by Jerri George
“Hey, boss,” Zach addressed Anton again. “How ‘bout the ice? Who got it, them or us?”
“We did. It’s in one of the big storage coolers,” Anton answered as he disappeared behind the swinging kitchen door. Candace was confident the dining room would be transformed in short order and reveal a stunning example of their hard work and attention to detail. Several hundred square feet adorned by oil paintings and lit up by chandeliers would be embellished by hundreds of candles and lavish decorations. Serving sounds and conversation would be cloaked with lilting chords of piped in music throughout. A violin trio scheduled to play during dinner hour was arriving shortly. They had a really great team.
Candace released her grip on center stage long enough to switch her focus to the crates of dishes, pots, pans and boxes of food stuffs. Anyone not in jeans or black logoed t-shirts were excluded from this area until “show” time. Poles apart, the kitchen staff were the antithesis of service staff. Servers dressed to impress were banished while food prep was underway. Hot boxes and coolers opened, flames ignited, stations were set up with raw food and organized chaos reigned. No wonder the military labeled anything to do with food service “mess.”
Once everyone was in motion, she donned her black executive chef’s coat which she wore over her bright red chef pants. She tied a clean black apron tightly around her slender mid-section after procuring the case containing her coveted knives. Sharpened perfectly, they were her fine-tuned instruments of implementation.
Sorting, finishing, plating and staging were underway. Sauce ingredients stood at the ready. Hot dishes arrived in portable heated boxes which traveled with them to events and kept the temperature of food at a constant and safe 160 degrees.
“We’re plating the salads so clear some space everyone,” Cameron commanded. Cam’s girl, Bri, fell in comfortably behind him to coordinate. As capable as she was pretty, she quietly led the charge for the appetizers.
“The shrimp shooters will go out first,” Candace reminder her. “Do we have the garlic aioli?”
“Yep, made it before we left,” Cameron chimed in.
The entire production was tantamount to a captain leading troops into battle, and Anton and Candace both had respective and complementary skills for it.
Amidst the confusion, no one noticed Dawn appear. She descended from the service staircase and looked as put together as a guest rather than the organizer.
She was seductively poured into a dark purple cocktail dress with a bodice slit down the front to the waist. Borrowed from Candace she jazzed it up with a stunning faux diamond necklace and a glittery rhinestone buckle at the waist. Her hair was the crowning touch, sleek and shiny. Once again, Dawn had most surely out dressed any woman on the invitation list. Not a word passed between them about the previous night.
Bri took time from cutting lettuce to sneak next to Candace. “How are you? How is your uncle?” Her voice showed obvious concern. She was a very pretty, very tiny version of Candace but with short, shiny brown hair streaked with cobalt blue. Brianna was all about fashion and detail and loved to fuss with food. She could curl a carrot or charm a tomato into a rose with the best of any professional garde manger, who produced vegetable carvings and ice figurines.
“I’m okay, really.” Candace insisted and smiled sweetly. “There’s still no change. I wish he could see us marching on and taking care of business.”
She smiled at Anton who had joined the conversation and nearly bent himself in half to gently kiss the inside of her palm. A gesture of such respect and adoration she had to choke back a sob.
Bri stood by to sneak another hug, and Anton peered squinting at the rest of the staff as if to say “get back to work!” Candace embraced Bri reassuringly and winked at the room. They would all get their shot at her later.
Anton crossed the kitchen announcing over his shoulder as if he were Captain Kirk turning over the bridge of the Enterprise to Spock. “I’m going to check the dining room. Cam, it’s all yours!”
Candace stopped to inspect Cam’s work and adjusted the parmesan crisp sitting on the side of the plate but seemed otherwise satisfied.
“If you didn’t tweak something, it wouldn’t be you.” His cheeks reddened, and his eyes filled when she looked into them.
“Now, no waterworks in the salad. It’ll ruin the dressing.” She grinned and winked at him.
Cam rarely let the pressure get to him, and if it did, he kept a bag of marijuana buds handy to compensate. As long as he didn’t light up during an event, Anton and Candace were cool with it. Cam was devoted to the work and to Bri. Cooking since he was a young child, he only truly embraced his love for it once he and his mom became Candace’s neighbors. Still in high school, he hung out at the kitchen whenever possible to watch, listen, and absorb whatever morsels of the catering business he could. Candace often bragged to her uncle that Cam was “going places.” She just knew it.
Candace followed Anton out the door that swung in his wake.
If she hadn’t done this hundreds, possibly thousands of times, she might only see what others did when they walked into the room. A glittering spectacle of silver and crystal, satin tablecloths, shiny dishes and flickering candlelight was breathtaking. Chairs were covered in the same heavy, silver brocade fabric that matched the tablecloths, and large purple satin bows were tied on the back of each one in a color identical to the napkins. Kayla had polished each of the one-hundred-fifty individual place settings to a sparkle. Baby lilac-tinted Chrysanthemum buds adorned each napkin tied with an ivory ribbon. Ample arrangements of purple Anthuriums and Iris with tiny daisies, pulled from refrigerator storage, flocked the center of the tables.
Candace viewed every party scene from a different angle, one that made her the renowned caterer she was, and that was the angle she reinforced in Anton, Zach and Cam with every function. Were all the tablecloths dropped at an exact and even space from the floor? Did all place settings have the proper flatware, seafood and salad forks, butter and steak knives, soup and dessert-coffee spoons, and were they all positioned correctly? Was each chair in front of each setting and just far enough away from the table to allow the cloth to hang free? Were the water glasses filled with ice? Enough butter pats in the dishes? Were there any scraps of paper, clips, hangers or rubber bands from rentals lying on the floor? Was anything the client ordered missing? Candace surveyed the plates, centerpieces in place, napkins folded, everything neat, clean and tidy, including the servers.
“We need to get the table markers in place,” Anton called out, to no one in particular, and everyone in general.
“Doing that now,” Zach called back.
“You’ve all done a great job! I didn’t doubt you for a minute.” Candace called out attracting attention once again. She thought it best to get all sentiment out of the way before guests started to arrive. As expected, they huddled around her like a football team surrounding their coach. Some gave out handshakes and well wishes, and others swarmed her with hugs and gushing sentiments.
“We’ve got about ten minutes to passing, and we’ll serve in thirty,” Anton called out. Candace had to admit he sounded just like her. His command worked to break up all the well-wishers.
Zach announced with authority, probably more for his own benefit since he was one of the few smokers left in the group, “Anyone who needs to change or wants a smoke, do it now.”
“Let’s get this show on the road, guys!” Candace chimed in looking at the time and snuck back in the kitchen to grab a bite of her sandwich.
Dawn had vanished up the stairs with own like a sequestered bride to return once the festivities were underway. As guests poured into the foyer and lined up at the bar, devoured trays of appetizers were refilled, and Dawn made her grand entrance down the formal staircase when the congressman arrived. Peacock perfect, the pair proceeded to strut arm in arm around the room preening their intricately patterned physiques, keeping precise posture.
The staff and owners of To Dine For Cateri
ng were in their element. Satisfying the desires of every guest, executing course after course of exquisitely presented menu items, they spiriting away any tell-tale signs in the aftermath. Women of substance danced with the potential candidate while their male counterparts armed with checkbooks gathered under the outdoor cabana trellis to light up everything from cigarettes to cigars and small glass pipes packed full with recently legalized marijuana.
Dawn was huddled among those whose pockets were as full of money as the evening air was trailed with smoke. Liquor served in the form of shots and fancier concoctions flowed along with beer and champagne; all guzzled into the wee hours.
A skeleton staff stayed until after one o’clock, but the remainder bugged out with the equipment and dirty dishes in tow. After every event, every serving piece, every scrap of food was to be removed from the location and brought back to the offices. Breakdown was as intricate as set up had been.
Candace could do all of this orchestration and production with such ease, but what would she do without Uncle? Working and keeping busy filled the time, but she felt like a loose end. The feeling of loneliness was palpable. Tripp had possessed a piece of her heart for a time, Anton would always have a special place but Uncle–he was at the center. He helped Candace feel, dream and reach for the stars. He was her everything.
On her way back to the kitchen, she vowed not to give up.
Chapter 20
Post-event at To Dine For Catering offices was a special time. The cacophony of clanging dishes, tinkling glasses in their carriers and the voices of the breakdown staff kicking the second shift into high gear was music to her ears. The harmony meant another successful job well done and money in the bank.
Candace knew that right this minute a small group of night owls familiar with back alleys, loading docks and loud music were gathering for a quick smoke before spending the better part of the early morning hours washing, cleaning, organizing, and inventorying everything she owned. These people were a bread unto themselves. Grateful for the work and the chance to grab a sip of wine from discarded bottles and to scarf down bites of leftover cake and hors d’oeuvres, these workers were an important cog in the catering wheel.
Anton popped around the corner into her office. “Hey you.”
“Hey yourself. Wanna join me?” Candace motioned to the couch on which Anton proceeded to collapse, kicking off his work shoes and elevating his feet on the coffee table.
Candace’s stocking-covered feet were already propped on her desk edge. “I just hung up with the hospital. Uncle has been resting quietly no thanks to his several visitors.”
“Visitors?”
“Well, attempted visitors. They’re still not allowing anyone except immediate family, you, Dawn, and the sheriff of course, but that woman Genevieve came by again. Plus another woman who didn’t leave her name. Oddly enough, my aunt Marjorie, was also there. Dawn never mentioned her mom was coming to town. Anyway, she wasn’t too happy about the rules and even tried to bribe the nurse. She left in a huff when that didn’t work and said she’d be back in a few days. I wonder why she didn’t just call me.”
“Yeah, that is strange.”
Commotion from the kitchen drowned out what he said next, and Candace inquired about it.
“I said, what a night! he answered, raising his voice. “I think Dawn hit on every eligible bachelor in the place.”
“No doubt sharpening her pencil and extracting everything she could from them. The congressman’s lucky to have her.” Candace rocked back in her chair. She loosened her hair to let in fall to her shoulders.
“Well, he can have her.” Anton seemed to hesitate. “I know you have a history with her, but I almost hate to have her associated with us.”
“She’s a go-getter alright but harmless.”
“That’s my point. She goes out of her way to get them and to be gotten like a high-class hooker.” He cocked his head toward her and raised an eyebrow.
Candace scoffed. “I’m surprised at you. That’s such an old-fashioned way of thinking.”
Anton made his way around the back of the chair and began rubbing her shoulders. “I just don’t like her. She uses your reputation to further hers.”
She yawned and stretched her neck from side to side. “That feels great. I’ll keep her at a safe distance, I promise.”
Shifting the conversation toward the focal points of the night, she recounted the many compliments the elite showered upon her, and she singled out each contact she made. This was their time to compare notes. Anton chattered on about the dishes served, their presentation, the good and bad of the orchestration of the evening from his point of view.
Anton swiveled around and leaned against the edge of her desk taking one foot and kneading her toes like bread dough. “You know, we need to make sure we get final approval and a sign off from the host in advance from now on. The congressman was really concerned about the menu and our services. He said he hadn’t been given a copy of the menu for final approval.”
“That’s an odd thing to say. Dawn had a date with him this past weekend to go over everything, but he stood her up and went out of town. How can he blame us?”
Anton muttered, “That’s not what he said. He told me he tried to see her before he left, but she had something come up. He didn’t hear from her until a phone call a few days later right before your walk through.”
“Hmmm. When Dawn showed up at the hospital, she told me that their plans changed, so she went to the movies.” This wasn’t sitting right with Candace.
“You see what I mean? You can’t believe a thing she says. Let’s send a staffer next time or fax it to the client, okay?”
“Fine with me,” she said but began to play that night over in her mind. Why would Dawn lie about her date? What had she really been doing?
“Are you heading back in the morning or coming in?” Anton asked when the conversation waned.
“I’ll go straight down in the morning and see the sheriff and Jesse if I can, then go to the hospital. I’ll be back tomorrow night.” She sighed thinking about the drive again.
“Do you want me to join you? I’d like to see Dan tomorrow.”
“You could. His attorney is coming to visit as well as his son Tripp.”
Anton had heard her mention the name before. “Oh, he’s been in touch?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I saw him earlier today.” Candace was certain that statement would go over like a ton of bricks.
“I see.” Anton stood up placing her foot back on the desk. He stretched, arms over his head and twisted his waist. He grasped one elbow then the other until his back cracked in release. His jacket lifted above his belt to reveal his washboard stomach covered in fine hair. “I guess I’ll go down tomorrow night or Sunday after the brunch. I think I’ll skip meeting the old boyfriend.”
Despite it being a relief, she asked coyly, “Jealous?” Then bit her lip.
The two never talked much about their feelings. Anton flirted a lot with her in culinary school and all the girls really. Her relationship with him was more cerebral, but there was an undeniable attraction. It crept in, revealing itself when she least expected it, but neither of them were prepared to handle it.
In three years, she never questioned their feelings for each other and credited the electricity between them to the adrenaline rush of event orchestration. When complete exhaustion erased any pretenses, their physical contact, although platonic, was natural and relaxing. Back, neck and foot massages, legs and arms entangled, or heads resting in laps became habit.
“Jealousy is for those with no bones in their backs,” he stated firmly and started for the door.
She thought for a moment and smiled. “No backbone?”
“Right. I have a backbone, no jealousy. I’m going to check on the guys, and I’ll be in my office until they’re done.”
The trill of the desk phone ringing broke the tension. Candace took the call as Anton paused in the doorway.
She cried out after barely saying goodbye to the cheerful nurse on the other end of the line. “Anton! He's awake. Uncle's awake!”
Clinging to the door frame by the hinges, Anton spoke quickly, “What? How? When?”
Candace laughed. Whoever would have thought Anton could translate his Russian thoughts into English so quickly?
“The nurse said he simply woke up.” Her face gleamed, tears welling in her eyes. She rushed across the room and flung herself into his outstretched arms. “They’re checking his vitals now but he's off the respirator and talking. He's actually talking, Anton!”
“That is klassno!” Anton hugged her tightly. “Let's go!”
It didn't matter the time, how far it was or how tired they were. Candace grabbed her purse and golden-threaded paisley shawl to wrap around the crimson dress she wore after the function to schmooze with the clients. She scooted down the marble hall into the foyer, skidding haltingly on the balls of her feet to avoid sliding off her high heels.
“This is probably the best night of my whole life. I can't even breathe.” Hand to her chest, she practiced a calming yoga technique to quell the beginnings of hyperventilation. “We can finally find out what happened!”
“We should bring something to celebrate with, yes?” Anton asked while snatching a bottle of his favorite Russian vodka.
“Umm, I don't know, they may not even let him drink it. Doesn’t matter, let's go. No one’s with him, and I'd hate him to think he was left all alone.”
“I think he knows better.” Anton chuckled at her delight, shut the lights down, set the alarm and locked the front door. “We'll have no unwelcome visitors tonight.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, we just need to be more careful to lock up at night. We never know who could come in uninvited,” he cautioned but said no more.
“Okay, whatever you say.” She dismissed it with a wave. Her only concern was to get to her uncle’s side. “The crew will be here anyway.”
