Part 5: Chilled

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Lucy was late to her own party. Going through her closing checklist and payroll for the restaurant was taking way more time than she thought. She wondered briefly if she should have accepted the offer of help from Marnie. She opted instead to let everyone go early and close herself.

The lobster boil on the beach was Quinn's idea: "You have to reward your staff." It was a mantra with him. She agreed — they were all working hard, and everyone deserved a treat, so she closed the restaurant early and invited everyone to her cottage. Her plan was beers and hot dogs on the beach, but Quinn had other ideas.

He was as excited as a kid at Christmas, planning elaborate beach cocktails, figuring out the appetizers and sides he wanted to serve with the lobster, and paying a local catering firm to set up tables, chairs and elegant lighting for their crew. It warmed her to think about how much planning he put into it, like the care he put into everything he did.

To Lucy's delight, Quinn offered to cook some nights in her restaurant when he wasn't busy with his own cooking show, which he shot from the barn, and his other projects. He said he wanted to cook in the busy restaurant "for the fun of it." He volunteered, but she insisted on paying him and she did — the equivalent of what she paid her regular chef, Leon. Quinn accepted, which made her feel a bit better, but she had it on good authority that he donated the money anonymously to the local high school's breakfast program. Her twin sister Faye, a guidance counsellor at the high school, never could keep a secret.

Lucy could never afford the price Quinn usually commanded, but it was important for her to assert her independence in this small way. She vowed to never tangle up her professional life with a man again after the disaster of dating her boss for years and how that ended.

This felt less like a favour Quinn was doing for her, and more like a natural fit for the two of them to be working together. The fact was, she enjoyed having him around, it was fun to work together — he, dreaming up culinary masterpieces in the kitchen and she, greeting customers and running front of house. They were both in their element.

Lucy's patrons were also thrilled with the arrangement. She had customers from across the Maritimes and beyond clamouring for reservations, hoping to catch a glimpse of the world-famous celebrity chef. Quinn dropped in to cook whenever he had the time, so it was always a random surprise that became a fun gamble for her customers. They never knew when they might be treated to a gourmet dinner by a world-renowned, Michelin-starred chef.

On "Quinn nights," he did a special and affordable prix fixe menu based around whatever he had foraged that day, or whatever local produce or meat supplier he wanted to highlight. It gave him a chance to be creative and experiment, and the local vendors loved the publicity. Quinn said the reason Lucy was successful was all thanks to her, but she knew better. She and her staff had worked hard to turn the place around, but she knew it was Quinn who turned her restaurant into one of the hottest in the Maritimes, with a waiting list well into the next year.

"Why are you doing this for me?" She couldn't help but ask him one night after closing, when they were having a glass of wine after everyone had left. It was a tradition that started when they filmed the TV contest. He looked surprised.

"I like to cook. And, I like working with you," he said, reaching across the table to hold her hand. "It's fun working together, don't you think?"

She gazed at his impossibly handsome face in the candlelight, his eyes warm and curious. He's too good to be true, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. It was an irritating mantra she couldn't seem to shake.

"Nonsense," she muttered out loud, before looking up from her paperwork and realizing the time. Shit. Lucy was so late, she might just have to go in her breezy summer dress and change into shorts later.

Her parents had purchased a good stretch of ocean frontage when they bought the property, and she loved the idea of that section of beach belonging just to the family. She used to sleep down by the water on hot, summer nights when she was younger, a pleasant memory she returned to time and again when she couldn't sleep at night.

There was nothing like the feeling of being snug in her sleeping bag on the sand, the rhythm of the waves easing every care from her mind, under a million stars in the black sky. She used to skinny dip too, once upon a time and many pounds ago. She hadn't done either of those things in a very long time. She stood up and smoothed the soft jersey dress down over her curves.

She expected to have dropped a lot more weight since she started running every day. Even though she felt great and her clothes fit better, to her dismay, the scale wasn't down as much as she thought it would be. Running gave her focus, and made her feel good, and she loved the feeling of doing something just for herself. It made her feel healthy and strong — like she had her shit together. So why wasn't she dropping all kinds of weight? Dating a world-renowned chef might have something to do with it.

She sat back down, trying to forget about her own figure and get back to those of the restaurant. She was finished reconciling the finances and ran a snapshot of sales for the day. She was delighted with the sales summary.

Her staff was right, getting disqualified from the TV contest didn't hurt the restaurant any. The townspeople rallied around Bossy Boots and curious folks from neighbouring communities were eager to come out and see the place that was featured on national TV. Bookings were solid and the place was packed every night. She couldn't be happier. Except...

She shivered, despite the stifling heat of her office. She wondered why, in quiet moments in her cottage, on the beach and especially in the restaurant, she kept getting a creeped-out feeling, as if she was being watched.

"Hello?" She rose from her chair, opened the office door and glanced around at the kitchen, so strangely quiet and still. Goosebumps sprang up on her arms and she rubbed them absently. She took a cursory look around the kitchen, peeking through the swinging door into the immaculate dining room, chairs stacked on the tables. Of course, no one was there. I'm losing it, she thought.

If anyone was skulking around, it was likely her deadbeat cousin who ripped her off months ago and disappeared — and she certainly wasn't afraid of Vincent. Her dad had given him the job of 'head chef' and the two of them just about ran the place into the ground. It had taken some time, patience and plenty of her own money to turn the ship around, no thanks to her cousin.

Vincent hated that her Dad put her in charge and entered them in the restaurant makeover show. Her cousin flipped out while the cameras were rolling, to the delight of the show's producer, Eva. Tearing through the kitchen in a desperate rage, he accidentally hit Lucy in the face and drew blood. He took off with what they had in the safe, and she hadn't seen him since.

She felt sorry for him, but she was also still very angry. If Vincent was the one skulking around her restaurant, he's the one who'd be sorry. She shook her head. He wouldn't show his face, not with theft charges still pending. He had a tough couple of years after the death of his mother, and she was pretty sure he was into drugs — using, definitely and selling, probably. But her father gave him chance after chance. You don't rip off family, no matter how desperate you are.

Satisfied she was indeed alone, and her imagination was playing tricks on her, she turned her attention to the night ahead as she gathered up her things. Lucy hadn't seen as much of Quinn as she'd have liked for the past week, but that was understandable with his brother in town. She'd gotten to know Aiden a bit in between busy restaurant shifts and Quinn's work on his new TV show, and she was charmed.

The tough cop Boston cop had a tender side that was very sweet. He was deeply in love with his partner, Marco, and thrilled to be a new dad, proudly showing pictures of his smiling, cherubic toddler, Nathan. Quinn mentioned taking her on a trip to Boston and Maine to meet the rest of his family and she was quietly thrilled.

She powered down her computer and paused suddenly. Lucy could have sworn she'd heard something. Very soft and light, like a scratching. She listened. Nothing. The restaurant was so busy lately; it was strange to be there when it was so quiet. That must be it. The skin prickled on the back of her neck, and she rubbed it absently.

She was being stupid. Of course, there was no one there.

She locked the back door behind her, excited to see Quinn and everyone on the beach. Her staff was becoming more like friends. They pulled together as a team and kept the restaurant going while she was away in Toronto, confronting her ex. Quinn was right. She owed them a lot. They deserved a nice night out, on her.

Except it wasn't, exactly — Quinn insisted on paying for everything. She frowned as she put her keys back in her purse. She would find out how much the beach party cost, from the catering down to the last lobster and pay him back. She wanted to pay her own way, even though he was generous to a fault and didn't seem to care about money.

She couldn't blame him for being excited. He loved people and quickly made his own friends in the town including the lobster fishermen supplying the night's meal. He and his brother actually went out on the boats and caught that night's dinner with them and had a ball doing it. She was glad the locals loved him like she did.

I should tell him how I feel, she thought. Soon.

The blazing autumn day was softening into a languid, watercolour evening. She was looking forward to relaxing with her friends on the beach and who knows, maybe even enjoying the lobster. She headed to her car.

Life was good; everything was fine.

So why did she feel so chilled?

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