Page 47 of The Last Lavender Sister

Brynn hadn’t told Aster she was coming simply because she was afraid she’d chicken out and at the last minute get cold feet. But when the time came to get on that plane, her head was clear, her heart was open, and for the first time in a very long while, she knew exactly what she wanted.

After the plane reached cruising altitude, the flight attendant placed a glass of white wine on her tray.

“Thank you,” Brynn said. “I’m not a big plane drinker, but I’m celebrating.”

“What’s the occasion?” the attendant asked.

“I think I’m ready to start a brand new chapter and hoping the other person might feel the same.”

“Congratulations. That’s fantastic. Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Brynn said. She sipped her wine and stared out at the clouds. “But I’m ready.”

Chapter Eleven

Aster couldn’t remember a time when her shoulders hurt more than they did in this moment. She’d been going hard at work all week, skipping her day off to truly focus on the holiday menu. She’d been told she was turning out the best desserts the restaurant had ever seen. As lead pastry chef at Omniscient, she had free rein to create and build the dessert menu of the high-end eatery, which was a true score for someone not long out of school. Apparently, her professor had recommended her personally, and after a week on the job as her interview, she’d been hired full-time. She’d been in the position for a handful of months now, and the reviews had been stellar, farther catapulting her star, at least on a local level. She smiled to herself as she slid a caramel apple tart into the oven for table twelve.

“Table two is requesting the bourbon butter cake made specifically by the famous chef slash puppy rescuer,” Delia, one of the servers, reported with an amused grin. “Something we should know? Do you rescue puppies—because if you do, I like you even more. Score one for the quiet pastry chef.”

“One time I did.” Aster froze with her hand on the oven door. “What does table two look like?”

“Blond. Very pretty. And alone.”

It couldn’t be. Could it? Her heart must have thought itself in a thumping contest. Her mind raced and her skin prickled. “Got it. I will deliver this one personally.”

Delia was enjoying this. “Well, well, Aster’s getting her groove on. Look at you.”

“I’m merely slinging desserts over here.” She tossed in her winsome smile because she was already on a high at just the chance that it was Brynn in that dining room. She prepared the butter cake and added her signature warm bourbon caramel sauce and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Gabriella, can you take over for a few minutes? I think I might have a VIP guest.”

The restaurant’s second-in-command, a friend of hers, nodded, hopping over to her station. “No problem, Chef. I’ve got you.”

Aster smoothed her chef’s jacket and, with the plate in hand, made her way to table two.

She didn’t have to get very far into the dining room before she saw Brynn’s profile and knew. The world slowed to that wonderful, comfortable, exciting hum. She washere. Her friend. Her person. Since their letter writing had kicked into high gear, Brynn’s importance in her life had skyrocketed. She had become someone Aster confided in, trusted. She had never had that in someone before on this level.

Brynn sat alone, just as Delia had reported, surveying the sleek restaurant with its black tables and cream-colored linens with what looked to be a glass of water in front of her and a whiskey to her side. Aster took a moment to digest the sight. Brynn put the rocks glass to her lips, and Aster wished she had a camera or a paintbrush. Either would do to capture the perfection of the moment.

“Butter cake for table two?” Aster asked, unable to play it cool the way she’d planned, and grinned, embracing the thrill she could no longer tamp down.

Brynn was immediately on her feet. As soon as Aster placed the plate on the table, her arms were around Aster’s neck in the kind of hug that felt all encompassing, when you blew past formalities and really clung to the other person without inhibition.

“I’m more than a little surprised right now,” Aster said, inhaling every inch of Brynn and that familiar scent that was all her. “Thrilled. What? How? Tell me the details of your appearance in this restaurant.”

“I think it was thepleasein one of your more recent letters that did it. I’ve always been a sucker for manners.”

“I can appreciate that.” Aster gestured for Brynn to please sit and stole a moment, settling into the chair across from her, still not quite believing this was happening. “So, hi. Surreal.”

“Hi. It is.” She looked down at the cake. “This was recommended to me, not just by the maître d’, but by my server as well. They said I simply had to try the butter cake, and whenever anyone sayssimply, I’m compelled to obey.”

Aster sat back, folded her arms, and waited as Brynn picked up her fork. With a medium-sized bite of cake loaded up, sauce plentiful, Brynn slid the fork into her mouth and closed her eyes. It felt like an eternity passed, but Aster sat patiently and waited for the verdict. She was not about to complain about the extra seconds because watching Brynn enjoy the flavors she’d created was just about the most satisfying experience ever. She was proud of that cake, having developed the recipe in school. She’d added to it over time since, finding the perfect balance of sweet and savory. It was the dish that got her the most attention, but it was Brynn’s opinion that mattered to her more than any write-up.

“I’m stumbling for words,” Brynn said, making a circular gesture with her hand near her mouth. “I also don’t want to stop eating to tell you my thoughts.”

Aster laughed and rested her chin in her hand. “Then keep going. I can wait.”

Brynn didn’t hesitate and scooped up another bite and then another. Finally, “It’s rich, but not so rich you can’t keep eating. How do you do that?”

“Magic. And a lot of work.”

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