Page 2 of Quinn

After three tours in Afghanistan, Danny had come home with medals and nightmares. The brother who’d once loved watching fireworks from the Navy Pier now flinched every time an old clunker backfired. The man who so many years ago had taught her to ride a bike, couldn’t handle the rushing noise of the L-train past their apartment windows.

“Pickup on seven!” Breaking into her thoughts, a waiter appeared at the pass, plates balanced up his arm.

The kitchen in the upscale corner of the city moved like a well-oiled machine around her, but her mind continued to battle her concern that Danny could be lying in a ditch, shattered and terrified, with the hope that he could also simply be couch surfing with an old buddy, seeking comfort with the familiar. The problem was that Danny needed more than the VA services here could provide. The system was big, overloaded, and in her humble opinion, terribly broken. For years, she’d been at a loss on how to help her brother. But worse, his episodes were getting more instead of less frequent. Coping skills eluded him. His disappearing was happening more often—too often—but this was the first time he’d vanished for so long. Working seventy hours a week, she couldn’t afford private therapy, or to move to a different, less cramped apartment. The city tended to press in on him—the constant sirens, the throng of people on Michigan Avenue, the helicopter traffic from three hospitals within earshot of their neighborhood.

“Chef! Need that mirepoix!”

“Coming!” Eloise scraped perfect cubes of carrot, celery, and onion into a waiting container. Her phone vibrated in her chef coat pocket—not the familiar buzz of a text, but the longer rhythm of a call. Danny? Heart pounding, she stripped off her gloves.

Unknown number.

As she stepped into the walk-in cooler for quiet, her throat tightened. “Hello?”

“Ms. Carey? This is Officer Martinez. We’re here with your brother…”

Expecting to hear the news she’d been dreading for too long, the officer’s words sent waves of panic up her spine. As the calm man explained that Danny was safe in their custody, the nervous edge that had plagued her for days eased. But the news was not all good. Her brother had had an episode in a grocery store clear across town. What the heck he was doing there, or where had he been the last four days, she had no idea. Just like that night, only weeks ago when he’d ended up in the ER, after the fluorescent lights, the crowds, the dropping of a glass jar, the sensory overload had overwhelmed him.

Eloise’s hand found the folded paper in her other pocket—wrinkled now from countless readings. The job listing seemed to glow in the cooler’s harsh light:Executive Chef needed for new restaurant development. Historic renovation project in former ghost town of Sadieville, Texas. Rural setting, creative control, housing provided.

She’d laughed the first time she’d seen it. West Texas? A ghost town? But something made her save the listing. She thought of the photos she’d looked up. The endless horizon. Stars visible at night, unlike Chicago’s light-polluted skies. A town small enough that everyone knew everyone. Whether that was a good or bad thing she had yet to decide—still, what it did mean was no anonymous crowds to navigate. No skyscrapers blocking the sun. No constant crush of humanity pressing in from all sides. A chance for Danny to have some semblance of peace.

The listing had mentioned a historic renovation, bringing life back to forgotten places. Maybe that’s what Danny needed—what they both needed. A chance to rebuild something broken, to find peace in wide open spaces where the only sounds at night would be crickets and desert wind.

“Chef?” Someone pushed open the cooler door. “Eight top just sat.”

“I’ll be right there.” Tucking the listing back into her pocket, Eloise straightened. Her mind wasn’t on the dinner service ahead. Instead, she saw endless Texas sky, a small town waiting to be reborn, and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—the crazy want ad that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw away wasn’t some big joke, but actually a chance to save her brother.

With every passing moment, the crazy idea seemed to bloom into an answer to a prayer. By the time they’d served their last dessert and began cleaning up the kitchen for the night, she was absolutely sure it was time to update her resume and trade Chicago’s concrete canyons for Texas stars. Then all she’d have to do was convince her brother that she hadn’t lost her ever-loving mind.

Chapter Two

Surveying the restaurant’s interior, Quinn wiped sweat from his forehead. The new windows caught the morning light, illuminating freshly painted walls and restored wooden beams. The kitchen equipment was due next week—top-of-the-line ovens, cook tops, freezers, prep stations, the works. All chosen with the approval of the new chef.

The Tuckers Bluff city council had finally narrowed the candidates down to two before picking the winner over a week ago. And not soon enough if you were to ask him. Quinn would have preferred having the kitchen fully functional by now, but that wouldn’t happen until all the appliances arrived.

Morgan’s voice carried from outside. “Sisters incoming.”

Quinn looked through the window to see Sister and Sissy heading their way, their shadows stretching across Main Street. He almost chuckled. One as wide as tall and the other looked more like a tree stretching across the street. From the day he hit West Texas, the two siblings, owners of the Sisters boutique in Tucker’s Bluff and the former bordello, now a bed and breakfast in Sadieville, never ceased to surprise him. The scent of Molly’s food truck wafted through the open door—whoever ran the new restaurant was going to have stiff competition from Molly.

“Quinnnnn!” Sister’s 50s style beehive blonde hairdo, as big and wide as she was, preceded her through the doorway. “Tell me the council shared more about the new chef to y’all.”

Sissy, the other sibling, sported red hair and stood almost a head taller than her sister and rail-thin to boot. The two ducked under a ladder where Ryan was touching up trim. “Frankly, I don’t understand what the big secret is. Unless they’ve hired Gordon Ramsey—”

“Lord forbid,” her sister cut her off.

Sissy rolled her eyes at her sister. “Honestly, what do they think keeping the head chef’s name and details a secret will do?”

Considering these two women as well as his aunt Eileen and the rest of the Tuckers Bluff Afternoon Social Club were usually the first to know anything and everything about everyone in town, not knowing this must be killing them. All Quinn could do was shrug.

“Well,” Sister huffed, “at least we have the B&B all spruced up. We want Sadieville to make a good impression. We’ve put him in the Violet Room—best view of the sunrise.” She rocked on the balls of her feet and sighed. “So, they didn’t tell you anything more about him at all?”

Quinn checked his watch. The crew would be breaking for lunch about now, but he suspected he wouldn’t be going anywhere until the sisters got some answers. Too bad he didn’t have what they wanted. “All I know is that the chef’s due in three days. And before you ask, no, I don’t know anything else except he’s from Chicago.”

“Chicago!” Sister clutched her chest. “Oh, I do hope he likes our sleepy little town.”

“Now now, Sister, don’t get your pearls in a cluster. I’m sure the town wouldn’t have chosen a big city chef if they didn’t have good reason for wanting to live in dusty West Texas.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” Sister spun around to face Quinn and his brothers. “We’re supposed to meet your aunt Eileen for lunch, but she called to say Connor needed her to baby-sit last minute. You boys taking a break for lunch?”

---