Page 38 of The Chef's Kiss
“Of course you do.” His smile widened, and he led me to the door, opening it. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s kind of terrible. I’m guessing it wasn’t Lena’s doing?”
“No, I was terrible all by myself. Thanks for that, by the way.”
I raised a brow before turning to take in the space. “It looks very … city. Yeah, that’s the right word. Have you forgotten you’re cooking in a small coastal town for a restaurant that’s connected to an apple orchard?”
“It’s chic, trendy.”
“That’s just another word for cool. People here aren’t cool. We’re … Hugga Mugga patrons, chowder eaters. We have spats with rival towns and an entire town meeting just to force two people to work together.” I was sure he’d heard the story of everyone pouncing on Lena and Conner.
“And this place doesn’t scream Superiore Bay.”
“No.” I shrugged. “But we can fix that. Now, show me the menu you’ve put together. I’m sure it was the first thing you did.”
He walked toward a table near the kitchen door, where a notebook sat open. “I’m getting it printed this week. We already have a design.” Without argument, he handed it over.
I skimmed the fancy dishes, some I couldn’t even pronounce. Most way too expensive and few with enough local ingredients. “Oh, boy. We’ve got work to do.”
14
HUDSON
Cooking had always been like therapy to me, but not the kind of cooking I did on a busy night with the front of the house full of hungry patrons who’d throw a fit if what they got wasn’t exactly what they ordered.
No, that didn’t let me use any sort of creativity. It was routine work. I made the same dishes for every dinner service. Wash, rinse, repeat.
But those times I could just exist in the kitchen, no demands, no plans, were some of the best memories I had.
When Jorgina showed up today, I’d been in the middle of making myself something for lunch. Well, before Lena asked to chat. Neither interruption was a welcome one, and I didn’t react well, but I thought we were okay now. I hoped.
I looked up from the frying pan to peer through the open kitchen door. Jorgina sat bent over my notebook, scribbling notes. It was a little late to change the menu, and I didn’t like the idea of anyone else having a say in what I cooked, but I couldn’t stop her.
She was like a wrecking ball I’d let into my new job, and eventually, it would all come crumbling down. But I couldn’t get much lower than what brought me here. Jorgina was so different from the staff I’d worked with in New York, managers and chefs with experience who wanted nothing more than a career in the restaurant industry. I wasn’t sure what exactly Jorgina wanted.
She almost had a Harvard business degree. Impressive, no doubt. But I imagined she’d go to work for her father eventually, and I’d move on from this town to something bigger. Back to the life I knew.
Jorgina lifted her eyes from the notebook and caught my eye, a smile coming to her lips. “This is fun. It’s like when I was a kid and my dad got me an Easy-Bake Oven. My brother tore up the recipe book when he was mad at me, so I just experimented and created new ones.”
Was she serious? “No, this is nothing like that.” I fought the urge to laugh.
She shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss man.” Color had started returning to her face, but I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed how pale she was before I started yelling. Something hadn’t been right with her, and I should have seen it.
Now, as she sat humming to herself, no one would notice.
I plated the lunch I was making, but before I could walk away, my phone rang.
Chaz. He was supposed to arrive in town tomorrow. I offered him a sous chef job with a good salary, and he’d snatched it up. “Hey, man.”
“Hudson.” It was good to hear a familiar voice from the city. “How are things?”
“They’re getting there. What time do you arrive tomorrow?”
He hesitated. That was never a good sign. “Look, bro, I’m not coming.”
“Say that again.” I couldn’t have heard him right. Chaz was my first hire, one of my only hires.
“I’m sorry. You know Jordan … she offered me a raise I couldn’t refuse.”
