The crew nodded. They realized the significance of this day’s event. If Miranda created an impact, the demand for their services would blow through the roof.
“Also,” Miranda continue, “I don't want cussing in my kitchen. I want everyone to think of each dish as a child. You don’t cuss in front of your child. Praise it when it comes out perfect, cajole it when it refuses to cooperate, encourage it with love and sweet words. Hum, sing, or dance—do whatever it takes to make your heart and soul a part of what you’re cooking.”
As everyone dispersed, Lexi sidled up to Miranda. “And you deny talking to the mesclun?”
Miranda laughed. “You got me.”
Lexi shot her an appraising glance. “You seem especially perky today. Bet you had that kinky make-up sex I mentioned last night.”
“Not yet. Maybe tonight... if I get lucky.” Miranda winked.
She spent the rest of the day alternately breathing down the necks of her cooks and bakers, checking that her instructions were followed to the letter, and meticulously going over the checklist of things she needed to bring.
Diane Simpson sent word not to worry about utensils or the bar and drinks. That was a huge relief to Miranda. She ticked both off her list. Her biggest concern was having enough cambros to keep everything warm, especially her hand made breads, rolls, prosciuttos, empanadas, and miniature pizzas.
Miranda oversaw every menu item transferred to serving dishes. She ensured the cambros were placed carefully over the dishes, reminding the waiters not to stack them too high so nothing got crushed. The crew worked together in an efficient symphony that satisfied their chief conductor.
“Don’t forget to bring extra fuel cells for the chafing dishes,” she reminded Lexi.
“Locked and loaded,” Lexi replied as they headed outside.
Miranda cast a look behind her at the kitchen. “You’re sure we didn’t forget anything?”
“Girl, you went through that checklist like you were studying for the Bar Exams. And so did I. Yes, we have everything.”
Miranda nodded. “Okay. It's show time.” Nervous tension bloomed in her stomach.
***
The Guggenheim was a New York landmark. In a city famous for its skyscrapers, all competing for attention with height and lavish architectural embellishments, the museum’s squat, white edifice defied expectation. Its clean circular design, totally devoid of any ornamentation, earned the Guggenheim the distinct honor of being an icon.
As she stepped inside, a towering skylight resembling spiral ramps soaring high above into a glass domed ceiling drew Miranda’s eyes. She stared up. The sleek circular lines gave an impression similar to floating in limitless space. Miranda found herself among a group of tourists dreamily gazing at the skylight.
A tap on the shoulder from a uniformed female staff member brought her back to the present. “This way please, Miss Okafor. Mrs. Simpson said to expect you.”
The woman led her to the Ronald O. Perelman Rotunda where the party was to be hosted. The venue was a wide open room, perfectly in keeping with the rest of the museum. The staff member showed her a door that led to a smaller room. “You can use this space as your food prep area.”
Lexi dashed in. “The food trucks are at the back entrance. We’re ready to unload.”
Miranda looked at her. “Everything all right? You sound nervous.”
Lexi grimaced. “This place is impressive. It suddenly struck me how...big... this is.”
“Overawed?” Miranda gave her assistant a pat on her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone...but me, too.”
“Miranda, you finally made it.” A familiar voice called out.
Miranda’s heart sank. Bruce Simpson hurried across the room toward her, dressed in a black and white tuxedo. Ever since she’d first met him at their engagement party, Bruce made her feel uncomfortable. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Maybe the man was just too creepy for her taste?
“Hi, Bruce. This is my assistant manager, Lexi.” Miranda motioned towards her assistant.
Bruce glanced at her, and pointedly turned away.
Lexi turned red at the snub. She walked away and headed for a small window with a one-way mirror that looked out onto the party venue. Despite her irritation, Miranda felt a stab of concern for Lexi. Her assistant didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. But losing her cool in front of Bruce would ruin everything.
“Is everything alright?” Bruce asked.
Miranda wondered at the tone in his voice. Bruce was the last person she expected to show interest in her work. “Yes, fine.”
“The food has arrived then?”
“The trucks are unloading as we speak.” He’s probably worried because I’m new to the business—and who could blame him? This was Diane’s big event. No wonder Bruce wanted it to go flawlessly. She’d been apprehensive herself when Wolfe first raised the idea. But after all the preparations they’d made, Miranda was confident.
“Alright then.” Bruce stuck his hands in his pocket and lounged against the wall. “I’ll stick around, if you don’t mind.”
Miranda wished she could shoo him away. She glanced at Lexi by the window, watching the guests’ arrival. Lexi suddenly turned, waving at her to come over.
Miranda made her way to her assistant. “What is it?”
“Wolfe’s mom has arrived. The guests are starting to pour in.”
“Duh. Didn't you just meet ‘el creepo’ over there?” Miranda nodded her head in Bruce’s direction. “I’m sure they came together.”
Lexi snickered. “That man talking to Mrs. Simpson... Do you have any idea who he is?”
Miranda craned her neck to see. “Oh, that’s Simms, Wolfe’s security officer-cum-occasional chauffeur-cum-assistant. Wolfe probably sent him over to help with the guests.”
Lexi frowned. “I’ve met him before.”
Miranda nodded. “He’s been to the kitchen to check on the progress during construction. Maybe that’s where you met.”
“No. I’ve only met him once and it wasn't at Dream Kitchen.”
“Where then?” Miranda frowned.
Lexi clamped a hand over her mouth as she remembered. She looked at Miranda apologetically. “Don’t be angry, okay? Remember when I called in sick with a stomach bug?”
Miranda nodded. That was the day she went to see Wolfe in his office and he’d come up with his bizarre proposal.
“I wasn’t really sick. I was drunk. I swear to god, I was on my way to the office. Then I found him—Simms—in my driveway. He said his car broke down and asked if he could use my phone. I said sure and we got to talking. He was so upbeat, I couldn’t help but like him. Then he suggested we go to a bar. Yeah, I know…. it was like 9 a.m. But we went anyway.”
“And…?” Miranda prompted. This was a side to Lexi she’d never imagined.
“So...we had a few drinks. He started flirting. He seemed really into me, asking where I worked and all of that stuff. When I mentioned ‘Noelle’s, he said he’d been there before and really loved the food. I talked about you and how great you are in the kitchen. He wondered if you had plans of putting up another restaurant. I ended up telling him about the catering business. You won’t believe it, but he knew the area. I mentioned Mr. Thompson, and he said he knew the old guy.”
Wolfe never mentioned anything about this to her... then again, Simms wouldn’t exactly tell his boss that he was flirting with girls on company time. Miranda shook her head. She’d always pegged Simms as the responsible type. “Go on.”
Lexi sighed. “That’s it. I totally expected him to call me after he brought me back to the apartment. But he never did. But you want to know the really weird thing? He said his car broke down but we used his car to go to the bar then drove back again to my apartment.”
“So he didn’t really have a breakdown?”
Lexi nodded. “At the time, I thought he wanted to ask me out but was too shy to do it without an excuse. But when he didn’t call...” She broke off.
Miranda looked up to see the Dream Kitchen’s crew entering the room. “We’ll talk about this later.”
She wanted to make sure the boxes were set out in an orderly fashion. Otherwise, they risked losing things in the chaos. But everywhere she turned, Bruce Simpson was underfoot. Miranda ground her teeth. Can’t he see he’s making a nuisance of himself to the working crew?
“Ah, the master chef at work.” Miranda looked up to see Diane Simpson walking toward her.
Miranda was relieved. With any luck, Diane would take Bruce away from the room with her. “Would you like a sneak peek at the art?”
Diane clapped her hands together. “I would be delighted.”
Miranda signaled a crew to bring over a cambro containing her hors d'oeuvres masterpieces. She beamed, feeling like a magician as she whisked the cover away.
Diane gasped.
Bruce’s face turned an angry red. “What in the world is that?”
Miranda stared at him in confusion, and then looked down at the dish. She couldn’t suppress a cry of dismay. The appetizers looked strange. Instead of sitting prettily on golden brown dough baked to perfection, the crust had turned a pasty anemic shade.
“Is that how it's supposed to look?” Diane asked hesitantly, staring at Miranda’s horrified expression.
“No,” Miranda cried. She signaled for another cambro to be brought over, tearing the cover away anxiously.
It was the same as the other. The atmosphere inside the small room turned into one of agitation as the crew, aware that something had gone wrong, made a mad rush to uncover the rest of the boxes.
It was all the same. Nothing looked the way it had back in the kitchen. It was like a curse had befallen every single dish they prepared.
Miranda blanched as panic enveloped her. She looked to her assistant.
Lexi stood white-faced with mouth wide open. “But everything was fine when they came out of the ovens!”
Miranda turned to Diane. The woman was stricken, staring at her with a helpless expression. “Diane, I don’t know how this happened. I swear, I double-checked everything. The food was fine before we left the restaurant.”
“I knew it.” Bruce slammed his hand down on a table, making everyone jump. “I told you not to trust someone without experience. But you insisted on giving her a chance. This is an important event. We can’t serve our guests that-that garbage!” Bruce raved.
Miranda was shaking like a leaf. She had to think fast. “I’ll go back to the kitchen—”
“And do what?” Bruce bellowed. “Are you trying to sabotage this event? You think we can keep the guests waiting till you came up with a replacement? There are important people out there expecting to be served culinary dishes.” Froth flew from his mouth as he yelled orders at Miranda’s crew. “Take this disgusting fare away before someone walks in and thinks my wife is trying to poison them.”
Diane stared in shock. “Bruce!”
Miranda felt tears pricking her eyes. How could this have gone so wrong? “Diane, I’m sorry. I don't know how all this hap—”
Bruce sneered, talking over her loudly. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?” Diane asked
“I know another catering service and they owe me a favor. I’m on their VIP list. They’ll deliver if I ask them to.” He placed an arm around her shoulder. “Don't you worry, honey. I’ll make sure this event is still a success despite this—this tragedy.” He steered her toward the door.
Diane looked dismayed as she left the room.
Miranda was rooted to the spot. Her limbs felt heavy, as if she’d been turned to stone. Her shock was absolute.
“You.” Bruce pointed his finger at the crew who stood there paralyzed along with their boss. “What are you all waiting for? Clean this place up before the new caterers arrive!”
Miranda felt like she was trapped in the reel of a moving picture set to slow motion. The commotion in the room had turned into a weird vibration that was almost as deafening as it was slow. She stood, watching in silence, as her crew removed all traces of their labor.
“Miranda!” Lexi took her by her arm.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, in anticipation of the blow that would surely send her reeling. Right now, all she felt was numbness blanketing her entire body.
“Let’s go.” Lexi steered her gently toward the door.
They headed out the back entrance. Despite the numbness she felt, the irony wasn’t lost on Miranda. She arrived at the Guggenheim expecting to conquer, yet here she was, slinking away like a thief in the night.
“Wait!”
They’d almost reached the sidewalk. Miranda turned and saw Wolfe running after them.
His sudden appearance was the catalyst that broke the dam of emotions Miranda desperately wanted to hold back. She slumped against the wall as her knees gave way. Her breathing became labored as her heart constricted in pain.
Wolfe slowed as he approached, taking in Miranda’s appearance. His face plainly showed his concern. “What happened back there?”
Miranda couldn’t speak. A strange sensation overcame her. Ordinarily, in the midst of extreme agitation, a familiar face alleviated a volatile state. For Miranda, the stress of maintaining the deception that was their relationship fused with the failure of the catering event. Rage filled her. “You!” she hissed. “This is all your fault!”
Wolfe flinched. “How could this be possibly my fault?”
“I told you I wasn’t ready, didn’t I? I wanted to start small. But you insisted I do this knowing fully well that I could fail.” Miranda’s voice shook. “Food knows! Food knows if you’re not honest—”
“No, Miranda. Stop.” Lexi cut in. “You’re acting crazy.” She turned to Wolfe. “Please, let’s not talk about this right now.”
“Calm down.” Wolfe took Miranda’s arm. “Here, let me take you home.”
His condescension fueled Miranda’s rage even further. “No!” She shoved him violently. “You leave me alone.”
Wolfe stared at her.
Miranda was equally shocked at her own reaction. She was overwhelmed by a strong desire to flee—and an equally strong desire to throw herself at his feet. On unsteady legs she whirled around, plunging into the street. She narrowly avoided colliding with pedestrians, the one thought in her mind being escape.
“Miranda!” A hand snaked through her arm. Wheeling round, she came face to face with Lexi. Her assistant squeezed her arm. “I got you.”
“W-wolfe?”
Lexi raised her hand, hailing a passing cab. “Back at the Guggenheim. He won’t follow us.” A cab pulled up, and she helped her shaking boss into it. “Let’s go home.” She started giving the driver her address.
“No!” Miranda took a deep breath. “Take us to Dream Kitchen.”
***
Hours later, Miranda stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dousing her face with cold water had calmed her, but that was all it had done. Her eyes were red from crying. Her hair was a mess and she looked defeated. She’d hoped that returning to Dream Kitchen would provide an explanation for what had happened, but being surrounded by the kitchen she’d fought so hard for had triggered another bout of crying.
A sound from outside reminded her that Lexi must be waiting for her. Miranda turned away with a sigh. She much preferred to be alone, but Lexi was just as disappointed as she was, and she couldn’t make the woman worry any more.
As she stepped inside her office, she saw Lexi had a glass of wine waiting for her. “I know you’re upset. We all are. But it's done. There’s nothing more we can do. So stop blaming yourself. Shit happens.”
Miranda took the glass of wine. “What did we do wrong? I was so careful. We all were. And you saw how every recipe came out perfectly. What the fuck happened?”
Lexi shook her head, pouring herself a glass of wine. “I wish I knew. But I don’t. We just need to salvage what we can from all this and hope it doesn't happen again.”<
br />
Miranda’s shoulders slumped. “Diane must hate me. She’ll never talk to me again. Bruce was right. She’ll think I tried to sabotage her party.”
Lexi looked up. “I don’t think Diane is your biggest problem right now.”
“What do you mean?” Miranda eyed her assistant.
“Wolfe? You practically blamed him for this mess and almost threw him against the wall.”
The Penthouse Secrets: A NYC Billionaire Romance Trilogy Boxed Set Page 21