Page 27 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
“Cube the butter.”
“Yes, Chef.” Good thing I’d been around kitchens enough to know what that meant. After slicing a knife through the cold butter, I asked, “Now what?”
“Dump that into the stand mixer and turn it on high. It needs to beat for five minutes.”
I bobbed my head. “Yes, Chef.”
Her lips twitched as she held back a smile. “You don’t have to say that after every sentence I speak.”
I winked. “Yes, Chef.”
“Rhett,” she warned, holding a measuring cup in my direction, “don’t be a smart aleck, or you won’t get any cookies.”
Too bad for her, I didn’t know how to be anyone but myself, which included sarcasm. I turned on the mixer, speaking loudly, “Well, that’s just mean. You’re the one who offered to cheer me up by baking cookies. You’d really take them back?”
“Yeah, I would. I think you underestimate how much I love my mom’s cookies. I’d save the entire batch for myself.”
I busted up laughing. No way little miss petite would eat an entire batch of cookies by herself. I hadat leastsixty pounds on her, and even I couldn’t manage that feat. “Sure. Lull me in here to bake the cookies you so graciously volunteered to make for me, then snatch them away. I see how it is. In that case, I’ll leave you to it and go back to my office.”
I spun on my heel, ready to leave the kitchen. Holly caught the back of my shirt, yanking me toward her. I stumbled into the stainless-steel counter, my thigh slamming against the edge.
“Ouch.” I winced. I was a little shocked she’d managed to pull me off balance, considering our differences in stature. “You definitely owe me cookies now,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. Are you okay?” she asked softly.
I nodded.
“Good.” Her tone went right back to being bossy. “If you want hot cocoa, your butt better stay in here and help. Also, knock it off. No talking in my kitchen. Remember?”
I fiddled with the bowl in which I’d placed the two eggs. “Whydoyou have that rule?” It seemed unnatural to work in silence.
She scratched her elbow. “When I first came to the restaurant, I was new to being an executive chef. I naïvely thought everyone wanted to be my friend. So I acted that way. Sure, we had fun and the kitchen was filled with laughter, but my staff took advantage. We were taking too long to get meals out the door. People asked for time off way too often, and they were always late. I kindly asked each employee to try harder, but nothing changed. Well, not until I turned into the ‘ice queen,’ as they so lovingly call me now.” She looked at the floor, her voice sad. “I didn’t earn their respect by being nice, so I did a one-eighty, and now I don’t know how to find a middle ground. I’m trying, but it sucks.”
“Hey.” I squeezed her arm. “You’ll find a balance. Only two more days with Josh and Darby. Things have to improve after that.”
She scoffed. “Sure.”
My lips turned down. I didn’t like that she felt this way. “The first job I ever had after graduating from college was for this restaurant in New Haven. The owners had inherited the place from their parents, but none of their kids were interested in taking over. I was there to help transition everything from the family to management under the new owners.”
I leaned against the counter, my palms resting on the edge behind me. “I went in thinking I had to prove myself, acting like I knew everything, even though I didn’t. The assistant manager and I got along okay, but it was awful going to work every day. I missed my college life, where I had been more relaxed. I was stressed all the time and worked way too much. It wasn’t what I’d thought life would be like, you know? I felt like I’d just wasted four years of my life getting a degree I couldn’t possibly use because that job drove me mad. All because I was trying to prove to the people who hired me that I was the best. And you know what?”
She met my gaze. “What?”
“I had a few good ideas, but for the most part, I reallydidn’tknow what I was doing. When I realized that, and allowed myself to stop striving for perfection, things changed.”
“Changed how?”
I pointed to the mixer. “Can we turn this off yet? I’m tired of yelling.”
“Oh, yeah.” She stepped past me and turned the switch off. The mixer slowly came to a standstill.
I welcomed the quiet, but a hum buzzed in my ears. “I started listening to the assistant manager and owners more rather than assuming that because I’d graduated at the top of my class, I had all the answers. When I admitted I valued their feedback, we all trusted one another more. I don’t know how exactly you could do that here, but maybe when you meet with each employee to come up with their goals, you can let them know you’ll always be there to listen to what they have to say. Try to be a partner and supporter instead of just a boss. Ask how they would change things up in the kitchen. Ask about their hobbies outside of work. Stuff like that.”
Her brows furrowed. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Think about it.” I shrugged, pretending that her decision didn’t matter to me when it did. I wanted her to feel comfortable here. “I’m not saying you need to change everything. But maybe allow some talking?”
“I’ll consider it.”
