Daughters of the Prohibition, Garden Club, PTA—they are all the same women, and they dictate the social scene of St. Helena. If one hires you, they’ll all hire you, claiming that they single-handedly discovered your talent. Not to mention all of the press that comes with the Showdown. It’s a win-win, Lex, and you know it.” Abby clapped her hands as though the conversation was over.
“Let’s say, just for a second, that I am actually considering it…which I’m not…but let’s say, baking food in Costco-sized quantities for mass consumption was something I was interested in pursuing. I don’t have a kitchen big enough to handle it.”
“Prepare to be dazzled.” Abby shoved the plates aside and rolled out a set of blueprints, almost identical to the one on Lexi’s computer except this set was color coded and labeled. “We alter the redesign, building it in stages as money comes in. See right here.” She pointed to a green section labeled “Stage 1.” “We would build out the back storage space here and add the secondary kitchen like we had originally planned. It would give plenty of room to cook and prep, and you could be up and running in two weeks, tops.”
“That fast?” Lexi asked, surprised; the original timeline was six weeks. She looked at the blueprints, and her heart pinched. God, she wanted to see this come to life. She wanted to cook with her grandmother in this kitchen. More importantly, catering would buy her the ability to pay Pricilla and the bank back, even if Jeffery flaked.
But there was still one big problem. “I don’t have the time to oversee the remodel and come up with a menu for the Showdown.”
“I do.”
“What? No.” Lexi shook her head. “You are so busy with Ryo Wines.”
“ChiChi has it handled. Plus, I don’t want to run a winery. I’m a designer, and I want to design—your bistro. And I’m not letting you just give up!”
“I’m not giving up, Abs.” She wasn’t. In fact, she had already created a new schedule that placed her in the bakery kitchen to increase production and had reached out to a few farmers’ markets to boost sales.
“You are so. I can see it in your face,” Abby accused through bits of cake and fondant. “You’re going to let that rat bastard son of a bitch win. You’re going to let him steal your dream of opening the bistro just like you let him do after high school.”
“I repeat, am not. And did not.” Lexi snatched her straw and started rolling spit wads. “I went to culinary school after high school, just like I said I was going to.”
“Yeah, but you went to school in New York even though there is an internationally recognized one right here in St. Helena. Which offered you a full scholarship, by the way.”
“New York is the mecca for culinary arts.”
“You didn’t care about that school. From the day I met you, all you ever talked about was opening a bistro with Pricilla, what it would look like, what you would serve. Then Jeffery got into his dream school in New York and you were about to start your dream career here. A few well-placed comments about how long-distance relationships don’t last, a calculated breakup after graduation, and you started packing.”
Lexi opened her mouth to argue and immediately shut it. Was that true? Was that how it had looked to everyone else?
“God, Lex, you were so determined not to be your mom and have an entire fleet of exes that you clung to the first guy who showed interest and gave up everything you wanted to keep him.”
Lexi wanted to scream that Abby was wrong, that she had left St. Helena behind and married Jeffery because they were soul mates and that’s what people in love do for each other. But soul mates didn’t divorce. And Jeffery had never once considered staying in the Bay Area for school. In fact, every move or decision in their relationship had been the one that had most benefited Jeffery.
Tears burned at her throat. She’d had so many people float in and out of her life as a child that she’d thought there was something wrong with her. That she was missing whatever it was that other little girls, whose mommies and daddies never left, had that made them lovable. Even as an adult, she’d tried to convince herself she wasn’t lacking some kind of crucial trait, and that she was enough. So she’d dedicated herself to