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  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 by Maven Publishing - All rights reserved.

  All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  Becca Rogers surveyed the organized chaos of her commercial kitchen with great satisfaction, the sights, sounds and heavenly scents a source of pleasure for her that never grew old. She had dreamed about having her own catering business for years while trapped in a cold, loveless marriage with a man who believed that a ring on his woman’s finger meant a figurative shackle on her ankle. Lacey Kellington had done her an incredible favor when she had an affair with Simon, Becca’s control-freak ex, but she still despised the woman for making her feel unwanted and insignificant.

  “We’ll be ready to load the truck in 15 minutes, Becca,” Katie Simms, her best friend and catering manager breezed by with a clipboard. Katie had been with her since the early days, when their meager earnings had barely been enough to pay the rent. She had been a constant driving force in the business, as well as a shoulder to cry on when things got tough, which they often did in the beginning. Becca, for better or worse, had told Simon that he could take his money and shove it when they divorced, she’d succeed or fail on her own. She left his estate with her clothing, the car that she had bought after graduating from culinary school, and a cantankerous feline named Poppy, whose thick tabby-striped fur had absorbed many bitter tears. Katie had chastised her soundly, telling her that she should take the pompous bastard for every dime that she could squeeze out of him, but had stood by her naïve and idealistic friend every step of the way.

  Becca nodded, pleased that, as usual, everything was on schedule for the seafood spread that her team would be laying out at one of the finest homes in Cape Cranston. Her favorite events were the authentic clambakes on the beach, where the kitchen staff dug the steaming pits, cooked and served everything oceanside, but it was a little early in the season for that. At present, one still needed a sweater rather than shorts and a swimsuit. The party tonight was formal, which necessitated a more upscale presentation for the food, and the staff had their tuxedos cleaned, pressed and ready to go, traveling to the site in a separate van.

  “Let’s do this,” Becca grinned at Katie and headed for the loading dock to supervise the operation. Large containers of delicious-smelling delights were packed into coolers, warmers, and boxes to keep them stable for transport. The set-up team had gone out earlier in the day to prepare the cooking, heating and serving areas, so everything was ready for the arrival of the food. They would have exactly two hours before the guests arrived, and Becca estimated that they’d only need half that. When the truck was loaded and on the road, Becca climbed into the passenger seat of the staff van while Katie drove. The commercial kitchen at the Thornton estate was a hive of activity in preparation for the evening festivities, and Becca left Katie to oversee production while she went in search of Lenora Thornton in order to go over any last minute requests or details that the matriarch might have. She had the good luck to run into the grand dame’s assistant when she left the kitchen, and the efficient young man led her to Lenora’s study.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Rogers,” the societal maven glanced at Becca over the top of her reading glasses briefly before continuing to pore over her copious notes. “I trust everything is in order?” she asked absently, not bothering to make eye contact.

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Thornton,” Becca assured her. “We’re putting on the final touches and will be ready to serve the moment that your guests begin to arrive.”

  The woman gave her a withering look over the top of her glasses before taking them off and tossing them on the desk in front of her. “I certainly hope so, Ms. Rogers,” the elderly woman raised an eyebrow imperiously. “I’d hate to have to use an out-of-town caterer for future events,” she threatened, waving at her dismissively. Becca was mildly taken aback, but had grown to have quite a thick skin when it came to dealing with the entitled class.

  Lenora’s assistant stepped forward on cue and touched Becca’s arm politely, gesturing at the door. “Ms. Rogers,” he said, guiding her from the study.

  “Thank you,” she nodded to the assistant, ignoring the lady of the house entirely as the elegant old crone put her readers back on and resumed perusing her notes.

  **

  “How are we looking?” Becca asked Katie when she went back to the relative safety of the kitchen. Dealing with clients after an event was always a pleasure. They generally raved about the high quality of the food, presentation and service, tipping generously in most cases, but prior to an event, they were often suspicious, stressed and salty, much like Lenora Thornton had been. Becca had learned how to shrug off the indignity of being frowned at, sneered at, yelled at, belittled and looked down upon – it was just an unpleasant part of the business that paid off eventually. She went to great lengths to ensure client satisfaction, and had actually turned down a handful of jobs because she knew she’d never be able to please the client due to what she graciously labeled as “their different approaches to event planning.” Her reputation was second to none, and she’d become so sought after among the yacht and tennis set that she was booked as long as a year or two in advance. So, despite her occasionally unpleasant pre-event encounters, she took the good with the bad and thanked her lucky stars that she’d been able to make it.

  “Looking great,” Katie’s eyes sparkled. These events were a high for her. She was a type-A personality that liked nothing more than having all of her ducks in a row, and when an event came together as planned, she was on top of the world.

  “As usual,” Becca grinned at her friend’s exuberance, and went to give final instructions to the serving staff. Wearing understated formal attire herself, she would circulate among the staff and partygoers, making certain that glasses and plates were being filled in a timely manner, that special requests were being attended to, and that guests were happily drinking, eating and exclaiming over the exquisite repast. She maintained a low profile during these events, preferring to stay in the background. Having been forced to play the part of adoring wife at enough of these types of functions, she knew that often the smiles were only skin deep and the backstabbing social treachery was real. As a girl from humble circumstances who had married into the morass of societal expectation, she had been entirely unprepared for the glitz, glamor and smug facades of the privileged class, not finding it at all to her liking. The upside to her brief experience as an uptown girl is that she now knew how her clients typically behaved and why, making troubleshooting their experiences a lot easier. She made her rounds, checking in with each server to make certain that they were perfectly clear as to their roles for the evening, and once satisfied, returned to th
e kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before the guests began to arrive. Katie would oversee the event from the kitchen, where she was far more comfortable, and between the two hard-working and savvy gals, the event would go off without a hitch.

  “Here we go,” Becca thought to herself, peering out the kitchen window and seeing the long line of limos and expensive foreign automobiles snaking in from the front gate and disappearing out of sight in front of the mansion, where uniformed valets greeted the guests with ultimate decorum. Photographers were present to capture candids of any celebrities who might be on the guest list, and divas in glittering gowns accompanied by well-suited suitors glided up the front steps in droves. Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she fluffed her short, stylish auburn locks, pasted on her most demure professional smile and entered the fray, her sharp, emerald-green eyes taking in every empty glass and half eaten hors d’oeuvre. She smiled with satisfaction – the food and beverage aspect of the event was moving along like a well-oiled machine. The best people in the business were on the job and it showed.

  Chapter 2

  Becca had just gone back to the kitchen for a moment to check on the status of the hot hors d’oeuvres supplements, and when she came back out into the main ballroom, a blonde gazelle of a woman who was facing away from her, turned suddenly, bumping into her and spilling what looked like a lemon-drop martini all over the front of Becca’s simple black cocktail dress. She blanched, then turned a furious red from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears when the now-familiar blonde turned upon her with contempt.

  “Becca Rogers! I should’ve known it would be you bumping into me so rudely,” she snarled haughtily. “What on earth are you doing at Lenora Thornton’s party anyway?” she asked, looking Becca up and down with utter disgust. “Oh right, I completely forgot... you’re the help,” the icy blonde sneered, while the handsome dark-haired man that she was with raised his eyebrows, curiously. “Quit wasting time and go do your job - get me another drink and be quick about it, or I’ll have to inform Lenora about your inexcusable rudeness.” Becca gritted her teeth and held her head high. Had she known that Lacey Kellington, Simon’s new wife, was going to be present, she most likely would’ve switched places with Katie and presided over the function from the kitchen. She did wonder about the familiarity between Lacey and her current companion, the two interacted like more than friends, which she found interesting considering that Lacey and Simon had only been married a matter of months.

  Becca clamped a lid on her anger, knowing that the vindictive wretch would indeed use any excuse that she could find to try to diminish her success.

  “I’d be happy to,” Becca lied coolly. “What would you like?” She couldn’t bring herself to smile, but she kept her tone as neutral as possible under the circumstances.

  “Champagne,” Lacey smirked, “and make it snappy.” Becca’s eyes flashed fire at her insolence, but she maintained her dignity and turned to the gentleman at Lacey’s side.

  “And for you sir?” she inquired, bracing herself for an equal measure of rudeness.

  “I’ll have the same, thanks,” he looked at her in a way that could only be described as apologetic, which threw her for a moment. Recovering quickly, she nodded.

  “My pleasure,” she lied again, and headed quickly for the kitchen.

  “What happened to you?” Katie asked, dismayed at the sight of Becca’s sodden cocktail frock.

  Becca filled her in briefly as she dabbed at her dress, her friend’s eyes narrowing in anger at the unspeakable behavior from Simon’s bride.

  “Do you want me to deliver the drinks?” she asked, mouth set in an angry line.

  “And give her the satisfaction of thinking that she scared me off? No way!” Becca gritted her teeth. “I’d just as soon get in my car and run without ever looking back, but I refuse to let her best me,” she said, determined.

  “Okay, but I’ll be watching in case you need back-up,” her friend promised, giving her a quick hug.

  Becca re-entered the ballroom, with a glass of expensive champagne in each hand. She handed the first one to the man who was still at Lacey’s side, receiving a cordial ‘thank you,’ then turned to her nemesis with the other.

  “Here you go, Lacey,” she said politely, offering the glass.

  The vile woman regarded her with contempt. “How dare you act familiar with me? Do you call the other guests by their first name? Of course not, because that’s not your place, Kitchen Girl. You’re not good enough to be at a party like this, and you weren’t even good enough to hold onto a man like Simon, you pathetic little wannabe,” she hissed, her face inches from Becca’s. “Give me that glass, then trot back to the scullery where you belong, Cinderella.”

  Fury rose up within Becca like a flood, entirely eclipsing any remaining shred of good sense and propriety and in a split-second, she dumped the champagne down the plunging neckline of Lacey’s dress, saying, “I’d rather be the kitchen help than a home-wrecking slut,” and turning to leave before she could see the look of amusement and admiration on the face of the blonde’s escort.

  Striding through the kitchen on the verge of tears, her face burning, Becca wasn’t even aware of the shock that she had inspired in Katie, as her friend stared at her open-mouthed, having witnessed the entire scene. She handed Katie the invoices that would need to be signed at the end of the night and made her way out the back door and down the winding lane that led to the street. There was always a contingent of cabs at events like this, for the lesser nobility who didn’t have a full-time limo and driver, so Becca climbed into the back of one and gave directions to her beach house.

  Once safely inside, Becca gave in to the tears that had been threatening, leaning against the front door and sinking to the floor, her head in her hands. Poppy mewed at her mournfully and bumped the top of her furry head lightly against Becca’s shins. What she had done was stupid, she knew it at the time, and now that the heat of the moment had passed, the potential implications of her impulsive behavior flooded her conscience, leaving her weak and feeling beaten.

  Chapter 3

  “Did Lenora say anything about what happened?” Becca demanded, worried, when Katie called the next morning to brief her on how the rest of the evening had gone.

  “Nope, she didn’t mention a thing. Maybe Lacey left without telling her,” her friend replied hopefully.

  Becca grimaced. “No, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” she sighed. “Lacey isn’t going to bypass this opportunity to try and make me look unprofessional. I was crazy to let her get to me like that,” she shook her head, disgusted with herself.

  “Yeah, it probably wasn’t the smartest move,” Katie agreed reluctantly, “but that doesn’t mean that she didn’t deserve every drop of it and more.”

  “I’m supposed to rise above that kind of petty stuff,” she continued to beat herself up. “Goodness knows I had several years of practice.”

  “Well, what’s done is done, there’s no sense worrying about it,” her best friend and assistant responded pragmatically. “Your reputation as a business woman in this community is well-established, and I’d be willing to bet that Lacey’s reputation as a snide little wretch is probably pretty well-known too.”

  “Well, time will tell, I suppose,” Becca mused before hanging up. Katie was right, the best thing that she could do was to just keep moving forward. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door. There were new clients to meet, menus to plan and work to be done, and there was no time like the present.

  **

  Becca stopped on her way into the office for a bagel and a cup of coffee, munching and sipping contentedly in the car. When she pulled up to the tiny, shingle-covered bungalow that had been weathered grey by the salt air, she was surprised to see Katie peeking out of the blinds. Spotting Becca’s car, she came out and grabbed her by the arm, quickly ushering her inside.

  “Becca, you’re not going to believe this!” she whispered, clearly upset about
something.

  She hung her purse and sweater on the coat-rack in the corner and placed her coffee and bagel remains on her desk. “What’s going on?” she asked, trying not to be alarmed at Katie’s manner.

  “The police came by here first thing this morning, they just left,” she proclaimed, somewhat melodramatically.

  Becca was baffled. “The police came by here? But...why?”

  The two women were interrupted by a short knock and the entrance of her head chef, Julio. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Rogers, but there is a Mr. Simon here, and he said he needs to see you, it’s urgent. What should I tell him?”

  “Simon is here?” she wondered, shocked and worried. When she and Simon had divorced, both went their separate ways, neither looking back. She hadn’t had so much as a call or text from him in more than a year, and she was just as happy to keep it that way. An unexpected visit must mean something profound had happened, he wasn’t exactly the drop-by-to-say-hi type. “Katie, we’ll continue this conversation in a minute, okay? I’ll be back soon,” she promised, not sure she wanted to know why her ex-husband was standing in her reception area.

  “Simon,” she acknowledged the uncharacteristically bedraggled man parked miserably in one of her cordovan leather club chairs, making certain that her face remained without expression.

  “Becca,” he stood. “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, but I didn’t know who to talk to, so out of habit, more than anything else, I came looking for you.”

  “What’s going on, Simon?” she asked, maintaining her flat affect.

  “I was...I was out of town last night...on business,” he said haltingly, sounding strangely defensive. “When I came in, it was late, and I knew that Lacey would be resting after Lenora’s party, so I stayed downstairs and slept on the couch.” He took a deep breath, as though trying to compose his emotions. Strange behavior for a man who never seemed to show any emotion, aside from the occasional bout of frustration or disdain.