Page 12 of Fake It Till We Fall
My heart lurched, and my pulse immediately picked up where it had just left off.
Grayson.
I turned and took a moment to smooth my hair and straighten my coat, schooling my face into a neutral mask before opening the door.
It wasn’t Grayson.
The man on the other side of the door was short and unfamiliar. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a dark coat, a tentative smile on his face.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Kevin.”
I stared at him blankly, my brain working overtime trying to reconcile that it wasn’t Grayson on the other side. I peered overthe man’s shoulder, but Grayson and his ladder were already gone.
I turned my attention back to the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I?—”
“We spoke on the phone,” he said. “About the head chef position?”
“Oh.” It took me a moment to shake off the sting of disappointment and place the man in my memory. “Right. Kevin. I’m sorry, I was just…come on in.”
I stepped back and waved the man into the dining room.
I needed to focus. The head chef position was important.Reallyimportant. How had I forgotten?
This was exactly what I’d promised myself wouldn’t happen. The whole reason I’d stayed away from Trickle Creek for so long and flown Grandma all over the world to see me instead. I knew this would happen if I came back to my hometown. Sure enough, it had taken all of five minutes in his presence for me to forget myself and the most important interview I’d lined up all week.
I needed to get it together. Quickly.
Kevin stepped inside, glancing around the dining room with polite curiosity. I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about what he saw. Willa’s Whisk was old.Traditional.It was a nice way of saying that there hadn’t been any updates in over twenty years.
Looking at it through a stranger’s eyes brought the moment quickly and sharply back into focus.
I exhaled, shrugged out of my coat, and forced a professional smile. “Why don’t we sit over here?” I waved him to the table by the window.
Fortunately, if Kevin had any opinions on my stunned demeanor or the worn-down state of the restaurant, he didn’t show it. Instead, he slipped off his coat and took the seat across from me.
I managed to pull myself together, grab a notebook and get through the interview, which turned out to be better than expected. Kevin was capable, experienced, and seemed to have a calm and steady demeanor, which was necessary in the kitchen. Even better, he was looking for a change and excited about the opportunity to move out of the city and into the mountains.
By the time we shook hands and I saw him out, I was once more fully focused on the task at hand and picturing him in Willa’s Whisk.
The door had only just closed behind him when the kitchen door swung open and Grandma appeared, apron on, wiping her hands on a towel.
“You were in the kitchen?”
She stared at me incredulously. “Where else would I be?”
“Upstairs?” I shook my head. “Resting? You’re not well, Grandma.”
“We needed pies.”
I shook my head. There was no point in arguing. “That interview went?—”
“I saw you outside earlier.” She cut me off, clearly not interested in the potential new chef. “It looked like you had a little help with the decorations after all.” She glanced from the window and back to me with a faint smile.
Her tone was light, but the gleam in her eyes was anything but subtle.
“Grandma…”
She didn’t say another word. She simply gave me a knowing little wink before disappearing back through the swinging door.
