“How’d she do?” Dev asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm as he made his way out of the office, down the hallway and into the kitchen. He’d run his fingers through his hair in a vain, mirrorless attack against bed head, in case Shea was still outside. A glance at his watch a minute earlier had told him he’d slept clean through the dinner rush, so he didn’t expect her to be. He didn’t think too hard about the compulsion to organize himself for her.
“She was brilliant,” Delilah said plainly, sparing Dev a brief glance as she Saran Wrapped something or other. It was late if she was the only one left cleaning up. The waiters ladled soups and plated desserts and tidied up those stations, but most of the cleaning fell to the chef.
“She had a ton of great ideas.” Delilah multitasked as she gushed. “She spent all afternoon helping me come up with a special that turned out to be a big hit. She gave me tips that fixed a few dishes, like, instantly.”
“I asked her whether she was a chef or something.” Dev riffed off of Delilah’s awe. “She brushed it off, said she just had some kind of talent. I’ve never seen any talent like that before.”
“Yeah, well…” Delilah looked up briefly and gave Dev a bit of a look. “She all but told me to stop letting you do the ordering. That extra-lean meat you insist on is half the problem.”
“What else did she say about me?” Dev tried to sound nonchalant.
Delilah lifted the vat of whatever she had just packed up. Dev backtracked, heading her off and opening the door to the walk-in. She set the vat down in the fridge with a sigh and a forearm wipe to her brow before answering with a distracted, “Nothing.”
Delilah seemed in no hurry to leave the cool confines of the fridge. She was sweating a bit and she seemed tired. But there was something more tonight, and there had been something more earlier as Dev had watched her huddled with Shea. It was something he hadn’t seen in his sister’s expression in weeks: a look of hope.
“Well, when is she coming back? Sounds like you’ll be needing her for a while. Maybe I’ll come by on Tuesdays and work with her on the order. You think she might—”
Dev stopped short when Delilah cut him off. “Uh-uh.”
Snapping out of brainstorming mode, he watched as his sister crossed her arms in front of her. Dev knew he was in trouble when she narrowed her eyes.
“Whuh-uh?” Dev asked, not really wanting to know what had Delilah in a snit.
“No growing feelings for Shea. You are, like, addicted to unavailable women.”
By the time Dev blinked in surprise, then frowned, Delilah was halfway out the door. He followed her back into the kitchen. The trail of words called over her shoulder followed behind her as she walked. “Look. She’s great—I get it. But something’s gonna go wrong. And, when it does, I don’t want things to get weird. Meeting more women like Shea isn’t why you came here. You came to figure your own shit out.”
By then, Dev’s hands were on his hips and he stopped just short of the counter, though Delilah continued to walk all the way around to the opposite side, where more cleanup awaited.
He’d heard this lecture before. Delilah had it in her head that Dev had a pattern with women—enigmatic types who felt complicated to him. According to his sister, he traded safe, sensible suitors for women who intrigued him—women who he could puzzle over and figure out. He’d made the mistake of admitting to Delilah once that he wouldn’t mind finding a woman who wanted the same things he did. Only, Delilah had her own interpretation of what that was.
“You’re right…” He said in a low voice. “Women like Shea aren’t what I came here for. I only said it’d be good for me to work with her on days when Silvio comes after you told me I suck at buying. As for whether I’ve “got my shit together,” I think it’s pretty safe to say I do. Whatever I’m suggesting now is for the benefit of the town. And don’t forget, I’m the one who brought her to you.”
Delilah rolled her eyes at Dev’s use of air quotes and seemed nonplussed by his retort.
“Please. I see her in the bakery every day. You just happened to trip on her talent. Now, just leave it at that and don’t mess things up.”
Dev shook his head, incredulous once more.
“Why would I do anything to ruin her helping us? We all stand to benefit from what she can do. If the food actually gets better, she’ll be a local hero.”
“Fine, then.” Delilah’s hand came to her hip. She lifted her chin in defiance and, with narrowed eyes, huffed out a short sigh. “If your intentions are purely professional, then turn off that stupid charm.”
“You think Shea finds me charming?” Dev had too little shame in that moment to be embarrassed by the hopefulness in his voice.
Delilah leveled a hard glare and completely ignored his question. “You have enough on your plate without adding a flirtation to all of that. You might try coming off as less available.”
“So, you think Shea wants me to be available to her…”
Delilah rolled her eyes. Whatever. She was too fun to mess with.
“I’m serious, Dev. Both of you are doing the flirty-eye thing. It’s all fun and games ’til somebody gets hurt.”
“Hey. Chill,” Dev said. “All I did was ask when she was coming back.”
Delilah gave him a look. “It’s insulting when you underestimate my powers of perception.”
Dev crossed his arms. “You’re making it sound like I want to marry the woman.”
Delilah shook her head. “I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is, I need her. And I like her. Please don’t let all your weird issues mess that up for me.”
Delilah sighed and put her hand on her hips. Suddenly, she looked even more tired than she had before in the walk-in. Bone tired, like he had been six hours before.
“Look,” she said. “I’m bitchy right now. I’m tired and it’s been a long day. But I meant what I said—I need her to help me, not be too distracted by you. Just…” she sighed again. “Focus on the investigation. And, in the meantime, let me have a helper and a friend. She’s the coolest person to come to town in a while.”
15
The Sisterhood
Shea
“Sorry I’m late.” Shea felt as frantic walking into The Big Spoon as she had an hour earlier when she’d awakened in a panic well past noon. She’d lain awake for hours thanks to an irritable thunderstorm that kept her tossing and turning until 6:00 AM. She’d become dependent on the television as a sleep aid to keep her from freaking out about being up there all alone. Only, during the storm, the electricity had gone out.
What had followed was a night so terrifying, she could barely remember its like. Humans weren’t meant to live alone in houses made of glass. The white lie she’d told Brody about knowing how to use the generator was coming back to haunt her. And she’d come to terms with something she’d resisted admitting for weeks: she wasn’t enduring solitude very well.
“Sorry you’re late?” Delilah didn’t spare a glance from the bunch of basil she was slicing—wise, given the sharpness of her santoku knife. “Says the woman who’s been working four days a week, three hours a day and still refuses to be paid a penny?”