Winning Her Heart

Helen, who was delighted at having a grandchild, and a girl at that, frowned.

“She’s barely six months old. A cold could be dangerous. Was she seen by a doctor?”

“Yes, the very best,” Gregory replied. “Her grandfather.”

Helen closed her eyes briefly. “Of course she’d be seen by Vanessa’s father. He’s still chief of emergency, isn’t he?”

Gregory nodded. “Yes, and refuses to retire.”

“Likely because he would find himself with a new job, as your full-time babysitter,” Marlon drawled.

“Vanessa enjoys being at home,” Gregory shot back in a peeved tone. “Jewel is always happy to help out on our date nights.”

“She’s a nice woman,” Helen replied. “I’m glad you get along with your mother-in-law.”

Gregory gave her a kiss on the cheek, teasing. “I’m glad she gets along with you.”

She turned away. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m easy to talk to.”

“In a crowd, perhaps, but not at home,” Marlon said, knowing everyone agreed with him. “You can be moody, Mom.”

“Why do you think Dad has to have two drinks before dinner?” Micah piped in.

“No,” his father insisted, drawing out the word. “It’s because I like them.”

“Wrong, Theo.” Helen placed a hand on his arm. “You like your little scotch and waters because you like to be right, and sometimes, when your sons or I am around, you have to admit you’re wrong.”

Micah popped on his phone. “It’s six o’clock. Time to go inside and chow down. I want to stop by the restaurant space and check it out before it gets too dark.”

The family left the patio and went through the living room to the formal dining room where Ginny Binslow, the Langstons’ longtime personal chef, was about to serve dinner. Micah didn’t know exactly how old she was, but she was like a second mother to him.

“I cooked your favorites,” she said, brown eyes in a round face gleaming. “Roast pork, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and apple pie.”

“Thanks, you’re a doll.” Micah greeted her warmly with a peck on each cheek. “And if you want to hightail it out of this place, you know who to call.”

Ginny was the one who introduced him to a love of cooking by letting him help her prepare the meals at a very young age. He made his first Thanksgiving turkey by age seven, and won his first baking contest at age ten. She’d inspired and encouraged him to become a chef, much to the dismay of Helen, who only set foot in the kitchen to get to the second wing of the estate.

“Stop trying to steal Ginny,” Helen commanded, as they gathered around the large oak table.

Theo and Helen each sat at a head of the table, Gregory and Marlon on the side closest to the windows, and Micah opposite them. He felt like his two brothers were about to play good cop, bad cop, but at least he had a great view of the Pacific.

“Yeah, I’m hoping he’ll steal the hearts of Bay Pointers with his fabulous food,” Gregory said, accepting a platter of pork from Theo.

“If you need an architect, I know just the person. Liza Marbet. She designed the new cosmetic surgery clinic that opened six months ago. Her husband, Anthony owns it.”

“They had a huge gala there to celebrate the grand opening,” Gregory said. “Mom was in her element.”

“Dr. Marbet is a brilliant plastic surgeon. Although I don’t need their services, I did stop in to take a look,” Helen said. “It’s spa-like modern with clean lines and just enough oomph to make the space seem very personal.”

“Sounds nice, but I’ve got to get clearance on some building permits before I think about design.”

“I can take care of that, bro.” Gregory said. “Whatever you need.”

Micah dug in to his mashed potatoes and thought a moment before saying his next words. He didn’t want to offend his brother, but he had to make a few things clear.

“Gregory, I just want to make sure that nobody in town finds out about this project.”

His brother chewed, swallowed and stared at him. The other members of his family did the same.

“What’s the big secret?” Theo barked, waving a fork in the air. “Any new restaurant is great for business downtown. Yours is sure to be an instant hit.”

“More restaurants equal more competition, and some businesses can’t handle that,” Micah replied, surprised at his father’s positive comment. Maybe he was slowly coming around to the fact that his son was happy being a chef.

“I think he’s worried about generating buzz before any real decisions have been made,” Marlon guessed. “At this point, all you’ve done is buy the building.”

“Not me, personally,” Micah corrected. “It was purchased by a shell company managed by my business partners in order to make it difficult to trace back to me, to protect my privacy. But you’re right, I really need to keep a lid on this, and I’ll need everyone’s help.”

“We won’t tell a single living soul,” Helen said, patting his hand as her eyes met those of her husband and sons. “The Langston’s always stick together.”

Marlon made a big show of twisting his fingers to his mouth and fake-throwing away the key. He yowled when Gregory nudged him in the ribs. Even though he was the oldest, sometimes he was the least serious.

“The nondisclosure agreement the city signed helps, too,” Gregory affirmed. “But of course the family won’t breathe a word.”

Micah thanked them, and they continued with the meal.

The sun had nearly set over the Pacific, rendering the sky in painted stripes of orange and pink over twilight blue.

He had second helpings while Gregory and Theo argued over political issues, both local and national. Helen and Marlon talked about the books they were reading. He stayed quiet, and found his thoughts turning to Jasmine.

After dinner, he begged off coffee and left to go back downtown to check out the interior space, which he’d only seen in photos. To avoid any possibility of being seen by Jasmine, he would park in the alley behind the building and enter through the back door.

On his way there, he thought about his family. How he wished he could tell them the real reason why they had to keep his secret.

That a woman he barely knew had made his heart race, and his body heat, and he was already worried.

About her. About him. About their future.

* * *

Jasmine splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would perk her up. She’d been on the clock for over fourteen hours. Her feet hurt, her clothes were sweaty and her mood was dark.

When she told her closest friends she was leaving New Orleans to work in her grandmother’s restaurant, she’d laughed when they told her she was making a mistake.

She wasn’t laughing now.

They were building successful careers in business, law and medicine, while she was building blisters between her toes.

She grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. It was nights like these, of which there were many, that she questioned her decision, and others, like hanging up on Micah. Disappointment spiraled through her whenever she thought about not hearing from him again.