Tru nodded in encouragement.
“But it still hurts pretty bad right now, and I don’t want something like that to happen ever again. So my spirit is scared.”
“But Jace—”
“Jace is good. He’s a friend. And maybe he’s safe. But I just can’t . . .”
“Your spirit is afraid Jace will hurt it,” Tru said.
Georgie looked at her aunt, who saw plainly the things presented to her and then made up her mind about them.
Georgie nodded, and Faye sniffled into her apron.
Tru picked up the remote and sat back down. “Okay. I won’t say things about Jace anymore. But I’ll ask you how your spirit is doing. ’Cause that needs a lot of help.”
Georgie muffled a laugh, and Faye let out a soft groan. She came to Georgie with her arms spread wide, and Georgie allowed the soft but firm embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Faye spoke quietly. “Tru always tells it like it is.” She released a soft laugh. “Do you know what our real names are? Our full names?”
Georgie pulled back and shook her head, curious.
Faye still spoke in a hushed voice, but her face was lit with a secret joy. “Our daddy named us Faith and Truth. Imagine that.”
Georgie glanced at Tru, now absorbed in her show. She smiled. “Imagine that.”
“You’re going to be okay, Georgie-Girl,” Faye whispered. “One of these days.”
“Is that a promise?” Georgie whispered back.
On Saturday morning Georgie climbed the three steps leading to the kitchen of Peter & Andrew’s Fishery. She paused before the door and stared at the handle.
The night before, Jace had sent her a fairly formal text about helping him prepare and present their dishes to Reuben and some others this morning. If they passed, the restaurant could move forward with the new menu and website. Orders would be put in for any ingredients the restaurant didn’t already have in stock, like the creamery’s crème fraîche.
She hadn’t asked Jace what would happen if they didn’t approve of a dish. Of course Reuben would like everything. Jace had taken simple ideas and brought them to life. He’d made them new. Exactly what Reuben had asked for.
And Jace had asked her to help. Of course he had. It was a lot of food to prepare, and she’d made everything with him at least once, except for the chocolate cake.
She reached for the handle and pulled the door open.
The kitchen was warm, clean, and welcoming. A far cry from what it had been those first couple of weeks on the job when she’d slunk in and tried to be invisible. She shook her head at the thought. As expediter, she could no more be invisible than the food the waiters picked up from her counter. But she’d definitely learned to help make the flow from kitchen to table smooth. Most times anyway. Especially when she was ultrafocused. Like the last couple of days.
Jace concentrated over chocolate cake sliced into pieces already and separated onto plates.
He glanced in Georgie’s direction but remained focused on the tube of crème in his hands. “Hey. Come over here and help me with these, would you?” He straightened up and stretched his back.
As she walked over, she could see he’d been here for a while already, preparing sauces and readying garnishes into neat little stations.
She pulled on an apron, then went to the sink and washed her hands. “I could have come sooner.”
He shrugged and motioned for her to take the pastry bag from him. “This’ll be your job, so you might as well do the rest of these pieces. It’s basically like the whipped cream on the key lime, but the pressure’s different because it’s thicker. You want three dots here, and one on the top. Not too big. There you go.”
She repeated the design on the other pieces of cake, and then he handed her the candied orange slices, which she pressed into place. The smell of the rich chocolate and sweet orange reminded her of when he’d come for Sunday dinner. That felt like a long time ago, and it somehow seemed like a turning point.
But right now, in the kitchen, things were very quiet. Without the hum and pulse of the dinner rush, Georgie found herself searching for things to fill the silence. She swirled a little chocolate sauce on the plates, and Jace carried the tray of them off to the cooler to wait their turn.
“I wonder how Rhea and John’s date went,” she said.
He emerged from the cooler, his jaw tight. He wiped his hands on a towel and shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope they had a good time.” He tossed the towel out of the way. “Next we’ll get the fresh garlic rub on the pork chops and let them rest. Then you can make the Cioppino salsa while I prep the asparagus.”
So much for small talk. “What about the shrimp? Won’t we be serving those first?”
He pointed to a neatly laid-out station of seasoned flour, beaten eggs, bread crumbs, and a glass dish of deep-purple blackberry sauce. She had an odd sense of being left out—ridiculous as that was—and stopped herself from saying something of that nature. Was she that needy? She hoped not. There was plenty more to be done. She took a steadying breath, pulled over a small dish of freshly minced garlic, and massaged a teaspoon into each thick pork chop, both sides. She set the chops aside on a plate and washed her hands with salt and soap, like Jace had taught her the first time they’d made the chops. The salt cuts the garlic so your hands don’t smell. Chemistry. And then he had placed the chops in sizzling oil, and then they’d kissed.
She jumped as Reuben greeted her loudly from the kitchen door.
“Georgie Tate, is that you assisting the chef?”
Of course he knew she would be there, and of course he knew she’d been helping Jace during the week.
He came over, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “We’ll make a sous-chef out of you yet.” He peered over her shoulder and nodded, then withdrew his large frame and surveyed the rest of the setup. He took a stool around to the other side of Georgie’s expediter counter and sat. “I’m excited. I’m ex-ci-ted.”
She covered a laugh, feeling her tension ease just a bit. She retrieved the ingredients for the Cioppino salsa from the cooler as quickly as she could.
Stupid walk-in refrigerator kissing place.
When she returned, Haru and Caleb had joined Reuben, and Joanie was just coming in the back door. After they’d all greeted Jace and her, Georgie went to work on the salsa, following the notes in Jace’s book. Her fingers shook a little, and she squeezed her hands together tightly, telling herself she had no reason to be nervous. It was only Reuben, the executive chef, and the fry and sauce cooks, who knew how to do all of this better than she did. Carefully she pulled out a delicate saffron thread and crumbled it between her thumb and forefinger, watching the aromatic flakes fall to the waiting ingredients below like a blessing. Her hands didn’t shake as much after that. Which was good, considering she was picking up the large chef’s knife.
As she finished with the Cioppino, Jace clapped his hands together and addressed the gathering. He’d dropped some folders on the counter next to him. “Okay. Welcome. This morning we’re offering you several dishes for the new menu. We were given the task of capturing the freshness of spring and the celebration of the Tulip Festival, and I believe we’ve done that. I must give credit to Georgie,” he gestured toward Georgie, “who planted a lot of ideas, resulting in the dishes you’ll be trying today.” He paused, and the small group clapped, smiling in her direction. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck.
Jace picked up the folders and passed them out. “Here you’ll find the names and small-batch recipes of each dish, along with a brief menu description and the cost breakdown of each.”
Reuben nodded over his open folder, but Georgie couldn’t tell if he was impressed or just wanted to get on with it. When had Jace found time to do all this?
“To start,” Jace said, “we’ll make the black pepper shrimp with lime and blackberry sauce.” He made a little bow, and Georgie wondered if she should bow too. She gave a little nod and joined Jace at the shrimp
assembly station.
“Go ahead, Georgie. You know what to do.” He nodded at her to begin while he tested the temperature of the oil, set out appetizer plates, and spooned blackberry sauce into condiment cups.
She really thought the roles should be reversed, but she did as he asked, dusting the shrimp in flour, dipping them in the lemon-egg mixture, then coating them in the Panko crumbs specked with black pepper and black sesame seeds. They looked good so far, and she began to anticipate the others’ reactions when they bit into the spicy-sweet crunch. After she had all the shrimp coated, Jace lowered the fryer basket into the oil and set the timer.
Reuben asked questions about Jace’s plans for acquiring the blackberries and seemed amused and pleased when Jace simply listed the areas on the island where public blackberry picking was not only allowed but encouraged. “Of course, we’ll have to look into codes about picking our own. And this year we’ll have to wait until midsummer to pick fresh, but in the meantime, you can find a seller from California. It won’t take many berries to make a larger batch of sauce. If we processed it ourselves, the jars would keep in the pantry for several months.”
Reuben nodded, thoughtful, and the timer on the fryer beeped. Jace lifted the basket, let it drain for a few seconds, and then placed two shrimp on each plate. He motioned to some curls of stripped green onion. Georgie grabbed a few and placed them at artistic angles between the shrimp. Together they set the plates of food in front of the others and stepped back.
Georgie watched for their reactions, but Jace moved to the large gas range, turning up the heat under the heavy pan he would use to sear the pork chops. Reuben and the other staff commented among themselves, and although Georgie thought the happy-sounding groans were a good sign, Jace remained all business.
“Georgie, let’s get the chops going.”
They had to time everything so there wasn’t too long a gap between dishes but also so timers weren’t all going off simultaneously.
He grabbed the prepped bowl of asparagus and a mesh grill basket. “That oil’s hot enough. Carefully set each chop in the pan, about one inch apart, and let that garlic brown up nice and caramelized. I’ll get this asparagus on the grill.”
Georgie nodded, again wondering that she should be handling the chops instead of the asparagus. She knew, though, what the chops were supposed to look like before they added the honey glaze. She also knew how they weren’t supposed to look, remembering the charcoal lumps Jace had covered with water and a lid. Just before he’d kissed her again.
“Georgie.”
Jace had said her name softly, but she still jumped. “What?”
“Turn the chops gently. Keep that garlic crust intact.”
She took the spatula, still feeling a little shaky, and carefully turned the chops, only losing a little bit of crust here and there. The sizzle and smell rose up and filled her nostrils, and, again, she couldn’t wait to share this dish with the people behind her. Jace slowly poured the honey glaze over each chop and then, with a heavy oven mitt, placed the whole pan into a hot oven and set another timer.
He looked at her and nodded. “Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“Turn the asparagus.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave her a second glance. He shook his head, but she saw the twitch just at the corner of his mouth.
Just before they served the pork chops, they started the halibut, and Jace repeated similar instructions, having Georgie handle the main ingredients and taking the side dishes or garnishes for himself. He gently talked her through each one, but she found she’d watched him so closely when they’d made them together in the past week that his directions were only reminders of what she’d already learned, and now she was the one turning, testing, and judging. By the time the thermometers in the halibut steaks read 145 degrees, the pork chop dishes had been practically licked clean. Georgie carefully transferred the creamy-white fish with dark grill stripes to plates, and Jace spooned the Cioppino Salsa on top. Georgie placed lime wedges and sprigs of cilantro on each and couldn’t help smiling as their audience gasped. The gleaming grilled halibut with its colorful salsa and limes made a vibrant presentation.
They were almost done, and Georgie felt herself start to relax.
“Only the cake left, right?” she asked Jace quietly as the others discussed the fish.
“Not quite. I kind of . . . came up with a surprise dish, just in case something was rejected.”
Georgie’s eyes widened. “Oh?” She tried to loosen the knot of emotion in her stomach. Of course he could come up with another dish without her help. Of course he’d stayed up late or gotten up early or done whatever he did and experimented without her. After all, she’d pushed him away. And that was better. That was good because they were getting too close. They’d gotten too close. And he was the sous-chef. And this had been his assignment.
“Are you okay?” Jace asked as he readied his oven mitts.
“Yeah, I’m fine. So far so good, right?” He nodded as she went to the sink. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her brow and neck, then washed her hands again and got a hold of herself.
She heard Jace address the staff. “I know you only asked for four dishes, but as I said earlier, Georgie has a way of talking and the ideas come. I’m not even sure she would recognize that she had anything to do with this next dish, so I kept it a surprise, but it was her idea too. I guess you could call it a backup plan, but I hope you can wait a little longer for dessert and enjoy it either way.”
At his praise, remorse for her earlier selfish thoughts engulfed her. She wanted to crawl under a rock. But curiosity won out over her chagrin, and Georgie made her way back to where Jace bent over the open oven door to pull out a large iron pan.
“Ohhhh.” The sound reverberated through the room from every mouth but Jace’s. He placed the pan on a sideboard made especially for the large hot dishes just out of the oven.
“This,” Jace said, “is whole roasted crab with tarragon gremolata and butter.”
Two round, shiny, red crabs steamed fragrantly on the black iron pan, along with a handful of curled, roasted lemon slices. Using a broad, flat spatula, Jace scooped the crabs onto a platter lined with lettuce leaves and set it in the middle of the gathering.
Reuben took the liberty of lifting the tops off the crab shells, which apparently were just there for presentation. Underneath lay buttery roasted crab meat, tender and flaky, laced with bits of garlic and green gremolata. Jace pushed a dish of fresh gremolata toward them. “In case you want more,” he said.
They each picked up their crab forks, and with a satisfied expression on his face, Jace turned away and began wiping up the counter and gathering the remains of the morning’s efforts.
“Georgie, you have to taste this,” Caleb said, his mouth full. “Jace, you’ve outdone yourself.”
She held up her finger to Caleb, signaling she’d be there in a minute, and followed Jace to the sink where he was stacking pots and mixing bowls.
“What’s gremolata?” she asked.
“Basically lemon, garlic, and parsley.”
She looked over at the steaming crabs. “You stuffed the crabs with parsley.”
He nodded, concentrating on stacking a couple of plates among the pots. “And tarragon. Just a little so it doesn’t overpower everything. I tried the rhubarb too, but—” He made a face.
She remembered her tongue-in-cheek suggestion of stuffing the crab with all the spring ingredients from his list. “But I was only playing around.”
He gave a short, sad laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
Georgie swallowed, catching his meaning. If her face hadn’t been red before, it was now.
He dried his hands on a towel. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to show you how to make it, but I’ll leave you instructions.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm, looked her in the eye for just a moment, then turned away, leaving her at the sink.
She frowned as his words sank in. “You
’ll leave me instructions? Are you going somewhere?”
He’d already moved back to the counter where everyone was eating. She wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard her or if he was putting her off until they were done with the presentation. But she was suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding. That was what he’d been teaching her all morning. How to make the dishes on her own. Why would he do that?
She turned and watched his back, seeing the easy lift of his shoulders as he spread his arms out in victory. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
The small group cheered.
Georgie clapped her hands with the others, but with all of the confusing choices she’d been making lately, she didn’t feel very victorious.
The voting was unanimous. All the dishes would go on the menu, and the roasted crab would be a regular Friday-night special. And although Georgie was relieved and proud of being part of something so momentous, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jace wasn’t as thrilled as he should have been.
Everyone helped clean up, and Georgie made light conversation with Haru, Joanie, and Caleb as Jace met with Reuben in his office, probably to discuss the finer details of whatever it took to change a menu. She had a couple hours left until her shift started, and she was wondering if she should just go home right before Reuben called her into his office.
She avoided eye contact as she passed Jace, who was leaving the room.
“Georgie,” Jace said. She turned, lifting her face to his. He paused just a second and briefly smiled. That simple act shouldn’t have sent ripples through her middle, but it did.
“What?” she asked.
“I just wanted to say thanks. You did good today.”
“Thanks.”
He drew in a breath and let it out, looking back toward the office. “And . . . I think a person should consider opportunities to try something that makes them feel like it could be a part of them.” He shook his head like he hadn’t said that as well as he’d wanted to. “I mean, something that makes them feel valued and respected but also passionate. Because they’ve chosen it. Not because somebody else chose for them.”
She frowned. “Okay . . .” It was a good thought, but she wasn’t sure what he was getting at.
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