Hennessey on the Rocks

By Monica DeSimone

Renowned Chef Charlie Hennessey needs a break. Tired of the noise of Manhattan and afraid the big city and its cynical outlook has jaded her thoroughly, she packs up her babies and returns home to Camden, Maine. The quiet coastal town holds memories of loved ones, offers space for her children to roam, and is the only place she longs to be. Here she hopes to recharge and reacquaint herself with who she is, what she wants, and how to love again.

Award-winning author Jonathan Hennessey has roamed the world several times over in the an attempt to outrun the ghosts of his past. The last thing he ever wanted was to return to Camden, Maine, until he finds himself not only there but on the doorstep of the only woman he has ever loved... and ultimately destroyed. But how could he look his only friend and lover in the eye and admit his sins when he can't even look at himself?

As the keeper of most of Jonathan's secrets, Charlie now holds one of her own. One that can and will destroy them. But some secrets aren't meant to be kept, and for the man who spins tale after tale of murder, mystery, and love, this is a twist even his devilish mind could never conjure up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Monica DeSimone
• Release date: Oct 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463309520

Monica DeSimone

Monica lives in northern New Jersey with her three dogs; Sam, Reilly and Steeler. Raised by a football coach in the heart of Texas, football is a passion that is deeply rooted. Introduced to Nora Roberts by her mother at the age of thirteen, she spawned a lifetime love affair with books, all things romance and happily ever afters. Outside of writing, you will find Monica in her backyard enjoying time with her "boys", family, friends, and a really good Dirty Martini.

Book preview

Thank-Yous

For You…

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Recipes from the Heart

Copyright © 2019 by Monica DeSimone

Editing by The Editing Maven

Cover Design by Jessica Hildreth

Ebook and Print Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. 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.

Hennessy on the Rocks by Monica DeSimone.

To you… He works in mysterious ways; God don’t like ugly; pretty is as pretty does; kindness isn’t a weakness, kindness is a power; and all that jazz. Do you and treat others the way you want to be treated. And all that blah, blah, blah I truly believe in.

Thank you, Bob and Jami, for teaching me to dream big, love hard, and never give up. You are the reason I believe in second chances, love, and the power of ladybugs and fairies.

To Trudi, my LL, you amaze me with your strength. You’ve had tremendous loss this year, please know you are never alone. I’m with you every step of the way. Thank you for your indomitable spirit. I am grateful for you.

Joe Sclafani, you are the person I aspire to become. Your faith and soul are intact and I’m grateful I fell into your life.

Darion Bridgman, words fail me when it comes to you. I am so very grateful for your friendship. I’d be lost without it.

Michele and Emily, Bob and Jami are laughing every day at our shenanigans. We argue, but love is at the heart of it all. I love you both to the moon.

Nadine, where do I even begin? Thank you for your kindness, knowledge, and sympathetic ear. The late-night chats and talking me off the ledge. There are no words for the gift that is you. You know my characters better than I do. The fact they are real to you and not only to me makes my heart smile. Thank you for understanding my quirks and encouraging me to continue forward. Most importantly, Goddess Divine, thank you for tolerating this neurotic, quirky, and oftentimes odd girl.

Jessica Hildreth, you got me from the beginning. Ladybugs and martinis. You are a gift.

Lastly, for me. M… Never allow anyone to steal your sparkle.

Love awaits you. Seek it out. When found?

Hold on tightly for it is precious.

Believe in yourself, never give up, and go forth boldly.

Live life fully while always reaching for more.

All you need is a second chance,

because life wasn’t ready for you the first time.

Charlie

THIS IS IT? comes from the backseat of our new Audi Q7.

Jace, stop being critical, I snap.

Yeah, Jacie, don’t be so circal. Abie imitates me.

It’s been years since I stepped foot on this property for longer than a weekend. Looking at it with new eyes, I’m reminded of every childhood memory I have—good and bad—and how they revolve around this house and its grounds.

I don’t know what my mother was thinking leaving the family property to me. But Tish wanted to make sure the children and I always had a place to come to, a place to recharge and escape our crazy lives in New York.

Sitting at the mouth of the driveway, I can see the changes my contractor has made firsthand. I didn’t change the structure, only updated the interior to suit our needs. The building itself causes memories to rush in and consume me, calling of a time when I wasn’t yet a single mother of two, the owner of two restaurants, and host of a popular cooking show with a production crew and staff depending on me. No, these memories speak of an era when I was sassy, bold, and free.

Some would say— Who am I kidding? Donovan, my ex-boyfriend and producer of my cooking show, did say my decision to move was impulsive, a whim. Charlie’s way of escaping life. Retreating and hiding from the world. But here on the cliff above Sherman Cove, I’m home. Free to find the girl who loved with all her heart and wasn’t afraid of her own shadow.

I need this. We need this.

Camden, Maine is a far cry from Manhattan. Offering a simpler life, where the views are breathtaking, you can hear your own thoughts, and actually know your neighbors—not just the woman in 2B, or the drunk in 6F.

Selling the apartment in New York and packing my babies up has been the biggest risk I’ve taken since Jonathan.

Christ, this place reminds me so much of the boy I loved and the man who broke me.

Already the have you lost your mind, Charlie hits me. What do I know about living in Maine? Hello, you were raised here, dumbass, I admonish myself.

Hanging over the steering wheel, I listen to Jace and Abie chatting in the back seat and am comforted by the noise.

The decision I made for my family weighs heavy on my heart. At the time it sounded sane, reasonable. Looking at my family home now, I picture the drastic changes needed to ensure the property is livable. The barn behind the main house is still under construction, and where I’ll shoot my show and offer cooking classes to the community. Who wouldn’t want a James Beard Award-winning chef to teach them how to cook? I roll my eyes at my pretension, because Christ, I know every one of my former classmates will be knocking on our door at some point for free food.

Yes, the timing of our move falls in conjunction with Jonathan’s current book being published. Convenient? One hundred percent.

The day I received the advanced reading copy of his latest book, I knew it wasn’t going to be my ex-husband’s standard work. The note accompanying the ARC turned my stomach sour and left me hanging over the kitchen sink vomiting.

I’m sorry, Charlotte. I had to exercise the demons. His handwritten note provided no comfort.

Damn the man. Exercise his demons, my ass. How dare he use our life together against me. We have a son who absorbs everything and misses nothing.

With a glance back at State Route 1, I think, Eight hours, Charlie, and you’re back in Manhattan. It’s not the most helpful of tunes but still, it’s dancing away and on repeat.

Forty-five days for the transfer of property to my name, another ninety for renovations, and two days for the trek up from New York should have been plenty of time to change my mind. Yet here we are, my babies and me.

I was looking for a way out of the chaos that is New York. Take a step back from my exes, the noise of the city, and a career that has gotten away from me. Somewhere I could find some peace and enjoy my children.

My childhood home offered that haven. Banging my head on the steering wheel, I allow the pain to overtake me. Once, twice, and again for good measure, my head hits the steering wheel, all while thinking, I’m a fucking idiot.

I should turn this car around and head home. Home. Where would we go? The sale on the apartment was final last week, the profits sitting in my bank account. Can I say to the new owners, Oopsie, I changed my mind, get out? I don’t think so. We could stay in a hotel until I find us another place. No, not even an option.

I figured moving to Maine would be an adventure. Jace is in junior high and Abie is only three. What better time to move? To raise them on the same property that beckons me in my dreams.

Mom? Jace heaves out in a tone of frustration.

What, Jace?

I don’t like it. Can we go home?

We are home, baby, I say to the walking, talking image of the man who will forever hold my heart.

This sucks, he grumbles from his seat.

Tell me about it, kid. Try being the grown-up.

We needed a new start, and my babies need room to roam. A place with trees and grass and waves crashing against the cliffs below.

Moving further onto the property, it’s Jace’s stop that has me slamming on the brakes and bringing the car to a halt.

Christ Almighty, Jace, what?

I want to explore. Boys! I roll my eyes.

Praying for patience I don’t have, I say, Hop out. We’ll meet you at the house in ten. Remembering the time I got lost in these woods, I quickly spout out, Don’t wander too far. It gets confusing in the woods.

This sucks rat balls, comes from my thirteen-year-old.

I’m sorry, what?

Yes, ma’am.

I thought that’s what you said. Then to entice my son to follow through on the time frame, I say, The skate ramp should be finished. Your dad helped with the expense and the rink. You can skate all the time. We can be the ‘hot spot’ of Camden.

His whatever isn’t lost on me. Teenagers!

Jacie, don’t foget me while you gone, Abie shouts from her car seat, leaving my heart puddling around my feet. In that moment, I know no matter how many lefts I’ve taken in life, I’ve done something right with these kids.

Jace fist bumps his sister and makes a pow noise as he pulls his hand back, making Abie laugh.

Despite his anger with me for uprooting them, Jace and Abie have a connection beyond my comprehension. I was absent for most of his early childhood, too young to appreciate motherhood and busy building a career. I aim to make up for that in the immediate future.

Jace gets out of the car, and Abie and I pull forward, bringing us closer to our new home every second. My baby girl’s excited chatter doesn’t even register because I’m haunted by memories from my past.

It’s Abie’s, Mommy? Can we have a puppy? that brings me back to the here and now.

Let’s get settled first, ladybug, huh?

Cause I want a puppy, and a kitten, and a potbelly pig.

What? A potbellied pig?

Jace is behind that one. A snort leaches out of me because only Abie would put her own desires aside so she can make Jace smile. Jace told you to say that, didn’t he?

My child, the precious toddler who brings so much joy to our little family, looks at me in the rearview mirror and lies. No. She purses her lips together and scrunches up her nose. I saw one on Amal Panet, and I have to have one.

Reaching the house, I put the SUV in park, and look back at Abie. Christ, kid, you are too wicked for words, I say as I attempt to hide my mirth.

Charlie

WE’VE BEEN IN Camden for almost two months and have settled into a daily routine. Abie and I walk the cliffs every morning before breakfast, while Jace escapes to the skate park I had installed on the grounds. We meet up for lunch, and in the afternoon, while Abie naps, I work on weekly menus and pre-production ideas for my upcoming season; Jace typically heads back to the rink to skate with a few of the boys he’s met.

His hostility has mellowed somewhat. With his innate ability to make friends quickly, our home is hardly ever empty. The local boys enjoy his snark, the rink, and the treats I have readily accessible. Abie usually joins her brother upon waking.

She’s asked every day if we can get a puppy and a potbellied pig. Her reasoning is they can keep us company on our walks. She is consistent and relentless in her endeavors.

The remodel of the barn is almost done, and because it’s where my office is going to be housed, I’ve set up shop of my little empire in the library for the time being.

Abie is down for her afternoon nap. The local girl I hired to watch her while I work is singing softly from the sitting room. Linkin Park I think. I pull up my music and Spotify loads my current playlist. I have an espresso to my left and am ready to rock out the coming weeks’ menus for both Northern Wind and Charlie’s, when the back door slamming has me cringing and hoping Abie doesn’t wake up.

Mom! Jace calls out, and I shove away from my temporary work station and hurry down the hall.

Jace. Abie’s sleeping. What?

Sorry, he says, almost bashfully. Look who came to check out our new digs?

My heart drops to the floor at the sight of the man behind my son. Are you fucking kidding me? Two months and now he shows an interest in his child.

Charlotte. Jonathan’s clipped greeting makes my hackles rise.

He’s the only person, aside from my mother, to ever call me Charlotte, and it still rankles my ass to hear it. Damn him.

What are you doing here, Johnnie? I say, using the nickname he hates. I gave it to him when we were five, and he only tolerated it because it was me.

So much for a peaceful day.

Jace has been texting and calling every day for the past two months; he’s unhappy here, Charlotte. His words are daggers to my tender heart.

I shoot a quick glance at my son. Here I thought Jace was settling in, finding his happy. When did my child become an accomplished actor?

I thought you were on a book tour. I gather my strength and refocus on Jonathan.

Frozen in place. Here, yet not. This man, this beautiful dark soul who has held my heart for as long as I can remember, is now a