by Claire Adams
“I’ll tell you what, the head chef here? He makes well over six figures a year,” I said and pulled out a thin spiral notebook from my pocket and a pen. I scribbled a quick series of numbers, followed by my phone number, and handed it to her. “That’s how much I’ll pay you. You’ll never get paid that much at Saint Padres, even as head chef.”
She stared at the numbers blankly. She would need time to process it, it seemed.
“I’m being serious, Everly,” I said. “I see the potential in you. You just have to see it yourself.”
“This much and I’ll be your chef, and teach you how to cook?” she clarified, and I nodded. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said, and surprised the both of us. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll call you. Thank you, Maddox.”
She rushed into the restaurant and I returned to my car with trembling hands. It worked, so far; my plan worked.
I barely remembered the numbers on the notepad, but I knew they were enough that if she still declined, then she truly did not want to see me again.
Chapter Ten
Everly
I walked away from Maddox with trembling legs. The note was in my purse, and it was difficult to keep from reading it over and over again. A job offer? His personal chef? The salary? It was like a dream. Everything about it screamed fake. He would laugh at me if I took it, telling me it was a joke and that I was a naive little girl. He was older than me. Maybe it was a lesson.
But his face had been so serious as he offered the position. The same stubble across his chin, the same deep, gray eyes that seemed to look nowhere else but at me, the same smirk that crossed his face as he smiled at something I said. Maybe he wasn’t joking. Maybe it was real.
I clocked into work and tied my apron around my waist. It was busy for a Friday, which meant I would have almost no time for myself. I didn’t have time to be distracted. I had to blanche fries, prepare tomatoes, sauté mushrooms, and dice onions. The other chefs moved around me in a familiar pattern, until we were synchronized in a cooking dance.
“You’re distracted,” Catalina said, and I paid her little attention as I pureed carrots.
“Maybe,” I said as a plan formulated in my head. We began to slow into the few silent moments between lunch and dinner, and soon I was able to breathe.
The note was surely buried deep within my purse by now, but that didn’t stop it from taking over my mind. His phone number, just a few scribbles on a note, was all I could think about. That and the fact that I was going nowhere in this restaurant, with no recognition or way up.
“Are the truffles ready?” Sergio, another station chef, asked. I glanced at my prep counter and found a pile of mushrooms that had been waiting for pickup for nearly three hours.
“They were washed hours ago,” I said and handed them to him.
“Hours ago?” He huffed.” They’ll lose their flavor that way. We have more, right?”
I shook my head. “I was told to have these washed and ready hours ago, which I did. It’s not my fault you didn’t pick them up in time.”
Sergio snarled and snatched them from my hand. “I’ll talk to Phil about this,” he said and returned to his counter.
Of course, I thought. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
It wasn’t the first time a station chef forgot an ingredient. But they were never blamed for their faults, no, it was always the prep’s wrongdoings.
“Don’t listen to him,” Catalina said as she passed me. “He always threatens to run to Phil.”
I smiled and thanked her, but I had had enough.
The moment I was finished prepping, I barged into Phil’s office without knocking.
“Everly!” he exclaimed, stammering as he apologized to whomever he spoke with on the phone. “Did I call you in here?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll wait for you to finish.”
I stood in the corner as he frowned and told the speaker he’d call them back, and hung up.
“What is it now?” he asked, as if I often interrupted him during important phone calls.
“I received an offer earlier,” I said. “A job offer.” I clarified as he stared at me with a blank look.
“Oh? What for?” he said carefully.
“A personal chef. To someone very wealthy.” I kept Maddox’s name out of my mouth. “He offered me way more than you ever could, but, Phil, I’d be more than happy to stay if it was certain that I’d at least have a shot at head chef in the next two years.”
There was a moment where Phil considered my plea. He glanced at his files, his phone, and finally at me.
“Everly,” he began. “Do you really think anyone else would put up with you the way that I do?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re always late,” he said. “Always running in here when you should be working. Always trying to get ahead of everyone else, not caring who falls in your path. The way you speak to me,” he shook his head. “No one else would put up with this. Especially not a ‘wealthy man’ who is apparently offering you more than I am.”
“I’ve worked my ass off for years,” I pleaded. “I stay in that kitchen until two, sometimes three, in the morning. Why am I always late? Because no one else stays that late, and I’m the only one who even cleans the kitchen. I get maybe four hours of sleep, on a good night, before I’m awake and on my way, here.”
“Regardless of your motivations, when I have you scheduled at 10, I expect you to be here at 10 on the dot,” Phil said.
“So you won’t even let me try to move up the ladder here?” I asked one more time.
“You are exactly where you need to be,” he said, repeating the same words as every other time I’d asked about a promotion.
“Okay,” I nodded, fidgeting with the edges of my sleeves. “I don’t think I can be here anymore then. Thank you for the opportunity, Phil, but I quit.” I turned, my heart beating so hard that I feared it might explode. I heard Phil stand abruptly from his seat.
“Good luck finding anyone else to put up with this!” he yelled, but I was already walking out of his office, and out of Saint Padres.
“You’re what?!” Lacey yelled. I winced, pulling the phone away from my ear. I sat in my car, still parked in the cramped parking lot on Fifth, and munched on a bag of muffins purchased from the cat cafe. I had sat there for the better part of an hour, reliving every moment of the day.
“I had to do something,” I said. “I was never going to get anywhere there. And this new job as Maddox’s chef? It could lead somewhere, Lace. He has connections that I could only dream about.” I dusted off cat hair from my favorite tuxedo.
“You don’t know anything about him!” Lacey yelled. I could practically hear her slapping her head. “You don’t know if he’s going to keep his word, or if his checks will bounce or clear.”
I thought about his fancy suits, the watch that cost more than both of my college degrees, and how much he paid for a single date with me.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I said.
“He could be a murderer.” Lacey loved stating the obvious. “Or a weird pervert. God, I don’t know what would be worse.”
“Or he could just be a bored billionaire who actually wants to learn how to cook,” I offered, but Lacey wasn’t taking it.
“Just think this through, Everly. Please, this is way too risky for someone like you. You’re giving up your career for some guy you don’t even know.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Someone like me?”
“You just don’t take unnecessary risks,” she said. “Everything you’ve done has been for your career.”
“That’s the thing. This is for my career. I’m going to be a chef for one of the richest guys in Seattle. It’ll look amazing on my resume,” I repeated Maddox’s words.
“Just promise me you’ll think about this,” Lacey pleaded. “You can probably get your job back if you apologize today.”
I opened my mouth to
argue, but realized it was useless with Lacey. Becoming a mom made you more careful, paranoid. I knew she was only this troublesome because she cared, and I couldn’t blame her.
“Of course, yeah,” I said. “I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t do anything crazy,” she said, and we exchanged our goodbyes.
Don’t do anything crazy.
I stared at my phone, and the piece of paper waiting on the console of my car. His phone number was in clear view, and so was the salary. Lacey was right, at least. This was possibly the biggest risk I’d ever take. And it was one I needed. I was doing the right thing. It was hard to explain, but somehow, at that moment, I knew it was the right thing.
I dialed Maddox’s number, and within a minute, his voice spoke from the other line.
“Hello?” he answered.
“It’s Everly,” I said. “Everly Winters.” I winced. I don’t think he knew my last name.
“Everly, how are you?” He seemed pleased to hear from me, and surprised.
“All I have to do is cook all your meals, and teach you how to make them?” I asked, and confirmed the salary.
“Of course,” he said. “With bonuses on holidays.”
“How much of a bonus?” I asked.
“Double what you’d normally get,” he said, and I sighed. What would I even do with all this money?
“I’ll take it,” I said, crumpling up the piece of paper in my palm.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said smoothly, as if he’d expected this the whole time. “Are you able to start on Monday?”
“This Monday? Yeah, I can be there,” I said.
“Perfect, I’ll send you my address, and I’ll see you no later than 6 that evening. Let’s start with dinner and go from there.”
“Okay. Thanks so much.”
He said goodbye, and hung up.
I threw my phone in my purse and covered my mouth. Adrenaline rushed over me, making me want to jump and skip and curl into a ball all at the same time.
I had quit my job, and taken an offer of a lifetime from a handsome man who seemed to take up way too much of my thoughts.
This was just a job, I reminded myself.
And hopefully his word was good.
Chapter Eleven
Maddox
I saw the opportunity present itself and slipped between the closing doors without a single person noticing. The cold wind bit at me, and I said goodbye to Alaskan Way and picked my car up at the valet. It never took more than half a minute for them to retrieve it, but I was still waiting after two.
“You still have your restaurant on Market Street.” I turned to find Jackie storming toward me. I cursed. So, someone noticed me leaving.
“I stopped by the other day,” I said. “It’s in my notes. I’m pretty sure you already ordered the new freezer, and I ordered new table covers.”
She furiously typed on her phone and checked our pending orders. Her thick hair was framed around her face in a bob cut, and her black skin was shiny with the heat of standing in a kitchen for too long. Dark eyes glared at me, but I was right, and she knew it.
“Really, Jackie, All You Can Eat is fine. Much more relaxed than you. Take the rest of the night off, get a massage, drink some wine. Add it to our expenses.” I offered as the Giulia pulled up.
“You and I both know I’m not going to do that,” she said and leaned on a hip. “Well, except the wine part. I’m putting a bottle of our most expensive wine on your tab.” She pointed at me, and I smirked.
“Of course,” I said, and slid behind my wheel. Jackie turned on her heels and returned to the restaurant, and I waited a moment and watched as she left with two bottles of our finest wine. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
I checked my reflection in the visor often as I drove to Nick’s house. Tonight was Everly’s first night, and it was a miracle I had gotten through work at all. What would she make? I wondered throughout the day. How would she react if I introduced Abby to her? Was I paying her enough?
I was smart enough to understand that introducing Abby to a woman too early was a poor decision, but I felt as if there was another reason behind it. I was protecting Abby, no doubt, but was I protecting myself, as well? There was no way I was letting my little girl think that another woman was coming into our world until I knew for sure that Everly was the woman I wanted in my life. It would either give Abby false hope that she’d have a mother figure, or scare the shit out of her that someone might take me away too. I wasn’t willing to let her think either thought just yet.
And how long was I going to be able to hide my very successful restaurant chain that’s all over this state and all across the country? It was almost a must now that I’d lied about needing her to teach me how to cook. Why the hell had I done that? Alaskan Way had been open for a year and a half, and already we were the top choice for downtown evening dinner. I was also contemplating adding a dish to the menu, thanks to Everly, and it was hard to hide my passion when it stirred.
And it was stirring. The more I thought about Everly, the worse my desire grew. I squirmed in my seat. Something was stirring, at least.
I was back to normal as I reached Nick’s, and I greeted Abby with a giant hug. She was working on that same painting she’d started Friday, just before the weekend. I made a comment on how amazing it looked.
Nick smirked in his corner, where a new painting waited.
“A little lie doesn’t hurt,” I said as he glanced at Abby’s mess of scribbled paint.
“Clearly,” he said, and his tone gave the impression of a double meaning. I raised an eyebrow, and Nick laughed. “You told that poor woman you needed someone to teach you how to cook. And she believed you! You’re playing her for a fool.” He had trouble keeping his laughter from filling up the whole room.
“I didn’t have another choice,” I said, and I couldn’t help laughing along. “It is dumb, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Nick shrugged. “Really dumb, but horny men do really dumb shit,” he said it quietly, but my head still snapped toward Abby to make sure she wasn’t listening.
“She repeats everything you say!” I reminded him, and he held his hands up. “And that’s not why I’m doing this, anyways. You’re disgusting.” I shoved his shoulder, and we both cracked up.
“But man, she is something, isn’t she?” I said, remembering Everly in that tight, black dress at the fundraiser. What was interesting, to me at least, was that she still looked as amazing as she was rushing down the street in a chef’s uniform, late for work.
“She’s a looker.” Nick agreed.
“Would you mind watching Abby for a few more hours?” I asked. “I haven’t exactly told her about Abby yet.”
“Sure, I understand. She can stay as long as you want her to.” Nick asked Abby if she’d like to stay longer with him, and she cheered and thanked me.
“Uncle Nick and I are painting!” she said and pointed at her canvas. “Do you like it?”
“Of course, sweetheart. It’s perfect,” I said, and Nick laughed behind me. “That pretty woman that you like? With the red hair? She’s coming over to make dinner.”
“She’s eating?” Abby asked, and I nodded.
“We might eat together. Is that okay?” I asked. Abby pretended to think about it, which was a habit she was starting to enjoy.
“Yeah, Daddy,” she said. “I love you.”
For a split moment, I second guessed myself. Was this fair to Abby? She didn’t know Everly, so if things didn’t work out between us, then it wouldn’t be a big deal. But it was important to me that Abby was comfortable with everything. I pulled her into a hug and thanked her for being a great child.
“That’s weird.” She complained and pushed me away. Nick cracked up, and I shoved him aside.
“I guess they all grow up someday, huh?” he said and opened his door for me.
“Don’t even joke about that.” I frowned and got ready to leave.
“Oh, wait, Daddy!” Abb
y yelled and jumped on my leg. I kneeled in front of her.
“Good luck.” She smiled and ran back to her painting. I watched her for a moment, before fixing my tie and walking back to my house. I was going to need that luck.
I spend the next two hours making sure my kitchen was perfect. High, marble counters, sleek, all-steel appliances, restaurant-grade oven and stove; only the best. I wondered if it was possibly too much, but that couldn’t be an issue. Surely Everly would appreciate it. I was stressing over nothing.
I forced myself to lounge in a recliner in the library, nerves on edge as I waited for the sound of a doorbell. I had sent her my address earlier in the day, and had nearly forgotten how to breathe when she had replied with a simple thanks.
Thankfully, Abby was easy to pick up after, and there was nothing of hers lying around. She was a bit of a neat freak, and always wanted her toys to be perfectly positioned in the corner of her room. She loved dusting the house as well, despite our maid visiting once a week for nearly five hours at a time.
The doorbell rang, and I ran to greet it in record time. My breath was shallow and uneven as I answered it, opening the door to welcome a very startled and wide-eyed Everly.
She was breathtaking, in a form-fitting white blouse and black pants that hugged her curves. Her hair was tied up as usual, and she had an apron hanging on the crook of her arm.
“Everly,” I welcomed her. “Come in.”
She took the first step slowly, as if she wasn’t sure if she should come inside. Her eyes never once stopped zigzagging through my house; at the grand staircase to our left, the vaulted ceiling with a giant crystal chandelier behind us, or the bridge upstairs connecting my seven rooms.
“This is your house?” She almost laughed.
“Yes.” I gestured around us. “There are two restrooms on this floor, on the furthest two corners from each other.” She followed as I crossed the family room into another room. “Here’s the parlor.” It opened up to an office, where a pool table and billiards waited with dust. “And through here,” I took her to the other room on the other side of the parlor, “is the library. If you need a moment to yourself, for any reason, I highly recommend this room.”