The Lost Recipe for Happiness - By Barbara O'Neal Page 0,38
guy.”
“You’re the boss,” she said. “If you want to do it at your place, let’s do it there. I’ll take a look at the kitchen and figure out what we need. If the prep is done beforehand, Ivan and I should be able to handle the cooking.”
“And we need Patrick to serve. This crowd will appreciate him.”
Elena smiled. “All right. Let’s figure out a time to check out your kitchen, then.”
“How about now?”
She glanced up at the clock. “I’ve got my dog.”
“Bring him. My daughter will adore him.”
Elena had lived in other places where money was visible, or at least you knew it lurked close by. She’d worked in restaurants where a meal for two easily cost hundreds, even thousands with a few good bottles of wine. But in Aspen, luxury leaked from every detail of every shop and home, in the detailing of her condo and the mansions discreetly peeking from stands of trees or towering into the heavens from a hilltop. Aspen wasn’t just wealthy, it was stratospheric—royals and movie stars and Saudis had homes there.
Even after just a few weeks, Elena had grown somewhat accustomed to it, and she didn’t even blink when she discovered that Julian drove a Range Rover, black, which probably cost close to her annual salary. In a city, it would have been ostentatious. In the high country, the four-wheel drive and navigability would be a boon through the heavy winters. Julian let Alvin jump into the rubberized back hold, and they drove off into the hills, finally turning into a long, graveled drive that climbed through a grove of mixed aspens and lodgepole pines.
Elena commented, “The first yellow leaves I’ve seen.”
“Hard to believe winter is just around the corner.” His window was down, allowing a fresh piney breeze to blow through. He held his free hand out in the air, as if to capture the sunny day.
“Do you like the winter?” she asked.
“I do, actually. Cold invigorates me. You?”
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve lived in a place with a real winter. We’ll see.”
“You grew up with it, though, right? Did you like it when you were a kid?”
Elena said slowly, “I guess. We never had enough warm clothes, honestly. I’m not saying that in a pitiful way, but there were a lot of us and only so many dollars to go around.”
“I get that completely. New Jersey is brutal in the wintertime. I remember some relative sent me a down coat—you know the big puffy ones?—for Christmas one year and it was so warm I just wanted to cry.”
Elena laughed. “Exactly. I found some insulated gloves once, and it was the same thing. I wanted to wear them twenty-four hours a day.”
He glanced at her. “You have a great laugh.”
She paused. “Thanks.”
The house appeared, not as drastically huge as some were in the area, rambling for tens of thousands of square feet. This was big, with a round turret and several outbuildings, but it was in the human realm. Built of fieldstone and timbers, the colors blended agreeably into the landscape, with balconies and secret patios appearing here and there.
Elena liked it tremendously. “It looks like something out of a fairy tale.”
“That’s what my daughter thought. I let her make the final choice.” He opened the back gate and let Alvin out. “Does he need to be leashed?”
“No, he should be fine. Are you sure you want to let him into your house? He sheds like crazy.”
His grin was slight and charming. “I have an army of cleaners. Dog hair wouldn’t stand a chance.” He waved her ahead on the sidewalk. “Oh, and by the way, my daughter hates it when people tell her she looks like her mother.”
“Thanks for the alert.”
A trim, well-coiffed woman in jeans opened the door. “Good morning, Mr. Liswood.” She nodded at Elena. “We’re about to finish up. Will we be in the way?”
“Not at all, Georgia. This is Elena Alvarez, the executive chef at my new restaurant. We’ve come to look at the kitchen. Maybe you want to show us around?” He smiled slightly. “Georgia is crew leader. I’m sure she knows my kitchen better than I do.”
For a long second, between standing on the stoop and stepping over the threshold, Elena tried to decide how to play her dazzlement. As her foot landed inside, and the sweep of light and design drew her eyes upward, she knew. “Wow.”
The entryway was three stories tall and bright, with a window at the top. Galleries