Page 27 of Summer Reading

“Especially those,” I said.

“Well, you’d better have an ambulance on speed dial,” he said. “I haven’t eaten anything fishy in years, if ever.”

“Your body will thank you tomorrow,” I said. “All those omega-3s and such.”

“Maybe, but my taste buds won’t,” he retorted.

I rolled my eyes and headed for the kitchen. The rest of the night passed in a blur. The run on the food was relentless, which was fabulous. I gave my crew breaks with heaping plates of food. Not for nothing, but even Tyler ate every single bite, yes, even the fritters.

By the time the happy hour was over and the patio was beginning to clear, we were almost out of food. This was perfect because my vovó had raised me to believe that if the food was good, it would be devoured, but if there weren’t any leftovers, then someone went hungry. Eek! So you always wanted a little food left, just not very much.

We did not run out, and I watched my crew box up the last of it. There was just enough for Em to take to work for lunch the next day. As I watched my team, I told myself I was just assessing how the night went, but I was really indulging myself in studying Ben. I’d noticed that no matter how many people were in line at his station, he never got rattled. Just like on the ferry, when catastrophe struck and I knocked his book into the water, he didn’t get riled or upset. He just rolled with it.

He had an easy way about him that I found reassuring. Being on the slightly manic side, I didn’t have a lot of calm in my life. He felt like the humanequivalent of a cool cloth on the forehead, or a weighted blanket. I liked him.

He chatted with everyone who stopped by his station, but I noticed that he paused frequently to watch men of a certain age. He studied them, and I wondered if maybe that was his type. Not gonna lie, I was a teeny bit disappointed.

The DJ played his last song, and the crowd left the patio. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to collapse into a heap or jump up and down for joy. There was no question tonight had been a major success.

“Sam,” Stuart Mayhew called from where he stood beside the patio bar.

I braced myself for the moment of truth. It didn’t matter if I thought tonight was a success, it only mattered what Stuart thought. A tiny part of me wanted to run. Ben came up beside me and gave me a gentle nudge.

“You crushed it. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right,” he said.

What did he know? This could be horrible. Stuart could be disappointed. He might even refuse to pay me. It had happened before with a woman who asked me to cater her daughter’s baby shower. She’d decided that I had overcharged her for the cake, never mind that the price had been listed on the invoice she signed, and she tried to sue me. My cooking scars ran deep, and not just from burning myself on the stove.

“Tonight was fantastic! You exceeded my expectations and then some,” Stuart said. As if he’d popped my worry balloon with a pin, all the anxiety whooshed out of me.

“Thanks,” I said. “I felt like it went well.”

“Better than well,” Stuart said. “People were raving about your food. So, what are you doing every Friday evening for the rest of the summer?”

My eyes went wide. I almost dropped to my knees in relief. I hadn’t spent all of Dad’s money for nothing. We were going to be okay, more than okay. Still, I held my breath and asked, “Really?”

He nodded.

“I think I’m cooking happy hours for you,” I said. I glanced at Tyler, Ben, and Em, who were hydrating from the long night with ice waters. “I don’t know if I can bring my own help every time, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Stuart said. “We’ll get some of our regular waitstaff to man the food stations. They saw the tips your people earned, and they want in.”

I grinned. “It was pretty great.”

“Stop by my office tomorrow and we’ll discuss your salary and food budget, and be sure to invoice me for the money you already spent. From now on all you have to do is let Mark know what you need and we’ll get it for you,” he said. “Good job, Sam. This is for you and your staff for tonight.” He handed me a fat wad of cash, and it was all I could do not to dance right there.

I didn’t move until he walked back inside the inn, because I was trying to contain my fist pumping, jumping up and down, and clapping until he was out of sight. You know, trying to be cool.

“Don’t leave us in suspense, Sam, what did he say?” Em called from across the patio.

I couldn’t find the words. I was so relieved and happy. Hearing the music coming from the portable speaker one of the waitstaff had brought out onto the patio to listen to while they cleaned up, I busted out one of my favorite shuffle dance moves, the running man.

“Oh no,” Tyler said. He looked mortified.

“I take it this is a victory dance?” Ben asked Em.

She smiled. “Oh yeah.”

The server collecting the plates stopped what she was doing and watched me for a second. To my surprise, she then jumped in and matched my steps.

---