by Kelly Cain
She grabs my hand then and holds it between the two of hers. “I think we can win the whole thing. You need to believe that or we won’t.”
I hug her and nod before going to my room.
When I get inside, I can’t drop my backpack fast enough. Those notes practically jump out of my pocket into my hands. I flip on the lights and sit at the desk.
There’re five index cards with words and abbreviations that don’t make any sense. There’s “c” & “tb” so maybe cup and tablespoon but everything else is just random words either circled or underlined. One stands out though—Sassafras. And it has three asterisks next to it.
Either this is a strong coincidence or Knox Everheart has my middle name written on his cards.
But why?
I copy everything over to my laptop and run water for my bath. I need it after the long day we’ve had.
While soaking in the bubbles of the Jacuzzi tub, I move the codes through my mind. As my shoulders unwind, it occurs to me what it could possibly be. It makes zero sense though.
*
I lied to Mama and Wyatt, telling them I forgot my knives at the studio and wanted to go over early. In reality I need to sharpen them, but I also need to replace Knox’s notes. I skipped breakfast, so that’ll probably come back to bite me later.
When I get off the elevator, there are a few crew members setting up, but none of the families. Thankfully. I’m sweating as I glance around, making my way over to the Everheart table. One last scan before I pull the cards out of my pocket and hastily drop them in Knox’s chair, then scuttle away.
“Going somewhere?”
I stop in my tracks. There’s no use pretending I didn’t hear him. “Sorry, what?”
He tightens his lips and narrows his eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I’m quite certain there isn’t.” Best to keep my answers short so I don’t accidentally step in anything. I wipe the palms of my hands against my pants then pull my backpack higher on my shoulders.
“Are you sure there’s nothing? For instance, maybe that you had some of my property?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s interesting is that I got here early to look for some index cards I left behind and there was nothing there. Then I went to the bathroom and came back, and voila, they’re right where I left them last night.” He bends down to retrieve the cards. “And here you are, Amber, suspiciously ambling away from our table.”
All I can hope is that I haven’t left my sweaty palm print all over those cards. “You’re mistaken. I just got here and was passing by on the way to our table. I don’t care about your notes. We’ll beat you just fine without cheating.”
“Not if you keep playing it safe, you won’t.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You went to the top culinary school in the country, did you not? I’m pretty sure you did. I was there.” He walks closer to me and stops, widening his stance and crossing his arms. “But yet you let your mother make all your choices. The food is good, but you’re not taking any chances. It’s enough to beat the beautiful but talentless Dolter sisters, but…”
“How do you know they’re sisters?” Shit.
He cocks his head to the side and grins, then takes a plastic sleeve of powdered donuts out of his pocket. “My brothers and I happened to see them in the bar downstairs last night. We chatted for a bit.”
My heart beats faster, and I take a step back. “Fraternizing with the enemy?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
“Pbssht, you wish, Everheart.” How ridiculously arrogant can one person be? Neither of us had much time to date during school, but hookups were par for the course. I had them, I’m sure Knox did too, and I never cared then. Nor do I now.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. “As much as I’d like to discuss this further, I have to catch this.”
He turns toward their table and I step back to ours, but I can still hear his side of the conversation. “Hey, Dad, is everything okay with the restaurant?”
He’s silent for a moment and I’m trying hard not to eavesdrop.
“You don’t have to understand. This is what I want to do.”
Again, silence.
“My brothers are their own men. If they want to help me, why are you so opposed? You have plenty of coverage and we’re only gone a few days. If we advance, then a few days next month. What’s the big deal?”
He sits down at their table and lifts a bottle of water just put there by someone on the crew.
“No, Dad. Sorry. No. You’re being unreasonable.”
He pulls at the label on the water bottle as his grip tightens on his cell phone. His voice lowers to a menacing tone.
“You do whatever you think is right. You always do.”
He looks at the phone, then closes his eyes.
I hurry and put my earbuds in, then turn on my music. When I glance back his way, Knox is pulling items out of a bag, his phone barely hanging on to the top of the table on the opposite end.
The music streams in my ears and I instantly skip the song, the same as I do any time The Wallflowers come on. Knox reminds me of a young Jakob Dylan and now their music is dead to me forever.
Meanwhile, what was that conversation with his dad about? I thought he was behind this whole excursion of the Everheart brothers. From what I overheard, maybe Flynn Everheart isn’t completely supportive of his sons after all. A part of me twists in sympathy and understanding. If that’s the case, no wonder Knox wanted to enter the competition. No, girl. He didn’t have to enter, he chose to. He wants to beat me, and there’s no way I’m going to let him take this opportunity away from me. From my family. He doesn’t deserve it. Knox isn’t someone to feel sorry for just because he had a spat with good ole Dad.
Rowan’s Famous Green Beans
1 pound fresh green beans, cleaned and trimmed
3/4 pound assorted mushrooms (bella, shiitake, oyster, etc.), sliced
3 cups cold water
1 white onion, sliced thinly
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup bacon grease
Salt and pepper to taste
Place green beans and mushrooms in a large stock pot. Add water and turn on high heat. Meanwhile, heat a cast iron skillet over medium-high heat and sauté onion in bacon grease for 3 minutes. Add garlic and sauté 1 minute more. Add mixture to green beans including all scrapings. Season with salt and pepper. Turn heat down to medium and half cover with a lid, allowing steam to escape. Cook 45 minutes.
Yield: 4 to 6 servings
CHAPTER SIX
Knives out.
This morning’s challenge is to cook a limited menu we would offer in our restaurant for an entire lunch service. Three appetizers, two entrées, two sides, and two desserts. Just the three of us. Mama barely cooks one dish every day at the restaurant and Wyatt does prep work, which is important of course, but not helpful in planning a menu and executing. We have four and a half hours for all of our food to get on the table. Appetizers need to be out in two.
A million recipes speed through my head. A beef and seafood option would be best. Oh, a French vanilla soufflé would set the judges on fire. I’m practically giddy with the possibilities.
I spare a glance at the Dolter sisters who look utterly lost.
Even though I know this is a bad idea, I peek at Knox who’s smirking, his cornflower eyes sparkling. He knows. I don’t have power over my mother in this competition any more than I do in her restaurant. I talk about Wyatt being a mama’s boy, but I’m no better now that she’s sick.
When I look back at my own family, Mama looks determined and Wyatt resigned.
Mama leans over to speak to us. “Open that laptop of yours, Rowan. Let’s plan the menu.”
I do as told but know there’ll be little planning. She’ll pick from Smothered in Love’s menu and suffocate any idea I even at
tempt. I can practically start typing without her direction because I pretty much know what she’ll select. She’s probably right anyway. She’s been at this a lot longer than me.
“Okay, we’ll start with crawfish dip with crusty bread, fried green tomatoes with remoulade, and salmon croquettes.”
I tap the keys as unenthusiastically as I can. This is food I could make blindfolded. When I remember there’s a camera pointed our way, I perk up.
“For our entrées and sides, let’s do chicken and dumplings, oxtails, macaroni and cheese, and your greens, Rowan.” She nods vigorously, agreeing with herself.
These are all our top sellers so no surprises why she picked them. They’re all delicious and I’m sure they’ll be fine. I type in the dessert because I already know what it’ll be.
“And for our two desserts…” She taps her lips with the pen she hasn’t used once since she’s been here. “Peach cobbler and sweet potato pie.”
I look down at my screen, then back up at her and smile.
“Aren’t you going to write it down?”
“Already got it, Mama.”
“Okay, good. Time for you to shine, Rowan. Who’s doing what?”
These are our roles. They’ll probably never change, and the sooner I accept that, the happier I’ll be.
“Mama, you make the crawfish dip and fried green tomatoes with the remoulade. I’ll make the crusty bread and salmon croquettes. Then you start the oxtails and mac and cheese, and I’ll do the chicken and dumplings, and greens. You do the crust for the pies and I’ll do the filling. Wyatt–”
He holds up a hand and laughs. “I do whatever you two tell me to do. I already know how this song goes.”
I don’t bother with the shrug I want to give him because we don’t have time. When we get in the kitchen, I start on a quick bread first since it’ll need to set a bit. Then I take out a large bowl and the pan I’ll need for the salmon croquettes. At the restaurant, we use fresh salmon, but I don’t have time for that, so I go into the pantry and pull out the canned salmon. I spare a moment to look at the vanilla beans and think of the souffle I would have created. I shake it off and return to the task at hand.
Since Mama already has Wyatt chopping veggies for her dip and tomatoes, I gather everything I need from the fridge for the croquettes. Mama does beautiful croquettes but they require work, as does the bread. I split everything up with her having the easiest to prepare. My greatest fear has been her having a flare during this competition but so far she’s been fine. I can only guess she’s taking her medication properly.
We get the appetizers out to the table with an hour to spare, and I check out the Dolters before moving back into the kitchen. They’re running around, makeup smudged, perfectly done hair messy, and those pretty pink smocks smeared with unimaginable foodstuffs. If this wasn’t a competition, I’d show them some sisterly solidarity, but since it is, forget that noise.
The studio kitchen is cooler than our restaurant’s, so cooking in it is pleasant. Having the extra space to stretch out is a plus as well. Mama already has her oxtails in the oven and she’s making the cheese roux for the macaroni, so I beckon Wyatt over to help me. “Can you pick the collards for me please? Make sure and wash them at least five times.”
He claps me on the back. “This isn’t my first rodeo, sister.”
Because I don’t want him to be a cook the rest of his life, I’d never admit to him how excellent of a sous chef he is. He enjoys it, but he’s an accountant. He does the bookkeeping for Smothered in Love, but it’s not enough to fill his days. With the work he does in the restaurant, it doesn’t leave him a whole lot of time to pursue anything else. We’re all in a bit of a cycle around Mama’s dream.
One more visit to the subzero fridge and I pluck out a chicken. When I set it on the cutting board to debone it, I reach for my knives and freeze. I circle around the kitchen, looking for what, I don’t know. Help? Wyatt’s back is to me at the sink and Mama is next to him, draining her macaroni. Neither of them can go back in time and knock me upside the head for picking up Knox’s cards instead of sharpening my fucking knives.
In a panic, I run to the unisex bathroom. The person looking back at me in the mirror is not ready for prime time. The thick TV makeup they have us wear usually covers my freckles but they’re starting to peek through, the sweat melting my foundation. I dab at my face with a paper towel hoping to staunch some of the damage. What I wouldn’t give for my music right now. Instead I hum my favorite song, “Truly Madly Petty,” and calm my nerves. I made a mistake. A stupid mistake and there’s nothing I can do about it now. Time to face the music.
When I exit the bathroom, I practically bump into Knox.
“I hope you washed your hands, Amber.”
“Not now, Knox. In case you missed it, I’m a little busy.” There’re other crew members moving through the hallway and a couple stop to see what our exchange is all about.
Knox doesn’t miss that we have an audience. He walks closer to me and stops, expanding his stance. He raises his eyebrows and steeples his fingers. “You’ve got another secret. Why aren’t your knives sharpened?”
“How could you possibly know th–” I slap a hand over my mouth after one of the crew members gasps. Fucking Knox Everheart. Always here for my misery and finding whatever way he can to cause me embarrassment. It’s like school all over again.
During our second year, we’d fallen into a pretty good rhythm of hating each other. Hazing in school is already on the menu, but for me and Knox, there wasn’t a prank too low for either of us. Changing the kitchen layout overnight, hiding knives, clogging the toilet with yeast (that was mine), and everything else you could possibly think of. Once I was making a Baked Alaska for a mid-term exam. This is already a very difficult recipe to master, but when someone has fiddled with your equipment, it’s impossible. My dessert came out of the oven a ruined, runny mess. Knox looked perfectly innocent but I know he was the one who set me up. Everyone else in the class laughed their butts off. Even the professor had to hide a grin behind his hand. I’d been so embarrassed and angry; I ran out of the classroom.
You’d think I was the one who almost ruined his life instead of the other way around.
I push past him and go back into the kitchen. Mama raises her eyebrows, but I ignore her and head over to the cutting board to tackle the chicken. I crack my knuckles, pick up my instrument, and saw at the meat. Only my knife flows through like butter. When I look down at the knife, it isn’t one that belongs to me. I rotate until I’m facing the Everheart table. Knox is sitting on the edge of his seat, plastic water bottle in hand. Our eyes lock and he winks.
*
Sassafras is an unusual name for someone, even as a middle name. Lillie grew up in Austin, but her Louisiana roots and Cane River heritage were prevalent in her upbringing. Especially when it came to food. Nightly meals consisted of shrimp Creole, meat pies, and jambalaya. And on weekends, gumbo, which was her absolute favorite.
She dreamed of owning a restaurant someday and perfected her gumbo recipe. She met Sawyer Townsend in college and they started a family, but she never gave up her dream. When her husband had some success as a tech entrepreneur and built his company up with Lillie’s help, he invested in Smothered in Love. The dynamics of their relationship changed after that, and they were unable to stay together, but Sawyer always supported Lillie in any way she would accept.
To make gumbo on the Cane River, one needs plenty of filé powder which is made from…sassafras leaves.
When the judges announce their scores, Mama’s gumbo beats every dish made. Even Knox’s ravioli. But after all the scores are tallied, we come in well behind the Everhearts. It doesn’t matter because it’s not even close to the Dolter’s low score.
Times like these I wish I had Knox’s petty. Instead I go over to the sisters and wish them well.
Everyone’s hugging or congratulating, so next I walk over to the Smiths to extend my condolences. The son follows me b
ack to our table and offers his hand. “I don’t think we’ve had a chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Mike.”
“Hi. I’m Rowan. I’m sorry you didn’t make it through.” He has no idea how sorry I really am. They were great cooks, but they had to do a lot more than comfort food to beat Knox and his brothers.
“Yeah, me too, but at least we got a free trip to San Francisco.” He smiles and his brown eyes twinkle. He really means it.
I gather up my belongings, including Knox’s knives which I’ll have to return and thank him for. I still have no idea why he would do me such a solid. “That’s one way to look at it I suppose. Where are you from?”
“Colorado. Denver. You’re from Austin, right?”
“Right. Pretty much. Are you coming back next month?” From the beginning, we knew loser families would be able to travel back for all the competitions. Loser sounds so harsh bouncing around my brain and Mike seems nice enough for someone I met two minutes ago. The families that don’t advance. There, that’s better.
“I may. It’s good publicity for our restaurant which is why I agreed to do it in the first place. We need to get back to business though. I’ll see how we’re doing next month.”
“Well your chicken pot pie smelled divine yesterday.”
He grins. “Why, thank you. It goes without saying that all of your food was superior.”
I take off my jacket and hand it to the crew member who’s going around collecting them for next time. Then I pull out my earbuds. Mike is okay, but I need to bite the bullet and get these knives to Knox so I can see Mama and Wyatt off since they’re traveling back tonight.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
I guess Mike didn’t get the hint. “Indie mostly. How about you?”
“I don’t really listen to music.”
Okay, strike one. Not that I’m keeping score. “Oh, okay. Well I have to catch up with my family. Maybe I’ll see you next month.”
“Sure.” He puts his hand out again and I shake it.