Chef's Delight (Stories of Serendipity)

by Anne Conley

  Her eyes flashed with anger. Having seen where his eyes landed, she jerked her skirt down and stood up, as a flush stole up her chest into her face. “You never introduced yourself last night. I had no idea you were the owner of this restaurant. I thought you were some creep who followed me home, or something. I’m sorry, I don’t typically shoot at legitimate customers." She took a deep breath, and Connor's eyes dropped to her heaving breast again, against his will. Apparently, she noticed, because her cheeks flushed red again, and she threw the bag she was holding at his feet. "Here’s your cheese. I hope it’s what you need.” She turned abruptly, her skirt swinging up to show a heart-stopping amount of leg, and stomped out of the restaurant.

  Connor picked up the thermal tote, and took it to the kitchen, where he opened it up and removed the cheeses from inside. He had twenty minutes before the restaurant opened for lunch, and he didn’t even know if this cheese was going to be any good. It was made by a crazy lady, after all.

  He examined the packages. There must have been 15 of the neatly wrapped butcher paper packages. The color looked good. A couple of them were herbed cheeses, so he opened up a package of each and took a taste.

  This was some of the best cheese Connor had ever tasted, hands down. The flavor was absolutely sublime: a tangy, creamy mild flavor on some, others had a stronger flavor. The Basil Pesto Goat Cheese was definitely going on the fig pizza, and the cilantro chipotle Goat Cheese could have a prominent feature on his cheese tray. As he tried each of the different cheeses, his mind exploded with different flavor combinations to try on different specials, and maybe some new permanent menu items.

  Kathy walked up behind him, “Told you they were better than that crap the other guy brought you.” She nudged him with her hip, “You all better now? Or should we continue calling you Mr. Grumpy behind your back?”

  Connor growled at her through a mouthful of creamy goodness. After he swallowed, he looked at Kathy, “It’ll do. I’m not too sure I can continue to do business with a woman who is so damn moody, though.”

  “You caught her on an off day. Apparently, she tied one on last night, and wasn’t her best this morning.” Kathy looked at her watch, “Oops! Gotta run and turn on the open sign. Everything ready back here, now?”

  “Bring it.” He tossed her a crooked smile, and shooed her out the kitchen door.

  Jessica drove home in a huff. She had taken him almost $200 worth of cheese, and he had ogled her, as if she were some cheap stripper. What a pig. Why is it men are ALL like that?

  Her traitorous memories relived the way his body had felt when he fell on top of her. His arms were strong as they wrapped around her, cradling her as they tumbled down to the carpet. She wondered how it would feel to tumble down to the carpet with him under different circumstances. Not realizing the ironic twist of her reflection, she continued with her train of thought all the way home, imagining his body doing so much more.

  After she had changed clothes, she went out to the barn and brought in some of the goats’ milk from the fridge. She took the milk inside, strained it, and put it on the stove in a big pot to get hot. She needed to replenish her cheese supply quickly, since she had given it all away in a rash attempt to make good with Kathy’s boss. She could have kicked herself when she rehashed the whole predicament. While the milk was getting up to temperature, she cleaned off the counter tops, and got out the lemons and cheesecloth. She could use Renit tablets, and did with some recipes, but the lemon juice was cheaper and easier, and Jessica thought it added a dimension to the cheese the Renit didn’t.

  After adding the lemon juice, Jessica let the mixture sit while she went back out to the barn to get another gallon of milk to start that part of the process again. When she had the second batch up to temp, and added the lemon juice, she went to the first batch and cut the curd, using a table knife. She nodded, pleased with herself. They were the perfect consistency. After using a slotted spoon to spoon the curds into the cheesecloth and tie them up, she took them back out to the fridge on the porch, and hung them on the dowel rods she had installed over a tray. She took out the cheese molds she had put in there yesterday and brought them inside the house.

  Jessica put the liquid remaining in the pot into jars. She had a customer who sold whey smoothies in her dessert shop, after Jessica had introduced her to the concept.

  Jessica then went outside to her herb garden, and snipped some Basil and dug up some garlic for some herbed cheeses. After washing and chopping them finely, she rolled the molded cheeses in the herbs and wrapped them carefully, before putting them back in the refrigerator. Then she finished up the second batch of cheese.

  Making the cheese, like milking the goats, sent Jessica to a place inside herself, which she loved. She was the master of this place, totally in control. She knew what relaxed her girls and made them produce the most milk, just like she knew exactly what she needed to do to make the best cheese possible.

  After relaxing on the porch and finishing her smoothie, Jessie went to the fridge to get more milk and continue her cheese-making. She had a lot of product to make up for what she had given away today.

  If only she could quit thinking of the sandy-haired man.

  Chapter 3

  The lunch rush over, Connor stayed in the kitchen to play with what was left of the cheese assortment that damn woman had brought. It really was some of the best cheese he had ever tasted, and he was playing with flavor combinations.

  It melted smoothly, and would make an excellent cheese sauce for steaks, and pork. He thought about using it for a stuffing for some chicken breasts, topped with wilted greens.

  It went so well with the figs, he wondered if it would go as well with the wild cherry compote he had developed. He could probably devise some sort of dessert tart with that flavor combination. He decided to start there.

  As his hands busied themselves in his kitchen, his mind traveled back to this morning, to watching Jessie in the barn. It had been warm in there, and her body glistened with sweat as she worked. He had seen her impossibly long legs extend from the flowery muck boots into her cut-off shorts. Her abdomen, taut from hard work around her farm, no doubt, had shown under the tank top she had worn, pushed up under her breasts and tied in the back. Her shoulders and arms had well-defined muscles on them. The woman didn’t have an inch of fat on her, and Connor would wager not a single ounce of muscle came from a gym. He had seen last night, she was tall, probably almost six feet tall, which was nice. He hated dating women he had to hunch over to kiss. He would only have to bend his neck slightly to kiss Jessie.

  He wondered why he was imagining kissing her when he remembered the shotgun. Instead of anger, though, he was surprised to feel a sort of indignant protectiveness. What in the world would cause her to carry a shotgun around her property with her? Had she somehow been in danger? Quite possibly, if she lived out there alone.

  Shaking his head to clear the wayward thoughts from it, he tried to busy himself with the task at hand. Tart. Right.

  As he rolled out the pastry dough, he noticed something shiny out of the corner of his eye.

  Odd. It was that creepy mirror again. Well, the mirror itself wasn’t creepy, just the fact he kept finding it in his kitchen. Especially after he kept putting it back in the storage room in the carriage house.

  It was a sterling silver mirror, probably part of a dresser set women used to use. It should be tarnished, but someone, Connor had no idea who, had polished it until it had a bright, gleaming luster. It had been relegated to a room in the carriage house filled with other random things he had found in the house, which he had no intention of using. He would probably end up selling most of it, if he could find a buyer for the stuff. There were plenty of junk dealers in town, and they were his most likely prospects.

  It had to be Luke messing with him. It seemed his brother was always trying to pull some sort of trick on Connor. Today was not a good day for Luke’s hoaxes. Grabbing the silver mirror from where it sat on the counte
r top, Connor stalked out the back door, and crossed the parking lot to the carriage house.

  “Luke!” Connor walked through the sitting room Luke had arranged, and started climbing the stairs to the loft above.

  “What, dude?” Luke was finishing the sheetrock on the ceiling. This carriage house had indeed been strictly a building for animals. Luke had left the wooden walls and beams in the ceiling, but he was sheetrocking between the beams for insulation. He had already wired the house for electricity, added a bathroom and a small kitchenette area, and plumbed the entire building. His only jobs left were to finish the sheetrock, and insulate between the exterior walls. The prospect of the little house finished excited Connor.

  He had not slept well in the big house.

  Holding the mirror up, Connor looked at his brother. “What the fuck is this mirror doing in the kitchen, again?”

  “Hell if I know. Why are you asking me?” His back turned to Connor, Luke couldn’t read his expression.

  “It keeps turning up there. I keep putting it back out here, and the next thing I know, it’s back in the kitchen. You’re the only person out here.” Connor was exasperated, knowing Luke was playing tricks on him.

  Luke climbed down from his ladder and walked over to Connor, holding out his hand for the mirror.

  “Dude. That is way too subtle for me. Not my style.” Grasping the mirror, he looked at his reflection, combing his hands through his hair. “Damn, I’m sexy.”

  “Give it to me.” Connor growled, as he grabbed the mirror, and tossed it into the room he was currently using for storage. Again. “If I find that in my kitchen again, I’m kicking your ass.”

  “It’s not me, Dude. It’s probably Kathy. The girl’s got a streak, you know?”

  “No. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You probably haven’t noticed much about her. You’ve got your head so stuck up your ass with this restaurant.”

  “It’s called priorities, man. I’m trying to start a business.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m almost finished with the ceiling in here, then I’m going to start installing the kitchen appliances. I’ll start pulling boards down to spray in the insulation in the next couple of days.”

  “Cool. I’m trying out some new recipes in the big house.” Connor turned to go. “Hey. You know the woman from last night? At the bar?”

  “Yeah, what about her?”

  “She’s Kathy’s friend, who makes the goat cheese. It’s the best stuff.”

  Luke made a gesture of making love to an invisible woman in front of him. “Tap that, man. Tap it.”

  “Not likely.” Rolling his eyes, Connor left Luke to his imaginary ministrations.

  Chapter 4

  Connor put a spoon full of sugar in his coffee cup, grabbed the newspaper, and sat down at one of the tables in the dining room of his restaurant, Estelle’s. This early in the morning, it was empty, lending an eerie quiet to the house, which he usually enjoyed. Not this morning, though. Something didn’t seem right about the house today. He had woken up to the sound of the floorboards outside his bedroom door creaking, which wasn’t anything new. It had happened at least six or seven times since he had bought the house a month ago. Connor had chalked it up to old houses and the noises they make. This house certainly fit the bill.

  This morning, as he sat in the front room, he felt a strange unease. The truth was, he had yet to feel totally comfortable alone here. When he'd first bought the old mansion, he'd been unable to shake the continuous sense of being watched. He must have gotten used to it, though. The feeling only came sporadically, like now. He definitely felt funny, the hair on his arms standing at attention.

  The previous owners, who had sold Connor the house furnished, had tried to run a bed and breakfast out of the big house, and there were still plenty of beds upstairs. Connor had been sleeping in the master bedroom, as his six foot seven frame necessitated the king-sized bed. But he hadn’t slept well in the house since he bought the place.

  Luke had been sleeping on the couch in the carriage house, because he said the big house gave him the creeps Connor wished the carriage house was bigger.

  The strange noises, creaky floorboards, and whispers of apprehension in the back of his mind kept him from resting peacefully. Connor chalked it up to stress from starting the restaurant, and the old house. But times like this morning, he wondered if he was letting his imagination get the best of him, or if there really was something in this creepy old place.

  Serendipity had plenty of restaurants, though only a few decent ones, and not any really nice ones. Connor had had a hard time coming up with a menu full of upscale items at lower prices. His first night, he had heard gasps of “Who does this guy think he is?” and “These are some Dallas prices, alright.” Luckily, he had been able to reprint the menus and alter things a bit. He wanted to have repeat customers, not people who came once for the food, but didn’t come back because of the prices. The cost of living was a quarter of Houston, and he couldn’t shock the residents of his new home town with his “exorbitant prices.”

  Eerie music pierced his reverie. He perked up his ears, and listened as he heard strains of an ancient rendition of a song he hadn’t heard since he was a kid, watching Saturday morning cartoons.

  ‘Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,

  Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home!

  Only Connor didn’t have a TV, and he hadn’t turned on his stereo this morning. Even if he had, he couldn’t imagine why the local top 40 station would be playing a song from the turn of the twentieth century.

  He wandered around the bottom floor of the house, through the kitchen and dining rooms, looking for the source of the music. It kept playing the same refrain over, and over.

  ‘Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,

  Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home!

  Connor couldn’t figure out where the music was coming from, and it wasn’t stopping. He walked out to the carriage house, to see if for some god-forsaken reason, Luke was up at this hour, jamming to really loud moldy oldies. Knocking on the door, he knew there wasn’t anything playing inside there. He could hear his brother’s snores from the other side of the door, and no music coming from inside.

  Walking back inside the big house, he could hear the refrain repeating itself again. He began to walk towards the stairs, a chill creeping up his spine as the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.

  When he set his foot on the bottom tread of the stairs, the music abruptly stopped. As he continued up the stairs, slowly, he heard no more sounds except the quiet footfalls of his own feet.

  Grumbling about the interruption of his morning caffeine intake, he reversed his steps on the stairs and went back into the front room to finish his cold coffee.

  Jessie had managed to awaken at her normal five thirty, was finished milking the goats, and had started for the fridge to get the milk for her first batch of cheese when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “No catchy business title to answer the phone with?” The voice at the other end of the phone sounded familiar, but Jessie couldn’t place it. It was low and gritty, but sweet, like her grandmother’s pralines used to be. The speaker had a slight drawl, not an exaggerated drawl, like the locals, but definitely a Texas boy.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Most business owners answer their phones with the name of their business, like I answer my phone, ‘Estelle’s’.” Ah…It was the restaurant owner who had looked at her like a veal cutlet yesterday. And the one she had shot at…

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Ahem…Stillwell Dairy, how may I be of service to you?”

  There was a slight pause at the other end of the line, as she blushed. If his mind was half as filthy as hers, she was sure she knew what he was thinking. “Hello? Did I lose you?”

  “Oh no. You didn’t lose me. I’m here.” His voice had gotten even lower, and it made something inside Jessie go all warm and go
oey. She could get used to talking to this guy on the phone. “I was calling to let you know I was very impressed with your cheese yesterday. Very…exceptional quality.”

  Relief flooded through her, in spite of the fact she was still angry at him for leering at her. And mad at herself for the lurid images that kept flowing through her mind at the sound of his voice. “I’m really glad you liked it.”

  “Do you make it all there, at your house?”

  “I have modified my kitchen to be a commercial grade food preparation area.” She bristled, in spite of herself. Was he trying to question her qualifications?

  “I have no doubts you did. I was just making conversation.”

  “Oh. Well, yes. I do make it all here.”

  “And you flavor it with your own herbs? I noticed the gardens when I was there yesterday.”

  “Yes, I do.” She felt the relief swell to pride, and she started to feel warm from the positive attention. Maybe this would mean some real orders for once. She could handle a hot guy leering at her, if he was going to order stuff.

  “The basil you used, it’s not the regular sweet basil, is it? It had a unique flavor. Spicy. Was it some sort of Asian variety?” The way he said the word spicy made Jessie’s knees weak.

  “Yes, that was Holy Basil, I think. I also raise some other Asian varieties, some Mediterranean varieties, as well as the regular sweet basil and lemon basil.” She needed to be friendly, get him to like her, so he would order more cheese from her. “You should come out and see my garden some time, maybe the next time you need some cheese?”

  “That’s actually why I was calling. I need to make arrangements to pay you for the cheese you brought by, and I would like to order more, if I could.”

  “Don’t worry about what I brought by. It was an apology gift for yesterday. I really am embarrassed I pulled a gun on you. Don’t worry about it. As for the order, I would be happy to set you up. How much do you need?”