by Nell Hampton
“This is family business, and I will take care of it,” she said.
“I asked Mr. Gordon to tell the inspector about Frank’s gambling problem.”
“Oh, you have meddled far beyond reason,” Mrs. Perkins said. Her checks flushed red and her eyes flashed. “Frank did not have a gambling problem. I won’t have you telling people that my daughter’s husband was an addict. It’s unseemly and demoralizing.”
“I’m trying to save your grandsons,” I said.
“My grandsons don’t need your help, Chef Cole,” Mrs. Perkins said. “Leave my family alone or I will tell Mrs. Worth that you are too busy meddling to do a proper job as the family’s cook. Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” I said and raised my hands in surrender. “I won’t go near your family again. If anything happens to Meriam or the boys, it’s on your hands, not mine.”
“Good. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own,” Mrs. Perkins said. “Please see that you take care of yourself before you find your suitcases out on the lawn and a notice of unemployment in your inbox.”
She pushed by me with her nose in the air. I slumped against the wall. Mrs. Perkins had a lot of pull with Mrs. Worth. All I needed was to lose my job to make the day a complete bust.
Chapter 25
“I heard through the grapevine that you had a surprise visitor yesterday,” Penny said the next morning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t see you,” I said. “It’s probably a good thing, since I wasn’t having the best day of my life.”
She had found me cleaning the dust- and dirt-covered family kitchen. Breakfast had been served, and I’d escaped from the small test kitchen to take my troubles out on the dirt.
“I also heard through the grapevine that you kissed Jasper Fedman,” Penny said. She walked over to the greenhouse windows and wiped a small hole clean in order to peer out. “How was that?”
“How would the grapevine know anything? Besides, don’t you have something to do for the duchess?” I asked.
“Uh-oh, someone’s not happy,” Penny said. She grabbed one of the towels I’d brought in to clean with and wiped off one of the kitchen chairs before sitting down. “There are security cameras in the hallways, you know. And I do get a break. It’s not all work, work, work here. Now spill. Tell me everything.”
“I had a rough couple of days,” I said. “Where were you, by the way?”
“I had Sunday off, and yesterday I was working with Mrs. Worth on the duke and duchess’s next trip. They have to go to Australia for a few days next week. We’ve scheduled the tour down to each hour. Then there’s outfits and hair and makeup and accessories. We can’t have any bad press like the time her skirt kept blowing up at a solemn ceremony in India. Stupid wind. We’ve weighted down all her hems on her skirts now. They rather clank about her legs, but the press won’t have anything to comment on.”
“I can’t imagine having that kind of pressure to live up to every day,” I said as I wrung out the cleaning cloth I’d used and wiped out the inside of one of the cupboards. I’d taken everything out and piled the lot of pots and pans into the dishwashers to ensure they were cleaned. The dirt had gotten into every crevice of the kitchen.
“It’s why she likes her few days at home with the kids. She wants to put her hair in a messy bun, wear jeans, and cook dinner for her family like any normal woman.”
“I guess it’s not easy being a princess. In the United States, we all grow up thinking it would be great. You get to wear wonderful clothes and jewels and have the love of the prince and everyone in the kingdom. There’s always a price for our dreams, isn’t there?”
“Are you talking about your boyfriend from back home? The one you broke up with?”
“John,” I said, and saying his name filled my heart with sadness. “We weren’t exactly broken up. We were on a break,” I repeated, not for Penny—since I’d already told her—but for myself. “He realized I wasn’t happy with the break and thought he’d surprise me.”
“How’d he know you weren’t happy here?”
“I practically begged him to come visit,” I replied. “I know I’ve only been working here a week, but I wanted him to see firsthand where I was and what I did. I guess I secretly hoped he’d come to London, fall in love with the place, and want to stay near me.”
“I take it that didn’t happen.”
“No.” I wiped my forehead on my sleeve and moved on to clean the next cupboard out. “No, he came to ask me to marry him.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Penny squealed and jumped up. “Did you say yes? What was the ring like? Was it romantic?” She paused in her excitement for a brief moment. I watched as she thought things through. “Wait. You kissed Jasper.”
“John saw me kiss Jasper,” I said.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“Not one bit,” I said and scrubbed harder. “It turns out that while I was hoping John would want to move here, he was hoping that asking me to marry him would make me move back to Chicago and ultimately to San Francisco with him.”
“But you have a contract.”
“I told him that. He didn’t seem to think my dreams and commitments were as important as his own. So we ended things for good.” I sighed. “I also told him that I didn’t have any intention to kiss Jasper. It just happened. We’d shared dinner and a bottle of scotch. The dinner was Jasper’s way of making up for this.” I waved my hand at the giant mess that once was my kitchen.
“You don’t have to clean this, you know. We have maids to do that.”
“It’s my kitchen,” I said. “I want it cleaned my way.”
“You chefs are so odd,” Penny said. “If I can get someone else to do the dirty work, I’m all about that. Now, I take it your John has left.”
“Yes, almost as soon as he got here,” I said.
“You really did have a bad day.”
I slumped down onto the countertop. “Right?”
“Poor thing,” she said as her phone dinged from a text message coming through. “Oh, boy,” she said, looking at the screen.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Mrs. Worth,” Penny said and looked up at me with concern. “She wants to know if I’ve seen you.”
“Well, crap,” I said. “Why is she texting you and not me?”
“She did text you. Where is your phone?”
I glanced over to the hook where I’d hung my chef’s coat before pulling on an apron to clean. Hopping down off the counter, I went to the door and fished my phone out of the pocket of my coat. There were three texts from Mrs. Worth, all asking me to stop by her office immediately.
“Are you in trouble?” Penny asked as she came up behind me.
“I certainly hope not.” I tugged off the dirty apron and rubber gloves I was wearing. I then texted Mrs. Worth that I’d be right up. “Does she only see people when there’s trouble? Because this is the first time she’s requested to see me immediately.”
Penny winced.
That was answer enough for me. “Great.” My thoughts turned to the encounter with Mrs. Perkins last night. Had the old bat taken her complaints to Mrs. Worth?
“Maybe the duchess has decided to take you on the tour with them,” Penny said as she followed behind me.
“Would she do that?”
“If she wants to take the children, then yes, you would be expected to go wherever they go.”
“Let’s hope that’s the case,” I said as we hurried up the stairs to Mrs. Worth’s office.
“What else could be the case?” Penny asked.
“I went to see Meriam Deems yesterday and Mrs. Perkins had a fit over it.”
“Mrs. Perkins is trouble walking,” Penny said. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
We reached the offices. “Text me after and let me know if everything is all right,” Peggy said and then headed down the hallway.
“I will.” I did the last button on my chef’s coat and double
checked that my security badge was on properly before I knocked on Mrs. Worth’s door.
“Come in,” she said.
I found her sitting at her desk going over something on the computer. “You wished to see me?”
“Yes, come in, Chef Cole, and close the door behind you.”
I did as she asked.
“Have a seat.”
I sat down in the hard wooden chair across from her desk and waited as she finished typing.
“Now then, where were you? I thought you would be in the kitchen, but Miss Montgomery said you had left.”
“I went to the family kitchen to start cleanup,” I said. “Mr. Fedman is done with the demolition and appears to be working on the new raised beds.”
“I see,” she said and studied me. “How are you fitting in?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I wondered if you feel as if you are fitting in yet,” she said and got up to come around her desk. “I know it’s been only a week, but this is usually about the time homesickness sets in.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
She leaned against her desk. “I understand you had a surprise visitor.”
I could feel the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks. “Yes, Mr. Gordon didn’t inform me that my boyfriend, John, was coming for a visit. I really wish he had.”
“I understand that Gordon made a muck of the whole thing. I assume you didn’t say yes to your man’s proposal?”
More heat of embarrassment made my fingers tingle. I tried not to squirm under her steady gaze. “You know about that?”
“It’s why Gordon allowed your John to surprise you. The man insisted that he wanted to propose. Did he?”
“He did,” I said.
“Are you planning on leaving us?” she asked and crossed her arms over her chest. Today she wore a white blouse with a pale-blue cardigan and dark-blue knee-length skirt.
“No.” I sat up bolt straight. “No, ma’am. This is my dream job. When I signed the contract, I signed the contract. That means I’m staying for as long as you’ll have me.”
“I see,” she said and walked back around her desk to take a seat. “Even though you found a dead man in your kitchen?”
“Assuming people don’t turn up dead on the premises on a regular basis,” I said and leaned forward. “I’m not afraid of working here if that is what you are asking.”
“And if we did have a dead person a week?”
I laughed awkwardly. “I think that would be big news, and I would think that Mr. Gordon would lose his job.”
“So you’re not going to turn in your notice?”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “Are you wishing I would?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because Mrs. Perkins and I had a run-in last night. She said she was going to complain to you that I was a meddling busybody and not doing my job properly.”
“I see.”
“Am I doing my job properly?”
“I believe that the duchess is happy with the work you have done so far,” Mrs. Worth said. “It is why I’m inquiring about your surprise visitor. We aren’t ready to give you up to the states yet.”
Relief washed through me. At least for now, my job was safe.
She must have seen the look on my face. “Were you truly worried? Well, you mustn’t be. I’m sure you’ll discover soon enough that we are a bit like family here. We might squabble from time to time, but we take good care of our own. Now you can go.”
I got up to leave.
“Oh, and Chef Cole.” She stopped me when I was halfway to the door. “Mr. Fedman tells me the new greenhouse will be done in two days. You may return to your kitchen then. I’ll have the maids ensure it is clean before your return so you no longer have to worry about that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Do wash up before your return to the kitchen. You have a bit of dirt on your face. Just there.” She pointed to her right cheek.
I rubbed my own cheek with my hand. “Thank you again.”
“I’m glad you’re still with us,” she said.
“So am I.”
Chapter 26
As it turned out, the children would not be going on the tour with the duke and duchess. The duchess’s mother intended to move into the apartment to oversee the children’s care while they were away. I was sent a two-week menu. I noticed that there were more deserts with Grandma. I had to smile. My own Grandma Veronica was the same way. While Mom insisted we eat good healthy meals, Grandma made sure we were slipped sweet treats whenever she was around.
Looking back, I think she did it so that we would look forward to her visits even more. I guess grandmas around the world were just as smart.
It was the end of the day, and I was sipping tea in the test kitchen. Phoebe was gone for the day and from the lack of sound coming from outside the door, the main kitchen was also finished.
Considering all the people I’d had run-ins with the last couple of days, Chef Butterbottom had been notably absent. I had heard that he had been gone for a few days attending a seminar in France. I certainly hoped his return would come after I was back in my own kitchen.
With everyone gone, I wondered what it would be like to be in charge of such a large staff and kitchen. I picked up my teacup, tucked my menus under my arm, and stepped out of the test kitchen.
Chef’s office was nearly as large as my kitchen. There were files and bookshelves everywhere filled with cookbooks and folders. I picked up a cookbook, sat in his desk chair, and put my feet up. I bet he had to do quite a bit of research for the state dinners. I’m certain he made an effort to serve dishes that wouldn’t offend the guests, dishes made with ingredients from the country of origin.
It’s what I would do if I were chef of the main kitchen. Of course, he would take the queen’s sensibilities into play, as he served her and her son and his wife quite often. I was glad to be in the duke and duchess’s kitchen. They were young and progressive enough to take a chance on a chef from Chicago. I had a full year to not disappoint them.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to find Chef Butterbottom scowling at me from underneath a checked cap. He wore a lightweight jacket, a dress shirt, and slacks. In his hand he held the handle of a rolling suitcase.
Well, there it was. He’d caught me sitting in his office chair daydreaming. I jumped up and spilled tea all over his immaculate desk. “Shoot,” I said. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were gone for a few days.” I rushed into the test kitchen, put my teacup and the menus down, grabbed paper towels, and went back into the office to wipe down the desk.
“Gone or not, this is my office, and the last thing I expect or want is to find you sitting in my chair as if you owned the place.”
“Yes, Chef,” I said and mopped up the mess I had made. Thankfully there were no papers on the desktop, only a computer monitor, a big blotter, and a cup full of pens, pencils, and wooden spoons. “I just stepped out of my kitchen with my tea. I guess I got to looking at your cookbooks and sat down.” I snagged the cookbook I’d taken from the shelf and wiped it dry with a swipe of the cloth.
“What is it you were reading?” he demanded.
I glanced at the book. “101 Traditional Spring Dishes,” I read.
“Did you find anything of interest?”
“Oh, it’s all interesting,” I said and tucked the book back into its place on the shelf.
He blustered a bit as he sat down in his chair and gave me a hard glare. “It’s said around the world that British food is dull and uninteresting.”
“Well, I certainly disagree,” I said. “That book was interesting. I think traditional British food has an earthy quality that speaks to the soul.”
His beady eyes lit up. “Are you joking?”
“No,” I said. “Why would I work here if I didn’t believe in traditional food?”
“Why indeed,” he said. “You’ve come from the States to teach the new royalty t
o eat fish sticks, chicken nuggets, hotdogs, and French fries.”
I laughed out loud. “No, if they want that they can run down to McDonald’s or Taco Bell. You have both here in London. I’m interested in serving fresh, wholesome food and traditional fare to the family. I leave recipes for the duchess to try when she wants to cook for her family. It’s why they hired me.”
“I’m surprised you’re still here, what with Deems going toes up in your greenhouse and all the commotion you’re making serving three meals and tea to the family six days a week.”
“I’m not making a commotion.”
“You are in my kitchen,” he said and crossed his arms over his chest. “First you cook in my area, then you move lock, stock, and barrel into my test kitchen, and you and your staffers keep coming and going through my office.”
“You put us in the test kitchen,” I said. “Which, by the way, caused one of my new staffers to quit. We could have done just as well with a corner of your kitchen where we wouldn’t have had to go through your office.”
“I need every part of my kitchen,” he said. His expression was stubborn with a hint of distrust. “My staff and I couldn’t have you running around in any of our corners.”
“I’m sorry if Mr. Deems’s murder was inconvenient for you,” I blurted out. “But never fear, Mrs. Worth assured me today that my kitchen will be usable again in two days. My staff and I will soon be out of your hair.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he muttered.
“I could say the same about you,” I said. “I’m not the one who hired a bookie’s enforcer in my kitchen. I would never hire anyone who would threaten the lives of innocent children.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Neville, of course,” I said. “You pay him so little he has to work part time for a bookie as his enforcer. I overheard him having a conversation with another man about getting Mr. Deems’s widow to pay up from the man’s life insurance policy. Did you know that Meriam has cancer? This man you hired would threaten a widow with cancer. Shame on him and shame on you for hiring him.”