greta

"Almost!" The teen shouted back. Before Lake could respond, there was a knock at the front door. Furrowing her brows, she hurried towards it; not expecting anyone at this time. Also hoping that whoever it was would take a rain check. She didn't bother to look through the peephole -- mistake number two.

Lake threw the door open to reveal a woman she almost didn't recognize. Almost. At first, confusion still laced her features; that was until the woman smiled, however, and it hit Lake like a bag of bricks. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Lake hissed, quite impressed with herself for not responding immediately with her fist to this bitch's face.

"Oh, you're not Greta."

Lake scoffed as she shifted weight from one foot to the other, "And you're not as stupid as you look."

The other woman kept her poised smile, holding Lake's glare, "You're her, aren't you?" She asked, then both knowing exactly what she meant by that. "Look, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but--"

"Mom, what's going on?" Emmy asked as she emerged from the hallway, big doe eyes shifting between her mother and the strange woman in their home.

The woman shifted her own attention to the teen, "Hi, there. I'm Margot." She greeted, "You must be -- Emmy." Lake's eyes widen at the acknowledgment of her child. She found rage boil even deeper in the pit of her stomach. "You're the girl that Greta was talking about." Margot brought her attention back onto Lake, who's nostrils were flaring, and vision was blurring. "It's not a very nice thing to try and force someone to be a mother when they're not ready, dear."

"What did you just say to me?" Lake asked, taken completely aback by the random comment. But before Margot could explain further, Emmy appeared before her mom with a bottle of beer. "Here, mom, drink this." She suggested, obviously thinking that it might help keep her calm. But what the teen really did was just give Lake a weapon of opportunity if she so pleased to use it. It was quite tempting.

"Why are you here, Margot?" Emmy asked, trying to pull the conversation to her. Something she was quite familiar with, as she had to do this a lot with her biological mother. But for much different reasons.

"I'm looking for Greta."

"She's not here." The teen stated, all the while knowing she would be soon. She had texted her, but maybe, just maybe... she could get rid of this woman before she showed up.

Margot's smile faded, just slightly. Possibly in annoyance more than anything. "Where is she?"

Lake had just taken a sig of her beer before sitting it down on the shelf she had found herself leaning again. "That's none of your business."

This would bring Margot's attention back to Lake, neither woman backing down as they held each other's glares. Instead of dropping whatever charade this bitch was going for, Margot would continue to play it at a five star quality level. "I understand that it was hard for you to find out about us like that, but it was only right." Margot expressed, "You can't keep her from me because you're upset."

Lake's jaw clenched, as she took a step forward, but Emmy's response would bring both ladies' attention back to her, "What are you talking about?"

Lake would respond with 'Nothing', the same time Margot responds 'Greta and I love each other.'

Lake's head whipped towards Margot, eyes bulging, the same time Emmy spits out a stunned 'What?'

Before Margot could respond with any more nonsense, Lake's fist met her jaw. Sending the woman's head back, as she scrambled a few steps. Margot brought a hand to the side of her face, stunned by the action as she glared at Lake. Giving her no real time to think about it, Lake would grab her by the back of her hair, and tilt her head back; hazel eyes burning into her, "If you want to keep your face intact, I'd suggest you get the fuck out of my house!" Lake shouted, then pulled back on her hair, sending her a foot back.

In the same instance, Greta would appear. The words out of this bitch's mouth only raging Lake more.

"You love her?" Emmy asked, as her doe eyes fell upon the blonde. Clear that her own heart was broken for Lake.

Ex-fiancee -- Lake could've lunged right there, but she didn't. She kept her footing, but she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. Every nerve cell in her body was on fire.

Get out of my house.

"I came here for you, ma chère." Margot pleaded.

Greta's heart clenched at Emmy's words, the young girl's voice echoing in the charged silence that followed Lake's confrontation with Margot. "No, Emmy, I don't love her. I love your mom," Greta responded immediately, her voice strong despite the shaking she felt inside. Her eyes sought Emmy's, wanting to convey all the truths that her heart held—truths that had been overshadowed by misunderstandings and lies. "Everything she said, it's all lies. I've made mistakes, but not this mistake. It's always been Lake. Only Lake."

Turning her attention briefly to Margot, Greta's gaze hardened. "You need to leave. Now," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. The urgency to protect her family—to protect Lake and Emmy from further harm—galvanized her resolve.

As Margot hesitated at Greta's command to leave, she turned back with a look of desperation, her eyes locking onto Greta's. "Greta, you can't let her dictate who you choose to be with. We have something real, something that transcends this... this petty jealousy," Margot pleaded, her voice laced with a manipulation that had once, many years ago, swayed Greta, but now only served to ignite her anger further.

Greta felt a surge of fury at Margot's audacity, her body tensed, ready to erupt. "There is nothing between us, Margot. There never was. I love Lake, not you. You need to accept that and move on," she stated firmly, her voice rising with each word. But before she could continue, Margot interjected with a venomous lie, "But Greta, darling, we love each other. You said so yourself, remember those nights—"

"Enough with this shit!" Greta snapped, cutting her off, her patience shattered. "It's been nearly a decade," she shouted. "Get out, or so help me, I will not stop Lake." She knew well Lake wasn't kidding when she said she would kill her.

Emmy, who had been watching the exchange with wide, tear-filled eyes, still hooked around Lake, found her voice, "Do you love her, Greta? Do you love this woman?" The vulnerability and fear in her question were palpable, a stark reminder of the stakes at hand.

Greta turned to Emmy, her heart breaking at the pain in the young girl's eyes. "Emmy, I promise I don't. I love your mom. I've always loved Lake," her tearing eyes flickered to Laikyn, asking for her to see through the lies, to know she meant it. They had always had a connection, they knew each other's feelings and each other's thoughts without the need for words. They couldn't have lost it, Laikyn needed to know. She begged mentally for her to see it in her eyed that she was telling the truth. "Nothing has happened between Margot and me. She's lying," Greta said, her voice shaking in desperation.

Margot scoffed, a last-ditch effort to sow doubt, "Greta, tell them the truth. How can you deny what we shared? How can you pretend our connection doesn't exist?" She carried on, giving a smirk at the scene. "It's all in the letter Tim gave to your ex. The love we feel, the photos of us... There's no point in denying anymore, mon amour."

Greta's blood ran cold and she looked at Margot and then at Lake before moving back to Margot. "Who did you say gave her the letter?" She blinked several times, trying to process all of it at once. "You know—you know Tim? You know her editor? How is it that you know her editor?" She was saying the words but Greta wasn't sure she was just saying to herself as she tried to process it.

She leaned back, pondering the paths that had led them both back to Covington, her own reasons layered and complicated, just like she imagined his might be. "Covington has a way of pulling people back, doesn't it? For better or worse." She smiled, a mix of nostalgia and resignation in her voice. "But finding something that grounds you, like your work, must make all the difference. I guess we all find our ways to contribute and make this place a little better, in our own fields."

"You got it. Let me get it for you." Ozan had kept a few bottles handy for her visit as he had expected her to want to try as much as possible. This was an important occasion, after all. One didn't get married every day. He walked over to the counter, bringing the rose bubbly and a house bubbly with him and placing them on the table before making quick work of opening both of them easily. "Rose bubbly. I had this the other day with a client, she told me it reminded her of Spring for some reason."

He nodded his head, knowing exactly how that was. He'd overseen quite a few of the projects in recent years and it could be a nightmare, to the point where he'd ended up almost renovating his entire house by himself because of it. "I know a couple contractors that could help finish things up for you if you ever need them, just let me know. Hopefully it won't get to that point though." Ozan offered and then smiled at her question, shrugging and taking a sip of the wine. "Not much of an overachiever but I did recently start taking business classes at Emory. I was lucky I finished high school, so it does feel a little strange to get back into being a student. But I'm trying, you know?"

As Ozan went to fetch the rose bubbly, Greta’s interest piqued further. The mention of it reminding someone of spring intrigued her; she was always on the lookout for unique flavors that could translate well into her culinary creations or enhance an event like her wedding. When he returned and popped open the bottles, she watched with keen eyes, eager to sample the exclusive offering. “Spring, huh? That’s exactly the kind of fresh, vibrant vibe we’re going for,” she said, accepting a glass of the rose bubbly.

Greta was both surprised and impressed by Ozan’s offer to help with her contractor woes, filing away the offer gratefully. “Thank you, that might just be a lifesaver. I’ll definitely reach out if things don’t start moving.” Then, as Ozan spoke of his new venture into business classes, Greta’s smile widened. “That’s fantastic! It’s never too late to dive into something new. Learning keeps us growing, right? I admire that a lot, Ozan. It takes courage to step out of your comfort zone.” She raised her glass towards him in a toast gesture to that.

Nolan nodded empathetically as Greta shared her experience as an only child for most of her life. "I am the only child. I don’t know what it would feel like to have siblings," he remarked, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. As an only child himself, he often wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling to share life's experiences with. But he can’t say he has much to complain about. His mother was an abuser, she doesn’t deserve to have more children.

When Greta inquired about the experiments in the magazine, his eyes lit up. "Absolutely! I’ve always loved building them. It started when I was a little boy.” That’s the only thing in his childhood he liked to think about from his childhood - the rest he would rather not remember ever again.

She shifted, leaning back slightly as she absorbed this new information. "It sounds like you and Kat have that in common, then. She's always tinkering with something or the other. Half the time, I have no idea what she's talking about, but it's great to see her so passionate." Greta's expression softened, her fondness for her sister evident. "I guess in our family, we all have our own 'things.' It's what makes it interesting, right?" She smiled, appreciating this unexpected conversation and the insight into her sister's world from someone who shared her interest. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Nolan. It's nice to get a glimpse into what excites Kat at school."

She turned slightly toward Michelle, her eyes still glossy from tears. "I don't always get drunk and cry," she said with a weak attempt at a smile, trying to lighten the moment despite her heart feeling like it was in a vice. "But yeah, it's pretty bad this time." Greta sighed, looking down at her hands. "Thanks for... I don't know, listening? I don't usually do this—spill my guts to strangers in bars." She managed a small, rueful laugh, appreciating the distraction, even if it was just for a moment.

"Really glad to hear that," he admitted, pride swelling in his chest. By the looks of her establishment so far this Greta seemed to know good tastes. "We actually source everything ourselves. Real fresh and real authentic. Next time you come in ask for me." Because one of the best things about owning a longstanding local restaurant was being able to mingle with the patrons. Plus, he wanted to make sure she was giving whatever special they'd had for the day a try. Then he'd also slip her a drink on the house most likely.

With his large hand extended he took her much smaller one into his palm and gave her a squeeze before releasing her. "Good to meet ya, Greta." The woman's blunt honesty made him smile again. It was easy to appreciate people that were straight shooters. "Hey, don't they say something about faking it til you make it?" Thankfully she asked him about the contractors so he didn't feel awkward about digging into that. "Who're you using? I know quite a few that won't yank ya around and will do some real solid work, and if it happens to be one of them giving you hell..." A slow smirk lopsided his grin, "I'll take care of it." Sometimes locals didn't like big city folks coming in and changing things.

She chuckled at his ‘fake it till you make it’ comment, finding a bit of solace in the simplicity of the advice. "I'm working with Lawson’s team, or at least, I was trying to. Between missed deadlines and ghosting me on updates, it’s been a nightmare," she confided, her frustration seeping through. "If you have recommendations, I’d be beyond grateful." Jeremy's offer to ‘take care of it’ if it happened to be someone he knew was causing the trouble brought a relieved smile to her face. "That might just be the best news I've heard all week... Between my fiancee leaving me and no deadlines being made, it was a pretty awful one..." She widened her eyes realizing she'd spoken too much. "I'm sorry—Anyway... Seems like you’re the person to know around here." Her smile warmed, trying to change the subject away from her personal problems, appreciating not just the help, but the sense of community Jeremy represented. It was a reminder of why she wanted to open La Boheme in Covington in the first place—a place of warmth, community, and good food.

When the conversation shifted to their pets, Sarai's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Gizmo is a little British shorthair," she explained, a fond smile playing on her lips. "He's a bit round, but he’s got so much energy. I can barely keep up with him sometimes." She laughed, picturing the playful kitten in her mind. "Shadow and Tiger sound like lovely names. I bet they bring a lot of joy to your home."

As the chef mentioned hoping she would enjoy the food at the new restaurant, a flicker of guilt crossed Sarai's features. She took a deep breath and met Greta's gaze with sincerity. "I understand your reservations about my opinion, given everything. But I want you to know that I've always aimed to be fair and objective in my reviews. It's my job to provide honest feedback, even if it's not always glowing." She paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I truly believe in your talent as a chef, and I have no doubt that your restaurant will be a success. My past critique was never meant to be a personal attack on you or your abilities." She offered a sincere smile, hoping the other understood it truly wasn’t personal. 

Hearing Sarai describe Gizmo, Greta couldn't help but chuckle, imagining the plump little British shorthair darting around. "He sounds absolutely adorable. British shorthairs have such distinct personalities. Shadow and Tiger do indeed bring a lot of joy—and mischief—to our lives. They're a constant reminder to find happiness in the little things, even on the busiest days."

Greta listened intently as Sarai spoke about her role as a critic, noting the genuine sincerity in her voice. The apology and acknowledgment of her professional integrity prompted Greta to soften her stance. "I appreciate your honesty, Sarai. It's a tough balance, I know—giving honest feedback while appreciating the effort behind the scenes. Your critique was a learning experience for me, one that I've taken to heart in planning La Boheme." She offered a genuine smile, extending an olive branch of sorts. "Let's look forward to the future, shall we? I believe it's full of potential for new beginnings and maybe even friendship." Her invitation was open and honest, a gesture of goodwill and perhaps the start of a more amicable relationship between them.

As she mentioned her return to Covington and how the city had a way of making people feel at home, he nodded. He couldn’t agree more. He’d been embraced ever since he came here. Well, aside one of his roommates, of course. But that was completely his fault. "I know exactly what you mean. There's just something about this place that draws you in and makes you feel like you belong," he said, his eyes scanning the room before settling back on her. "I've only been here a short while, but I already feel more at home than I have in a long time. But where did you go for all those years you weren’t here? A beautiful lady like you must have gone to some fantastic places..."

His offer to help with remembering faces brought a light laugh from her. "That's a very generous offer, Zahid. I might take you up on that, especially during the grand opening madness." She pictured the bustling scene of her future restaurant, the thought both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

The question about her past travels and time away from Covington prompted a reflective smile. "I've been a bit of a nomad," she confessed. "After culinary school, I worked in kitchens across Europe—France, Italy, a little in Spain. Each place had its own rhythm, its own soul. It was beautiful. But coming back to Covington, it’s different, but it’s home. I mean, my fiancee is here after all and she's my everything," Greta’s gaze momentarily drifted, smiling as she thought on Lake, before focusing back on Zahid. "But enough about me. I’m curious about your transition here. News anchor to small-town life doesn’t sound like the typical path. What’s the story there?" Her tone was light, inviting him to share more about his journey, subtly steering the conversation away from her own experiences and towards learning more about him.

"No, I'm not actively avoiding her," he clarified, shaking his head. "It's just hard because we broke up over her choice to move back to Covington. I regret how it all went down." He sighed, still uncomfortable with what had happened as he reflected on the end of their relationship. The irony didn’t escape him either. Even so, he knew that being in Covington was the right decision for Ivy and himself. "That's so kind of you to offer. I'll definitely keep that in mind. It's always good to have trusted options for childcare." For now he had Victoria as Ivy’s permanent nanny, but he wasn’t going to say no to a backup."Thank you, that means a lot. I'm just trying my best to give Ivy a happy childhood and be there for her." Parenting was a learning curve, but he was more than determined to be the best father he could be.

As the conversation shifted to his love life, Roman laughed along with Greta's comment about not understanding women. "It's a mystery to us all, isn't it?" he said with a grin. When Greta asked about Callie, Roman's expression softened. "She's not a fling. She was my first kiss, and I had a little bit of a crush on her back in summer camp, but I promise we're just friends." he explained, thinking back on how crazy he was for her back in the day. “Seriously, I’m more worried about taking care of Ivy. She’s the love of my life.” 

Changing the subject slightly, she leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "You know, speaking of mysteries of the heart, if you ever decide to venture back into the dating world, just remember to take it slow. Covington can be small, but it's full of surprises. And, if you need a wingwoman or just someone to vet potential dates, you've got my number now." Her offer was half-joking, but she meant every word. "Seriously though, focusing on Ivy is wonderful. And who knows, maybe our little gathering will expand your social circle in ways you didn't expect."

"Right now, you've got a beautiful little girl who sounds absolutely delightful, and I can't wait to meet her. And I promise, our restaurant's opening night will be a night you won't want to miss. Great food, great company."

With a final chuckle, she added, "let's not keep the line. How about we grab our drinks and sit down? I'd love to hear more about Ivy and your adventures in fatherhood. And I have a few stories about Lake and Emmy that will surely entertain you." She gestured towards an empty table, inviting Roman to continue their unexpected but pleasant reunion. "Ah, and of course about that first kiss fling," she winked at him with a grin.

'The Midnight Library' would always be one of Harlow's favorite books. Even today, she still thought about it often. "Right? It was such a unique concept. I devoured it in one sitting." Not that was unusual to her. She did that with many books. When the other brought up Laik's steamy novels, a mischievous glint appeared in her dark green eyes. "Mmhmm… your girl sure knows how to turn up the heat on the page. You’re a lucky woman." She winked.

“Fine French and Italian cuisine from you? I can’t wait to taste your food." She said, already imagining the mouthwatering dishes her talented friend would create. "Consider it marked in my calendar with a big red circle. I wouldn't miss it for the world." As Greta prepared to leave with her baked goods, she nodded at the mention of the 'cookie monsters'. "We can't keep them waiting, now can we? Off you go. Give Laik my love!" She called out, waving as her friend headed for the door. Once Greta had departed, Harlow turned back to the counter, a contented smile playing on her lips—resuming her cleaning and going about her day.

Maya & Carina, Favorite scenes: s05e08 We'll give her a cookie

"That's not --" She tried to tell her that that wasn't true, that she wasn't trying to run away from her. If anything, she wanted to run towards her. But there was a wall coming up between them, that she was experiencing fight or flight mode. And all the beatings her heart had taken in the past, it screamed to flight. To be the one who left, and not the one that got left. Again. She'd find that she couldn't finish her statement, afraid that if she kept trying to speak that her words would could out in nothing but a weep; a sob that would give away every ounce of devastation she felt in that very moment.

When Greta told her to stop packing, that she'd leave. There was something in Lake that completely broke. A sob stuck in her throat, as speaking became impossible. The fear of her worst nightmare, the pain that wrecked it way through her body, it kept her glued exactly where she stood. Not only did her voice seem to leave her, but she lost the ability to move. Almost as if her mind was convinced that if she tried to make a step, her entire being would crumble into pieces.

It wasn't until she heard the front door slam that sound finally cut through her. A heart wrenching sob broke from her throat, as tears blinded her; stringing just before they fell. Her breathing hollow and fast as she began to hyperventilate.

In that very moment, she physically felt her heart break.

Jameson joined her in laughing when she mentioned the suitability of knives for cooking and murder. Laughter which grew when he exchanged a look with Greta given the obvious worry on the face of their fellow customer. She scurried away and Jameson shook his head as he dropped the final knife set they settled on into the cart. “I’ll be surprised if we’re allowed to walk out of this store. She looks like she’s about to report us to security.”

The teasing was to be expected because Jameson hadn’t heard the end of it recently when he mistakenly shared what his weekend had been like with his nephew. “He did in fact enjoy it. Very much. It was clearly more stimulating than Ms. Rachel. For him and for his uncle.”

He nodded along as they made their way to the register, curious how she was balancing everything that she had going on in her life. “How’s the construction coming along? When are you planning to open again?” And the more important question that he’d certainly asked her before, and he would continue to ask. “I hope you reserved me a table for the grand opening.” Fine dining in Covington? He wasn’t about to pass up the chance. | @chefgretamorrison

"I'll say it was all your idea," she said taking a deep breath, recovering from the laughter she'd let out over the whole scared customer ordeal. "Ah, this is fun, thanks for hanging out. It's good to just be silly with friends sometimes, I forget about it." She was always so wrapped up in work, it was hard for her to let go of it.

"Ms. Rachel? You let him watch those YouTube things?" Greta wasn't well aware of the latest on teens and kids, but the social media educator was well known for her to have heard about it. "I think when Lake and I have kids, I'll be the annoying mom who won't let them have phones and only watch TV for an hour a day, and they'll hate me for it." When she thought about it, Greta had no doubts Lake would be the better mom, the more fun and beloved one. While she'd be more strict and serious, the one they called mother instead of mom or mama. She felt she was much like her own mom that way. "Lake will surely be the favorite," she said her thoughts aloud.

"Of course your name is already on the grand opening list. You and Asher, of course. I'll have meals planned specially for the kiddos." She unsurprisingly had many friends with kids—considering their age, she was the odd one in the pod. "And I'm planning for mid-May. After my birthday. Construction is kinda driving me nuts? But it's coming along."

“Honored is a very strong word, trust me. I just hope that I can bring your vision to life. You have no idea how excited I am to be able to do this project for you,” and as a result, how truly grateful Ahalya was as well. “I’ll have to pay my gratitude forward to my recommender,” she wore a playful smile since they both knew that a gift for Lake was a gift for Greta as well.

"I promise, it is an honor," she reassured, kindly. Greta loved Ahalya's creation for Lake and she liked to think that having the same artist work on a panel in her restaurant was a way of bringing her partner into her business too. "Having you do this brings a little bit of what Lake appreciated too into the restaurant." And Greta liked to be reminded of the love of her life on the daily routine too, when they were away. "She'll surely enjoy it," Greta chuckled, knowing Lake adored Ahalya.

"Color, yes," Greta nodded, reaching out for a little paper with a printed palette that was what they were using in the restaurant. It was different shades of black, white and yellow. "The yellows are gold accents," she handed Ahalya the color palette. "But you don't have to be restricted by this if you thing you can add other colors that compliment," she explained. "I can also get you any material you require—gold leafs, whatever you think it's going to add to it. Now, as for style, food itself will be very modern in presentation, with traditional and homey flavors."