Seven Days Destinations: Seven Days, #6

Seven Days Destinations

a Seven Days novel

Ruth Hay

www.ruthhay.com

Contents

Introduction

Seven Days With Jillian

About This Book

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

Seven Days With Zoe

About This Book

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

Also by Ruth Hay

About the Author

Copyright

Introduction

Jillian and Zoe are two of the outstanding women in this series. Each deserved a shorter book of their own to complete their life stories. These two books Seven Days With Jillian and Seven Days With Zoe are here under one title - Seven Days Destinations.

The Seven Days Series

Seven Days There

Seven Days Back

Seven Days Beyond

Seven Days Away

Seven Days Horizons

Seven Days Destinations

Seven Days With Jillian

About This Book

So much has happened in the Beck family since the incredible week in Mexico.

Back in Canada, Jillian must take stock, appreciate her new start, and plan the futures of her husband and their three children.

Easy? Not so much!

Nothing happens unless first a dream.

Carl Sandburg.

Chapter One

Monday.

There were times when Jillian Beck wondered why she had a house at all.

If it had been possible to find a corner in the restaurant for a bed where she and Terry could sleep, she would be happy. Trailing home at night to an empty house in the suburbs of Toronto seemed hardly worth the trouble. By the time they got there it was all they could do to collapse into bed.

An attempt was made for an hour of normal life relaxing in front of the television but, inevitably, Terry fell asleep and she had to shake him awake to get him to bed.

She often said the one good thing was the kitchen stayed spotlessly clean. Neither of them had any inclination to cook at night so they ate at the restaurant before they drove home.

Their lives revolved around Beckoning Cuisine and there wasn’t much they could do about it.

Victims of success! Terry called them. It’s verging on criminal to complain when restaurants in Toronto are opening and closing within months.

It was a highly competitive environment and required a tremendous amount of energy to survive. Terry said their partnership was the key to their survival. Jillian knew he was right.

Her expertise with ‘front of house’ and with serving staff allowed her husband to concentrate on the kitchen, his workers inside there, and the dishes created by Terry’s Team.

Everyone in the catering business acknowledged the importance of good ingredients. It was what Terry achieved with those fresh ingredients that made all the difference. His signature dishes varied with the season but he had an expert way of mixing up the contents in a new style, or adding spices, herbs or sauces that made the ordinary, extraordinary.

Their sous-chef, Juan, was a plating genius. He was an artist with food. When a plate left his station in the hands of a waitress, it was not unusual for patrons to comment as it passed by. Taking photos of Juan’s masterpieces was a common event.

Good advertising! was Jillian’s conclusion. She truly admired her husband’s culinary skills but she wished he would lose the red kerchief he wore around his neck. Terry claimed it was his good luck charm. Jillian thought it was more like something worn by big, slobbery dogs. As it was about the only thing they disagreed on these days, she decided to give up on her campaign against what she had called ‘an eyesore’ and she contented herself with filling the spare drawer in his kitchen desk with a variety of discreetly-coloured alternatives in hopes he would accidently pick one up some day and be pleased enough with the general reaction to make a change.

Neck scarves aside, they were united in their main desire to keep the family business, and the family itself, intact.

The once-weekly family meal in the restaurant had evolved into a bi-monthly event. It was still held late on a Monday evening but these days it was not unusual for Jillian to see a restaurant reservation made by a family member in the intervening time.

Devon had treated several prospective investors to a meal at B.C. and it always helped consolidate their support when the chef emerged in his immaculate whites to converse with the young entrepreneur who just happened to share his last name. No one was more surprised than his parents to see how Devon had grown in stature and influence since what they laughingly referred to as ‘his basement nights and days’.

Firmly established as a Toronto new-tech whiz, Devon looked and sounded like the business icon he was becoming. Gone were the sloppy old sweats and the rocker T shirts. Now he dressed in designer jeans and his work attire included the latest shirt styles and patterns. He had not gone as far as to don a tie, as yet, but his mother had hopes that one of the beautiful, boxed examples she showered on him for birthdays and Christmas, would finally wear him down. Father and son were equally resistant in that respect. Jillian wondered if they conspired against her. She had not yet proved it.

When it came to hair stylings, however, she refrained from comments. She never knew what she would see on Devon’s head from one visit to the next. Johnny D., one of Devon’s original crew and now part of the third floor innovators, had a girlfriend who worked in a premier hair salon downtown. Johnny D. was her at-home experiment victim. He got the first of the emerging styles, swiftly copied by the rest of the guys. Currently, Devon was sporting shaved back and sides with the symbol of a lightning bolt incised above his ear. Fortunately, for Jillian, his copious brown thatch still existed on the top of his head but she recognized that was likely temporary, as the similar hair stylings were a matter of pride among them and a badge of their continued close friendship. The older inhabitants of the Tech Hub just shook their heads when they saw the latest hair style but, like Jillian, they were secretly proud of the evident creativity of their young up-and-comers.

Devon showed no signs, however, of following in Johnny D.’s footsteps and acquiring a girlfriend. Younger daughter, Louise was the first of Jillian and Terry’s brood to advance in that particular direction.

Her romance with Jason Schuster had progressed slowly and steadily, for which her mother was very grateful. There were too many stories of young girls marrying early and regretting their decision all too quickly. Jillian felt Louise was a sensitive soul who needed gentle handling. Her mothering instincts were based on the knowledge of her daughter’s unexpected arrival in the family, and the reluctance of Terrence Beck to reconcile himself to her existence during the entire pregnancy. Jillian had felt his disapproval keenly and she concluded the tiny life within her must also have been affected. Terry’s later fondness for his Lulu never quite made up for his earlier neglect, in Jillian’s eyes. It was something they never spoke about.

Jason Schuster treated Louise well on any occasions when her mother saw them together. Jason was now welcomed at family meals and Terrence enjoyed, both his sense of humour and his knowledge of Toronto’s architectural heritage. The two men got along well together which Jillian took as a good sign.

From time to time, Jillian Beck wished for a grandchild and Louise was her best bet so far. Hints had been dropped, including the most persuasive one about providing a great-grandchild for Marian Beck.

Her heart attack had caused the whole family to face the inevitable decline of the oldest members and to value the time left with them.

A new generation was a gift Aylward and Marian would see as evidence their line would continue into the future. For herself, it would be enough if a wedding were to be scheduled in the near future but another Christmas and New Year’s had passed without the appearance of a ring on Louise’s finger.

She knew the couple were busy establishing their careers. Perhaps a wedding, not to mention a child, was far in the future.

Jillian sighed. She hoped they would not wait too long.

Time for your inspection, Mrs. Beck! We have the new napkins in place today and the bud vases have that nice-smelling freesia you chose, with a sprig of rosemary to balance the scents.

Excellent, Chris! I’ll do the rounds as soon as I check in with Chef. We have a busy day ahead. Alert everyone to be on top form. I expect substantial tips to be forthcoming.

Chris went off with a beaming smile on his face. Jillian headed to the serving bar for her ritual two minutes with Terry. It set the tone for the restaurant when the two Becks were of one mind. It was just another indicator of their success. She would not share the prior musings of her mind but say encouraging remarks about the good smells emerging from the kitchen and how bright and welcoming the restaurant looked this morning. She would end with a private word in his ear and a kiss on his cheek to seal the day.

With no family meal this evening she was hoping they might set off for home earlier than usual. It was time for some serious talk about their future. Ploughing through the snow from the suburbs for another winter downtown was something she really had no taste for. She understood living closer to the restaurant was highly unlikely as the prices of even the smallest accommodations in the centre of Toronto were ridiculously expensive. She thought of the spacious, fabulous condominium apartment Marian and Aylward had moved into after her heart attack. Their mansion in Forest Hill had sold for over twelve million dollars which certainly made the new purchase simple. There was no fortune awaiting Terry and Jillian Beck, however. Their modest family home was bereft of the updates that new owners seemed to demand. With three children to raise and no time to spare from their own jobs, both with conflicting schedules, a suitable time for renovations never arrived.

Another problem arose when she considered her unwarranted discontent with the current situation. Despite all her complaints, one thing remained clear. It was her father-in-law’s brilliant idea to suggest she leave her grocery store manager’s job and work with Terry in the restaurant that had put their marriage back together and formed a bond she was in no way willing to risk.

Jillian Beck sighed, and watched as her handsome husband walked toward her. Life was never perfect.

She had more now than she ever could have imagined just a few years ago. Possibly, the miles of frustrating travel between here and home were the price she had to pay.

Devon Beck arrived at the Tech Hub with his cousin Portia. Since the building was new to the city core and had levels below ground of dedicated parking, it was the work of only a moment to step into an elevator and be whisked upward to light and space and a work environment that was the envy of everyone who entered the building.

He bade farewell to Portia and watched her walk confidently toward the Arts section where she was now a valued member of the group. He probably need no longer give her a ride to work. It had started when Portia complained of unwanted male attention on the subway line. She was much recovered from her horrible deep depression resulting from a sexual attack in her former workplace, but she was a sensitive artistic type and no one in the family wanted to see her regress, especially not his grandfather. Aylward Beck’s wishes in this and all matters had to be given serious consideration. Had it not been for his financial support, Devon would never have obtained a job in this high-tech workplace. Aylward’s appreciation of his skills and his encouragement had made his life something he could only have dreamed of in his years as ‘boy in the basement’ at home.

He knew his ability to keep an eye on Portia was a type of payback for that support and he was glad to be able to pass on the help given to him. Not that Portia needed much more than the ride to and from work. She had blossomed like the tropical flowers she loved to paint. Having young people of a similar mind around