Recipe for Romance

by Susan Perkins

  With her fingers crossed for luck Kirsty entered the glassware shop. Luck must have been with her because on a circular table in the middle of the display area were half a dozen vases in the exact design she needed.

  Please let them have the complete dozen. I don't have time to go anywhere else. Yes, they've got them.

  Kirsty filled out the order form from the hotel, while the shopkeeper made out an invoice and packed the glassware. There would be no hope of replacement if any got broken, so Kirsty brought the car around to park in front of the shop. She carefully placed the heavy parcel on the floor between the seats, then she slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. Before pulling away Kirsty checked the traffic and caught a glimpse of Antoine again. A man who looked exactly like him exited the stationery shop about five meters from her parking space. Kirsty leaned forward, peering through the windscreen to get a better look, but Antoine, if it was him, glanced in her direction then hurried off down a pedestrian precinct.

  On her way back to the hotel Kirsty tried to solve the puzzle. If it had been Antoine, had he been avoiding her, or had he genuinely not seen her? More to the point if he'd recovered from the flu, why hadn't he returned to work?

  She didn't know the answers and pushed the questions to the back of her mind. All her concentration needed to be focused on tomorrow's wedding reception. The function must be a success, not only for her own self-esteem, but also for the bride. The happy couple didn't deserve to have their big day spoilt because Chef had forgotten to organize the reception properly.

  By the time the wedding cake arrived on Friday evening, Kirsty had done all the reception preparations. Nothing else could be started until the next day. Before leaving the hotel, she did a final run through of her checklist with Reeve.

  "Flowers." Her eyes widened with horror. "I forgot about the flowers!"

  "Stop panicking, Kirsty. Ordering flowers isn't part of your duties. Everything is arranged. The tables will be decorated and the flowers put in place as soon as the restaurant closes after lunch. All you need to worry about is making sure the menu is right. Perhaps, though, when everything's ready, you could do a tour of the restaurant with me to make sure nothing's been overlooked."

  On Saturday Kirsty introduced a buffet lunch. Once the cold dishes were laid out, the normal daytime staff were told to make sure the buffet remained well stocked. With Reeve's approval, two of the evening staff had been asked to work from Saturday noon. This enabled the three of them to concentrate on preparing the food for the wedding reception. To her immense relief, the caviar had arrived on time and now sat on a bed of ice in the cold room.

  The restaurant had closed and the buffet had been cleared away when Chef Antoine suddenly appeared at the outer door of the kitchen. He looked remarkably well for a man who had been ill with influenza, but Kirsty had no time to dwell on his health. He bore down on her with a face like thunder, ignoring everyone else in the kitchen.

  "Lawrence, why are you standing around doing nothing? What about the preparations for this afternoon's wedding reception?" Antoine glared at Kirsty, and in the depth of his eyes lurked a gleam of malice. "You've forgotten all about it, haven't you? I suppose now you'll go bleating to Mr. Stuart and say I never told you anything about a wedding reception for the Miller family?"

  Kirsty looked at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face. The man thought she didn't know about the reception, and he was glad. What had she ever done for him to be so spiteful to her? All gratefulness for his past treatment of her vanished as she realized Chef Antoine had been trying to get her into trouble all along. If she hadn't forced the issue by insisting on a meeting with him and Reeve, no doubt he would have sacked her for incompetence.

  "I see you're feeling better, Chef." Her voice remained calm. "I'm pleased to say all preparations for the Miller reception are under control. We're merely waiting for the tables to be set up in the restaurant."

  "Nonsense, Lawrence." Chef couldn't hide the surprised look on his face. "You couldn't organize a children's party, let alone a wedding reception. You're lying again, and this time Mr. Stuart will realize you're the one who has been at fault all along."

  Antoine swept toward the swing doors leading to the dining room and Kirsty followed in his wake. Antoine pushed the door open hard and stopped a few feet inside the dining room. He looked around in horror. The restaurant staff had set the tables in the layout suggested by Kirsty, and the table linen and ribbon decorations were in place. The finishing touches to the place settings and flower displays were almost done and Kirsty, standing at Antoine's side, felt the room looked simple but elegant.

  "Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" Chef roared. "Why is the top table not in the window? What are those weeds doing on the tables? Where are the spun sugar sculptures? It will all have to be done again. I can't leave you to do the slightest thing, can I, Lawrence?"

  Chef Antoine waved his arms about and called out to the restaurant staff to stop what they were doing. Henri, catching sight of his ally, crossed the room and began to excuse himself as soon as he arrived in talking distance of Antoine.

  "My dear Antoine, I do hope you don't think this is any of my idea." Henri waved his hand dismissively at the tables. "I told Mr. Stuart this is not the way we do things here at the Hibiscus Hotel, but he overruled me. Your sous chef's ideas were adopted despite my objections, and such short notice, too! She only told me about this reception two days ago!"

  "I'll deal with Lawrence later." Chef surged forward. "For the moment we'll have our work cut out to get the room back to its usual format for these functions. As for not being told until two days ago, this is also Lawrence's fault. I told her several weeks ago to let you know about today's reception."

  Kirsty felt like two rabid dogs were tearing her to pieces. Neither of the men took any notice of her as they rapped out orders for the room to be reorganized. The restaurant staff shrugged their shoulders and moved toward the tables. They had removed the place settings and were starting on the floral decorations when a voice of reason spoke from the doorway leading to reception.

  "Put those things back where they were."

  REEVE HAD BEEN STANDING in the doorway for some moments before he spoke. He had worked on the theory if he waited long enough Antoine would incriminate himself. However, when the afternoon reception became threatened by Chef's orders, he knew he had to step in.

  He nodded at the harassed staff, then walked across to where Kirsty and the two men were standing.

  "Chef Antoine, surely you realize there's no time to alter the room now. If I may have a word with you and Miss Lawrence in the kitchen. Henri, I leave you to make sure the restaurant preparations are completed to the layout and decorations which were decided on Thursday."

  Moving to the kitchen door Reeve held it open for Kirsty and Antoine to pass through. When all three had entered the kitchen, he told the helpers to take a ten-minute break out in the afternoon sunshine, then turned to Antoine.

  "Now then, Chef, what appears to be the problem?"

  Reeve saw despair shadow Kirsty's face. Naturally the sous chef assumed Antoine would plead his tale of woe, how she had known all about the Miller's reception, and he'd told her weeks ago to inform the restaurant. His words in the restaurant may have led her to believe he would side with Chef, but he had to let the man incriminate himself before he could act.

  "Mr. Stuart, I rose from my sickbed when I remembered we were booked for a wedding reception this afternoon." Chef sagged his shoulders, and Reeve had to suppress a smile. Antoine's acting held too much drama to be true. "Despite the fact I ordered Lawrence to inform the restaurant about the booking several weeks ago, she obviously forgot. Now I find she has not followed the set-up procedure for restaurant events and the room looks a complete shambles. There are weeds masquerading as flowers on the tables, instead of my beautiful sugar sculptures."

  Antoine's expression showed it was all too much for him, and he put a hand on the table to steady himself.


  "Chef, as I stated in the restaurant, it's too late to alter things now. You're evidently not fully recovered from your illness." Reeve tried hard to put sympathy into his voice, and he saw Kirsty's shoulders droop. Could she feel the metaphorical boot kicking her out the door? Reeve longed to reassure her, but knew he couldn't right now without letting Chef Antoine know what he was up to. "I think it would be best if you returned to your sickbed and left me in charge of things here. I promise whatever happens at this reception, it will not in any way affect your reputation. The results of this afternoon's function will be placed on Miss Lawrence's shoulders, not yours."

  "If it won't inconvenience you, Mr. Stuart, I believe I'll take you up on your suggestion." Chef passed a weary hand over his forehead and pushed himself from the table. "I feel I've been affected by the influenza far more than I realized."

  "I quite understand, Chef. By all means go home and rest. I don't expect to see you in the hotel again until Tuesday at the very earliest. This flu bug can knock you down very hard, and it takes several days to get it out of your system."

  Reeve shook hands with Antoine, who tottered unsteadily from the room. Privately Reeve thought the man should have won an Oscar for his performance. Chef must have been laughing his head off at the way he thought he had made Kirsty the scapegoat. The thing puzzling Reeve was why? What did he hope to gain by getting Kirsty fired?

  "Is everything ready, Miss Lawrence?"

  Despite the fact that over the last few days he had called her Kirsty when they were alone, he felt it best to revert to 'Miss Lawrence' for the time being.

  "Yes, Mr. Stuart, everything is ready. All we need now are the guests."

  Reeve smiled at her and hesitated. Should he reassure her and tell her he knew Antoine had lied? Before he could say anything, the kitchen staff returned, and he nodded at her and disappeared through the restaurant doors.

  THE BRIDAL PARTY ARRIVED an hour later and, although Kirsty kept extremely busy in the kitchen, she managed to peep round the screen to check everyone was pleased with the room and food.

  When the meal finished, Henri came into the kitchen. He ignored Kirsty and whisked the cake into the dining room. Sounds of laughter and clapping heralded the best man's speech and the reading of emails, and Kirsty felt she could relax. As far as she could tell, everything had gone off as planned.

  Reeve suddenly appeared in the kitchen and approached her, a serious look on his face. Kirsty's heart sank. What had gone wrong now?

  "Miss Lawrence, the parents of the bride would like a word with you. Follow me, please."

  Kirsty apprehensively followed Reeve into the restaurant and up to the top table. She blinked with surprise as Mrs. Miller pulled her forward and Mr. Miller called for silence.

  "Now then, you lot," he roared. "This is the young lady we have to thank for the perfect end to a lovely day. What's your name, dear?"

  "Kirsty Lawrence."

  "Well, Kirsty, we really appreciate all the trouble you've gone to. It's made our daughter's happiest day extra special. Thank you. How about a round of applause everyone?"

  Kirsty blushed and murmured her thanks. The guests were still clapping when she walked back across the room toward the kitchen doors.

  On her way she passed Henri and, under cover of the noise, she heard him mutter under his breath, "Typical, take the credit which really belongs to somebody else. Not so quick to take any blame though, are you?"

  Hours later, with the dining room and kitchen set to rights again, Kirsty wearily pulled on her coat but strong male hands took it from her.

  "Here, let me help." Reeve smiled at her. "I couldn't let you go without thanking you for doing such a fine job."

  "I..." Kirsty frowned. "I don't understand. After what Chef Antoine said I thought you'd be mad at me."

  "What he said made no difference to the fact you worked extremely hard to make the reception a success. As to his accusations, we'll deal with them next week when he returns."

  Kirsty flashed him a watery smile and turned to go, but Reeve caught hold of her arm. This time no tingle or warm flush affected her. Tiredness and a sense of disillusion prevented her reaction to anything. "Kirsty, please listen. There are things happening you know nothing about. No matter what happens next week, please believe I'm on your side."

  Kirsty frowned, then shook her head. This was all too much for her to take in. She'd had a long, tiring day, both emotionally and physically. She just wanted to go home and fall into bed. Wearily she moved away from Reeve, forcing him to release her arm.

  "Can we talk about this some other time? I'm afraid I'm too tired to concentrate at the moment."

  "Of course." Reeve hesitated, then made up his mind. "Will you promise me one thing, though?"

  "Sure," Kirsty said, not really paying attention to what he said.

  "Promise me you'll trust me. No matter what happens."

  Chapter Seven

  Tiredness made her oversleep the next morning and she woke an hour late for work.

  "Bother." Kirsty rammed feet into shoes and arms into her jacket. "This isn't going to endear me to Reeve, is it?"

  His name jogged her memory. Vague memories surfaced of him saying something about trusting him no matter what happened, but her tiredness made her unsure if she'd heard him correctly. One of the staff asked her a question as she entered the kitchen, and the events of yesterday faded from her mind as the needs of today took priority. Her many attempts to contact Reeve concerning a billing matter failed. Reception told her Mr. Stuart had been called into the city on business.

  Business, huh. It's all right for some. Here's me worrying about oversleeping, and it looks like he's decided to make a business meeting an excuse to take the whole day off.

  Gina arrived for afternoon coffee, demanding to know all about Kirsty's date with Reeve. Kirsty had completely forgotten about the previous Tuesday, and Gina's questions took her by surprise.

  "We had a nice meal." Gina demanded to know the name of the restaurant where they'd eaten. Kirsty told her then added. "Afterward he drove me home."

  "Surely there's more to it?" Gina probed.

  "Not really. He's quite pleasant to talk to when the subject isn't the hotel. In fact, since Chef's been ill, I'd begun to think he might be really nice. Now..."

  "Now what?" Gina took the bait, just as Kirsty had intended she should. Any subject would be better than the events of Tuesday evening. The receptionist had always been a good friend, and Kirsty needed to talk to someone about yesterday's fiasco.

  "Gina, I need your advice. You know we had a wedding reception here yesterday."

  Gina nodded, a curious expression on her face.

  "Well, Chef Antoine appeared about an hour before it started. He breezed into the kitchen and started shouting at me, saying I'd forgotten the reception. As soon as he saw I had everything under control, he called me a liar, then began to criticize things."

  "What things?" Gina prompted.

  "The layout of the dining room, for starters. He tried to make out he'd told me all about the booking and blamed me for Henri not being told. After calling me a liar in front of the kitchen staff, he insinuated the same thing in front of everybody in the restaurant. Then Mr. Stuart showed up and things went from bad to worse."

  "Why? What did he do?"

  "Instead of telling Chef Antoine he'd overridden Henri and authorized the layout in the dining room, he told him it was too late to change things. Then Chef put on an act about dragging himself from his sick bed, and Mr. Stuart fell for it. He told him to go home. He wouldn't be expected back at work until Tuesday, and they'd sort everything out then. Then Mr. Stuart said the outcome of the reception would affect my reputation, not Chef Antoine's." Kirsty looked at her friend, despair written all over her face. "Gina, I think Chef will be believed and I'm going to get the sack."

  "Nonsense! Chef's the one to blame, not you." Gina put an arm round Kirsty. "Mind you, they're not likely to give him the push, are they? P
erhaps it's time for you to move on, Kirsty. You're a good chef, and you shouldn't have to put up with all this hassle. No matter what happens on Tuesday, you can't possibly carry on working with Chef Antoine after this. If the hotel doesn't appreciate you, then it's their loss, and I shall tell Mr. Stuart so!"

  "Gina, you wouldn't!" Kirsty drew back from her friend in horror.

  "Well, only if he asks me." Gina grinned. "I'm serious though, Kirsty. You really should sort this mess out, and find another job. It's going to be a choice between you and Antoine, and you can guess who everyone's going to believe—Antoine. Even if you could prove it's not your fault, they'd still take his side. Did you send off your application for the theatre restaurant?"

  "Yes. I filled it in and sent it. It won't be much use, though, if I get the push from here. I won't even be considered for such a top-notch position. I can't resign either, because I haven't got enough savings to live on until I find another job. Gina, I'm caught in the middle and I don't know what to do!"

  "First things first. Keep looking for other jobs and don't give up on the theatre one until they let you know they're not interested." Gina methodically bent one finger after another, checking items on a list. "Next, stand up for yourself. Don't let Chef Antoine walk all over you. There's one thing he probably did you might not have thought of."

  "What?" Kirsty asked eagerly.

  "He must have expected to waltz in and save the day. To do this he needed to have made arrangements to cater the wedding. All you have to figure out is what, if anything, he'd organized and see if you can get some proof."

  "He didn't have to do anything, Gina. That's the whole point. He wanted to make it look like I'm inefficient and unreliable." Kirsty's hopes were dashed once more because she'd really thought Gina had come up with something.