He stared at them. “The Christiansen family had a fistfight?”
“Yeah,” Ty said. “Sort of. I just know that Grace and her mom and sisters took off, and then Mr. Christiansen made all the guys reset the tables. We helped, but the sauces got started late and—”
“Has anyone made the bread?”
“I did,” the blonde said. “It’s cooling, about ready to slice.”
“And the pig?”
“Nearly roasted, sir,” said a girl with dark hair pulled up in a net.
“Ty, let’s get started on that sauce.”
But Ty just stood at the open cooler door. “We’re out of mangoes.”
“What else do we have?”
“I don’t know. Some ginger. Carrots. Red onions.” Ty looked at Max. “Four oranges and two limes and a coconut.”
“C’mon, chefs. Think outside the box.” Max went to the cooler, pulled out the ingredients. “If there’s one thing hanging with Grace Christiansen taught me, it’s that you have to reach out and try. You never know what is going to taste good.”
The words left his mouth, and he let them hang in the room.
Reach out and try.
He grabbed the bag of red onions and handed them to the blonde kitchen assistant. “Julienne these.” Then he shoved the carrots into the arms of the brunette. “Clean these and grate them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone find me a bottle of white wine.” He picked up the tray of oranges. “And a knife, please.”
Ty handed him a knife and he sliced the fruit in half. “I need these juiced.”
Max returned to the cooler, found garlic and the coconut. After he crushed and minced the garlic, he pulled out a pan and went to the stove. He retrieved the olive oil, added it to the pot, began to heat it.
“Onions!” The cutting board slid next to him, and he began to add them to the pot, stirring. He glanced at the clock.
The ceremony would be starting soon. Shoot, he should have left earlier, should have made his uncle wake him. He didn’t realize he’d overslept until they returned with a stringer of walleye and were frying them up for breakfast. The sweet camaraderie of his brother and his uncle had mended the wounds from the panic of the night before. Helped foster the courage to drive home and face Grace.
Max tossed the garlic in, and the tangy redolence curled around him. The onions turned translucent. “Carrots!”
Ty brought them over. “What are you making?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Really?”
“It’s going to be great, though.”
“What if you make a mistake?”
“Then we figure out something else, right? C’mon, buddy. Just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean it won’t be delicious.” The carrots sautéed to a beautiful, rich orange. “Get me the orange juice.”
He poured it into the pot, turned the heat down. Grabbed the white wine and added it. Added more. Put the top on. Okay, please let this work.
Please, please let this work.
Because his words to Ty sank in and suddenly seemed right—he and Grace might not have the right ingredients for happily ever after, but maybe they could make their own version of it.
Maybe the recipe wasn’t always worth following.
Maybe, in fact, it was time to improvise.
EDEN WOULD TAKE JACE’S BREATH AWAY. Grace stood behind her sister, pulling out her train, layers and layers of fluffy chiffon. “You are gorgeous.”
Eden seemed stunned herself, staring into the floor-length mirror. Her dress outlined her slim figure—a V-neck, cap sleeves, princess-style, with a cluster of fabric flowers at the bustle. Not overly beaded, just enough to catch the light. And in her hair, loosely twisted into a chignon at the nape of her neck, a simple veil that fanned out to her waist.
“He won’t be able to speak,” Grace said as she handed Eden her bouquet of orange-and-white roses, blue plumeria.
Eden met her eyes, then turned to Grace, catching her hand. “Are you okay?”
Grace tightened her jaw against a well of heat in her throat. She just had to keep breathing, keep focusing on Eden and her perfect day and everything she had in front of her and—
She pressed a hand to her mouth, looked away. “I don’t think so.” She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I’m so silly. It’s not like Max and I—” She shook her head. “We probably didn’t have a future anyway.”
“Why would you say that? Of course you did—you do. He loves you—even Jace can see that.” Eden touched her cheek. “But the bigger question is, do you love him?”
Grace drew in a trembling breath. “Yes. I do. He makes me feel as if I could do anything. Go anywhere. He makes me a better version of myself.”