lifted the glass, took a tiny sip, let her eyes close briefly. Then she smiled. “You’re brilliant,” she told Jack.
He chuckled and reached below the counter, putting a bowl of nuts next to a bowl of fish crackers. “I love it when you flirt with me, Kelly.” Then he was off down the bar to look after the mob.
“So,” Lief began. “A chef?”
She took another sip. “Well, there’s the problem. I’m still a chef, but I walked out on my restaurant with the head chef shouting at my back that I’d never work in San Francisco again. I thought I’d probably better stop here for a little courage before I break it to my sister that I’m unemployed and homeless.”
Lief’s eyebrows shot up. “I take it she’s not expecting your visit to be … ah … extended?”
“She’s not even expecting a visit. It was pretty rash, what I did. Have you ever been in a big restaurant kitchen?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“It’s brutal. You have to be fearless. I’ve always been a good cook, but it took me years to measure up to the backbone it required to scream back or dodge flying objects hurled by the chef in charge. And apparently it wasn’t natural for me at all. I’m more of a cook than a street fighter.”
He leaned an elbow on the bar and gave her his undivided attention. “And you know this because …?”
“Because I thought I was holding my own until I landed in the emergency room due to stress.”
“You decided to resign?” he asked, stating the obvious.
She was very quiet; she sipped the Ketel One, then fished out an olive and munched on it.
“Nothing as tidy as that. I had a dear friend and mentor. I admit, we might’ve been getting too close, but he said he was separated from his wife, that a divorce was pending. Then the wife came to see me at work. Did I mention this mentor was a partner in the restaurant? Owns many restaurants? She told me her husband sent her to tell me to go away quietly. There was a scene in the kitchen—it took about five minutes for everyone to know what I’d been accused of.” She paused for another sip. “Still,” she added, “the worst of it was that when I called him to ask why the hell he’d send his wife to tell me to go away, he never responded.” She turned her large blue eyes to Lief. “I kind of hoped the wife had been full of it. You know?”
Lief put his hand over hers and gave it a brief squeeze. “On top of everything, your heart was broken.”
“I guess so,” she admitted. “I should have known better. Now—how do I tell my sister that my boyfriend wasn’t my boyfriend? That the career I’ve been killing myself for I was literally killing myself for? And that I quit without notice and will be her uninvited houseguest indefinitely? “
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You seem to have the story down. I’m sure she’ll be very sympathetic.”
“Probably. But also very surprised. Jillian is the flighty one. I’m the stable one.”
“You know what, kid? You walked out on a bad situation. That sounds both intelligent and stable. Now you just need a little time to get on your feet.”
“You know what they say about getting out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat …” she said, shaking her head dismally. “I’ve become the cliché. What are you doing here anyway? In Virgin River?”
“Me?” he asked. “Just looking for a quieter place. And I like to fish and hunt. Made to order.”
Suddenly Jack was in front of them. “How are you two doing? “
“You know what? I think we’re doing great!” Kelly said. “This was just what I needed—a stiff drink and a little conversation. Amazing how much it helps.”
“You good, then?” Jack asked.
“I’ll have one more in a couple of minutes. And bring my friend Lief a beer on me. He’s a good listener.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Dinner?”
“Not for me, but I’ll have some more nuts, thanks.” When Jack had turned away, she faced Lief again. “Quieter than?”
“Los Angeles. My wife died a couple of years ago and my daughter is still having a hard time of it. She really needed a fresh start and a slower pace. Well, so did I.”
Kelly looked stricken. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. That really puts things into perspective for me. Here I am whining about my nonboyfriend and a mean chef …”
He laughed at her. “You weren’t whining—sounds like a movie set. Lots of temper tantrums, scandal and dysfunction on the set.”
“You’re an actor?”
“Nope. I built sets for years and now I do some writing,” he said. “I don’t have to spend much time on-set, but when I do it’s usually pretty nuts and I always think about how glad I am that I don’t do it all the time.”
Their new drinks arrived. “How’d you manage working in that environment, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Cotton in the ears is very useful. I just wouldn’t participate in the insanity. And hardly anyone forced the issue.”
“How do you not need a full-time job?”
“Oh, I have a full-time job,” he corrected. “I write screenplays. The producers and directors order them rewritten and hire their own writers. Those writers have to endure the set—I’m usually just a consultant. I work alone, at home.”
“I thought all scripts were written by teams of writers,” she said.
“Not all scripts. Original screenplays are often written by a single writer.”
“Wow. I wish I could figure out a way to be a ‘consulting chef’ rather than some lunatic’s whipping post. Tell me what it’s like to work alone. At home.”
He took a breath. “The best word I can come up with is comfortable. I’m kind of introverted. But I can entertain myself very easily. All the things I like can be done alone. I fish—fly-fishing. I like to build—there’s nothing to build right now but I’m chopping wood for the winter. I’ve been writing since junior high, but it took me many years to sell a script. I’ve never been good at those activities where everyone looks at you. I’d rather stay home. The best part of my life is fishing and being home.” Then he grinned. “Of course my daughter hates fish, but she’s fourteen—she hates air right now.”
“Yikes. How is that working?” Kelly said.
“She’s rebellious, snotty, antisocial, experimental and so irreverent.” He laughed uncomfortably. “Underneath all that she’s a teenage girl who misses her mom and is stuck with me. She’s a beautiful girl with a high IQ and a confidence problem. I’m trying, but we’re not getting better. Next week we’ll meet with a counselor who specializes in troubled teenagers. I hope to God it works!”
“But
