by T. F. Pruden
“It’s a difficult business all right,” Doris’ reply was noncommittal, “but how can I help?”
“I ‘ave decide’ to open ‘da place for breakfas’,” Rene replied.
He looked at her with his best impression of the beseeching sadness of a lost puppy reflected on his face.
“An’ I am in need of someone ‘dat I trus’ to put it toge’dder for me.”
Doris looked at the large and usually boisterous man in front of her. His portrayal of helplessness did not fool her for a minute. She knew that for him to approach her at a date so close to opening the new business showed at least some concern.
Though she doubted it was an act of real desperation.
“Congratulations for your new business Rene!”
She lowered her voice as she continued.
“But I’m a twenty dollar an hour plus benefits cook here with only two years to go before my retirement,” she said, with her voice now serious, “so I don’t know what you can offer that might allow me to help you with the place.”
“You are ‘appy ‘ere mon amie?” Rene asked.
“Quite, yes,” Doris replied, realizing it was true.
“‘Ow about twenny’ five?” he said, “plus no overtime an’ only weekday mornings, open at seven an’ no service after eleven, wit’ you ‘da cook an’ manager an’ in charge of ‘da breakfas’ crew?”
“What about benefits?” Doris asked.
“We ‘ave yet to open’ our doors but if we las’ six months I weel’ promise to put ‘dem in place for you an’ everyone else on ‘da full-time staff at ‘dat poin’,” his answer arrived in the smooth voice of an experienced salesman, “but no talk of ‘dem ‘til ‘den, eh?”
“I’m on a six by six here, five ‘til eleven and Monday to Saturday,” Doris said in reply.
Her voice was hard and matched by the look in her eyes.
“We start serving at six so I’m looking at the loss of my benefits and a cut in pay if I were to join you.”
“Tabernac!” Rene cursed, keeping his voice low and doing math in his head, “you’re look’ang for a raise plus an extra day off ever’ week?!”
“Something like that my friend,” Doris said, “let’s say you make it eight hundred per week on salary to start, not hourly unless I’m forced to work overtime and then time and a half based on my salary, with a raise in six months plus a fifteen hundred dollar signing bonus. Then I won’t bitch about benefits.”
Before Rene could voice his reply she continued. With her voice calm a knowing smile further creasing her wizened face.
“No one can predict success in this racket and if your place doesn’t make it, I’ll be on the street looking for work,” the veteran cook said, “and nobody gives a shit what happens to old cooks.”
“Mon amie you are driv’ a ver’ ‘ard bargain!” Rene replied.
He knew she was the cook he needed for the breakfast service. He would also make sure she earned every cent he would pay her.
“When can you start, eh? Tabernac!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maurice stood silent beside the stove in the efficient kitchen.
He watched with keen interest as the young cook James Delaney Dryer; who with respect asked that they call him J.D., moved with swift efficiency. He prepared a sauce for the four steaks now occupying the grill.
It was as impressive a performance as he had yet seen delivered by a chef so young. He smiled at the recollection of his own fumbling ignorance at a similar point in his career. The young man flipped the steaks before placing thick slices of garlic butter laden bread on the flat top. He returned to continue whisking the sauce.
Maurice realized that should he move ahead with his decision to leave the partnership the kitchen of ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’ would be in good hands. In spite of the young mans’ relative inexperience. The thought comforted him.
As despite a fondness for his partners he remained convinced the only way to avoid the impending disaster was to leave. With less than two weeks until the restaurant opened its’ doors he must go soon if he was to escape unharmed.
The breakfast service remained a priority for Rene. Despite his vehement disagreement with the notion Wayne raised no real opposition to the senior partners’ ridiculous idea. With the hiring of a breakfast cook the first steps to grafting the ungainly service onto the restaurants’ concept was now taken.
Maurice remained unwilling to be tied to such an establishment. He made a phone call to an old friend and knew if he wanted it a job in northern Alberta as head cook of a work camp was available.
If he were responsible for a breakfast joint, he would prefer it to be out of the public eye.
The isolated camp job held fewer glamour’s than that of head chef at a city restaurant. It would however, offer a salary greater than he agreed to accept in the partnership for ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’. He would also earn the management experience he sought. It would ensure future opportunities should not be limited by his association with a failed venture.
The reconfigured concept he considered both ungainly and ridiculous.
The preservation of his reputation within the industry was paramount. Despite the lack of an institutional certificate he now committed to continuing his professional development along a path he believed would best provide for his future as a chef.
He watched as J.D. moved the finished sauce to the low flame of the stoves’ warming burner and tested two of the steaks with a fingertip. He removed them from the flames and onto a plate to rest.
The confidence with which the young chef tended to the multiple tasks filled Maurice with a mix of relief and sadness. He could see the fellow was at least his equal in technique if not experience.
Though his talent would save the remaining partners’ from being damaged by the tall chefs’ departure the fellows’ youth also reminded him he was, undeniably, aging. That he planned to relinquish an opportunity he waited many years to discover with no assurance a similar chance might materialize in future distressed him. Seeing he could be so easily replaced by a younger man with dreams bolder than his own filled him with a bitter sorrow.
Maurice doubted time alone would sooth it.
James Delaney Dryer moved with the fluid confidence of youth from task to task in the small kitchen. He enjoyed putting on a show for the tall chef overseeing his work and knew he impressed the fellow. Though just graduated from the culinary program at Red River College his experience extended far beyond the confines of the classroom.
It showed in his expert handling of the multiple items under preparation.
At twenty one he had worked in a professional kitchen since before he started High School. His first job, as dishwasher, was at his uncles’ successful full-service restaurant the ‘Riverside Bistro’ located east of Winnipeg in the town of Lockport.
He was the only son of a father who practiced law and a mother who taught music.
The dramatic and anonymous struggle fought daily by the stoical cooks working in the unbending heat of the kitchen that first summer fascinated J.D. He launched a campaign in search of his parents’ approval that eventually allowed him to stay on for the winter in the part-time role of prep cook.
Though his parents were less than impressed by the choice his uncle at once noticed the boys’ desire to learn the kitchen craft. After consulting with his veteran chef he agreed to support his nephews’ request.
With increasing responsibilities the years soon passed for the young cook. The support of his uncle allowed his enrollment at the college upon graduation from High School. Only three years later he now possessed his chefs’ papers.
His graduation and certification were the proudest achievements of his life. The restaurant business remained the primary focus of his interest. A not unusual assortment of girls and partying with friends from time to time caused him difficulty.
The job as sous chef to the tall Maurice at the soon to be opened ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’ he
considered a first step.
J.D. expected to enjoy a long and successful career that would eventually see him operating his own restaurant. He kept the part time position at his uncles’ bistro through his school years and sought his approval before accepting the new position. It thrilled him to step into his first real opportunity to show his ability as a chef.
That he would be forced to work under a man who lacked his own qualifications was a fact with which he grew concerned.
He discovered the tall chef to be no chef at all. The fellow was without institutional certification. While the man did not lack talent J.D. considered declining the position as sous chef to him because of it.
He accepted the opportunity only after discussing the situation at some length with his uncle. Only with his encouragement did he appreciate that taking advantage of it would give him invaluable experience. He was also sure within a short time his talent would allow him to eclipse the uncertified cook.
He could then replace him as head chef.
This notion he kept to himself.
J.D. loved and respected his uncle. He also believed him an overly fair man. No doubt he would be concerned at his nephews’ lack of respect for the fellow hiring him. He would feel that way despite the tall cook’s lack of professional certification.
As his uncle was both wealthy and a valuable champion, he much feared losing his support.
J.D. checked the remaining steaks before removing them to rest. He flipped the now toasted garlic bread before turning to prepare the plates he would serve to the partners.
They waited, hungry and boisterous, in the dining room.
“You weel’ slice ‘da steaks on ‘da bias, oui?” Maurice spoke from beside him.
“Yessir!” J.D. replied, “Veg’ across the plate from the spuds with steak in the center.”
“Ver’ nice monsieur chef,” Maurice said.
He watched as the young man sliced the well-cooked beef.
“Thank you sir!” the young man replied.
He ladled enough sauce onto the thin slices of steak to allow their blood gorged centers to remain visible to the diners.
“Tabernac you ‘ave ‘da steady han’ monsieur!” Maurice’s voice was low.
The sure confidence of the young mans’ skill again impressed him.
“Thank you Mr. Chef,” J.D. answered.
Maurice wiped a drop of sauce from the edge of a plate before J.D. placed them onto the platter waiting on the counter next to them.
“I wan’ you to presen’ ‘dese dishes to ‘da partners yourse’f.” Maurice said as he grinned at the young chef, “I wan’ Rene an’ Wayne to know ‘dat you ‘ave prepare’ ‘dese dishes on your own, oui?”
“Yessir,” J.D. replied.
The tall mans’ unexpected generosity astonished him.
“And thank you, Mr. Chef.”
Maurice smiled at the young man. He patted his shoulder with paternal affection before turning to hold the door open for him to enter the dining room.
The young chef picked up the large tray and balanced it in one hand. He strode out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the remaining partners awaited their dinner.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wayne stood at the entrance to the renovated dining room.
He surveyed the completed work with a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion seeping from a cluttered mind and aching body. In his estimation the space before him no longer reflected its’ former cafeteria style. He congratulated himself for the choice of color and the construction. Despite the exacting nature of the work he finished it in the allotted period.
The result did more than please Wayne.
It also restored his confidence.
The booths circling the dining room he now separated with finished twelve inch high wood lattice barriers. Mounted above each seat back they matched identical lattice works topping the burgundy pony wall dividing the room lengthways.
Four tables aligned with the booths occupied either side of the low wall while the lamps hanging from the ceiling hovered above their center. Simple iron plant hangers finished in dull black enamel and filled by miniature wicker baskets of white silk flowers hung from them.
Mounted at both ends of the low wall they marked the entrance to each booth.
The same burgundy colored and vinyl upholstered chairs surrounded the original tables on either side of the new wall. In each booth their scarred wooden surface he covered with fitted grey cloth. They hung neat within an inch of the seats while also matching the color of the restaurants’ fresh painted walls.
The modern art posters surrounding the room he exchanged for double matted and dry mounted classic movie posters in burgundy metal frames. Twenty-four by thirty-six inches in size and guarded by glare-reducing acrylic, they hung over the booths on the long walls of the rectangular dining room. A larger pair of similar prints; these thirty-six inches wide and a full sixty inches in height, aligned with the aisles and occupied the back wall of the dining room.
The effect created by the assorted changes was of makeup selected with care applied to a not unattractive face. What was an honest three now represented a fraudulent nine with lighting judiciously applied.
The completed space satisfied Wayne. Within the established parameters he had done the best he could. He wondered what his partners would think of the place. Now the renovations were complete he could only hope for the best. With any luck, they would appreciate time and budget limited the facelift’s result.
Under the circumstances to hope for more than he delivered would be unreasonable. His involuntary shrug was indifferent. No matter how they responded if dissatisfied they would have to postpone the restaurants’ opening to effect any change. The cost of the work mounted in a hurry.
With the place unable to generate revenue he doubted Rene would wait any longer. No matter what he might think of the new décor.
While the thought did little to comfort him he appreciated not having to look forward to more construction.
Rene pulled the four by four pickup truck with ‘Lemieux Trucking’ painted on the doors to a halt.
He parked in a space with ‘Reserved For Restaurant Staff’ painted onto the concrete block wall of the Marlene Hotel. Rene took a long drag from the cigarette between his lips. He tossed the butt out the open window before pressing the button on the arm rest at his side. The tinted glass rose from within the door to close.
He switched off the trucks’ engine and climbed out of the extended cab. Rene closed the door and pressed the key fob button to lock it. The truck honked in response.
A couple of days passed since he was last at the restaurant. With the end of the week at hand he wanted to see if Wayne would complete the renovations according to his plan. Rene doubted the work could be finished this week. That it might not be ready in time for the soon approaching opening date concerned him.
He had by now learned it was a mistake to underestimate the work ethic of his young partner.
Rene grinned as his excitement rose. He hurried from the parking lot of the hotel to the street in front of the building. It was an enthusiasm not unlike that which he had forgotten on long ago Christmas mornings as a child. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks and stopped as he reached the sidewalk. With a breath he collected himself.
The sudden emotion surprised him.
He apparently assigned more importance to the soon-to-open new business than he so far acknowledged.
For a moment the strong feeling threatened to overcome him. An ache filled his throat as he recalled the dashed hopes of the boy he had once been. The sadness hid from his parents when their hard earned gifts hadn’t matched his childish wants reached across the years to again touch him.
Rene searched for the package in his chest pocket and the lighter in his jeans.
He lit a filtered cigarette and filled his lungs with the acrid smoke. As he exhaled his composure restored. After another drag his self-control returned. He shook his head i
n wonder at the unexpected outburst. Rene tossed the remains of the cigarette onto the sidewalk and stomped it with a leather covered foot.
He continued the journey to the restaurant entrance only yards away.
Maurice stood on Goulet Street across from the Dominion Shopping Center.
He stared with the eyes of a thin and hungry dog at the Manitoba Liquor Control Commission retail outlet. It stood beside the red roof of the Salisbury House restaurant in the strip mall. Though it had been more than a year since last he entered the store he was familiar with the layout.
The clear bottles of vodka waited on a wide shelf just beyond the sales counter in sight of the door.
Each evening of this week; his last as employee of the great and maniacal chef, he walked like a man on his way to the gallows to the soon-to-open ‘Rene’s at the Marlene’. He noticed the lights of the liquor store glitter with enticement from across the street as he passed.
The tall chef felt no particular urge to take a drink.
Maurice also noted, as his final day at the great mans’ restaurant neared, he now filled with a celebratory mood. Though concerned by the rapid change before him, the strange elation confounded the tall chef.
He shook his head as though clearing it of cobwebs and turned away to walk with a purposeful stride down Goulet Street to the corner of Tache Avenue. There he could go west and travel the short block to Marion Street. Only three blocks further south waited the Marlene Hotel.
Maurice wondered if Wayne had completed the renovations according to his plan or if the poor fellow would still be at work when he arrived. He knew Rene was growing impatient, and the pressure was on the youngest partner to finish the work.
His own responsibilities eased with the arrival of the two chefs. With their early efforts approved by the partners he relaxed despite the need to keep his decision to leave a well-guarded secret. With his last day of employment on the horizon he remained convinced his choice was the best he could make under the circumstances.