Isaac, the newly promoted chef of Steel, had barely been able to look at me. He shouldn't have felt threatened by me, since I was only there for Magma, but he seemed to and I didn't know why. Kegan had suggested we have lunch together on Monday to discuss recipes, and while Isaac had agreed he'd looked even more stressed and sick. But then I'd noticed he also seemed uncomfortable talking to the other staff members, so maybe he had other issues.
I'd felt uncomfortable "meeting" Crystal, afraid she'd make a comment about our previous conversation, but instead she surprised me with a huge hug while saying, "It'll be so nice to have some new energy around here. I'm thrilled it all worked out." She then nudged Kegan. "Glad you came to your senses, boss."
He said calmly, "Me too," then introduced me to at least a dozen staff members. I tried to get all their names, but only managed to remember Dorothy, the short round woman with white hair who'd given me a thumbs-up during my camping out. She smiled at me but looked unimpressed with Crystal's blather, and I didn't blame her.
Kegan walked me to the door after the introductions, and told me we'd need to hire at least a few people for Magma but for now Isaac and I would share the staff. I considered asking if I could choose not to have Crystal, but decided to try to let us start over. Since she'd been around so long, she could be a powerful ally if I let her.
Once I'd finished my sandwich and tea, I had the outline of a menu. I'd centered it around cinnamon, since I knew it better than most other spices, but I had other ideas if Kegan preferred a little more variety.
I'd ordered Kegan's sandwich already, so I picked it up from Mildred, along with a coffee. She congratulated herself again on getting me a job, then said, "And I suppose your sitting out there didn't hurt either."
Smiling at her concession, I returned to Steel to find Kegan's office door closed. Not wanting to interrupt him, I left his lunch on the bench outside his door and wandered around the restaurant, getting a feel for the place and noting how much better it looked already.
Someone jabbed fingers into my sides and I jumped and spun around.
"You changed his mind?"
Did my promise not to speak to Jimmy still apply? I wished it did but suspected it didn't. "Guess so."
He shook his head. "Hard to believe." He leaned closer, his face shifting into an expression he obviously thought was sexy. "What did you promise him?"
I swallowed against my annoyance. "To work hard."
He laughed. "Yeah, right. What did you really—"
"Mary?"
I swung around to see Kegan standing in his office doorway. "This my lunch?"
I nodded, and noticed that Jimmy took a step back from me.
"Could you come talk to me while I eat?"
With great pleasure.
Once we were in his office with the door shut, he said, "He bothering you?"
I shook my head, not wanting to get him involved in something so stupid. "It's fine."
He studied me, then said, "Okay. If you say so."
I knew he wouldn't ask again. I'd have to deal with Jimmy and his innuendos by myself.
Kegan unwrapped his sandwich. "I have news."
I pushed Jimmy from my mind. "Oh?"
"Everything's booked."
I blinked. "Everything? For the tasting?"
"Tastings," he said. "One this weekend, then two each weekend until December twelfth."
I felt my mouth fall open but couldn't gather the strength to close it. This weekend?
"You said you needed two days, right? So it's Sunday evening."
My thoughts were running in all directions at once. I had to organize people whose names I couldn't even remember to prepare a menu I hadn't finalized with ingredients from suppliers I didn't know in a kitchen I'd never seen. In two days.
Kegan took a bite from his sandwich and chewed in silence, seemingly unconcerned.
By the time he swallowed, I'd managed to get myself at least slightly under control. Yes, it would be chaotic. But it would also be a great way to prove that I could handle this job. Prove it to him, and to myself. I cleared my throat. "I'm surprised it all came together so fast."
He smiled. "I told you I have contacts."
True, but... "Where will it be?"
He explained, and I sat in awe. In the time I'd spent putting together a menu outline, he had booked a newly-opened and desperate-for-business banquet hall for Sunday and then for Friday and Saturday nights, and had also made a deal with a nearby comedy club to send a different comedian to entertain each tasting session's audience. As if that weren't enough, he'd had his web site updated to feature the tastings, with a prominent note that all profits would go to a local domestic violence hotline.
I shook my head. "That's incredible. You're a machine."
He gave me an unexpectedly sad smile. "That's probably true."
Surprised by his reaction, I said, "Why the domestic violence charity?"
He shrugged. "Their office is around the corner and it seems like a good cause."
For sure. I'd been fortunate that Charles had only disapproved of everything I did. If he'd been more aggressive I could have been calling such a hotline myself. "Any more advertising other than the web site?"
"The Toronto Times' food editor is sending someone to interview me in about an hour. Photographer too." He tugged at his shirt collar. "Guess I should have worn a tie today."
I smiled. "You'll just look casual."
"You too."
My smile fell away. "They want to interview me?"
"Chef of what will soon be the hottest restaurant in Toronto? For sure they do."
"I got rained on this morning. I can't—"
"Mary. You look fine. Redo that ponytail and you're good to go."
Men. But I didn't have much choice. Not enough time to go home. "I guess we won't be seeing Magma today?"
He snapped his fingers. "I knew I'd forgotten something."
He left a message for the realtor while I pulled out my ponytail elastic and combed my hair with my fingers until it felt a little less wild. Once I had my hair reassembled, I pulled the menu plan from my bag and passed it to Kegan.
He skimmed through it while I sat trying to look nonchalant, then said, "Great stuff. Now, I want every menu to be different."
I blinked. "Each session is entirely different?"
"Yup. That way, people can come more than once and not be bored."
"So I'll need... how many weeks?"
I started counting on my fingers but he was yet again there before me. "Eleven."
"Eleven different full meal plans? No repetition at all, right?"
He smiled. "You can use some of the same ingredients."
Gee, thanks.
Chapter Five
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Kegan held out a glass of water. "Tell me you didn't eat any of the food."
I accepted the glass and took a throat-soothing drink before saying, "I haven't eaten all day. I'm terrified."
"Well, that'll be why you threw up then," he said, his eyes holding more sympathy than the matter-of-fact words would suggest. "You need something to settle your stomach."
Time would help. Another hour or so, after which either this first tasting would be a huge success or I'd be fired. Right now, I wasn't sure which I wanted more. I'd never been so nervous.
"When my sister was pregnant she did well with a piece of dry toast." He held out a paper bag from the bakery down the street from the banquet hall. "Try it."
I took a tentative bite, and to my surprise it did stay down and I did feel better. Once I'd eaten it all, while he distracted me with the tale of Mildred bragging to him about her influence over him, I said, "Thanks, that helped. I think I'll be all right now."
Since Friday, my life had been a whirlwind, whipping me from the newspaper interview where I'd tried to look calm and confident and supremely competent but had felt like a babbling idiot, to the rapid-fire delivery of most of the ingredients I needed and a massive gr
ocery shopping trip for the ones I couldn't get from Kegan's suppliers, to marshaling a staff I'd had to make wear name tags front and back so I wouldn't have to keep saying, "Hey, you. No, not you, him."
But we'd done it.
I hoped.
Every item on the menu contained at least a hint of cinnamon. I'd varied the amounts so people wouldn't be overwhelmed, ending the meal with my cinnamon peaches and the chai ice cream I'd spent most of Saturday figuring out how to make in the vast quantities we needed. My taste tests said everything met my standards, but the crowd's opinion mattered more.
And it was a crowd. Kegan had, in two days, sold two hundred tickets. He seemed casual about it but I was stunned at his networking skills and at how many people he knew.
Not just regular people, either: my fellow chef Isaac was electrified at the news of two particular attendees. "The most recent Hogs captains! Think I can get their autographs?"
Kegan smiled. "They need to leave right afterward, but I'll bring you over when the comedian's done, so sure."
Isaac, grinning, returned to chopping cucumbers with far more energy than he'd had before. He didn't seem to mind following my directions for the tasting; in fact he'd seemed relieved when Kegan told the staff about the event and informed them I'd be in sole command of the kitchen.
"The Hogs are a hockey team," Crystal told me, her tone just missing patronizing.
She'd used that tone on me frequently in the last few days and I'd had pretty much enough of it. "Oh, I know," I said, mimicking her sound, "but thanks for making sure."
Kegan coughed. "I'll let you guys work." He smiled at me and left the kitchen.
I supervised the salad assembly and tried to ignore Crystal, who seemed to have a comment for everything I did. I couldn't, though: her voice grabbed hold of my eardrums and wouldn't let go.
"So brave of you to add cinnamon to the croutons, Mary. I've never tried flavored croutons myself, but brash used to make all different kinds."
She'd put such a reverent tone on the word 'brash' that I could almost see it written in the air in fancy Olde-English-style lettering, but I didn't understand the sentence.
The wait staff arrived for the salads, and we didn't have time to talk again until they'd all left, but then I said, hoping that giving Crystal the attention she obviously craved might make her stop treating me like a moron, "What does brash mean?"
She stared at me like I'd asked her how to boil water. "You've never heard of it? It's a restaurant. The best in New York, maybe in North America."
"I see." I made sure not to sound sarcastic when I added, "And you worked there?"
She narrowed her eyes but apparently decided I was sincere because she nodded and smiled. "Such a lovely place. Steel's great, of course, but I've never seen another kitchen like that."
And off she went, extolling the virtues of Brash's kitchen while doing no work at all in her current one. I glanced around, half-listening, to make sure we were still on track and realized the staff was divided by their reaction to her.
Three or four people, the youngest and least experienced ones, were nodding and smiling at a story they'd clearly heard many times before, but the rest, including Isaac and my thumbs-up supporter Dorothy, were working away with their stiff backs to Crystal and her fans.
Not good. Did Kegan know about this? Forming a cohesive team wouldn't be easy.
Crystal seemed to be approaching the end of that particular story, so I let her finish then said, "It does sound great. And you were the chef there?"
Someone gave a cough that sounded more like a stifled laugh, and Crystal spun round looking for the culprit. Her followers looked too, and the others stiffened even more and kept their eyes down on their work.
"What's wrong?" I said to Crystal, willing my voice to sound innocently puzzled.
"You didn't hear that?"
"Hear what? Oh, no, is the fridge acting up again?" It had been making an odd squealy-grunty noise until Kegan had the banquet hall manager call in a repairer, a noise which sounded nothing like a cough, or laugh, but I couldn't think of anything else to say to distract Crystal.
"No." She cast another look around then turned back to me. "I guess it was nothing."
Nobody relaxed; her tone made it clear she knew better.
She sighed and gave me a sad face. "No, I wasn't the chef. It's so hard for a woman to get those sorts of jobs. But I'll make it some day, although it won't be at Brash. After my divorce ten years ago I swore I'd never live in the States again."
It hit me that Crystal might have been expecting to be offered my job. She was being so nice to me, though, that I doubted it. Also, Kegan had implied only Isaac and I had any significant training. "You're trained as a chef, then?"
"Twenty years of experience is my training." She smiled. "Way better than some silly degree or diploma with only a few years' experience."
Kegan walked in then, which was good because I had no idea how to respond. Had she meant to say her experience was better than my education and experience? That she was a better chef? I couldn't believe she had; her tone and expression held no malice.
"Five minutes until the main course needs to go out, folks."
I lost interest in Crystal as panic ripped through me. Fighting the urge to flee, I made myself say, "Sure thing. We're ready."
He gave my shoulder a brief squeeze. "Attagirl."
He left, and I stood frozen for a few frantic heart beats before pulling myself together and directing the staff to make the final adjustments to the food.
When I turned around to show two of Crystal's friends how much rice to dish out, I heard Isaac say, his voice almost as shaky as I felt, "I'm not sure that's right, Crystal."
I turned around to see Crystal about to pour the pot of cumin-cinnamon sauce for the chicken into the vat of black beans. "No!" I hurried to her side and took the pot from her. "That's for the chicken. Isaac's right."
To my surprise, Crystal turned on Isaac and snarled, "Have some guts next time if you're going to stop me doing something. I could have dumped it in there and it would have been all your fault." She put on a sneer and mocked him with, "Um, I'm not sure... um..."
Isaac's face paled. I'd never been much good at confrontation, but I couldn't let her talk to him that way. Though I was afraid she'd turn that awful tone on me, I said, "Crystal, come on. We have to work together not blame each other."
She turned apologetic eyes on me and they filled with tears. "I know, I'm just so upset. I nearly messed everything up. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't understand."
In the face of such obvious misery, I had to say, "That's okay. No harm done. The beans get only the lightest shake of... here, let me." My definition of a light shake of cinnamon might not be the same as hers, and we couldn't afford a single screw-up.
Crystal stepped aside, still looking upset, and I got the beans ready for their debut.
Once I'd checked everything, we all worked together to get the chicken and rice and beans arranged on plates and appropriately sauced. It should have been fun, serving my first meal as Kegan's chef, but the near-disaster and Crystal's vicious reaction to the still pale and silent Isaac increased the tension in the kitchen to unbearable levels.
The worst thing? Nobody but me seemed surprised by the tone she'd used. Clearly blowups like that were all too frequent occurrences.
When a table's worth of plates were complete, the servers whisked them away immediately. Once they'd all gone out, Crystal and her crowd began fawning over me and congratulating me on our success, but I just smiled and set them to cleaning up. I couldn't celebrate yet. I was too nervous.
What if Kegan's guests rejected my food?
*****
To put it mildly, they didn't. The wait staff came back with rave reviews of every dish, and when Kegan brought the staff out at the end of the night and introduced me as the chef the crowd's cheers and applause brought tears to my eyes and made me grin. Kegan's obvious pride and pleasure made me grin ev
en more.
I couldn't spend too much time enjoying my triumph, though; Monday morning we set to work on the plans for the coming weekend. I centered Friday's menu around garlic, since it was Friday the thirteenth and Kegan had chosen a comedian who pretended to be a vampire, and Saturday's around sage. I was rapidly going through all my favorite recipes, and would soon have to dig deeper to find new dishes to prepare. The thought of the challenge ahead excited me. Frightened me a little, too, but mostly I relished it.
Isaac and I had lunch together on Monday as Kegan had suggested, sitting in a corner of Steel with sandwiches and sharing our favorite recipes and cookbooks. I'd wondered before whether he didn't want to work with me but one-on-one we had a great time debating changes to the recipes and finding ways we could line up both restaurants' menus, and when Kegan came by to tell me it was almost three o'clock I couldn't believe it. "We've spent half the afternoon at this?"
"And I'd let you spend the rest of it, but we need to leave soon." Kegan had arranged for his interior designer and the contractor for Magma to meet us at the first potential site at three.
I packed up my cookbooks and said to Isaac, "Thanks so much. You've got amazing ideas. We have to do this again."
"I'm free tomorrow if you want."
"You're on."
Kegan smiled at us both then escorted me to his car while I tried not to limp too much. Sitting too long still really bothered my right leg.
Once we were settled in the sleek dark blue sedan, Kegan turned down the stereo, which to my amusement was playing a Meat Loaf song though I'd never have thought he'd be into that sort of music, and pulled onto the road. "I guess it went well with Isaac."
I nodded. "He really knows his food. I think we can make both menus incredible."
"Great. And he takes you seriously, right?"
I glanced over, surprised. Had he heard Crystal that morning telling me, "If you get stuck at all, feel free to ask. I'm sure I can help you through any little difficulties you might have," in her sweet tone that was almost but not quite blatantly offensive? I'd said, "I'll keep that in mind," and then gone off with Isaac. I hadn't seen Kegan around, but I already knew he was stealthy when he wanted to be. "Yes, he does. Seems to, anyhow."
Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5) Page 79