“You’re not tempted to go back to city life one day? I thought every chef dreamed of opening their own restaurant.”
“Why would I want to do that when I have freedom to do whatever I wish here? And I am opening a restaurant. The Boathouse will be built up from scratch and the Inn is already fully booked months in advance. And I would never leave Jackson.” She sliced into her steak. It was perfectly cooked and she tilted her head to one side and nodded. “It’s good.”
“You’re very loyal to my brother.”
“Of course. I love my job.”
“With Chez Laroche on your résumé you could walk into any job.”
Do you think I’ll let you go, Élise? Do you think anyone in Paris will give you a job now?
She put her knife down, her appetite suddenly gone.
“I have the job I want.” It upset her that thinking of it could still have such an effect on her. She felt murky and dirty and she turned her face to the setting sun briefly in an attempt to burn out dark memories with brightness. “What about you? Will you stay in Boston?”
“It’s where my work is and, like you, I love my work.”
“And this week we’ve kept you from it.”
He reached for his wine. “I confess I’ve enjoyed working on the deck more than I thought I would. And watching the kids on the lake has been entertaining.”
“Brenna is so good with them. What did you love most about this place when you were growing up?”
“The skiing.” He didn’t hesitate. “First fall of snow and we’d be out there on the mountain. Gramps used to take Jackson and me but Tyler didn’t want to be left behind so he came, too. He was bombing down those slopes before most of his peers had learned to walk.”
“It must have been hard for him giving up competitive skiing. It was the most important thing in his life, like cooking is for me. I would die if I could no longer cook.”
“Now that’s a cause of death I’ve never come across.” Smiling, he leaned across and topped up her wine. “Is everyone in France like you? Are the intensive care units packed full of people dying because they can’t cook?”
“It is good to have passion.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you. In fact, I rate passion above almost every other quality.” His eyes met hers and the atmosphere shifted. The force of the connection shook her.
Putting her fork down, she told herself that physical compatibility had nothing to do with emotional engagement.
“It is not always good. When I love something I love it totally. I’ve never been good at half measures.”
And that, she thought, was her problem.
His gaze lingered on hers for a moment. “You sound like Tyler. He said much the same thing when he threw himself off vertical cliffs at the age of six without first checking his landing.” With that simple revelation he steered the conversation back onto comfortable ground.
“You have a passion for surgery.”
“I wouldn’t describe it that way.” He helped himself to more salad. “I have an intellectual interest in being able to fix something that is broken.”
“Including my deck?”
“That, too.” He piled more salad on her plate and she shook her head.
“No more. I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat and this salad is homegrown.”
“You don’t need to lecture me on nutrition.”
“Good. Then eat.”
“This place is your grandfather’s passion.”