Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(54)

Jill was ready to end the reunion and get home because she had a guy in her life and she missed him. The others were "between men" at the moment and not in any hurry to get back to their demanding jobs. Kelly worked in a five-star kitchen under a head chef as mean as Mussolini, Penny's banking chain was in a severe money crisis that made her PR job a living hell and Jackie, the political analyst, was gearing up for an election campaign as spiteful and bitter as any third world coup. Job pressure trumped boyfriends and the girls had headed to Virgin River for a couple of days before the annual vacation had to end.

None of the four would plan a vacation around an estate sale, but since the owners of the cute little river cabins mentioned this was a big event for their town, they decided to drop in. And it was far more interesting than any of them had expected.

There were people everywhere, and those who weren't just arriving or carrying purchases down the long drive to their vehicles were lounging around, watching the action or standing in clumps visiting and enjoying picnic food and drink or minding children's activities and games. Luke and Shelby Riordan were kind enough to introduce them around a bit as if they were old friends rather than strangers who happened to be renting one of their cabins for a couple of nights. They heard many different versions of the story surrounding the deceased elderly woman's estate and town trust. Each one of them gravitated to their own personal interests. Jackie spent a good deal of time chatting with Jack Sheridan, hearing about his adventures as the executor of the living trust. Penny met Muriel St. Claire, who considered herself an active part of the community.

Kelly was drawn into conversation with the cook from Jack's bar. This was very typical of the sous-chef, to gravitate to the food, even if in this case it was hot dogs.

"We're a town that caters to hunters and fishermen," the man called Preacher told her. "Once word got out that we stocked quality liquor just for them and the food was delicious and hearty, they started making it a point to drop in for at least one meal with us when they were in our area for hunting or fishing. We have hundreds of regulars we see every year."

"And your menu?" Kelly asked.

"I don't have a menu," he told her. "I plan about a week ahead, make sure I have a different breakfast, lunch and dinner special every day. There's always some leftovers, and then I like to bulk it up."

"Bulk it up?"

"They're hunters and fishermen and women--they're not looking for light meals. They're tired and cold and hungry--looking for food that sticks to their ribs. I make a lot of fresh breads, pies, cakes.... Oh, and breakfast pastry--I'm really working on the pastry."

"And the town?"

"We serve the town," he said. "Jack's is pretty much the gathering spot for a lot of them and we try to keep the costs down so they can afford it. We have a dependable group of locals and visitors just about every day. Unless it's really wet. People don't come out in the rain that much. Jack says they're busy putting buckets under the roof leaks." He grinned at her. "We're not a fancy bunch. Pretty laid-back. But I take my food seriously."

Kelly was quiet for a moment. "I would love to work in such a place," she said, almost breathlessly. "I've been carrying around my great-grandmother's recipes for years. Some of them I've fooled around with a little, but they're hard to improve. I've brought a few to the restaurant where I'm currently sous-chef, but it's dicey--I won't give them up and the head chef doesn't want to serve anything his name isn't on."

And with that, they were bonded. "I'd give anything for a great-grandmother's recipes," Preacher said. "Or a grandmother, for that matter. I taught myself to cook. I wasn't a cook when I came up here. I was a marine. I just came up here to fish with Jack and ended up staying."

"I took a vacation to the Boundary Waters a few years ago. Up in Northern Minnesota. Rugged country and so beautiful. And they had a chef on-site whose food just knocked me out!"

Preacher grinned. "Bet they got nothing on us," he said.

"Maybe not," she agreed. "We stayed at a lodge on the water. That chef didn't have a menu, either, but he surprised me every meal. He served what he wanted and lots of it. Now, I've been to Paris, but the Boundary Waters was the most indulgent, fattening trip I've ever had. And I thought about what it must be like to be that chef.... I would love to be the only chef in a kitchen where there's no yelling...."

Preacher stiffened his back and stood to his full six-foot-four-inch height. "Yelling?" he repeated.

Kelly laughed. "I guess there's no yelling in your kitchen."

He drew his heavy black brows together. "Who would yell at me?" he asked.

"Right," she said with a chuckle. "Where I work, the wait for a table is two hours if you have a reservation. If you want to sit down early, a couple hundred bucks in the maitre d's palm might help, but no guarantees. The head chef is a sociopath and the manager is a Don Juan who can't keep his hands to himself." And then she laughed again. "It's a steep climb in the kitchen."

But Preacher was frowning. "Where are you climbing to, exactly?"

"Head chef. Head chef of a restaurant that's written up in every gourmet and travel magazine in the marketplace. Eventually, my own restaurant. I've been working toward that for twelve years with very little time off. I'm going to get there. And when I get there my manager will be civil and my kitchen will be sane." Then she smiled and said, "But I do envy you. You and the chef at the Boundary Waters lodge. That's got to be the best of both worlds."