She quickly donned her lucky apron and cap, pulling it over the bun she had put her hair into immediately when she’d gotten up. It had become a force of habit, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn her hair down. But while she was baking certainly was not the time to do it.
She stoked the stove, letting it heat up as she kneaded the dough and almost closed her eyes as she felt the familiar rhythm. With her experienced feel, she knew when the dough was ready to be set aside to rise, and after making a quick bowl of pastry dough, she set to chopping up the ingredients for the filling. She laughed out loud as she realized that chopping for her own creations didn’t seem nearly as tedious.
As she sautéed the beef she’d chosen for these meat pies and the onions, potatoes and spices together, she even started to hum her favorite tune that she would hum over and over in the bakery…much to the chagrin of Clara. It struck her that she was feeling a little homesick and hadn’t realized it.
She shook the feeling off and rolled circles of dough, placing the meat filling on half, folding them over and crimping the edges. Satisfied, she placed them on the pan and slid them into the oven.
She wiped her hands on her apron and looked around, grabbing the ingredients for the French bread that she was actually supposed to be making.
A light knock on the door startled her as she was just taking the last of the meat pies off the trays and getting ready to replace them with the loaves of bread that were ready to go into the oven.
She stood slowly, not sure who could be at the restaurant this early in the morning. She took the few steps to the door and pulled it open, wondering as she did if it was actually a good idea or not.
The man on the step outside the kitchen door jumped when she did, dropping his hat and stumbling back onto the dirt at the bottom of the steps.
“Oh, my goodness, are you all right?” Sadie cried as she bolted down the two steps to help the man up. As she did, she noticed his graying hair, blue eyes and slightly hollow cheeks.
He stood with her help, placed his hat back on his head and brushed the dust off his already dusty pants. He shifted from foot to foot, and she noticed that his shoes had definitely been his for a very long time.
Once he’d steadied himself, she asked, “I’m sorry to have startled you, Mr.—”
“Lewis. Marvin Lewis, ma’am. And I’m sorry to have troubled you so early in the morning. It’s just that I was on my way to see if they needed any day laborers over to the mine and there was this most delicious aroma…”
His stomach growled so loudly that she could hear it from where she stood, and his face reddened as he placed his arm over his belly.
“I’m so glad that you think they smell good. They are an experiment, so I can’t promise anything, but I’d be grateful if you’d volunteer as my taster. I really need an opinion.” She smiled and gestured for him to follow her into the warm kitchen.
This also felt familiar to Sadie, who’d gotten great joy from feeding people who needed it. And Mr. Lewis clearly did. Her heart swelled with gratitude that she was able to help him, and she picked up a meat pie that had cooled by now and handed it to him in a napkin.
“Have a seat, Mr. Lewis. My name is Mrs. Morgan, and this is my husband’s new restaurant. We open tonight.” She kept talking as he ate the meat pie as fast as anyone she’d ever seen, so that he didn’t think she was watching.
“It is a beautiful kitchen, Mrs. Morgan,” he said, trying to catch the crumbs of the meat pie that had settled on his lap by brushing them into the napkin that he’d noticed too late. There hadn’t been much time to notice as the pie disappeared quickly.
“Thank you. We are happy with it and excited to open the restaurant. I’m hoping it goes well.”
“I’m sure you’ll have lines out the door with those pies of yours, Mrs. Morgan. I think it’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his eyes inching toward the pan of pies.
Sadie laughed as she reached for another pie, handing it to Mr. Lewis. “Oh, no, these aren’t what we’re serving. This is just something I like to make. In fact, since they’re not on the menu, let me get you something to carry some in. You can take some with you.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Morgan, that’s much too generous. They are delicious, but I wouldn’t want to take what you’d planned for someone else.”
“I have no plans for them, Mr. Lewis,” she said as she wrapped up several of the pies and handed them to him.
“If you’re not serving these delicacies, what are you serving here,” he asked, his brows furrowed.
Sadie stood, looking about the kitchen slowly. “I’m not exactly sure, Mr. Lewis, but I’m positive it will be delicious. I know one thing is Cream Fricassee of chicken with asparagus, but there are more things planned. My husband is a wonderful chef, and I have no doubt that it will be delicious.”
Mr. Lewis continued to frown as he took the meat pies from Sadie. “I’m not sure what that is, Mrs. Morgan, but if you say it’ll be good, I’m sure it will be. Thank you much for your kindness,” he said as he walked out the door and placed his hat back on his head, tipping it slightly to her as he headed off toward the mine.
As she began to shut the door, another quick knock had her pulling it back open before it even latched. Standing on the stoop was a tall, young cowboy. He looked up and quickly took his hat off, holding it against his chest.
“Oh, hello, ma’am, I hope I didn’t startle you.”
Sadie looked at the man in front of her, noticing his dark hair and blue eyes with laugh lines surrounding them in his rough, tanned skin. “No, you didn’t startle me at all,” she said.
“Oh, good,” he said, his eyes twinkling along with his smile. “I’m lookin’ for Tripp Morgan. Is he here?”
“No, not at the moment, but I’m Mrs. Morgan,” she said, extending her hand. He took her hand in his briefly as his cheeks turned a little pink.
“Oh, I’d heard he’d gotten married, but I refused to believe it. Guess I have to now,” he said, a little chuckle escaping his lips.
“Would you like to come inside, Mr.—”
“Archer. Hank Archer. I’m a friend of Tripp’s from the ranch. We rode the trail quite a bit together. I was his assistant from time to time when he needed help.”
She laughed, her hand on her cheek. “Oh, so you’re a sous chef, too. I hope you liked it more than I do.”
“A sous chef, ma’am? Not sure I know what that is. Been out on the trail for a while and haven’t seen Tripp since he got back from that chef school.”
Her eyes softened as she realized her mistake. “Oh, Mr. Archer, I’m sorry. I’ve been helping my husband get ready to open the restaurant and my sense of humor has been a little tried,” she said as she led him into the dining room.
He whistled while he looked up at the ceiling and around to the mahogany bar and brass rail. “This is quite a place you have here,” he said after eyeing the room. “You must be mighty proud.”
She ushered him back into the kitchen. “Yes, we are, and pretty excited. I hope you’ll come to opening night tonight? It’s just for a few people, but I bet Tripp would love to have you here.”
“I think that would be great, ma’am. Thank you for the invite. Okay if I bring a guest?”
She thought he probably had a special lady that he’d like to bring, and the thought pleased her. She’d likely be impressed with the new restaurant, and she always liked to ease love along if she could.
“That would be lovely, Mr. Archer.”
“Oh, please call me Hank, ma’am. And if you’d give my regards to Tripp, we’ll see you later tonight.” He turned to walk through the kitchen, his boots clunking on the kitchen floor. He looked like he’d spent a great deal of time outdoors, his rugged good looks adding to the appeal of his easy-going nature.
“I will do that, Hank.” As he had his hand on the door, she spied the remaining meat pies and realized she needed to get them out of the kitchen b
efore Tripp came in. “Are you hungry, Hank?” she said, grabbing a napkin and piling some meat pies into it, tying the ends like a knapsack.
“I did just ride in from the trail. Came straight here, so I guess the answer would be yes, ma’am,” he said as he turned from the door.
“Take these. Tripp would want you to have them. They’re something that I like to make, and I hope you like them,” she said as she placed the pies in his hand.
He continued down the steps, and turned and tipped his hat to her, just as Mr. Lewis had done.
“Thank you, ma’am, and I’ll see you later tonight. Thank you for your kindness, and don’t forget to give my regards to Tripp.”
She sighed with satisfaction as she leaned against the door after she’d closed it. She loved her new town, her new life…and couldn’t wait to tell Tripp about the morning’s events.
Chapter 11
After the loaves of bread were out of the oven, Sadie headed back home. It was still fairly early, and she thought she might get a little rest in before it was time to get ready for opening night’s festivities.
She locked the door to the Occidental, feeling very good about what she’d done. Even though she’d been up since before dawn, her step was light and her heart full as she thought of Mr. Lewis, and that she’d prevented him from going hungry, at least for this morning.
A giggle escaped her as she thought of his face with his first bite of the meat pie. His eyes grew wide and he just kept taking bite after bite. She knew how Tripp would feel tonight. There was nothing quite like people loving something you’d created.
As she opened the door to Tripp’s house—her house, although she had yet to think of it that way—she spotted him where she thought she would. In the kitchen.
She hung up her coat and put her gloves in the pockets, ready for her return later to the restaurant. Tripp was once again bent over the stove, stirring something that actually did smell quite good. She’d eaten the last meat pie before she’d left, so she wasn’t starving, but it made her stomach rumble, just the same.
“Hello,” she said as she came up behind him, and she felt a pinch of guilt as he once again started, hitting his head on the pans. He turned, rubbing his head.
“Hello to you, too.” She reached for his hand, ensuring that there was no blood and stood on her tiptoes to check for a bump.
“That seems to happen to you quite frequently,” she said, smiling as she let go of his hand. “I don’t see any blood, but you’ll have a bump to match the one on the other side.” She smiled at him, surprised that she felt relieved he wasn’t injured.
“Maybe I should move the pot racks,” he said as his own smile widened.
“Being a chef isn’t exactly supposed to be dangerous, so maybe it would be a good idea.”
She took a seat on one of the stools next to the chopping table. The kitchen in Tripp’s house was really just a smaller version of the one at the restaurant, and he certainly knew his way around—except when trying to avoid bumping his head.
He stirred whatever it was on the stove and held out the spoon for her to taste it. “Here, see if you like this.”
She blew on it for a moment until it stopped steaming quite so much and closed her eyes, ready for anything. She smiled, surprised that it was delicious—and then felt a pang of guilt that she might expect anything other.
“It’s delicious, Tripp. Is that for the opening tonight?”
He put the spoon back in the pot. “Oh, no. That’s for us for lunch. It’s a cream sauce and goes over the chicken. Everything is ready at the restaurant until I get there later, and I was a little nervous. And when I’m nervous, I cook.”
She turned toward the cupboard and took out some bowls, quick to hide her smile. She was the same way, and had gone to the restaurant early to ward off her anxiety, and was delighted to find that he’d done the same. And especially grateful that he’d made something for them both for lunch—and felt another twang of guilt at the thought. She’d not made anything for him. In fact, she hadn’t even told him what she’d been doing.
Shaking off the thought, she set the bowls down next to the pot, and the spoons and napkins on the butcher block. The few times they actually had eaten there, they’d sat in the kitchen, where they both seemed to feel more comfortable and they could continue to make things, grab condiments and enjoy their meal.
It was starting to feel comfortable to her, and she asked and he answered questions about the menu, hoping to keep his nerves quiet. It was a big night, after all. One he’d been anticipating for a very long time.
They finished eating, and he’d insisted that she rest for a bit before she headed back to the restaurant. “Are you sure?” she’d asked him as he grabbed his coat and his hat. “I think I’m all right to come with you.”
“No, no, definitely not. It might be a late night, although it should be very small and end early. It’s only the few people that I’ve invited. Kind of a soft opening, so it won’t be horribly busy while I get familiar with the menu.”
“Oh, I meant to tell you, a friend of yours came by today and I invited him to the opening tonight,” she said as she thought of Hank and her promise to him. “He asked me to give you his regards. Said he hadn’t seen you for a long time and used to ride the trail with you.”
“Oh? I haven’t been back all that long, I guess. Who was it?” he said as he put his hat on.
“His name was Hank. Hank Archer,” she said and she smiled as he laughed.
“Ah, good old Hank. He rode the trail with me, and helped me out a lot when I needed it. After…” He stopped, putting his coat on. “Well, it’ll be nice to see him.”
She watched him, wishing she knew what had happened. “He asked if he could bring a guest, and I said it was all right. I hope I did the right thing,” she said as she looked up at him.
He opened the door and started to walk out, but stopped, turned around and gave Sadie a quick peck on the cheek. “That’s fine. Just fine. He’s a friend. And thank you for everything, Sadie,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
The heat rose in her cheeks as she brought her hand to where he’d kissed her. Her brows furrowed at the butterflies in her stomach. Why would they be there? Yes, he was handsome, and yes, he was a very good chef, but he hadn’t wanted her to help much.
Well, only to help him with the things he didn’t want to do. And he was a little odd, sometimes. But she couldn’t deny that her cheeks were red—she even confirmed in the mirror—and that her cheek still tingled from his kiss.
She shook her head, thinking that this was a very bad thing as he clearly did not have feelings for her other than gratitude, and this was a business arrangement.
As her head hit the pillow, she decided not to think about it, and just make sure that the restaurant was as successful as it could be, and the rest she would worry about later. Nothing she could do about it now, anyway.
Chapter 12
The two “invitation only” nights had been a blessing for Tripp as he was able to work out some of the small kinks in something as complicated as a fancy restaurant. On opening night, Sadie and Suzanne had arrived early, wearing their best day dresses.
“Gosh, you two really look a lot alike tonight,” Tripp said as they put on their aprons.
Sadie and Suzanne looked down at the same time, laughing in unison. “Oh, my goodness,” Sadie said. “Our dresses are the same color.”
Suzanne’s eyes twinkled as she said, “Hope that doesn’t get us in trouble.”
They smoothed their aprons and headed out into the dining room. Guests came in steadily and were seated in order, handed menus and bread was placed in the center of the table.
They’d decided to split the tables down the middle, each responsible for five. Sadie and Suzanne took orders as quickly as they could, refilled water and coffee and grabbed plates from the kitchen as soon as they heard the bell Tripp rang when orders were ready.
As Sadie set a basket of brea
d on one of her tables, a customer at one of Suzanne’s flagged her. She looked around and, assuming that Suzanne was in the kitchen, she went over to the table.
“Good evening. May I help you?” she said.
“I’ve asked already for more water,” the woman said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll—“
“I see you must have forgotten. I’d like it now, please,” she said, tapping her empty water glass with her fork.”
“I’m not—“
The woman peered at her over the glasses that had slid down on her nose. “I’ll have no excuses. Just bring it now, and don’t forget next time.”
Sadie raised her eyebrows, wanting to argue that she was not the waitress for this table and hadn’t forgotten, but decided it was easier—and faster—to just get her water.
As she turned back to the kitchen after pouring the water, she almost bumped into Suzanne.
“What?” Suzanne whispered.
Sadie nodded her head toward the woman’s table.
“She wanted water. I think she thought I was you,” she said, covering her mouth as she giggled. “I decided it was easier to get it than to argue.”
Suzanne’s eyes twinkled.
“Thanks, sister. I just did the same for one of your tables.”
“Oh!” Sadie said as she looked around and then down at their dresses. “I guess they think we’re the same person. How could that be when there are two of us?”
Suzanne shrugged her shoulders and laughed as she headed over to her section of the dining room, clearing away dirty dishes.
Sadie grabbed the plates for her next customers and set them on a tray after Tripp had rung the bell again.
“How’s it going?” he said, stirring a sauce as he turned to her.
“It’s going well, except they keep getting us mixed up. They think we’re the same person,” she said, laughing.
He stopped mid-stir. “Well, that would make things challenging for the customers.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she said. “We’re just trying to help each other.”
The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1) Page 6