Page 91 of A Certain Appeal
Ming drops her head to Chloe’s shoulder. “We’re basically married.”
“Hey,” Gales protests, but he’s smiling, and sits beside his erstwhile fiancée.
Ming waggles her eyebrows. “I’d be happy to share.”
I grab a chair from the long dining table behind me, pulling it to the head of the table we’re gathered around. “But how did you know to come here?”
“That was me,” Charles says, hand half-raised. “I sent him a text. We had coffee with Darcy yesterday afternoon.”
Gales sighs, sinking against the dark leather, and Chloe puts a hand over one of his. “We had a theoretical stake in the plan, too.”
I cock my head. “How’s that?”
Chloe taps her teeth together, like she’s priming her jaw for a confession. “We’re considering a move. That’s why we’re out here this week. My gigs were a trial run for something long-term.”
“What?” A tentative spark of happiness warms in my chest. “You’re coming here?”
“Nothing’s been decided,” Chloe says quickly. “I’m not sure howmuch time I’d want to commit to the job here, how much I’d still freelance. But... yeah.” She fights a smile. “It’s huge.”
“So, I’ve been looking into kitchens,” says Gales. “Mostly sous positions. But at coffee yesterday, Charles and I got to talking. Charles needed a chef, and I had some thoughts for a menu.” He half-smiles. “It went well.”
I arch a brow at Charles.
“Darcy’s doing, mostly. I think he made a point of steering the conversation. But Gales had a bunch of ideas,” he says, tipping his head toward his would-be employee. “I spoke to his chef in LA and he agreed: this guy is going places.”
Their consistent use of the past tense snuffs out my little glow of happiness. I cross my arms over my chest. “So on top of everything else, Gales has been screwed out of his first kitchen.”
Chloe shakes her head. “Lizard, honey, nothing was official.”
“It was just an offer,” Gales adds.
“But does this mean you’re less likely to take your job here, Chloe?” I ask.
“If Meryton had worked out—” She looks at Gales, then shrugs. “That would have sealed the deal. But it’s still on the table.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. The room bottoms out around me, and the nauseating falling sensation rocks my sense of equilibrium. The phantom pain in my ribs flares, and my left hand feels hot—
“No!” The word bursts out of me, bouncing off the wine-bottle-lined walls, and eight pairs of wide eyes are on me. “Fuck Wickham. We’re not letting him win. Meryton was going to be your investment, Charles. Your first kitchen.” I point to Gales, and looking between Jane and Ming, I say, “Your most reliable gig. Tonic’s been screwed out of a partnership. Andrea, Meryton was practically your life’s work.”
Ming steeples her fingers, angling them to point at me. “Chloe mentioned revenge. Is that where your head is?”
I don’t know where my head is, but I know what I feel, and I know what I don’t want. “Meryton was home, but only because we were in it. Without us, all Wickham has is a building and a drawing.”
“Both of which are fairly important,” says Chloe.
“But we haveus. Performers. A chef. Someone with almost twenty years’ experience running a club. We have a solid financial backer.” I don’t know where the idea comes from, but when it settles in my mind, it’s obvious: “We’ll find another property for the show and move it there.”
Across from me, several mouths open, budding protests clear on their respective faces, but I press on.
“Charles,” I say before anyone can interrupt me with “logic,” “you looked into other places in the area, right?”
He blinks, uncertain. “Yeah. But I know most have been sold by now. Even if any are still available, you’re talking about adding the entire purchasing process on top of any remodeling. That’s time Wickham doesn’t have to spend.”
“But it’s possible?” I ask, unwilling to be derailed.
“Nowhere else had that Meryton magic.” He smiles. “But most of that was you all, anyway.”
“And you’d still want to invest in something?”
