Page 100 of Brooke
God, why did people have to talk mushy all the time?
“You can remind her of that.” Madison stomped over to her station, where she’d laid out her knives, the final claiming of her new kitchen. “She got snot all over me this morning. It was disgusting.”
Nanine’s mouth twitched after a flash of compassion passed through her eyes. “The fact that you were close enough to experience such an outcome is very telling. Come and see what I have for you before you get started.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Nanine, jeez.” She packed up her cleaver before moving toward Nanine.
When Nanine reached under the counter to the shelves and pulled out an old wooden box, Madison’s heart started to race. “No, Nanine. You can’t?—”
“It’s done.” She slid it toward Madison and took her hand and forced it onto the wood. Madison wasn’t into woo-woo stuff, but her palm started to throb at the moment of contact. “Your duck recipe is your path to the stars. You believe it. So do I. You know the story of this knife. I want you to have its magic as well, to add to your own.”
“But we’re talking Paul Bocuse, Nanine! The pope of gastronomy. I can’t.”
“He gave this boning knife to my father as a thank you for all the produce and ducks he’d delivered to the restaurant. When I became a chef, my father gave it to me for good luck. Now, I want you to have it, Fifth Course.”
The pulse in her palm turned stronger, almost as though her hand was forging with the knife inside. Nanine’s chandelier took the moment to clang powerfully, a sign that raised the hairs on Madison’s arms. Nanine held her hand in place as the transmission continued, her large brown eyes brooking no refusal. Not that Madison could utter a word. She was too choked up by the moment between them.
“You will not want to hear such sentiment,” Nanine continued, finally lifting her hand while Madison’s remained glued to the box, “but it is a day for it, and you will indulge me. I have agreed to marry Brooke’s father?—”
“What?” A crazy shot of happiness rocked her system like celebratory tequila. “You have! Holy shit, Nanine. That’s great.”
“Yes, it is.” She gave a shaky laugh. “He is much like Brooke. My heart is still trying to keep up, but I am happy. That I want you to know most of all.”
Suddenly Nanine looked her directly in the eye, and she understood. Nanine didn’t want Madison to be concerned anymore about her stepping aside. If she had any guilt left inside her, it slowly began to unravel.
“I swore Brooke to secrecy, but I felt it right to tell you this morning when things are mostly calm—I plan to tell the others tonight before the opening?—”
“So they won’t worry about you anymore either,” she answered, heaving out a breath. “Good timing, Nanine, but you’re always on point.”
She gave a mysterious smile. “That is good to hear. I had a few months of doubt. But that is all done. What I wish you to know is that while Brooke may be becoming my stepdaughter now that I am marrying her father, you all have been true daughters of my heart in a way my own child never was.”
Her chest grew tight. Cue the mush but she couldn’t help wanting to hear it.
“And now never can be, given Adrienne’s complete betrayal and destruction of this restaurant we are standing in. You will resurrect Nanine’s, along with the others, and I will watch fondly from the sidelines with pride and love, knowing it will continue to feed the hearts and minds of my found family and those who cross this sacred threshold.”
With that, she kissed Madison on both cheeks andembraced her warmly before walking back to the back door. “I will go to Brooke and leave you to your kitchen.”
She was gone before Madison could say anything.
The lingering softness of sentiment made her all gooey, so she shook her arms. She glanced down at the box, her hand still upon it. “Look, I’m a master of knives, okay? And after all that pulsing craziness, I might believe you have special power.”
Nanine’s chandelier chose to clang out a rather delicate melody, one that sounded like the magical score to a fantasy film. “You’d better not pull this stuff during dinner service.” She shot it a glance for good measure even though she knew it was making a point before returning her attention to the box.
“Fine. You used to be wielded by Paul Bocuse. But I am not afraid of you.”
Making herself open it, Madison felt her breath shatter. The sleek wicked blade gleamed from recent cleaning. She picked it up, the curved walnut handle fitting perfectly into her grip. “God, you’re a beauty.”
She blew out a breath. Talking to a knife and a chandelier now. Completely mad. Like Kyle’s special nickname for her, she thought with a chuckle. She lightly tested the blade, feeling its dangerous sharpness. “Yes, you and I will make magic together. Now, I need to make some for Brooke. God, I cannot believe I am doing this.”
Locking the door behind her, she reasoned Fabian would know where the key was since he’d been Nanine’s sous chef for decades. She texted him that she’d be arriving shortly. She’d even forgotten to bring Pierre. God, she was out of sorts.
“You’d better be there, asshole,” she muttered as she flagged down a taxi to go to Axel’s.
When she arrived, she paid the driver and got out in front of his exterior door. If Kyle knew what she was doing, he’dwant to join her. He was always backing her. Her stomach flipped at the thought.
But she had this one. It needed a girl’s touch, a badass girl’s touch.
She pressed the call button. Waited. Pressed again. And again. And again.
