too busy being stupid pining girl. Just running his kitchen was being too close. If I wanted any chance at moving forward with my life, my personal life, then I knew I had to get out of there. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.”
“But you didn’t have to give up your professional life, too. Why not another kitchen in the city? You could just about name your place with Gateau on your résumé.”
“Because of the other part. My dad. I know you don’t understand, Charlotte, not entirely, and you know how much I appreciate you supporting me anyway.” Charlotte wasn’t close to her parents, both of whom still lived in India and whom Lani had never met. But she knew from being with Charlotte during times when she’d been dealing with them that their cold, austere, judgmental attitudes made any real closeness all but impossible.
Thinking about her own father, Lani let out a half laugh that wasn’t much of a laugh at all. “Actually, you’re not alone. I found out yesterday morning that my dad doesn’t really understand, either. But it’s not just about me wanting to be here for him, with him. It was discovering that what made me happy and fulfilled was family, but also a sense of community, of putting down roots in a place that matters to me, that I can care about and will care back. About me. New York doesn’t care whether I’m there or not.”
“I care.”
Lani sighed. “I know you do. I miss you and Franco like crazy. Leaving you was the only real sacrifice I made, but that says something all by itself, doesn’t it? I don’t miss the city. I don’t miss the grind. I don’t miss anything but the two of you. Now that I’m here, I can honestly say I know I wasn’t meant for the intensity, the pressure of that lifestyle, that career. I thought it was what I wanted, what I had to reach for, to be the best I could be. I got all the education I could have dreamed of. And more. But this is where I really fit in. I love it here. The pace, the people. I feel like I’ve come home. And yes, running my own place has its own kind of insane pressure, because I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to screw it up, but, Charlotte, I’m absolutely certain this is what I want to do with my life.”
“I know,” she said, unable to keep from sounding somewhat forlorn despite being supportive.
“So, I really and truly felt like I’d finally moved on,” Lani explained. “In all ways. And then ... and then, Baxter just strolls in and announces he wants to give me the one thing I thought I’d wanted above all else? I can’t risk allowing myself even a nibble of that, Char, can you understand? I mean, then what? If it doesn’t work out, then he’s forever left his imprint on this island, my place, my haven. That sucks. Sugarberry was supposed to forever be a Baxter-free zone.”
“But what if it did work out?” Charlotte asked, though in a far more thoughtful tone than before. “Will you be okay if you never find out what might have been? Have you thought about that?”
“That’s just it. It’s almost all I have thought about. Since he walked out of my shop yesterday—for the second time—I haven’t been able to string two thoughts together without him popping up between them. That’s why I dreaded him showing up again. I didn’t—don’t—have an answer for him. Or for myself. Not one that makes it all better, anyway. I mean ... the way he looked at me, and said the things he said, the way he kissed me ...” She trailed off, then pressed a fist against the little tug she felt on her heart. “What if I do go after him, Char, and ... and it works for us ... then what? I’m not going back to New York, to run his kitchen or open my own there. He’s hardly going to relocate his television show to Sugarberry full time, much less open his own place down here, or even try to run Gateau from here. So, what kind of future would we have? Some kind of long distance deal?”
Charlotte said nothing.
“But you didn’t have to give up your professional life, too. Why not another kitchen in the city? You could just about name your place with Gateau on your résumé.”
“Because of the other part. My dad. I know you don’t understand, Charlotte, not entirely, and you know how much I appreciate you supporting me anyway.” Charlotte wasn’t close to her parents, both of whom still lived in India and whom Lani had never met. But she knew from being with Charlotte during times when she’d been dealing with them that their cold, austere, judgmental attitudes made any real closeness all but impossible.
Thinking about her own father, Lani let out a half laugh that wasn’t much of a laugh at all. “Actually, you’re not alone. I found out yesterday morning that my dad doesn’t really understand, either. But it’s not just about me wanting to be here for him, with him. It was discovering that what made me happy and fulfilled was family, but also a sense of community, of putting down roots in a place that matters to me, that I can care about and will care back. About me. New York doesn’t care whether I’m there or not.”
“I care.”
Lani sighed. “I know you do. I miss you and Franco like crazy. Leaving you was the only real sacrifice I made, but that says something all by itself, doesn’t it? I don’t miss the city. I don’t miss the grind. I don’t miss anything but the two of you. Now that I’m here, I can honestly say I know I wasn’t meant for the intensity, the pressure of that lifestyle, that career. I thought it was what I wanted, what I had to reach for, to be the best I could be. I got all the education I could have dreamed of. And more. But this is where I really fit in. I love it here. The pace, the people. I feel like I’ve come home. And yes, running my own place has its own kind of insane pressure, because I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to screw it up, but, Charlotte, I’m absolutely certain this is what I want to do with my life.”
“I know,” she said, unable to keep from sounding somewhat forlorn despite being supportive.
“So, I really and truly felt like I’d finally moved on,” Lani explained. “In all ways. And then ... and then, Baxter just strolls in and announces he wants to give me the one thing I thought I’d wanted above all else? I can’t risk allowing myself even a nibble of that, Char, can you understand? I mean, then what? If it doesn’t work out, then he’s forever left his imprint on this island, my place, my haven. That sucks. Sugarberry was supposed to forever be a Baxter-free zone.”
“But what if it did work out?” Charlotte asked, though in a far more thoughtful tone than before. “Will you be okay if you never find out what might have been? Have you thought about that?”
“That’s just it. It’s almost all I have thought about. Since he walked out of my shop yesterday—for the second time—I haven’t been able to string two thoughts together without him popping up between them. That’s why I dreaded him showing up again. I didn’t—don’t—have an answer for him. Or for myself. Not one that makes it all better, anyway. I mean ... the way he looked at me, and said the things he said, the way he kissed me ...” She trailed off, then pressed a fist against the little tug she felt on her heart. “What if I do go after him, Char, and ... and it works for us ... then what? I’m not going back to New York, to run his kitchen or open my own there. He’s hardly going to relocate his television show to Sugarberry full time, much less open his own place down here, or even try to run Gateau from here. So, what kind of future would we have? Some kind of long distance deal?”
Charlotte said nothing.
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