Who By Water

by Victoria Raschke

  “I didn’t expect you to be here at all.” Fred walked back and grabbed a clean apron out of the bag.

  “Maja had the same idea. We should be able to crank out the prep list in no time and then we can go over the menu for the catering gig next week.” How much busy work could she generate today?

  Frédéric nodded and scanned Maja’s prep list. “Nice job.”

  Maja’s blush reached the roots of her blue-dyed hair. Jo wasn’t sure if Fred really was oblivious, or if Maja was just way below his too-young cutoff point. Either way, she hoped it wouldn’t get in the way of their working together. Dishwashers were fairly easy to replace, her baker and cook were not.

  Fred picked through the pantry and fridge to put together his mise en place for a spicy lentil stew as the day’s soup. Jo made a mental note to add mint tea to the day’s tea specials.

  She had another thought. “Maja, now that you’re doing the bread baking and coming in early – I won’t hold you to that – we should get you a key cut. You shouldn’t have to wait on one of us.”

  Maja smiled up at Jo, who towered over her petite frame. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about picking up some extra hours. I’d like to quit the bar.”

  Jo was surprised. Maja made good money there, far more than they could pay her. “That’s news. But yeah, let’s talk about it. The new dishwasher starts tonight. Vesna and I can figure out a new schedule for next week.”

  Maja nodded. She bent her head back to the task at hand, cutting out orange-cranberry scones and humming along to Rancid’s “Time Bomb.”

  At least something could go on normally or better in the midst of the other craziness that had beset her. Or not.

  Smoke was pouring through the oven door.

  Jo grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the tray of ramekins out of the oven. They had risen, liquefied, and burnt all over the tray in a sugary, acrid mess.

  “Fuck.” She looked around for a place to set them down. Nope. She carried the tray through the front of the house out to the courtyard and set it on the cobbles.

  She leaned against the exterior wall, eyes closed. So maybe soufflés weren’t the best idea. She opened her eyes and looked up into the balcony above her. Her elusive neighbor met her gaze, then turned back into the shadows.

  Back inside, the smell of burnt egg and sugar blended with the odor of aerosol paint. She almost gagged. She propped the door open and pushed the big fan into the doorway. Maybe the air would clear enough to cover her mistake.

  Frédéric stopped her halfway back to the kitchen with a plate and a cup of milky tea. “Sit.”

  “We need to finish.” But she took the tea.

  He set the plate on the nearest table and pulled out a chair. “We can finish. I’ve worked with you long enough to know you are a hazard to yourself and others in the kitchen when you’re off your game.”

  She sat. “I thought I was holding it together better than that.” She took a sip of tea. It was Fred’s builders special, strong and toothache sweet.

  Fred sat in the chair opposite her. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

  “But I do.” She shook her head and took another sip. She couldn’t tell him everything. How could he believe her when she didn’t entirely believe it herself?

  He stood up. “Suit yourself. You will anyway. At least finish the tea.”

  Her phone buzzed. The number came up unknown, but she answered.

  “Ms. Wiley?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Hello. This is Olga, Tomaž’s business manager. He asked me to call to see if you would still be available to meet him at your teahouse today.”

  “Oh. Yeah. We’re open. I’m here. Is it just him?”

  “No, I think my– Katarina will be with him.”

  It was 2:30 and the prep list was a line of marked through tasks. Jo and Maja split the dishes while Frédéric wrote out the chalkboard menus.

  Jo put the scorched but clean sheet tray in the rack. “You can go if you want or you can have family meal here.”

  Maja dried her hands on her apron. “Can I take it to go? I might go talk to my boss now.”

  “Sure. I didn’t realize it was that pressing. Everything okay?” Maja didn’t like to talk much about herself. Jo knew she lived in a flat in Trnovo with a bunch of students and that she worked at one of Tomaž’s bars on the river. Her parents had moved to Maribor, and she had a cat who left dead birds on her pillow. That was the sum total of the personal information Maya had shared in the year she’d been with them. Music and food were the only other things they talked about. The Fred thing Jo had figured out just by observing Maja’s mooning over him while they worked.

  Maja didn’t dodge the question completely. “It’s personal. I just kind of need a break from the two jobs thing.”

  “That’s cool.” Jo wanted to ask fifteen more questions but restrained herself. Maja’s talent upped their game, and Jo was just glad she wanted to work with them more.

  With her backpack slung over her shoulder, Maja took off. Her hair glowed neon when she walked through the shaft of sunlight penetrating the courtyard. Frédéric watched her leave.

  He sighed heavily.

  Jo nudged him. “What’s that about?”

  “I’m too old to deal with a school girl’s crush.”

  “She’s hardly a school girl. She’s 24.”

  “Yes, and I’m 54. My daughter is older than her.”

  “True. I wasn’t suggesting you pursue it. I just meant I don’t think it will crush her dreams if you don’t reciprocate. She’s a tough cookie, our Maja.”

  “She is. But, you know as well as I that tough is often a façade.”

  “Also true. I’ve thought for a while that there was pain underneath all those tattoos.”

  Frédéric touched the sparrow on Jo’s wrist. “You would know.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’ve had longer to shovel my shit than she has.”

  The deep, low tones of Frédéric’s laugh filled the shop. “Well put.”

  She smacked the front of her apron with both hands, raising a puff of flour. “Let’s eat and go over the catering menu.” She needed something to do. She definitely wasn’t ready to clue her employees into their boss’s weirdness.

  Jo was at the entrance of the courtyard balancing the chalkboard on the cobbles when Katarina and Tomaž arrived. Katarina was in a dark mood. Her jaw was set in a grim line and Tomaž was deferential to her in a way Jo’d never seen.

  Jo walked them inside and sat them at a table near the bakery counter where she could jump up to help in case she was needed. She probably wouldn’t be. Damijan and Vesna would be there soon. Around opening time they got a few early people, usually curious tourists expecting older British ladies to pat them on the hand and call them “lovey.” The students and regulars tended to come in after six and pack the place out around closing.

  “What kind of tea would you all like? Today’s pours are Darjeeling, Irish Breakfast, a white tea with jasmine, a green tea with toasted rice, and a Moroccan mint tisane.” Jo smoothed the front of her apron. “If you don’t want the same thing, I can do individual pots.”

  Tomaž looked at Katarina.

  “I’d really like to try the white tea. I’ve never had it.” Katarina looked up at her, unclenching her teeth, at least for a moment.

  “Sure. And I thought I’d just put together a sample plate of everything on the menu today and you can try what you like.”

  Tomaž looked relieved. “Wonderful.”

  “Be right back then.” She started the tea in a large pot at the tea station and poked her head in the kitchen to speak to Frédéric. “Can you put together a sample plate? Tomaž and Katarina are here.”

  He nodded and pulled a plate off the rack above the work station.

  She moved into the ki
tchen so she could whisper. “I think they must have had an argument before they got here. It’s the first time I’ve seen Katarina anything but glazed or placid, and Tomaž is practically simpering.”

  “Maybe she’s tired of his tomcatting.”

  “Maybe. But Jesus, why now?”

  “Who knows. Maybe she thinks he wanted to meet you for more than sightseeing tips.”

  “As if.” She mimicked gagging herself with two fingers. “Would you bring the plate out when it’s ready? Katarina wants to meet you and thank you for helping Ivanka with her math.”

  “Give me a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Jo returned to her tea as the timer went off.

  She arranged the pot and three Japanese style teacups on a tray with a honey server and a saucer of paper-thin lemon slices.

  At the table, Tomaž murmured something that sounded apologetic. Katarina hissed back “She’s barely older than your daughter.” Jo approached and they both looked up at her with bright but rigid smiles.

  “Thank you, Jo. It’s very kind of you to see us while you’re working.”

  Jo plastered on her best fake grin. “I’m always happy to talk about Tennessee.” She sat down and poured them each a cup. “I’d recommend tasting it before you add anything. I think it’s best on its own, but you might like to sweeten it.”

  Tomaž and Katarina tasted the tea and nodded their approval.

  “It is quite light, but very lovely.” Katarina turned the teacup in her hand. “I’ve never seen these before.”

  “They’re Japanese.” Jo liked them but only used them for the white teas and fancier green ones. The cups were expensive and had a habit of disappearing.

  Tomaž set his cup down and sat up very straight in his chair. “So, what should I see in Tennessee after my stay at Blackberry Farm.” Speaking in English, he said “farm” in the way Slovenians pronounced the “r” and “m” together so it sounded like “farum.”

  “I’m most familiar with East Tennessee. It’s a big state. It takes about eight hours to drive from Mountain City in the northeast corner to Memphis in the southwest one.”

  “I had no idea.” Katarina looked surprised. If you drove nine hours from Ljubljana, you’d be in France.

  “I think almost all the states except the teeny ones in New England are bigger than Slovenia. Anyway, Blackberry Farm is near Knoxville. I can send you a list of places to eat.”

  “Anything else?” Tomaž took a sip of his tea.

  “The Smoky Mountains are close. If you’re going soon, the autumn leaves will be beautiful.” She thought about Chattanooga, about sitting with Jackie on her aunt’s front porch overlooking the Tennessee, watching the leaf peeper boats creep up the river while she and Jackie drank their morning coffee.

  “Do you miss it?”

  Katarina’s question pulled Jo out of her brief reverie. “Sometimes. But these mountains are home now.” She gestured vaguely toward the snowy peaks that could be seen from the castle hill.

  When Frédéric brought the sample plate out, Jo introduced him to Tomaž and Katarina. Katarina thanked him warmly for helping Ivanka survive her math classes and asked how he came to be so good with calculus. Frédéric just murmured a thank you and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  It was a less than friendly departure, and Jo tried to cover. “He’s busy finishing up a catering menu for a client to review.”

  Tomaž nodded distractedly. No big deal.

  “It’s nice to have an employee who is so dedicated to your business,” Katarina said. She was looking more at Tomaž than Jo, but Jo agreed.

  “Frédéric is very dedicated. I don’t know what we’d do without him at this point.” She held up the teapot to ask if either of her guests would like more tea.

  Neither of them did. Tomaž looked more uncomfortable than he had when they arrived. He finished up the last of his tea, then put his hands on his thighs as if to stand.

  “I guess we should be going. I’m sure you have things to do before the rush.” He stood to help Katarina with her jacket before putting his on. “Thank you again for inviting us.”

  “Yes, thank you for inviting me. It was a pleasure to see your shop and to meet Frédéric. Ivanka will be pleased to know I met her maths tutor.” Katarina smoothed the front of her jacket as Jo walked with the two of them to the door.

  “I’m looking forward to your suggestions for places to eat in Tennessee.” Tomaž stuck his hand out toward Jo. “Will you come with Gregor when he goes out to look at the farm?”

  “If he asks me to.” She didn’t want to encourage Gregor in this business deal, but she had promised that she’d discuss it with him. She would at least pretend to have an open mind about it.

  “I hope he’ll ask you. I will have Olga call him this evening to arrange it. I know you will influence his decision.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that so she just nodded. Tomaž strode out into the courtyard, but Katarina paused at the door.

  “How do you do it?”

  “How do I do what?”

  “Whatever you want.” She walked away without waiting for a response.

  Inside, Jo went to the sound system set up behind the bakery counter and turned the music up. Joe Strummer’s voice bounced around the room. Should he stay or should he go?

  Frédéric came out of the kitchen drying his hands on his apron. “Gone?”

  “Thankfully, yes.” The shop felt lighter. Katarina’s question puzzled her. Surely to god she did not think that Jo was one of Tomaž’s conquests. The thought turned her stomach.

  “You and Gregor know your business,” he nodded at the door. “But those two are trouble.”

  “I agree with you about Tomaž. Katarina seems nice enough, though. Maybe a little sad.” And jealous.

  Frédéric shook his head. “Maybe, but they both make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.”

  She looked at the door where Tomaž and Katarina had gone. “Well. I doubt there’s much good that would come of Gregor getting involved with them financially. I trust Tomaž about as far as I could throw him.”

  “I don’t know, if you were mad enough, I think you could probably hurl him a good meter or two.”

  She cocked her arm to make a muscle. There was a little bit of one. Her job was very physical, and there was a time when she had been queen of the mosh pits. They both laughed.

  “Damijan should be here soon and Tina, the new dishwasher, is supposed to arrive at 5.” She pulled out her phone and tapped it awake. It was 4:31. She slid the phone back into her skirt pocket and started to clear the table she’d shared with Tomaž and Katarina.

  The bells on the front doorknob jangled again and two of their regular afternoon customers came in. Janet and Evan were immigrant Brits who liked to get a taste of home at least once a week.

  Evan stopped suddenly. “Jo, the mural. It’s fantastic.”

  “I think so, too. A local graffiti artist did it for us over the weekend. I apologize if it still smells like spray paint in here.”

  Janet laughed. “It adds to the authenticity.” Their regular table happened to be the one she was busing. “Can we sit there?”

  “Yes. Let me come back and wipe it off first.” Jo balanced all the crockery on a tray back to the kitchen. She nudged Frédéric with her hip as she walked back out to the table, cloth in hand, “It begins.”

  “Bring it.”

  Even though it was a quick walk up to her flat, Jo pulled her jacket on. The temperature had plummeted after the sun went down and the air was damp with promised rain. She checked with Damijan to see if there was anything else he needed. Fred was closing the kitchen station while Tina washed out the hotel pans. After ten until closing at midnight, the hot items ended, so Fred could leave, and only the remaining cold prep items were available.

 
She air-kissed Fred goodnight, waved at Vesna bent over more paperwork in the office, and headed out to the courtyard with a bag of trash for the receptacle down the street. She checked inside her jacket pocket for the card to open the lid. Her phone buzzed in her other pocket. It was Faron.

  “You doing okay tonight? Need some company?”

  “I’m good. A friend’s coming over.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Cringe. Apparently she did exactly what he would do. Or who he would do. “Ha. Are you coming to the shop tomorrow?”

  “Yep. Usual Tuesday crowd. We’ll try to behave.”

  “Thanks. See you then.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too.” Faron must still be worried about her. He was always sweet, but usually didn’t check in so often.

  Climbing up to the flat, she almost tripped over the bulk on the step before the first landing. “Jesus, Milo. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry. I should have come down when I saw you take the trash.”

  “It’s fine.” She didn’t like being so skittish. She wouldn’t get much done if she lived in dread of something jumping out from every shadow to confide its dead-person woes.

  Milo put out his arm to indicate she should walk ahead.

  She clomped up the steps in her heavy boots and started to unlock the door.

  He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled his face into the back of her neck, kissing her silently with just parted lips. “Mmm. You smell of cinnamon.” He kissed again. “And vanilla.”

  He knew exactly where to kiss her to bring every nerve ending to attention. It made it very difficult to open the door. Milo took the key ring out of her hand and turned her around to face him. He kissed her deeply on the mouth and took her hair down. She ran her hands up under his shirt onto his chest and moaned as he pressed into her.

  He kissed her ear and caught her lobe and earring gently with his teeth. “God, woman. I have been distracted by the thought of you all day.”