Recipe For Redemption

Either he missed her sarcasm or he didn’t care.

“Are the grounds around the inn open to guests?”

“Yes. There’s a path down to the beach off the front parking lot. And if you give the Butterfly Diner a call ahead of time, Holly can make a nice lunch for you to pick up. Thank you again,” she added before she pushed open the door. “I’m sorry your first few minutes at the Flutterby were distressing.”

“Interesting, though.” Jay gave her what could have been interpreted as a smile. Such a shift from his earlier manner confounded Abby. “Have a good day, Miss Manning.”

“Abby,” she responded automatically, then, before she started to think better of him, headed off to collect Gran.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_1273a4a9-441b-5be2-8198-547f39e60b50)

“WELL?” GARY CUNNINGHAM’S aged New York voice echoed through the Bluetooth as Jason hefted his suitcase and garment bag out of the trunk of the rented sports car. “Do I know how to find you the perfect hideaway or what?”

“It’s definitely something.” He’d spend some time later appreciating the lush landscaping that included thick, healthy red geraniums interspersed with critter-repelling oleander. He could hear the surf crashing against the shore and cliff line on the far edge of the property and smell that telltale Pacific Ocean combination of brine and open air. Nothing like an old three-story Victorian with beacon-bright yellow paint and peeling white trim to cut through the intricate groves of redwoods, cypress and eucalyptus trees. If the rest of the world ran out of oxygen, he knew where they could find some. “Hang on a second?”

The porch stairs creaked in welcome as he pushed through the etched glass front doors and gave Lori a quick wave of acknowledgment. He walked across hardwood floors in need of a polish, passing crisp white batten-board walls that displayed photographs of the inn throughout its extensive history. They provided a welcome distraction from the faded, out-of-date wallpaper.

At least he hadn’t been inundated with the town’s fluttering namesake. Not that he had anything against butterflies, but they did lend themselves toward a feminine aspect he didn’t relate to. The creatures were so dainty, so delicate, like those lacy pastry swans he’d never mastered in culinary school, but at the same time butterflies were known to weather the most violent of hurricanes.

Reminded him of his current hostess, Abby Manning. He certainly wouldn’t want to be a smoke detector in her presence. He tried to remember the last time anyone had surprised him. He unlocked his door.

Speaking of surprises...

The room was larger than he’d anticipated. He set his bags down on the feather duvet–covered California king situated amid a dresser, nightstands and a sizable flat-screen TV. The decor wasn’t fancy but lent itself to practicality while skirting the far edge of stylish. The ceiling angled up from the walls into a point that he identified as the side tower that had poked into the horizon as he’d crossed into town.

“Okay,” he said and heard the familiar rustle of papers and files as he spoke to his family’s longtime lawyer and his personal confidant. Part mentor, part father figure, it was Gary he’d turned to over the years when it became clear his own father would remain emotionally unavailable. “So why did you pick this place?”

“Figured you had to be tired of four-star hotels and room service,” Gary chuckled. “And the fresh air is a bonus.”

“It seems Butterfly Harbor has plenty of that.” Definitely not four star. He fingered the clean yet old-fashioned curtains draping the French doors to a small terrace. Three stars, maybe.

Pushing open the French doors, he stared out into the vastness of the Pacific crashing against the shoreline below. Even in mid-July, a chill coated the morning air, but that was the California coast for you: unpredictable yet peacefully welcoming.

The deep ocean breath he took eroded some of the tension in his body. He should have come here straight from New York. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost forget...

“Do you think you were followed this time?” Gary asked in that borderline boisterous tone a 1920s gangster might have used.

“No.” He’d left Los Angeles in the dead of night. He’d have noticed if he’d been tailed. Besides, there hadn’t been a car in sight for the mile and a half after he’d taken the Butterfly Harbor turnoff. “No sign of any reporters or cameras. I might finally be in the clear now that I stopped using my credit cards. Thanks for getting me in here so quickly.” Not that booking a reservation would have been a problem.

“You call, I answer. Keeping you off the radar until you’re ready to come back is what’s important,” Gary said. “So are you going to ask?”

“About Corwin Brothers?” Jason’s stomach tightened into familiar knots as they fell into the months-old conversation about his family business. His former family business. “I don’t know how many ways I can say it. I’m done with all of it. The board of directors made that perfectly clear when they ousted me as chairman.” And that was after the National Cooking Network pulled his show off the air, the restaurant chain deal went into the toilet and his publisher decided to “wait awhile” on a new cookbook offer. The fact he’d lost all passion for the business, for the kitchen, for anything, really, since his brother, David, had died only added to his surrender.

“They ousted you because your father took advantage of your grief. He sold the board on the idea of a discount frozen food line when they couldn’t think straight, and now it’s tanking the company. This can’t sit right with you, Jason. Your father’s lack of understanding for what your grandfather wanted to build is the reason he left the company to you in the first place, and now what? You’re going to let Edward swoop in and kill what’s left?”

“You’re forgetting that it was my mistake that started this slide to begin with.” No, he didn’t like the idea his father was in charge. Edward Corwin was a cold, calculating and profit-driven man—he always had been. And he’d never forgiven the fact he’d been ignored in his father’s will. Jason leaned his arms on the railing and ducked his head. Frozen food. Discounted frozen food. Made with the cheapest ingredients from who knew what sources. Gary was right. It was a slap in the face to everything he and David had stood for, everything their grandfather had begun.

But Jason had sabotaged any hope of fighting his father and his arrogance and lack of sense. He didn’t have any fight left in him. His brother’s death had left him struggling. Depressed. Empty.

These days, Jason wasn’t even sure if he was trying to escape the mess he’d made of his life...or himself.

“Sometimes I can’t breathe, I miss David so much.”

Like now, when there was more air than he knew what to do with and he still couldn’t manage. It had been six months, and still, not an hour, not a minute passed when Jason didn’t feel as if a part of him had died with his twin brother. His best friend. His anchor.

Jason wasn’t supposed to be here without him.

He didn’t know how to be here without him.

Jason scrubbed a tired hand over the back of his neck. If only he’d gotten on that plane with David like he was supposed to. If only he hadn’t insisted on working late at the restaurant. Instead, he’d begged off the business trip that was meant to get the ball rolling on a deal that would have put JD’s restaurants in dozens of Lansing hotels around the country. David could handle it, Jason had told him hours before the crash. He didn’t need Jason and his acerbic attitude getting in the way of a potentially life-changing deal that would take them to the next level. The world had been opening up. Finally.

If only. If only...

Now everything they’d planned, everything they wanted was gone, and not only because David was. Because Jason had made mistake after mistake after mistake ever since.

Even now, six months later, his father wasn’t letting anyone forget about David’s death or Jason’s fall from the pinnacle of culinary success. The added Edward Corwin spin on the truth had kept the media far more interested than they should have been, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Whenever attention or headlines began to wane, his father gave yet another interview, another turn on the tragic loss of his son and the disgrace his surviving son had become. Somehow Edward had become the family martyr while Jason had done what he could to disappear.

Driving cross-country had helped, a little. Chopping off his trademark long hair and growing a beard, a little more. But Jason had never learned how to blend into a crowd. He hadn’t had to, because David had always been by his side, guiding him, supporting him.

Jason had lost the only person he’d ever been able to trust, aside from Gary, and that, Jason was only now coming to realize, made living a whole lot more difficult.

“Grief takes time, son,” Gary said in that fatherly tone Jason had spent most of his life wishing he’d hear from his own father. A tone reserved only for David, the son who could do no wrong. “People make mistakes,” Gary continued. “You Corwins have the nasty habit of forgetting you’re human. Crap happens. You’ll find a way out of this, Jason. I have faith in you. We’ll ride this out and you’ll be back on top where you belong.”

“On top or not, nothing’s going to be the same.” How could it be, without his brother? “You and I both know I never should have let Dad talk me into taking David’s place in that cooking competition.” And he never should have let himself get talked into using his sous chef’s dish. “I’ve never liked those contests. They bring out the worst in people. But it was the only thing he’s ever asked me to do.”

Despite his anguish, Jason had felt so proud, as if his father had finally seen Jason after a lifetime of living in David’s shadow. And what had Jason done? Surrendered to the pressure and screwed everything up royally by taking the easy way out. He’d wanted to win. Needed to win. By any means necessary.

And he’d destroyed his reputation in the process.

“Edward never should have asked you to do it. He knew you weren’t up to it. David hadn’t been gone two months...”

“But I did do it. Now I have to live with the consequences.” Which meant he was left on his own, hip deep in the worm-ridden compost pile that was, at one time, a very lucrative career. Now his grandfather’s dreams, his brother’s dreams, were on the verge of disappearing altogether and he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “I need to go, Gary.”

“Before you hang up.” Gary cleared his throat, an indication he’d been rehearsing whatever he was about to say next. “I thought you should know there’s a food festival coming your way in a few weeks. You should stick around long enough to check it out.”

His stomach rolled as if he’d eaten spoiled seafood. “There’s a what?” Jason considered chucking his phone into the ocean as his hands went clammy.

“It’s a new event they’re using to drum up business in the area. They’re calling it the By the Bay Food Festival. Coastal cuisines and wines, niche food companies looking to help small towns build up their presence in the tourist industry. Lots of local sponsorships. The National Cooking Network’s covering it for a series of specials later this year about small-town celebrations.”

“Suddenly Butterfly Harbor feels more like a setup than a hideaway.” Of course. Now the three-week booking made sense. “When are they due to show up?”

“Not sure, but so you know, Roger Evans is heading up the production crew. He’s, ah, been promoted. To assistant vice president of programming.”

“Great.” His former producer coming to town was the icing on the cake. Only the Best had been yanked from the airwaves days after word of Jason’s cheating hit the internet and sent the crew into unemployment overdrive. Leave it to Roger to come out ahead of the game. No doubt elevating Jason’s former sous chef to star status had assisted the producer up the ladder. “You do remember Roger and I didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“Maybe it’s time to rebuild that bridge now that he’s in a position to help you.”

Even Gary had to get tired of tilting at windmills sometime. “No one with NCN is going to want anything to do with a scandalized ex-chef.”