Page 38 of Finding Yesterday

“Sure. And you can use your San Fran big city skills to get our discount postcards ready to print.”

“Sounds good.”

I hold out my fist for a bump. “Let’s get busy.”

He shakes his head and chuckles before returning the bump.

After we both find our working rhythms, I hold up a jar of fresh cilantro. “This is the most underrated spice.”

“Agreed.” Jack grins. “I love cilantro. But—”

“I know, I know. You have to be careful cooking with it because some people think it tastes like soap,” I cut in, sighing. It’s a recessive genetic trait.

Jack’s smile grows. “An unfortunate draw from the taste bud gene pool, poor blokes.”

After swallowing another one of Jack’s leftover grapes, I lift a brow. “Blokes?”

He shrugs. “I watch a lot of British TV.”

“Bloody fascinating,” I deadpan, swallowing a smile. I can’t believe I’m having such a good time doing grunt work.

After a perfectly comfortable lull in the conversation, I ask, “So, what’s life like in San Francisco?” I place napkins, ladles, and thermometers into our two big chili pots.

“It’s a great city.” Jack’s flat voice doesn’t match his words as he keeps his eyes trained on the computer screen.

“I loved it when I visited. I went with Emma, so of course we ended up driving to Napa Valley and spending most of our time at the wineries there. It was stunning.”

“The sheer number of beautiful places to see is incredible.” Again, his words are complimentary, but his tone is lifeless.

So, I say, “Do you like living there?”

He hesitates, finally looking up from his screen. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that before. Everyone just assumes I love it because it’s San Francisco.”

I nod slowly. “Your voice. It changed.”

He hesitates, glancing at me before looking up in thought. “I don’t know. I love the beauty, the nature, and the countless weekend getaway spots. And of course, all the original and inspiring restaurants.” He rubs his chin. “But besides my parents, the people in my life there—my coworkers, acquaintances, and so-called friends—only have conversations that revolve around things like who scored reservations at a place with a two-month wait. Or who owns a killer cabin in Tahoe. Or who knows which famous tech executive.” A corner of his mouth quirks up. “But there’s no one to share grapes with.”

I swallow the one that’s in my mouth, a little extra hard. “So, you’re surrounded by people but feel alone.”

There’s a flash of surprise in his expression. “Yes. Exactly.”

I pick up a piece of the burlap twine we packed to hang our banners and wind it around my index finger, holding it there until the flesh bulging between the spirals starts to turn purple. I release the strand and say, “Yeah, that happened to me for a while in Atlanta. A downside of big cities.”

Actually, it happened with Hudson too.

“I guess so.” Jack tilts his head, thoughtful. “All the people around me are the ones I had to hang out with if I wanted to be successful. Then, after I opened my restaurant, I was too busy to make new friends. And although winningGrade A Chefchanged my career for the better,it also changed some things for the worse.”

“How so?”

His voice is light when he says, “All of a sudden I hada lotof friends…popping up from everywhere. And they all needed something—a hook-up, an intro, a few dollars to pay for their kid’s school trip.” His jaw tenses. “Now, I never know if someone wants me or something from me.”

I fold my arms. “That sucks. You should’ve used your British slang on them and told them to scram.”

“You mean like, ‘Bugger off, you daft cow’?”

“Yes, that!”

We both laugh before he says, “I try not to let it jade me.” A wistful expression settles in. “Being in Blue Vine…it’s made me realize how freeing it is not having to live with my guard up.”

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