Well, she was screwed. "Couldn't be a quiz on cheese or anything could it?" Gwen turned to Ty as if he'd appreciate a small amount of humor, but he didn't.

"Chef Gaspard insisted on Black Box. And on a little bigger scale."

Bigger scale? She'd almost keeled over when she was cooking for two and spotted that orange. What if this time it really was a potato and a kiwi? And she had to cook for..."How, how much bigger?"

"The dean wanted to be a judge also. It's fair that way, really, to get more than two or three opinions. Chef Gaspard and, of course, I'll be there..." her voice trailed off and Gwen had a sick feeling in her stomach, the stress of cooking for others already ratcheting through her system.

"And since it's the last day before Christmas break... the president and his office staff, and the board of trustees also wanted to come in and see the new program. Chef Gaspard's been keeping them out, so now, well, they're in."

Ty didn't blink. "The kitchen facility isn't large enough."

"We'll actually be using the cafeteria."

"The cafeteria?" Gwen fought the vision of the last time she'd been in that kitchen. And fired.

Ty waved his arm like he was already practicing French drama. "That's a sub-par facility. I don't even need to see it to know that. Chef Gaspard knows that. I can't cook in there."

Deb ignored his complaint. "You'll have the shoulder time, which on Sundays is between brunch and dinner. You'll have from one until five, and you'll need to assemble a small crew. You'll be serving in the adjoining banquet room and be out before the regular kitchen staff comes in to prepare for the cafeteria's last dinner of the semester."

Ty seemed to be tracking everything Deb said. "We need a banquet room, for what, ten people?"

"Well," Deb cleared her throat, "the faculty's Christmas party..."

Gwen pictured the cavernous room teaming with judges, mean academic ones, the kind who didn't get out much but still managed to be way too snooty about wine and seafood. They were the kind who graded on a curve and only gave the one smartest kid in the class an A and only if he were a great suck-up, and she was beginning to think that chocolate lava cake Aussie boy was a great suck-up. And they gave everybody else in the room D's and then one hardworking drone got a C. She'd get a C, a C! And being average wouldn't do her a damn bit of good because you either won it or you lost it, and she'd done nothing but lose for too damn long. There was no second place in a competition for a winning life. Of course, technically, she'd be second place because there were only two of them, but she'd get nothing, have nothing, be nothing.

"Gwen, got it?"

"Got what?" She looked from Deb to Ty. "Sorry. I'm just surprised and, you know," she leaned in, "scared."

Ty patted her arm. "It'll be fine. We've been trained by the best." He smiled at Deb, who didn't respond.

Gwen nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just, wow. I can't believe it. Money for school and Paris and we're tied."

Ty lost his smile.

"Oh, I didn't mean..."

He rose, seemed to deliberately relax his shoulders. "No worries."

"No worries." She watched him leave and turned to Deb. "Does that help?"

"Nothing helps."

"Oh good, 'cause I was starting to get my hopes up." She got up and headed to the door. "Thanks, Deb."

Deb waved it off.

"Really. Thanks for seeing that I could do it before I did."

"You don't see it now."

Gwen gave a humorless laugh. "You are good."

Good for her. Max scrolled down the email announcing the faculty Christmas party. He hoped Gwen beat that Aussie asshole. Beat him into the ground, the bloody little pip.

He sat back in his chair, heard the creak of it, and wished it didn't make the silent office feel even more empty. He rolled the computer mouse up to the delete icon's red X. He was nothing but happy for Gwen. She'd go on, finish school, get a great job, and recover from the not much that had become so much to him. They were friends. Hadn't she said that on his own god damn back porch? Friends. And then not even that after she fired off with Ellen and Missy.

So he'd wanted to push her a little, bring Nicola around to get Gwen to admit something, maybe appreciate what was happening between them. What was happening, apparently, with him alone. She'd wanted friendship and a couple times an itch scratched. He'd sure as hell done that, hadn't he? He'd made her beg, scream, see Elvis. Well, he'd seen Elvis that one time with her and the headboard.

Damn.

The email, all black and white, announced Gwen's future, her life without him. He'd had his chance once, then twice. But maybe he hadn't really blown it at all. She just didn't feel the same way he did, driven to his knees crazy for her. She'd always tied him up, even when tied down scared him shitless. He'd been ready this time, as ready as he could be. Hell, he'd never done it before.

But for this chance with Gwen, he'd stood in line for it. Yeah, I'll take that. Sign me up. I'm in. He'd been in, dammit. And he'd called. Hell, the least she could do was pick up once. If a guy did something that cold, Gloria Steinem herself would show up and kick his ass. But let a woman refuse to explain her goddamn self, and it was okay. She was just taking care of herself or some other horse shit.

He clicked the red X, watched the message disappear in a heartbeat. But it didn't feel gone at all. He hit delete over and over, erasing god knows what other messages, but he wasn't going to stop until the screen was as empty as everything else.

Before Gwen left Deb's office, Ty had already enlisted the entire group of second year students and speed-dialed everyone else. His crew consisted of future chefs of the world and a couple of ringers she was pretty sure were already working professionals.

She had, God help her, the boys. She wouldn't even have Annie there, who'd at least been trained a little. Annie's parents, the attorney pair who'd given up on their son but expected Annie to follow them to law school, were picking her up. Gwen was sorry to miss meeting the brother, but not so much the parents.

And there was no Missy beside her either, not that they'd talked, but she'd be taking off to her dad's or grandma's. Well, Gwen didn't need relatives. Relatives were over-rated, but winning wasn't.

She looked across the kitchen, divided in half with a strip of masking tape, courtesy of Jason, who assured her it would psych Ty out. Ty didn't look psyched out. He waited with his band of pros and Mranda, who wouldn't live to see dawn if she cheered even once. But even with one amateur, improperly dressed in purple suede pumps, his crew looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. There was a reason the Olympic games were limited to non-professionals. It could never be a fair fight. She was like one of those scrawny guys sent by their country with money from a bake sale.

"Okay." She needed to address the team, prepare them for the worst ahead.

"Gwen!" Annie came around the serving line, and Gwen wanted to hug her and not let go. And right behind had to be her parents, judging by their nearly matching sport jackets. But before Annie introduced her to the attorney pair, she waved behind them and her brother stepped closer. Taller than Annie, but not much broader, Gwen knew who he was because he had Annie's eyes.

Annie signed to him while she talked, her hands fluidly making language in the air. "This is Gwen. She taught me to make those muffins I sent you. And she's the one who told me I didn't have to--" Annie looked at her parents and made three gestures in her open left palm that looked like an L and something else and then both hands came down parallel in front of her body. If that wasn't a sign for lawyer, Gwen would give up muffins.

Gwen smiled at him, but was jostled aside by Guy who signed wildly at Annie, the two of them and then her brother, seeming to talk at the same time, their hands like six birds taking flight.

Annie's mother smiled apologetically. "I don't know what they're saying."

Gwen didn't care because seeing them was enough. Annie lit up, and her brother grinned back at Guy who had happy tears in his eyes. It was a pleasure to see.

Deb waved at her, and Gwen understood the black box was coming.

Annie hugged Guy and tried to hug Gwen, the three of them making a circle until Gwen let them both go and watched Annie sign while she spoke. "Guy has some hearing loss, and he's Norwegian just like we thought. He went to school in Norway after his family moved from China. His Dad's a scientist and came here last year. Isn't that great? Hey, Gwen, after the break will you teach me how to make lefse and stuff?" She signed to Guy, smiled. "He loves lefse." She teared up. "He loves me."

Guy grinned and signed while he spoke. "Jeg er ikke en gratis fugel, fyr."

Gwen waited, and Annie turned to her blushing. "He's not a free bird, dude." They all laughed and then Gwen heard a rumble across the linoleum floor. The black box was on its way.

"Oh, Gwen, you need Guy to stay here and help you."

"No, I... you go on. I'm fine."

Annie hugged her. "See you after Christmas."

Gwen could only hope she would.

The rumble got louder, but Gwen ignored it and watched Annie and Guy leave with Annie's family. Besides, she really didn't want to see her future coming. It was loud. How big could it be? She slowly turned her head and saw a four-tiered rolling shelving unit, a little disappointed, again, that it wasn't an actual box. Its twin made its way to the other side of the kitchen where Ty confronted it with legs wide, like he was the captain of a ship.

When hers stopped, she noted the chicken, red peppers, carrots, lettuce, several bunches of fresh herbs, stock, flour, butter, white wine, plum tomatoes, a package of anchovies, olives, three kinds of onions, and another unrhymable orange. She watched Jason take a green bean off a shelf, place it above his mouth and curl his lip to make a mustache. She was the captain of her own destiny, and she was going down with the ship.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Use a subtle hand when dealing with ingredients that pack a punch.

She'd set up Jason to chop herbs. He might be safe doing that. Bryan was in charge of vegetable cleaning and peeling, and for Hayden she'd roughed out a recipe for a shallot and orange vinaigrette to dress the salad.

Fifteen minutes into her four hours she was second guessing the Chicken Provencal, but three hours into it, she thought she just might have a winner. The tomato-based sauce smelled earthy and rich with the smidge of anchovy paste she'd made from a... well, seriously violated anchovy. She'd never been a fan of the little fish, but when it was time to coat the golden chicken breasts with the sauce pan's delight, people would swoon.

She'd even stopped looking over at Ty. One hour left and she didn't want to know what he was up to with the Iron Chef Gang. By now he'd probably brought the chicken back to life and had it doing circus tricks with tomatoes.

She leaned over Jason's shoulder at the mountains of herbs he'd chopped. She wasn't going to use more than a pinch of each pile, but he deserved a scout badge. "Good work, Jason. The carpal tunnel will be worth it."

He flexed his right hand and grinned at her.

Walking over to check on Hayden, she saw him jerk toward the serving line, nearly knocking over the jug of vinaigrette he'd made. She steadied it before it rocked all the way over and followed his line of sight to Missy. Her daughter had come after all and everything would be alright. She could win even. She had chicken ready to be Provencaled. She had the boys to help, and Annie and Guy on their way to happiness, and Missy beside her. Followed by... Gwen's heart overflowed with the abundance of people who loved her, her own dear mother come to help and... Steve.

She walked over to the cart, grabbed a half empty bottle of wine, poured it into a mostly empty coffee mug, and took a big drink.

"We've come to help, Gwennie."

She watched Ellen look around, ready to pitch in, ready to offer all that she could even after Gwen had ignored her for weeks. "Mom, I owe you an apology, and I--" She felt herself held tightly by the wild woman who had always been there for her and never failed to mother her in unusual and wonderful ways. The scent of Fellipe of Beverly Hills comforted her, and she whispered. "I missed you."

"You're a good girl, Gwennie, and you're turning out quite nicely."

Gwen laughed. Weeks away from forty, and she was turning out quite nicely. She'd take that.

Behind her she heard Steve clear his throat, stepped back, and tipped her head in his direction. "What's up with him?"

Ellen shrugged in apology. "He had the wheels."

"Oh, well that's better." She'd just ignore him then. She'd focus and not let... She watched Bryan put his hand low on Missy's back, guiding her to the nearest stool. "Hey, Missy, why don't you help Hayden dress the salad? I put him in charge of it because he's so reliable."

Hayden whispered, "Reliable? That's not helping, Venus. I'm this close to getting her to take Advanced Music Theory with me." He crossed his fingers. "It's the seven modes of the Diatonic Scale."

Ellen patted his arm. "Every pot has a lid."

But Missy walked past Hayden and stopped in front of her looking both irritated and hurt. "Stay out of it, Mom. You think you know, but you don't. I mean, you married an insurance salesman, and you didn't make that work."

Steve gave Missy his wise father hmmm. "That's an interesting point, Missy."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Not helping."

"Got it," he made a gun motion with his right hand, "here to help."

Gwen couldn't believe her own daughter would suggest that she hadn't tried to make the marriage work. "We had two decades together, Missy. Your father was reliable for a long time." She nodded at him. He could back her up on this one, and she could stop herself from pointing out the obvious reason their run had ended.

He walked over to stand beside her. "Your mom's right, Missy. We'd still be together if there hadn't been other circumstances."

Gwen snorted, felt her eyes roll involuntarily. No, she wasn't going to have it out with him there in the cafeteria when she needed to put the finishing touches on the... "Other circumstances? Is that today's euphemism for other woman?"

Steve gave her the half-smile he used on anyone without term life insurance. "I think we both know there wasn't another woman."

He said it with such earnestness that she studied his face to see if he was telling the truth. She knew him well enough to see that he really meant it. So why had he... "Oh my god, you're gay!"

His mouth hung open in shock.

But it all added up. Did it all add up? "You have that pink tie. I could never figure out why you wanted that damn tie. You were trying to tell me, weren't you?"

Missy's eyes were huge. "I have a gay dad?"

"No!" A shudder ran through Steve. "And the tie is salmon."

"Dude," Jason shook his head, "only a gay guy would know that."

Gwen reached for another coffee cup, poured wine into it and handed it to Steve. He took it and shook his head. "I love women. I love you, Gwen. I just left you first, that's all."

She took a gulp of the coffee flavored wine and looked around the large kitchen for a private spot. There was only one room that had a door, so she dragged him into the walk-in cooler.

When they stepped in, Steve held up his coffee cup and checked all around, probably to make sure none of the raw food touched him. "Are we drinking now?"

She was. She took a drink from her mug and knew that it would stay chilled in there, but there was a reason coffee kiosks did not offer wine-flavored lattes. She set it down on the metal shelving unit between a stack of eggs with wavy purple cardboard between the layers and a three foot long block of cheddar cheese. The cafeteria should buy cheddar-jack instead. It wasn't any more expensive, but it added color and flavor. She'd have to stop doing that.

She took a deep breath. "What did you mean by you left first?"

"Gwen." He turned sideways. The long, narrow space was lined with shelves and barely wide enough for one body, let alone two. "Missy's whole senior year, anybody could see you were checking out. You'd raised her, and you were both getting ready to leave. All the signs were there. You stopped ironing my shirts, having sex with me, making that bacon and egg thing I like. A man notices these things. I wasn't going to let you fire me. I quit."