Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

But I know Bernard, and for as long as I’ve known him, he’s spent Monday mornings in the same booth at Seasons, sipping coffee and doing the Sunday crossword, since his Sundays are usually too busy to take the time.

When I walk up to the building, peering through the large glass windows, I spot him. Exactly where I thought he would be.

It’s always something I’ve admired about him, how dedicated he is to keeping his life and work simple and focused on the things that matter. He told me that once, that so many restaurants fail because they try to do too many things and end up alienating the customers that built them up in the first place.

I guess that’s kind of what happened to me, in a personal sense. Instead of staying focused on the things I know and was passionate about, I decided to do too much. To be too many things to too many people.

And in doing so, I forgot who I was.

I tap lightly on the glass of one of those large windows. When Chef Hines looks up and sees me, he takes off his glasses, almost like he can’t believe his eyes. Then I hear the faint sound of his shouted “Wesley!” before he leaves his booth and heads to the front.

He opens the door just as I get there, and then he yanks me in for a hug, my tall frame bending slightly as I wrap my arms around him as well.

“Wesley!” he says again, then pulls back and places his hands on either side of my face. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

It’s only in this very moment that I realize how worried I was that he’d turn me away, and I can’t help but smile, reveling in his joy at seeing me.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by sooner,” I tell him. “I missed you.”

Chef Hines pats me on the shoulder, then waves for me to follow him inside. Once we’re both in, he relocks the front door and leads me over to his booth.

“I wish I had known you were coming today. Linus would have so loved to see you,” he tells me, referring to his partner. Then he gestures for me to take a seat across from him in the booth. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m actually back in California.” I pause. “I’m the head chef at a new restaurant at a winery in Rosewood.”

“That’s wonderful, Wes. I’m so happy for you. A better fit than the Santiagos, yes?”

I lick my lips, letting out an awkward chuckle. “Yes. Definitely a better fit.”

Then he gives me a sympathetic look, and I suddenly realize … He already knows.

“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out for you. But the best thing you could do is move on and find something else. Sounds like that’s exactly what you did.”

“How’d you hear about it?”

He taps his pen against the newspaper between us. “Alejandro called me. Right after it happened.”

I blink a few times, and this time I’m more than surprised. “He what?”

“The way he phrased it was something like, ‘I just left your little protégé on the street with a black eye. You better teach him how shit works, Bernard. Get him out of Chicago.’”

Nausea begins to rise inside me, and embarrassment isn’t far behind.

“I’m so sorry, Chef,” I tell him, unable to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean for you to be involved in any of it.”

When I finally do look at him, I see that same sympathetic look from before.

“Wes, I don’t know all the details of what happened. But it doesn’t surprise me that the road you were on ended up bringing you back here. Men like Alejandro Santiago are very different from men like you, and please believe me when I say that is a compliment.”

Part of me wishes that Chef Hines had been a little more forthcoming when I was considering the move to Chicago to work for the Santiagos. If I had known how much he disliked the man, maybe I would have made a different decision.

But in the same breath, I know it’s not his responsibility. He did warn me, after all.

Part of me thinks that maybe he actually made the right call in letting me figure it out myself. There are definitely some lessons I learned from my experience in Chicago and working for Alejandro and Bridget that I wouldn’t have learned if I hadn’t made the mistake of going.

“Come,” he says, a genuine smile on his face. “Let’s make something together.”

An hour later, we’re standing on opposite sides of a counter in the Seasons kitchen, each of us enjoying a slice of an artichoke flatbread pizza that reminds me of all the incredible ways Chef Hines knows how to use veggies as a primary.