Reservations for Two

by Jennifer Lohmann

  Hoping that looking busy would make her busy, she walked into the closet she called an office to review possible menus for next week. Babka was serving some great dishes, if only there were customers to enjoy them. Tomato season was here and they had a starring role. Tomatoes stuffed with a green pea salad could work as a starter or as a vegetarian entrée, and tomato soup with a few puff pastry squares floating delicately in the bowl would be a nice change from the beet soup. But tomatoes were perishable and she didn’t want to buy too many if her restaurant was going to be this empty every night. If she was going to fail, she wanted to fail with as little debt as possible. On the other hand, if her business picked up, she didn’t want the servers telling customers they were out of the green-pea-stuffed tomatoes.

  She looked back at the staff preparing the food. Jon, her sous chef, had taken over calling out the few tickets. She would rather be in the kitchen hollering out orders and yelling at PM Carlos to get his meat entrée done than in her office staring at paperwork. The sounds of the kitchen— knives hitting wood cutting boards, the click of the lids on pans and the hiss of food as it hit hot butter—those sounds were her music. The smells, good ones like garlic and onions, and bad ones like the gas stove, both soothed and energized her at the same time.

  Some of the audience from the Taste demonstration needed to come in. She needed their business. It had been three days since all those people had told her they loved her food. Was she being impatient? Maybe they needed to find a babysitter before they could have a night out. Maybe their grandmother died. Maybe they just forgot.

  Or maybe they remembered the review and decided it wasn’t worth their trouble to come to a restaurant that was going to fail.

  And Dan. Would he show up? She had promised herself she wouldn’t think about him, but if she was being honest about the future of Babka, she could be honest about Dan. He had provided much-needed support when she was barely in control of her nerves and she was grateful. He’d been a kind face, and then he had left. She was a little disappointed he hadn’t taken her out to dinner after the demo, but the honesty parade forced her to admit she had been too tired to be much of a dinner companion. One glass of wine and she would have put her head down on the table and snored her way through the meal.

  And maybe she didn’t have time for a serious relationship and maybe she didn’t want one. Tony, the ex-boyfriend she’d left behind in New York, had complained about the hours she’d worked until thinking about the pain in her feet from being in front of a stove for sixteen hours a day, five or six days a week, had been easier than listening to him. And she hadn’t owned a restaurant or been a head chef in New York. Between the long hours at Babka, the stress of being a struggling small business owner, the long hours at Babka and more long hours at Babka, thinking about a relationship with anyone, even Dan with his inspiring smile and broad shoulders, seemed fruitless.

  But maybe she should. Those broad shoulders looked as if they would support her weary head nicely. His kiss had made her stomach flutter and forget her troubles for a few wonderful moments. Could a man who made her skin tingle, her knees weak and every other cliché schoolgirls giggled over really just kiss her and leave?

  Even if he was a man she was willing to risk heartache for, who was she kidding? When she wasn’t at Babka, she was visiting farms within driving distance of Chicago. And when she wasn’t visiting farms, she was researching Polish food and culture. All in pursuit of a dream.

  Men required time and energy, which were sparse ingredients in her busy life. Babunia had left her money so she could start her own restaurant and make a success of it. Right now, she was spending that inheritance on staff with no one to cook for and repairmen for kitchen equipment that wouldn’t stay working, but success could happen if she worked hard enough. She had no other choice. If she didn’t put everything she had into Babka, she would be betraying all her grandmother had meant to her.

  Tilly knew it was better that Dan had walked off after her demonstration than for him to have stuck around and gotten her hopes up. Better she didn’t have that excess worry. She didn’t even need to consider what had made him leave the Taste with a peck on the cheek and generic “see you around.”

  Dan had helped make the demo a nice memory and that was all he should ever be.

  She needed to have this conversation with herself about ten more times before she would believe it. Then pigs would fly into her restaurant and volunteer for her fry pans, and twelve dancing princesses would waltz in to order appetizers, entrées, dessert and drinks. And tip twenty-five percent.

  She put away the menus. She wasn’t thinking about tomatoes anyway. She was feeling sorry for herself and her little business. She needed something besides ads, her website and the crummy review. What she needed was something big to publicize her restaurant. Word of mouth was important, but needed a jump start.

  Until Babka was the restaurant it could and should be, she wouldn’t have time to think about Dan, or any man for that matter.

  “Tilly?” Steve stood at her door, his thin frame like a long grain of rice standing at attention.

  “Yeah? What is it?” She swallowed her groan. Steve, like all runners, was always busy, no matter how many people were in the restaurant. The energy needed to be a runner was why many people had turned a blind eye to his drug habit for years, until he started forgetting important details. She’d called several past employers before hiring him and they all said he was great—when he wasn’t using. He was clean now and she hadn’t had a single complaint about him.

  If he had time to linger outside her office door, something was wrong.

  “There are two men out here, both dressed nicely. They’re asking for you.”

  Dan.

  She shook her head. Now she was being ridiculous. Given the past week, she should prepare for the worst. Representatives from the bank to see where their money was. A surprise health inspection during dinner service. Maybe the old man sitting at the bar was a twenty-year-old with a good fake ID and better makeup and she was going to have her liquor license revoked.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Tilly.

  “Did he ask to speak to the owner or the chef?”

  “He asked to speak to Tilly. Kinda strange, if you ask me, since you’re not dating anyone. He looks nothing like your brother. Anyway—” Steve’s smile broadened his narrow face “—the front-of-house gossip is that he’s handsome in a wholesome, Midwestern boy way. Karen said that before saying she’ll take him if you don’t want him. Apparently, she wants to take him home to her parents.”

  His news passed on, Steve left.

  Midwestern. Wholesome. Definitely Dan. Even with a beer stain on his shirt, Dan looked as if he had been a football quarterback, growing up practicing his passes with his dad on their farm. Maybe a little too short to be the quarterback, but a wrestler was still a good guess. Strong and lean. Also, carefree and sure of himself.

  But who was he here with?

  Tilly looked down at her white chef’s jacket and houndstooth pants, then shrugged. The uniform wasn’t stylish, but it was practical and she couldn’t change anyway. She settled for dusting off the little bits of pepper and flour that had settled on her jacket. The beet stain on the front made her look as if she’d been shot in the gut, but it would have to remain where it was.

  Tucking some flyaway strands of hair back under her bandanna, she took a deep, relaxing breath and walked into the dining room.

  The restaurant looked more barren than ever. The two men waiting for her in the far corner couldn’t make up for the ten desolate tables eating up the dining room. For the second time that night, she reminded herself not to worry. As she walked closer, one of the men smiled, his white teeth reflecting the light from the candle on his table. It was the slow, confident smile she had seen before and she forgot all her promises to focus on her business and put relationships out of her mind.

  “Hi, Tilly.” Dan had a clear, calming voice. It warmed her and smoothed awa
y her nerves, like a verbal cup of strong tea. It was almost enough to make her forget about how attractive he was.

  Almost.

  “Dan, it’s nice to see you again.” She didn’t even try to keep the smile out her voice. To sound as if she didn’t remember the kiss and how it had heated her body. She hoped she sounded like a confident businesswoman instead of a silly schoolgirl.

  Dan stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Please sit with me for a moment, unless you’re needed in the kitchen.” He looked around at the empty restaurant. He knew she wasn’t needed in the kitchen. “We just ordered. Mike and I need company.”

  “You should start going places with dates, since you always seem to want company.” Tilly crossed her arms over her chest, remembering how he’d left her right after the demo and she hadn’t got the dinner he’d promised.

  “I never seem to be missing company until I see you,” he replied. His smile was less confident, but just as alluring, and his eyes were hopeful.

  The compliment caught her off guard, but she quickly recovered. “An obvious line if I’ve ever heard one, but I’ll bite.”

  She sat and Dan returned to his chair.

  “Tilly, this is my friend Mike. We work together and he was dying to come here for dinner tonight.”

  Mike gave Dan a wry smile that turned warm as he shook Tilly’s hand. “Dan’s said so much about Babka I had to try your restaurant for myself.”

  “I wish I could say I’m too busy and can’t stay long but...” She looked around at the nearly empty restaurant. “We would all know I was lying.”

  “Is this how it is every night?” Dan asked.

  “Yes, since the review in CarpeChicago. I had hoped after the cooking demonstration...” She wanted to ask why he’d left with a vague reference to the future but nothing she could hang on to (or throw away) and, more importantly, why he had come back to the restaurant. She didn’t have the courage, not yet.

  Besides, she didn’t want him in her life. Dan or any man. You’re too busy, Tilly.

  “I hadn’t planned on coming to your restaurant tonight, or even seeing you again. I thought that day at the Taste would be a fun date with a stranger, one to tell your children about. Like the movie Before Sunrise. Where the man meets a beautiful woman he’s half in love with, even though he knows he’ll never see her again.”

  Her heart caught on that word—love—but her brain thought it was a line, part of his charm, like the smile. It didn’t feel as if he was telling the whole truth. Maybe he had another reason not to see her again. He didn’t look directly at her when he talked.

  If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he had a secret.

  “But?”

  “But I owed Mike dinner and he mentioned Babka. So here I am...”

  He hadn’t come here to see her, but because he owed his buddy dinner, and he’d asked for her because it would be awkward if she walked into the dining room to see him sitting here.

  “...and I realized there is no place I’d rather be.”

  Well, that shut up her cranky mind.

  He’d probably known what to say to a woman from the womb, but she didn’t buy it. It had her looking at the goods, though. She wasn’t sure if she was a sucker for looking or a skeptic for not buying it right off. You’re too busy to window-shop.

  “Dan, why are you here?”

  Mike snickered and Dan looked abashed, but Tilly just raised her eyebrow.

  “I told you. I owed Mike dinner and he wanted to come here. I’m looking forward to my dinner. Last time, I only tried a couple of bites.”

  Tilly cocked her head a little. “What last time?” And why had he talked about Babka to Mike?

  “At the Taste.” His gaze dropped from her face and again the thought he was hiding something struck her. “The beet soup was so good I had to come to your restaurant.” He was looking back into her eyes, confident again.

  A waitress came out with his salad and placed it in front of him. She turned to Tilly and said, “Tilly, something in the kitchen needs your attention.”

  Tilly caught her breath and the memory of that stupid cat held on to every last bit of air in her body until she had to cough out, “What is it?”

  “It’s the pot sink.”

  Tilly let out a great puff of breath. Now the pot sink, on top of everything else. “I’ll be there in a minute. Turn off the water to the sink and we’ll see what we can do.” She turned her face back to the two men at the table. “Dan, Mike, enjoy your dinner. I’m sorry, but I have to take care of this.”

  * * *

  A SWOOSH OF HOT AIR hit Dan as he came through the swinging doors in the kitchen. He found Tilly in the back, sitting cross-legged on the floor, fumbling with some pipes under the large metal three-basin pot sink that was piled with dirty pots and pans. Even a nearly empty restaurant produced a lot of dirty dishes. If he had a chance to eat his dinner, his plate would be one of the stack.

  What should have been a busy, noisy kitchen with rich smells and people rushing from stove to plate was calm. Cooking for the three full tables out in the dining room didn’t stress Tilly’s kitchen. But, he noticed, they also weren’t goofing off with their free time. Tilly had managed to make sure they had something to do, and, from the looks of it, not just busy work. Ignoring the dog-and-cat fiasco, Tilly might be better manager than he thought.

  By the cursing coming from the direction of the sink, whatever was wrong with the pot sink wasn’t easily fixed. He walked back to where Tilly sat. The floor was wet and a toolbox lay open on a folding chair next to her. The wrench she had in her hand was definitely not the right size.

  “Want some help?”

  Tilly jerked and hit her head on the sink. “Ouch.” She rubbed the spot and crinkled her nose up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  The crinkled nose was adorable. Her expressiveness was one of the things he liked about her. She blushed, groaned, grimaced and laughed. Every emotion she felt was clear on her face, but she never let them get in the way of her life. Tilly grabbed on to life and lived it. It was wonderful to watch.

  “I came to see if you want some help.” He gestured to the water on the floor. “You look like you need it.”

  Tilly slumped her shoulders and put her wrench down. “I’ve called a plumber and they won’t be here for another three hours. The drain can’t stay this way for three hours. Even as empty as we are, we need the pot sink.”

  Dan crouched next to her and looked over the pipes. “You don’t need a plumber. I can fix this.”

  Tilly straightened and looked at him, her eyes bright with hope. “You can?” She shook her head. “I mean, I can’t ask you to do that. You’re a customer. I can’t have paying customers fixing my messy plumbing problems.”

  “Let’s call it a trade, then. Don’t charge us for dinner and I’ll fix your sink for you.”

  “I can’t ask you to do this. I really can’t.” Her voice, heavy with gratitude, betrayed her.

  “You’re not asking. I’m volunteering. Come on.” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “I have some tools at my house I need to get. My place is nearby and it will take me much less time than it would take a plumber to get here.”

  Tilly looked at the mess on the floor, then at Dan. Then she touched her pants. They were soggy with dirty water. The wet fabric appeared to make the decision for her. “Thank you. You’re getting the best meal Babka has to offer. While you’re gone, I’ll change into my spare clothes and plan your dinner.”

  “Can your employees manage without you for a half an hour?”

  She blinked, obviously affronted. “Of course. Why?”

  “Why don’t you come with me? You can use my shower to rinse off that nasty water and put on your clean clothes there.”

  Despite all his valid reasons for staying away from Tilly, Dan wanted to help her. She needed help and he could provide it, plus it would be a good way to apologize for the embarrassm
ent of her photograph ending up on Facebook. The urge wasn’t because he felt guilty about the review. And it wasn’t because he had lied to her. Those were decisions he didn’t have to feel guilty for, no matter how much Mike chided him.

  Tilly gingerly patted her wet backside again. “Yes,” she said wistfully. “I would like to rinse off. But what about Mike?”

  “He won’t mind,” Dan lied. Mike would mind—not about their lost dinner, but he would have plenty of objections about Dan spending more time with Tilly. “And your employees can manage without you...”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll drive my car around back and pick you up so none of your customers will see you soggy.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. Let me call Karen and tell her where I’ll be going.” She looked at him and narrowed her eyes a bit. “You’re sure it will only be for half an hour.”

  “Yes. I live off Milwaukee, not far from Damen. You’ll be back in no time. On my way out, I’ll even leave my address and number with the bartender in case they need to get in touch with you in the meantime.”

  “Okay.” She nodded once. “I’ll meet you at the delivery entrance. I’ll get some towels so you don’t have to suffer my wet, dirty butt on your car seat.”

  Dan wouldn’t mind her butt anywhere in his life, but he only smiled. “I have some beach towels in the back from my last trip to Wisconsin. You can sit on those. I’ll explain things to Mike, get my car and send Karen to you. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get your sink fixed.”

  When he told Tilly he wouldn’t be long, Dan hadn’t anticipated the time it would take for Mike to lecture him in hushed tones that fell to a whisper every time Tilly’s staff walked past them.

  “You really are an asshole,” Mike said.

  “What? I’m helping her. Don’t you want me to?” Dan asked, wincing inwardly. His motives were pure; he didn’t have to sound as if he was asking permission.

  “It’s not the help you’re an asshole for. It’s why you’re doing it.”

  “’Cause I’m a nice guy and I want to?”