"Don't worry Chef. Everything will be fine—" Antoine had hung up leaving Kirsty to talk to silence at the other end of the line.
Hesitantly she picked up the in house phone and rang Reeve's office.
"Reeve Stuart speaking." His voice sounded brisk and businesslike.
"Mr. Stuart, it's Kirsty Lawrence. Chef rang to say he has the flu and won't be in for the next few days. He asked me to let you know as he didn't feel well enough to make another phone call." Hardly daring to breathe she waited for him to reply.
"I'll be with you in a few minutes, Miss Lawrence."
His words left Kirsty in a flutter.
Should I mention Tuesday night? Or ignore the fact we went for a meal together, followed by our oh so nice kiss? No. Definitely no. Best to stick to business.
Reeve took the decision out of her hands by being extremely professional when he arrived in the kitchen. "Has the menu for today been drawn up? Do you need any extra staff to cope whilst Chef Antoine's away?"
"Today's menu is fairly simple," Kirsty told him. "As to extra staff, maybe we could have someone to do general kitchen duties, then the two regular staff could concentrate on food preparation."
"Fine. If you give me the name of the agency you normally use, I'll arrange a temp for the remainder of the week. Now, what about the weekend? Friday and Saturday are quite hectic nights for the restaurant. Do you think you'll be able to cope, or would you like my help?" Reeve's hands went up in defense. Kirsty's temper had begun to rise, and she guessed her expression had told him how she felt. "I'm not questioning your ability. I want to be sure you know you can call on me if you need to."
"Sorry," Kirsty apologized. "It's just..."
"You thought I was 'having a go at you.' I don't blame you, but it's in the past. I assure you the thought never crossed my mind." A slight smile crossed his lips as he looked at her.
"Would you mind if I took a stab at this on my own?" Kirsty's voice trembled with reaction to his nearness. "Chef always leaves a menu plan for me to follow on his day off, with strict instructions to follow it to the letter. I'd appreciate the chance to run the kitchen in my own way. I promise to let you know if things start getting out of hand and I need help. I know you've not had much reason to have faith in me, but could you trust me to do this?"
"Of course I trust you, Miss Lawrence. I know the misunderstandings of the past few weeks haven't been your fault. You may not run the kitchen the same way as Chef Antoine, but I'm sure you'll have equally high standards. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and see about finding a temp."
He smiled again, and Kirsty turned toward Chef's desk. She thought Reeve had left the kitchen and jumped nervously when his voice sounded right behind her.
"Thank you for your company on Tuesday evening. I wonder if you'd like to come to the Waiwera Thermal pools with me next Wednesday, and have dinner afterwards." The warmth of his smile sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"Thank you," she replied shyly. "I'd love to."
"Of course, we'll have to wait and see what happens with Chef Antoine," Reeve cautioned. "If he's still sick, we may have to postpone it until the following week. I hope you're free then."
"Hopefully, Chef will be back by next week. I'd like to thank you for Tuesday evening. I thoroughly enjoyed myself."
Stupid. Now he'll think you're encouraging him. Oh good, he's going.
Reeve's long stride had taken him halfway across the kitchen on his way to the restaurant. Kirsty's mind swam as she checked the day board. He must have liked what he saw on the beach. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked her to the thermal pools. Her face flushed. Next week he'd be wearing swimming trunks, too and she'd be able to see his unclothed body.
The arrival of the kitchen maids distracted her, and Kirsty told them Chef Antoine would be off sick for some days. A look of relief passed between them, and Kirsty wondered if Chef had been horrid to them as well.
Keeping busy all morning meant they had everything ready by lunchtime, and Kirsty felt pleased when the meal ran smoothly. In fact the kitchen worked at a much higher efficiency rate than usual. Could the absence of the head chef be the reason?
The staff had cleared away the lunchtime dishes and had gone home for a few hours. Kirsty sat at Chef Antoine's desk, secretly reveling in the sense of freedom and authority this gave her. She picked up the engagement diary for the next week and checked the entries. The only major event was on Saturday afternoon when the restaurant had been booked for a wedding reception. Best to plan the menus for the remainder of the week before checking up on this event.
The planning didn't take long. Kirsty decided as a gesture of goodwill to submit the menus to Reeve Stuart for his approval before ordering the supplies. Now for the wedding reception. First though a check on how far Chef had progressed with his preparations, as Reeve was bound to ask. He'd want to know what Kirsty intended to do to complete the arrangements, and she meant to prove to him everything would run smoothly.
To her horror she could find no sign Antoine had made any preparations for a reception for over one hundred people. Kirsty scrambled through the special order book they kept for important functions, but could see no sign of any delicacies being ordered. The only reference was the booking confirmation, a handwritten plan of the menu and the number of guests anticipated. Kirsty found a phone number on the confirmation and, taking a deep breath, she dialed the number.
"Good afternoon, could I please speak to Mrs. Miller?"
"Speaking. " The woman who answered the phone replied.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller. My name is Kirsty Lawrence. I'm the sous-chef at the Hibiscus Hotel. I'm phoning about your daughter's wedding reception on Saturday. It's our policy to do a final check with our clients a few days before the event. We like to make sure we're aware of any last minute alterations to the booking. May I go over the details we have so far?"
"Oh, what an excellent idea!" Mrs. Miller said. "Yes, of course, my dear, do go ahead."
Kirsty read out the menu and confirmed the number of guests invited, and Mrs. Miller agreed everything was correct.
"Before I ring off, Mrs. Miller, is there anything special you'd like done for Saturday? Any special arrangement of tables, for instance?"
"Oh, I think we'll leave it all in your capable hands, dear," Mrs. Miller said. "You have everything well in order. As long as people feel welcome and my daughter has a happy day. Oh, by the way, you do know we'll be providing our own wedding cake, don't you? We'll bring it along to the hotel tomorrow evening if this is all right with you."
Kirsty said this would be quite all right, and at the same time a flood of relief surged through her. She'd forgotten all about the wedding cake, and Antoine's notes hadn't mentioned it.
"Very well then, dear, we'll see you tomorrow night, and thank you once again for your thoughtfulness."
Kirsty thanked Mrs. Miller for taking the time to talk to her and, replacing the receiver, she leaned back and let out a huge sigh of relief. She'd crossed the first hurdle, and now she needed to order the food for the recipes on the menu.
An hour later, Kirsty only had one item left to find. The bride had mentioned she'd like to taste caviar on her wedding day. Her parents, wanting everything to be right for the most important day in their daughter's life, had specified Russian caviar for the hors d'oeuvres and Kirsty had trouble finding a supplier who could deliver by Saturday morning.
Frustrated at every turn, Kirsty decided to ask Reeve if he had any ideas. He had to be consulted about the setting up of the restaurant and approval of the daily menus any way. No one answered when she rang his office, so Kirsty contacted reception. They'd probably know where he to find him.
"Reception."
Kirsty relaxed when she heard her friend's voice. "Gina, it's me. Is Mr. Stuart anywhere in reception? I need to speak to him urgently and he's not in his office."
"He's here talking to a guest. Hang on and I'll get him for you." Gina's voice lowered t
o a whisper. "Don't think I've forgotten your date with him on Tuesday night. I expect you to tell me all about it, Kirsty Lawrence."
Kirsty smiled to herself. Trust Gina not to be side-tracked. A murmur of voices in the background faded away, then her friend came back on the line.
"He said to tell you he's on his way in to see you, Kirsty. I'll talk to you later."
As Kirsty put the phone down, Reeve entered the kitchen.
"You wanted to see me, Miss Lawrence?" He crossed the room to her side.
"Mr. Stuart, were you aware we have a wedding reception booked for Saturday afternoon?" Kirsty suddenly knew Chef Antoine hadn't told anyone about the booking.
"This Saturday? No, I most certainly did not know. Has the restaurant been informed?"
"I haven't checked," Kirsty confessed. "I looked through the engagement book and saw it penciled in. No one ordered any special supplies, and I wondered if Chef had told anybody else about it. I've—"
"I think we'll have to put our heads together on this one, Kirsty," Reeve interrupted. "Do you think you can organize the meal, while I ring the clients?"
"Mr. Stuart, please, can I finish?" Kirsty saw him nod, but her heart somersaulted against her ribcage. They were at work, but he'd called her Kirsty! With a deep breath to calm herself she continued. "I've checked with Mrs. Miller who confirmed the menu and number of guests. With regards to the restaurant layout, the lady will leave it to us. I've worked out the amounts needed and ordered everything but one item. Mrs. Miller specifically requested Russian caviar for the hors d'oeuvres, and I can't find a local supplier who can deliver by Saturday morning. I wondered if you had any ideas, plus I'll need your help with the restaurant and—" she hesitated and smiled hopefully at Reeve "—could you possibly speak to the head waiter? I'm afraid I find him a bit daunting."
"Well done, Kirsty. My compliments on your handling of the situation. You've coped very well with a difficult problem. Now, to business. Where have you tried to obtain the caviar?"
"I've tried every supplier in the area, but none of them have any in stock. The first date they can deliver is Monday." Kirsty leaned back wearily in her chair. "I wonder if the Millers would accept a substitute? Mrs. Miller seems such a nice lady, so maybe she'd understand."
"All the more reason why we need to do our best not to disappoint her. Can you give me a list of suppliers for the whole country? I'll see what I can do. As for the head waiter..." Reeve grinned at her. "Leave Henri to me. I suggest the three of us meet in the restaurant before it opens for dinner tonight and see if we can come up with something innovative for the layout. Now, is there anything else?"
"No. Oh, wait. Would you like to approve the menus for the rest of the week?" Kirsty handed him the menu book. He took it from her, but didn't open it.
"I don't think there's any need for me to approve the menus, do you? However, I would like to see what you have in store for us. May I?" Kirsty nodded, and he opened the book. Silence held for a few minutes whilst he turned the pages, and she waited with bated breath to see his reaction to her choices.
"Excellent," he exclaimed, a smile of delight crossing his face. "Very fresh! I'm pleased to see you haven't stuck to mundane recipes most people can prepare at home. My compliments to the chef, Miss Lawrence. I look forward to sampling a few of these dishes."
"Thank you." Kirsty felt shy under his approving gaze. The loud tick of the clock brought her back to the present. "Heavens, I'd better get on with the orders for the daily menus or it'll be back to what you call mundane dishes. I've got this evening's dinner to start as well."
Reeve thanked her once again and left her busily talking on the phone. When everything had been ordered, she picked up a pad of paper and slipped into the empty restaurant. The kitchen door opened on one long wall with a blank wall opposite. One of the other two walls had a massive bay window, which looked out onto the gardens and terrace of the hotel, while the last wall had two massive sideboards standing sentinel on either side of the glass doors to reception. Kirsty thought the walls looked rather drab with faded wallpaper and uninteresting landscape paintings and wondered whether clients thought the food to be dreary as the surroundings.
Her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth as the pencil wandered over the paper to reveal a sketch of how the tables should be laid out. Notes of the type of decorations to brighten the room quickly followed. Reeve returned thirty minutes before the dining hour and asked Kirsty if it would be convenient for her to come to the restaurant with him.
"Henri has arrived, and I thought this would be a good time to plan the layout for Saturday afternoon." Kirsty took one last look around the kitchen to ensure everything was well in hand for the evening meals. She picked up her pad and followed Reeve through the swing doors.
"Mr. Stuart, I really must protest at the short notice I've been given concerning the wedding on Saturday," Henri, the head waiter, complained as soon as they approached him. "Two days is simply not enough time to work out exact table arrangements and place settings. Chef Antoine always gives me at least two weeks' notice."
The head waiter glared at Kirsty, letting her know he considered it her fault there had been a lack of communication between kitchen and restaurant.
"I'm afraid in this case, it slipped Chef Antoine's mind," Reeve told the irate man. "He's been busy of late. However, we're not here to lay blame. The table formations and settings must be sorted out now, before the restaurant opens."
"Can I make a suggestion?" Kirsty queried, hesitantly.
"I really don't see the necessity for the sous-chef to be present at this meeting." Henri gave Kirsty a cold look. "The tables are always laid out to the same plan, with a slight variation for the numbers involved. We don't need Miss Lawrence's help."
"On the contrary, Henri, I feel Miss Lawrence has a lot to offer this meeting. She is, after all a woman, and so is the bride. Now let's get on with it, shall we?" Reeve glanced at Kirsty, a twinkle in his eye. "You were going to offer a suggestion I believe, Miss Lawrence."
"I think we should put the head table along the wall opposite the kitchen doors," Kirsty began as she opened her pad. "Then..."
"Absolute nonsense!" Henri expostulated. "The top table is always—always—put in front of the bay windows. It would cause absolute chaos if we changed the order of things for no reason other than a feminine whim."
"My suggestion has nothing to do with feminine whims." Kirsty passed her rough sketch to Reeve. "If the bride and groom sit in front of the bay window, the sun will be shining from behind them and none of the guests will be able to see anything but their outlines. If we put them against the far wall, the bride and groom and their friends at the top table will be able to see the gardens, plus everyone else in the room will be able to see the happy couple. Perhaps we could find a decorated screen to hide the kitchen doors and brighten up the room?"
"I'm sure we can find one in the hotel." Reeve beamed at Kirsty. "I think those are excellent suggestions, don't you, Henri?"
"Mr. Stuart... we always..." Henri stuttered.
"All the more reason to try something different," Reeve told him firmly. "Now we've settled the layout, what sort of decor would you suggest, Miss Lawrence?"
"I thought white table cloths, with white satin ribbons looped around each table and caught up in the center front with a white satin bow. I always feel simple things carry the most impact, Mr. Stuart. Then, perhaps, there could be small vases of white and yellow flowers set at intervals on the tables. Matching floral decorations on a bigger scale could be placed around the walls."
"Where will we put the spun sugar sculptures?" Henri asked in horror. "Chef Antoine always..."
"Chef Antoine is not here, and we must do our best under trying circumstances," Reeve told him, but when he glanced at Kirsty she saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "All is in order, unless either of you can think of anything else. No? Well, I believe it's almost time for the restaurant to open. Thank you for your assistance,
Henri, Miss Lawrence."
Kirsty smiled at him and returned to the kitchen to oversee the evening meals. Her staff had everything ready and were waiting for the first orders to come through from the restaurant.
"By the way, Miss Lawrence." Reeve popped his head round the swing doors. "I managed to get some caviar from Wellington. It'll be flown up early on Saturday morning and should arrive about ten o'clock."
"Thank you, Mr. Stuart." Kirsty frowned, and Reeve's eyebrow rose in his familiar querying expression. "It must be very expensive to have it flown here. I'm not sure the kitchen budget will stand the extra cost, and we can't pass it on to the client."
"Don't worry, Miss Lawrence. The cost will come from the hotel's special account. If this wedding reception is a success, then others will follow. Hopefully, next time it won't be such a last minute rush." Reeve moved further into the room as a waiter pushed past him with the first order of the evening. "Your suggestions for the layout and decorations were impressive. It's pleasant to hear a calm, fresh solution to what could've been a disaster."
Kirsty glowed with pride at this unexpected praise. The trickle of orders from the restaurant turned into a flood, and she could only nod her thanks and turn to the job in front of her.
On Friday afternoon, at Reeve's request, Kirsty visited the Orewa shopping center to choose a dozen glass vases for the table decorations. The housekeeper had told them they had an abundance of large vases, but there were no small ones to be found. Reeve showed Kirsty the existing stock and suggested she use her own judgment whether the small ones should be matched, or if a contrast would be better.
Kirsty tried one shop and found nothing suitable. Another specialty shop lay a short distance away, but on her way there she thought she saw Chef Antoine. He stood further along the street, looking into the window of a baker's shop. A puzzled frown marred her features as her footsteps headed in his direction, but when only a short distance separated them, the man hurried off in the opposite direction.
A frown of confusion creased her forehead. Why had Chef Antoine sped away? Surely he couldn't be fully recovered yet? Most people who had fallen victim to the bug had taken days before they could even get out of bed. No it had to be a mistake. It couldn't have been Chef.
Recipe for Romance Page 9