Page 10 of Coming Home to the Top of Main Street

The restaurant had been busy for a Wednesday night. The biggest rush, though, had hit just before six, and all five chefs in the kitchen had been running nonstop trying to keep up. It was finally slowing down in the lobby, so Marcus went to work making a meal for him and Joselyn. He didn’t pull a plate straight from the menu, but instead chose items he thought she would like, based on the twenty years he had known her, the last twelve or so of which he had been paying much closer attention than the first eight.

He placed the chicken club roulades on the plates first, arranging them so the asparagus poking out from the ends were eye-pleasing. Then he plated the roasted, caramelized cinnamon butternut squash, and then the perfectly browned crispy maple mustard stuffed potato balls.

He put a lot of care into the presentation of every dish that left his kitchen, but as he put the finishing touches on these two, he took even greater care. Even though he had known Joselyn for considerably longer now than he had back when he was a senior in high school and she was a sophomore, he was even more nervous about tonight than he had been about sneaking away from a school football game and meeting her at his car before heading up the mountain for a picnic on their first date.

In the first true break in orders they’d had all night, Dustin walked over and leaned against the countertop Marcus was working on. “You’ve seemed uncharacteristically anxious for the past week. What’s up?”

Marcus glanced at his friend. Had it been that obvious? With the way his bosses were, he really didn’t want word to get out that he would be leaving. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re especially anxious right now.” He looked at the dishes he was finishing. “And wow, those are beautifully plated.” Dustin glanced from the plates to the clock on the wall to Marcus, and understanding lit his face. “Ahh, I see. Your eight o’clock break is with a woman.”

Marcus tried to keep his expression neutral so Dustin wouldn’t be able to read anything into it. But he did anyway.

A smile spread across his face. “It’s with a woman you really like. Oh, is it that one back home that you talk about in a very ‘she’s like a sister’ way, but secretly you’ve been pining over for as long as I’ve known you?”

Marcus’s eyes darted to Dustin’s in alarm.

The sous chef laughed loudly enough that it bounced off all the stainless steel surfaces in the kitchen. “Seeing that expression totally made coming into work today worth it, even if I wasn’t getting a paycheck.” Then he nodded toward the lobby. “Is that her?”

Marcus’s focus jerked toward the hostess podium where Avenlie was greeting Joselyn and motioning her to walk with her to the table Marcus had asked her to reserve for them. He took off his apron and chef’s hat and smock, washed his hands and arms, dried them with paper towels, and then ran the paper towels over his face. He ran his hands through his hair, straightened the front of his shirt, then took a deep breath before grabbing both plates and heading to the front to join Joselyn.

five

JOSELYN

Joselyn would be lying if she’d said the past week and a half had been easy. She had questioned her decision to walk away from leasing Larry’s building again and again. Some of the time, she knew without a doubt that the choice she had made had been the right one. Some of the time, that decision just hurt her heart—it had been difficult to let go of the dream. The specific dream of a shop in that particular building hadn’t been hers for long, but the general dream of owning a shop on Main Street had been with her since she was young.

And some of the time, she wondered if the reason why she had walked away was because of fear. She had been working toward running her own business for so long and had been planning and imagining what it would be like in all of her free time. When it finally become close to reality, did she back away because she was afraid? Was she afraid of failing? Afraid of succeeding? Afraid of reality not living up to the dream? She wasn’t sure. In all her prep over the years, she hadn’t prepared for that.

There was also the realization that she wanted Marcus to have the shop because she cared about him and wanted him to be happy. And not in the same way she cared for her siblings and wanted them to be happy. Realizing that had stirred some feelings and she worried that working with him might do that even more. She hadn’t realized that she had residual feelings for Marcus from when they dated in high school. Or maybe these weren’t leftover from high school. Maybe this was new. The thought alarmed her and made her want to turn and run the other way.

But that realization was also why she had agreed to meet with Marcus when he had texted. And now here she sat, in his restaurant, her stomach a strange mix of emotions bubbling up that she couldn’t quite name. She had known that he worked here, but it was a good thirty-minute drive from where she worked. Plus, it was fancier than the places she normally frequented. The tablecloths and table linens were nice, the waiters and waitresses were dressed impeccably, the lighting was low, and the decorations were modern, sparse, and expensive-looking.

Marcus walked through the swinging doors that led into the back, holding a plate of food in each hand, a smile spread across his face. She couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Hi,” she said as he neared, still not entirely sure if she was happy about being there, despite the smile on her face.

“Hello, Sunshine,” he said, placing one of the plates in front of her and one in front of the chair opposite her. “Thank you for coming.”

She was about to make a teasing comment about the time when she was ten and he was twelve and she won the bet about who could do more chin-ups and he had to cook her lunch. He had brought two plates to the kitchen table, one in each hand, just like now, and set one down in front of her like it was a fancy meal, but it was the most burnt, inedible grilled cheese she’d ever had. But when he set this plate in front of her, all she managed to say was “Wow!” She turned her plate so she could see it from all angles. “This is a piece of art made out of food.”

Marcus’s laugh boomed across the room, which sounded wrong in this swanky place with its classical music and mood lighting. But it also somehow felt exactly right. “I told you I would make it worth the drive.”

“If it tastes anything like it looks, I may have to make that drive more often.”

“You better try it then and tell me what you think.”

She picked up her fork, hesitating. She wanted to dig in and experience this beautiful dish. She also didn’t want to ruin it. The need to do more than see and smell it won out, and she plunged her fork into the butternut squash, making sure to get one of the pecans, too, and took a bite. Closing her eyes, she savored the buttery, sweet, nutty, cinnamon-y flavors exploding across her tongue. “I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. This is amazing, Marcus.”

She cut into the crispy ball next, curious to see what it was, and found mashed potatoes with a purplish-reddish filling. With her fork holding a bite filled with the perfect amount of the inside and the outside, she brought it to her mouth and savored the bite. It was sweet and tangy and the potatoes were light and fluffy and crispy. “Oh my goodness, what is this?”

Marcus smiled. “Jackfruit, ginger cranberry sauce, mustard, maple, and a few secret ingredients.”

He seemed to be genuinely pleased that she was enjoying the food he made, and she was more than genuinely pleased to be eating it. As they both ate and talked, things fell into an easier rhythm, and all the negative emotions she had been feeling over the past week and a half fled. She was glad that he had started their meeting with the meal, because if they had to order and then wait for food, they probably would’ve started by talking business, instead of this easy banter that they’d developed over the years.

She ate until she was stuffed and would still be able to take home some of it. When she pushed her plate aside, Marcus pushed his aside as well. Then his easy-going, open expression turned nervous.

She remembered the exact last time he had looked so nervous— it was right before he kissed her for the first time, on the night of the spring dance that they had both shown up to without dates. At ten o’clock on the dot that night, she had gone outside and met him by the concessions stand next to the football field. Close enough to the gym that they could hear the music coming from inside, but far away enough that they weren’t seen. The two of them enjoyed their own little dance, all alone.

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