eden cooks as a private chef for three families. The food needs to remain up to par and we can't trust it to just anyone.”

“What if it gets a whole lot better?”

R
ELIEF FLOODED THROUGH
R
EGGIE
. Maybe this week wouldn't be a wreck—for the kitchen anyway.

“Then Eden's going to have to work harder when she gets back on her feet.”

“I'll help you out,” Tom said. “On one condition.”

“What?” Reggie asked, at that moment ready to agree to almost anything.

“I get some say in what goes on…and some answers about the baby.”

“What kind of answers?” Reggie worked to keep the defensive edge out of her voice. They had to have this discussion. It wasn't exactly the perfect time, but she could understand Tom's position—which she'd been trying hard to ignore.

“I know nothing about the baby,” he said.

Which was wrong. She could admit that. Reggie drew in a deep breath. “It's too early to tell if it's a boy or girl.”

“There's one answer,” he said.

“It's due in mid-November.”

“I guessed at that one. Do we have a day?”

“The fifteenth.”

“Do you
want
to find out if it's a boy or girl?” he asked.

Reggie smoothed her hair from the sides of her face with both hands. “It'd help me get ready. The doctor said he should be able to tell in about four weeks.”

Tom nodded slowly, as if thinking of new questions now that he had this free pass. “Okay. So…you see the doctor, what? Once a week?”

She smiled slightly. “Once a month for now. Visits get more frequent later.”

“And you take vitamins. Eat right. All that.”

“All that,” she agreed.

He seemed to have run out of questions. He studied the floor for a moment, then looked up at her. “What do you see as my role in this, Reggie?”

That's it. Smack her with a question like that when she needed his help.

“I, uh, think time will tell on that.”

“What do you want it to be?”

“Supportive,” she said. As in let her take the lead in this. Let her decide what was best for her and the kid. Let her be the primary caretaker.

“Do you think we should try to, you know? Raise the kid together?”

Reggie's eyes widened. “No.”

“Just asking, Reggie. I wasn't offering.”

“And I'm not trying to be insulting, Tom. It's just that with your career and mine, and the way things are…”

“I get it, Reg.” He let out a breath. “Enough baby questions for now.”

“You didn't get many answers,” Reggie pointed out.

“I'll ask the occasional question while we're work
ing together. That was, after all, the plan when I came to work out here in the first place. Right?”

“Yes. But I never thought it would work.”

“And it didn't.” His lips curved. “Maybe it'll work better this time.”

“Damn, I hope so,” Reggie said.

 

“S
O
T
OM IS REALLY GOING TO
take my place,” Eden said groggily. The pain meds were doing their job, but she was fighting to remain conscious.

Reggie exchanged glances with Justin, who'd gotten off shift at the hotel early. “Yes. And he's going to follow your recipes.”

“You won't let him get all fancy?”

“For the twelfth time, no.”

“All right.” Her eyelids started to close. Reggie had made up a bed on the sofa, where it was easier to elevate Eden's ankle so the swelling would go down and it could be cast.

“I need something to do if I'm stuck here,” she murmured.

“You can work on invoices and billing.” A job that could be done on a laptop in a horizontal position. “Plan the Reno Cuisine.”

“Make prank phone calls to Candy's Catering Classique,” Justin added helpfully.

Eden started to answer, but the words came out as a slurred whisper and then her jaw went slack.

“Finally,” Justin said. “Where does she keep the liquor?”

Reggie closed her tired eyes. She wouldn't have
minded a belt if circumstances had been different. “Cabinet next to the fridge.”

Justin went into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a whiskey for him and a glass of cranberry juice for Reggie. He sat in the easy chair next to Reggie and the two of them sipped as they watched their sister sleep.

“You know,” Justin mused, “I've done a lot of things, but I never got hit by a car.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

He lifted his glass in a salute and she smiled back at him, letting her head rest against the cushion behind her. “You never got pregnant, either.”

“No…funny thing that.” He looked at his glass instead of at her, and Reggie had a feeling he was going to say more, but he only took a healthy gulp of whiskey. “Are you and Tom any closer to working out an equitable arrangement?”

“I, uh, answered some questions.”

“That's a start.”

“It's hard to make decisions and choices when I have no idea what he's going to do in the future. Where he's going to be.”

“Maybe the baby will affect that decision.”

Reggie frowned over her glass. “Oh, I don't think so.”

Justin raised his eyebrows.

“I believe he wants to do the right thing. But if he ever gets past this roadblock in his career… I don't know, Justin.”

“So you trust him in your kitchen, but not in your life.”

“He wasn't very dependable in my life.”

She got the feeling Justin had more to say on the matter. “What?” she asked.

Her brother swirled his drink, but made no response.

Reggie decided to follow suit. She didn't want to talk about this. Not when she had a sister lying out on the sofa drugged out of her mind on pain meds, and a back-breaking week ahead of her.

“I'll stay here with Ed,” Justin said. “You need to get a decent night's sleep.”

“But—”

“Which of us is more adept at getting by on next to no sleep, and which of us is sleeping for two?”

Reggie couldn't argue with that. She finished the juice and set the glass on the table. “I will need my strength tomorrow.”
In more ways than one.
“Thanks, Justin.”

 

T
OM AROSE EARLY THE NEXT
morning, showered, fed the rat dog and put her in the fenced backyard with a raw-hide chew for entertainment. The dog had taken to sleeping with him, curled up in a ball on the end of the bed until he fell asleep, at which point she would burrow under the covers, more like a gopher than a rat. Scared the hell out of Tom the first time he'd woken up with something warm and furry pressed against his ankles. Last night, though, he hadn't minded the companionship as he tried to make sense of his life, which had once been so focused, so freaking on track.

His cell phone rang as he headed out the door.

“Hi, Tom,” said a familiar female voice. Eden. “Reggie gave me your number so we could coordinate.”

“How're you feeling?” Tom asked, opening the car door. There was a hesitation at the other end. Was he such a bastard that being polite threw people into confusion?

“Sore. I appreciate you helping out.”

“No problem. Do you want to wait to talk until I get to the kitchen to discuss the meals?” He'd have access to her recipes there.

“I didn't call about the meals. I called about Reggie.”

“What about Reggie?” he asked, his pulse bumping up.

“If you don't play nice in the kitchen, I'm coming after you.”

“I'll be nice, Eden,” he said, relieved she was only calling to threaten him.

“She's got a lot going on, Tom, and hormones on top of it. Plus…she's still angry about the way you left her.”

No kidding.
“Get well. Soon you'll be back in the kitchen to referee.” He clicked off and got into the car.

Why did everyone assume that Reggie was the only one who'd been demolished by the way their previous relationship ended? She was the one who'd drawn the line in the sand. All he'd done was step over it.

 

T
HE KITCHEN WAS QUIET
. Reggie set her purse next to the computer and then stood in the office doorway, looking out over the kitchen that, despite all the drama of putting on catered events, always provided her with a
sense of peace. It was her place. Where she belonged, doing what she loved.

Then Tom had arrived, and the peace had disappeared. Now he was coming back. The disturbing part was that she was beginning to suspect the shattered peace was more her fault than his.

That wasn't going to happen again. She had too much to do to let Tom get to her. Besides, last night things had changed a little. They'd take an important step and she didn't want to screw things up.

Reggie stepped back into the office, tied on her apron and changed her loafers for the clogs. This was a pivotal day.

The back door opened behind her and Reggie jumped. But it was Patty, not Tom, who came in, shrugging out of her yellow sweater as she walked toward the lockers. She beamed at Reggie over her shoulder.

“I'm here early since I knew you'd need me to fill in for Eden. I took the liberty of going through her menu cards and I'm ready.”

“I, uh…” Reggie rubbed the side of her face as Patty tied on her apron.

“Justin and I finished all of yesterday's prep while you were gone.”

“Yes, I know. I came back. Remember?” Right after she'd talked to Tom. She and Justin had made a loose game plan for the next day, but she'd never dreamed that Patty had assumed she was taking over. Patty was a wonderful prep cook, but…Eden's families were used to flair.

“Patty, we have someone filling in for Eden for the next week.”

“Someone else?” Her mouth didn't quite close.

“Yes. We still need you to do your regular job.”

“Of course,” she said stiffly. “I wouldn't have gotten up so early, had I known. I had hoped to use this opportunity to become a more integral part of the operation.” She straightened her apron. “Who?” she asked with a slight tilt of her chin.

“Tom.”

Her mouth fell open. “But I thought—”

“He's got a lot of experience.” Reggie wished she could sugarcoat it, but the truth was Eden wouldn't trust Patty to cook the way she did.

“Of course.” Patty busied herself straightening her coat, which didn't need straightening. “What would you like me to do?”

“I made a prep list,” Reggie said, pulling a card out of her apron pocket. Patty took it from her, held it out as she read, then nodded once and walked to her station as the back door opened again.

Crisis averted. Reggie rubbed a hand over the back or her neck, feeling utterly exhausted. And the day hadn't even begun.

Tom headed straight for his locker, pulled his coat out of his bag, which he dumped inside, then shut the metal door.

Patty pointedly ignored him as he came into the kitchen.

“Ready,” he said, adjusting the collar. “Where are Eden's recipes?”

And once again the kitchen seemed too small.

“I'll show you.” Reggie started for the office. “Come with me.”

“Patty's really happy to see me back,” he said once the door was closed.

Reggie reached for Eden's notebook on the high shelf above the computer. “She, uh, thought she'd be filling in for Eden. Showed up early, ready to go.”

“That had to be a blow.” Reggie looked over her shoulder, surprised. “I
am
capable of putting myself into other's people shoes, you know,” he added.

She turned, cradling the notebook loosely in her arms. “I didn't mean to imply you couldn't, but you aren't exactly known for compassion in the kitchen.”

“Touché.”

She handed him the notebook. “Eden is totally anal about her families. There are three of them, and she makes evening meals for Monday through Thursday for two. Monday through Friday for the third. She has all the recipes, menus and portions under the appropriate tabs, and if you have any questions…any questions at all,” she repeated, as Eden had earlier that morning, “call her.”

Reggie looked out the closed glass door to where Patty was making filling for one of Justin's cake projects, her movements jerky. “I'm a little surprised Eden hasn't called you.”

“We talked,” Tom said. “Early this morning.”

“A
good
talk?” she asked cautiously, bringing her attention back to him.

“No complaints.”

Reggie left it at that. “We also have the Reno Cuisine coming up.”

“Which is?”

“A charity fund-raiser and competition. Catering companies, as well as restaurants that cater, set up in the park along the river in late June. Invitation only. It's the first year we've made it in.”

“Is there a payoff?”

“Bragging rights. A feature in a couple of regional magazines. A lot of publicity even if we don't place in the competition.”

“Will I be helping out with that?” Tom asked.

“Uh, yeah. I think you'll be a real asset.” She smiled ironically. “But you probably don't want to be at the actual competition.”

“Why?”

“I don't think it's wise to be in a place with tons of food-loving people. Not unless you want to answer a lot of questions about why Chef Gerard is catering in the park.”

He reached up to touch his jaw. “Shaving didn't help?”

“Not that much.” Reggie tilted her head, studying his face as if gauging the recognition factor, when she was actually trying to get a read on him—not very successfully. Tom was better at covering his feelings than he used to be. Probably because in his world, feelings were not an asset.

He lifted the notebook. “I'd better get busy.”

“Me, too.” But neither of them moved. Reggie shifted
her weight as she ran a hand up her arm to the elbow. She wanted him to know that things weren't going to be like they were before…which hadn't worked well. “Um…we
will
talk more about the baby.”