by Mel McCoy
His body relaxed, clearly disarmed by her compliment. “Just make sure you add the right amount in next time.” His voice came out softer this time.
“Yes, sir.” She took another bite of the soufflé.
Ruth was next. She held her breath, feeling his icy eyes focused on her, then on the Baked Alaska in front of her.
“Let’s see how you did.”
Ruth swallowed hard as he cut into the dessert.
“Nicely toasted, and the layers look good.” He took a bite, staring at her as he chewed. Then he picked up the plate, and Ruth was sure he was going to smash the meringue-y treat over her head, but instead, he held it up for everyone to see. “This, my friends…see how she did the layers, the meringue nicely browned. Great presentation.”
Ruth grinned.
“Though the cake is a tad bit dry.” His words cut her like a knife. Didn’t he know she had owned a successful bakery that sold cakes for twenty years? Who was this guy?
He placed the dish back on the table in front of her and clapped his hands together once. “All right. I’m giving you an hour break, and when you get back, I want the bakers to start batching your dessert and the cooks to start prepping. We have a big dinner tonight for our guests. And I’ll be highly disappointed if you mess it up.”
As everyone dispersed, Chef Mills called out to Kelvin and motioned for him to come back.
Kelvin put his hands on his hips and tipped his head back, letting out a frustrated breath. Ruth watched as they walked back by the pantry.
“What!?” Kelvin’s voice carried throughout the kitchen. “You’re kicking me out of the kitchen? This is unbelievable! I made one mistake.”
Then Ruth could hear Chef Mills. “It only takes one dish to ruin a dining experience and a guest’s vacation. I’ll see you in the mess hall.”
Kelvin whipped around the corner, tearing off his chef’s hat. “This is bull!”
Ruth diverted her eyes quickly, pretending to be preoccupied with something on the counter until he stomped off past her.
She felt terrible for him. In fact, she felt bad for all of them. Was that all it took? One mistake, and you were out. She felt her heart leap into her throat before catching a glimpse of Loretta heading for the door. She could only assume that she was on her way back to their room, if one could even call it that. It was more like a closet and, even though she was eager to thank her cabinmate for saving her, the last place she wanted to be at the moment was in a cramped cabin.
Walking out of the kitchen and across the lobby to the elevator, she hit the button for deck fifteen. Muscles tense from the stress of the last hour, she wished she had more time. Then, she’d see if she could get a massage, or maybe sit in a Jacuzzi for a while to ease the tension. But that was for the guests. Perhaps she’d lounge in one of the chairs outside and relax in the warm sun, inhaling the fresh salt-water air. It sounded perfect for the moment.
When she reached her desired deck, she set out, heading straight for one of the lounge chairs facing the water. As she passed the Lime Twist Bar, she saw a friendly-looking man wiping down the counter in front of him after handing his last customer a fruity drink with an umbrella. Ruth yearned for a drink after the long morning she’d had, but she knew it was against policy to drink alcohol while on the job.
The young man looked up, his dirty-blond hair dancing in the breeze and getting caught in his eyes. He gave a wide grin. “Hey! You work here?”
Ruth felt a tingling warmth, and she nodded at him. His voice was inviting.
He waved her over. “Come on over!”
She veered off to the right toward the bar and jumped up on one of the stools, her feet dangling slightly above the deck’s wooden floor.
Grabbing a glass, he dumped its contents into the sink below the counter. He wore a white button-down shirt with black slacks and a colorful vest to complete his ensemble. He glanced at her uniform. “You a cook?”
“No, a pastry chef.”
“Ah!” He nodded in recognition. “How’s your first day going?”
Ruth responded by dropping her head down on the bar, slamming her forehead into her hands.
“That bad, huh?” He wiped the inside of a glass with a towel.
She looked up at him. “I didn’t know our cabins would be so tiny. I barely have room for myself, let alone a roommate.”
“Yeah. The cabins are pretty small, but you get used to it.”
“Used to it? Have you worked on a cruise ship before?”
“Yup. Ten years on Conqueror of the Seas. In fact, a lot of us were promoted and transferred to this luxurious new ship.”
“Ten years,” Ruth said to herself, but still loud enough for him to hear. “How old are you?” Ruth covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to pry. You just seem so young!”
The man chuckled. “I don’t mind. I’m thirty-three.” He held out his hand. “The name’s Geoff.”
Ruth took it and gave a firm shake. “Ruth. You know, I was a passenger on Conqueror last year.”
“You don’t say!”
“Yeah, do you know Arlette Archambeau, the baker?”
“Hm.” Geoff rubbed his chin. “I can’t say I remember her, though we did work in different departments.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I saw her around. If you have a picture, I bet I could tell ya.”
Ruth’s lips flatlined. “No, I don’t have a picture. At least, not on me.”
“That’s too bad. Say, Ruth, how about I make you a drink.” Geoff grabbed a glass from above his head and flipped it in the air.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m still on duty. I believe I read somewhere that I’m not allowed to drink during my shift.”
“I promise I won’t tell, if you don’t.” He shot her a wink.
Ruth laughed.
He began making her drink as she swiveled herself around in her seat to face the ocean. She didn’t ask him what was in it—as sort of a “don’t ask, don’t tell.” She figured if she felt even the slightest effects from the alcohol, she’d stop. At least, that’s what she told herself.
“There you are, Ruth.” Geoff set the whimsically shaped glass filled with white and hot-pink layers down in front of her. “And, to complete the look…” He dropped a paper umbrella into her glass and grinned. “There.”
Ruth admired the drink. “How lovely!”
“Try it.”
Guiding the straw to her lips, Ruth took a sip. The fruity nectar filled her mouth, and her eyes went wide. There were hints of coconut and an overwhelming flavor of strawberries and mango. She squeezed her eyes shut and smacked her tongue a few times to alleviate the sweetness. If there was alcohol in it, she surely wouldn’t know or taste it over the sugar. “Woo!” was all she could manage.
Geoff puffed his chest out, grinning. “I knew you’d like it. This isn’t a menu item. It’s a specialty, a concoction I made up for the crew members only.” He gave her another wink. “Welcome to the family.” He flipped his white rag onto his shoulder and folded his arms on the counter, leaning in toward Ruth. “So, tell me. What’s going on?”
She told him about Loretta, Janice, Chef Mills, and everything that had happened so far that day. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive.”
“You will. The first week is the toughest. I think I broke more glasses and bottles during my first week than I had in my lifetime. It’s a lot of training, and it’s stressful—plus, your shift and learning where everything is on the ship. Newbies tend to be late because they get lost. The supervisors are always strict. But they have to run a tight ship.” Geoff chuckled at his own joke before continuing, “Don’t worry. After everyone gets the hang of things, they’ll loosen up. Though, that Chef Mills really sounds tough.”
“He is.”
“Ah, but you seem tough too. You’ll get through it, just like I did. We all do. Hang in there.”
“Thanks, Geoff. That really helps. And this drink is great.” Ruth only drank half of it. The last thing
she wanted to do was get into any trouble. “I’d better get back before I find my head on a platter.”
Geoff laughed heartily.
“How much do I owe you?” Ruth asked.
He wore a genuine smile as he pulled the towel off his shoulder. “It’s on the house.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” She got up off the stool.
“Listen, stop by any time. I’m told I’m a good listener.”
The corners of Ruth’s mouth ticked up.
Geoff continued, “But I also heard I’m a good talker.”
They both shared a laugh.
“Thanks again, Geoff.” Ruth started for the elevator to get back to the kitchen.
“Good luck,” Geoff called after her.
Ruth made it back to the kitchen with minutes to spare. She wasn’t going to risk being late anymore. Feeling refreshed, she was ready to take on whatever Chef Mills threw at her—but she wasn’t prepared for what she found at her station.
“Baked Alaska?” She picked up the new recipe for tonight’s dessert, bringing it closer, hoping her eyes deceived her. Oh, no. It was a batch recipe for the very dessert she had just struggled to make. Now, she’d be in charge of creating dozens of them that would be offered to all the guests this evening.
Chef Mills stood before them. “Let’s get started! Dinner starts in five hours. Don’t mess it up!”
Chapter 6
The kitchen buzzed with pots clanging, drawers sliding open, and silverware clinking. The chatter was minimal, as everyone remained hyper-focused on the task at hand.
Chef Mills walked back and forth from one end of the kitchen to the other, tasting and hovering. Every time he came near Ruth, she’d hold her breath until he moved on.
After several hours had passed, Chef Mills shouted over the din of the kitchen, “Dinner guests will be arriving soon. Make sure the plates are warm and ready to go!” Then he did a double-take at the door window that led to the dining hall. He marched over and opened the door. “Eric! Where is the ice sculpture?”
“It’s coming! Hold your horses!” a short man with an Italian accent shouted back.
“It better be out here in five minutes. Dinner starts in ten!”
“Listen, buddy.” Eric was now standing in front of Chef Mills in the doorway. “You may be able to bully your kitchen staff, but you’re not my boss.”
Chef Mills clenched his jaw. “Technically, you are part of the kitchen staff.”
Eric threw his hands up. “Bah! You are no good man, and you should be gotten rid of!”
“Listen, I don’t care what you think of me, just get it out here, so I can begin adjusting the presentation for my dinner!”
“What do you think I’m out here doing? I’m trying to see where I want to place it.”
“I think I know exactly where I want to put it, but I can’t know for sure if I don’t have it. So, get it out here, now!”
Eric sneered at Chef Mills before walking away. “I know where I’d like to put it,” the short man grumbled under his breath.
Grunting, Chef Mills let go of the door, allowing it to swing open and closed violently, as they went their separate ways.
Loretta stepped up next to Ruth. “We have a man who does ice sculptures?” she asked, keeping her voice low as she stirred batter in a mixing bowl.
Ruth shrugged. “It’s a luxury ship. I guess it really shouldn’t surprise us.”
“I can’t wait to see his work.” Loretta walked back to her area on the counter to finish her chocolate soufflé desserts.
Ruth continued prepping her Baked Alaskas, avoiding eye contact with the Chef as he strutted past her. She couldn’t start assembling the Baked Alaskas until the guests were finishing up with their dinners. But she had all the cakes baked, cut, and ready to go, as well as all the ice cream in molds and the meringue set.
Once dinner was just about over, Chef Mills pointed at Ruth and Loretta. “You and you.” He motioned for them to come to him. When they were standing in front of him, his attention shifted between them. “You two are the pastry chefs, though you wouldn’t be my top choice.” His gaze raked over them. “I work with what I got.”
What was that supposed to mean?
He continued, “But as the top pastry chefs, there come other responsibilities. Just like the top chefs, I need you both to make rounds at each guest’s table and tell them all about the desserts. I will be out to shadow you in a few moments. Make sure you do it right.”
Ruth felt her body tremble with fear. No, no, no. What if someone made a complaint about her dessert? What if she couldn’t remember what the dessert was? Would she be joining Kelvin in the mess hall? How was she supposed to mingle with guests as this tyrant loomed behind her? Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“Our waitstaff are delivering the desserts now,” Chef Mills added. “Look presentable and make sure to wear a smile. Answer their questions graciously and don’t leer. Some tables will not want to be bothered by you. Move on. Others will enjoy your presence. Give them all what they want. And, whatever you do, make sure your best qualities shine. Now, out you go!”
Ruth had had no idea that this was part of her job. Then she remembered Arlette. This was exactly what she’d been doing when Ruth met her. Her very presence and personality were what had attracted Ruth to such a job in the first place. At least she knew where she could draw from.
Smoothing out her coat and adjusting her baker’s hat, Ruth smiled graciously as she walked out of the kitchen and into the dining area. It was a gorgeous room with a massive crystal chandelier above the diners that matched the chandeliers in the lobby. Four large, white pillars stood at each quadrant of the dining hall and dozens of round tables were topped with white plates adorned with silver trim. A cloth napkin shaped into a seashell sat upon each plate. The smaller tables accommodated six people, while the larger ones held double that number.
Then she noticed the fantastic ice sculpture of a humongous seashell that held shrimp hors d’oeuvres. On either side of the seashell were two more ice sculptures of sea horses. The details on the sea horses were magnificent, and she pushed aside the urge to study Eric’s work. She didn’t have time to ogle the sculptures. No, she had a job to do.
She strutted up to the first table, which consisted of a family dressed in their finest. A mother, father, their two pre-teen daughters, and a boy with red hair and freckles who appeared to be no older than eight. Sitting among them was another woman—the aunt, perhaps? Though, she was middle age, while the husband and wife were probably in their thirties.
“Good evening, everyone. My name is Ruth Shores.”
The young boy slouched down in his seat, playing on his cell phone.
“Will,” his mother said to him in a harsh whisper. “Put the phone away. Don’t be rude.”
The boy glanced at his father, who was on his own phone, chatting away. It sounded like he was dealing with business, but Ruth realized that a young boy at his age wouldn’t understand that.
“Now,” his mother added, her brown eyes shooting daggers into him.
The boy grumbled, shoving the device into the pocket of his dress pants.
She regarded Ruth. “Hi. We’re the Larsons.”
“Except me,” said the other woman, who was sitting between one of the Larson daughters and the boy. Her thick southern accent warmed the room instantly. “The name’s Debbie Devore.” She lightly touched her pink pearls, then held out a delicate hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” She wore a sparkling smile, and her hazel eyes twinkled in the light like the many diamonds that hung from her ears. It was clear to Ruth that this woman was extremely wealthy, yet endearing.
Ruth took her hand and gave it a light shake, then regarded the group as a whole. “Nice to meet you all. I’m the one who made your dessert tonight. In front of you is the Baked Alaska. It’s made with a ginger sponge cake, raspberries, and an in-house vanilla ice cream inside an Italian meringue.”
“Ooh,” Debbi
e cooed, clasping her manicured hands together. “It looks marvelous.”
Ruth flashed her most appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
“How is everyone this evening?” Chef Mills asked, approaching them. He took one look at everyone at the table and began coughing.
Studying the Chef, Ruth asked, “Are you okay?”
Chef Mills’s coughing fit continued, his face beet red. He held up his hand. “Just a frog in my throat,” he croaked, walking away.
They all watched as he scurried to the bathroom, the heavy door swinging closed behind him.
Mrs. Larson’s eyes crinkled with concern. “Oh dear, I hope he’s all right.”
Putting his phone down, Mr. Larson took his wife’s hand. “He’ll be okay. You worry too much.” He gave her hand a peck.
Ruth smiled, but it quickly faded when she caught sight of Janice standing by the exit of the dining hall, watching them. Immediately, Ruth felt uneasy. What was she doing there? Did she do something to Chef Mills? Something didn’t feel right—Ruth could feel it deep in her bones.
A clatter of dishes drew Ruth’s attention away from Janice, to a table next to her. An elderly woman collapsed to the floor. Her husband fumbled to his knees next to her. “Margaret!” The old man peered around, making eye contact with Ruth. “Help!”
Chapter 7
Before she could think, Ruth hurried to the elderly woman’s aid. She didn’t know what to do. Janice joined her, kneeling next to the woman lying on the floor and her husband.
“Can someone get a cool, damp towel? Quick!” Janice called out.
Ruth snatched a fresh cloth napkin from the table and dunked it into the icy water of a glass pitcher. She handed it to Janice, who dabbed the woman’s forehead and temples.
Loretta hurried toward them as the husband stroked his wife’s face.
The poor lady had to have been at least twenty years her senior. She had soft curls that were ironed tight to her head and had on a blue shirtdress with a white collar. Her eyes fluttered open, and her husband leaned in closer. “Margaret? Are you all right?”
