Pushing roughly past her, Antoine walked back into the kitchen. Kirsty watched him go, then her shoulders sagged and feet dragged on the way to her car. No one would believe her. They'd all be behind Chef. Reeve would believe Antoine and fire her, along with any hopes for her future career. She climbed into her old banger, tired with the whole situation, and drove slowly home.
Several hours later Kirsty looked around her small kitchen and wondered what on earth had possessed her to make so much food. With an unhappy smile, she admitted cooking always soothed her when things were bad. It gave her a sort of comfort. Before she could decide what to do with this colossal amount of baking, the phone rang.
"Kirsty, is that you?" Gina asked.
"Of course it is, you idiot. Who did you think it'd be?"
"What happened?" Gina whispered her question in such a low voice Kirsty could barely hear her. "Word around the hotel is you've been fired. Is the scuttlebutt right?"
"No, suspended. Reeve Stuart believed Antoine and things got rather overheated so he suggested—no, actually he ordered me to take time off. I'll be away from work until next Monday." Kirsty glanced at the worktop full of food and a smile lit up her face, although it didn't reach her unhappy eyes. "Hey, Gina, how about coming for an early lunch tomorrow before you go to work? I can tell you all about it then."
"Been baking to take your mind off things?" Gina knew Kirsty's habit when unhappiness darkened her mood. "Okay, I'll come about eleven. It's not too early, is it?"
Gina arrived the following day and looked at the sumptuous display of food laid out on the table. A groan escaped her lips.
"You really did have a cooking binge, didn't you? Those two men must have got right under your skin because this is too much, even for you."
Kirsty laughed, but it sounded hollow. Gina looked at her keenly.
"Right, you make the coffee while I freshen up, then you can tell Aunty Gina all about it."
Ten minutes later the two women sat down at the loaded table and, with a little prompting, Kirsty told her friend what had happened.
"Glad to hear you took me up on my suggestion. Surely Mr. Stuart listened when you said you'd checked with Gunsey's?" Gina wanted to know.
"He said he wanted to hear facts, not hearsay. He let me take all the blame, right down to the layout of the restaurant and the extra course on the daily menus. The rotten so-and-so still didn't mention he'd authorized everything!" Kirsty took a bite of her spinach quiche. "Although, to be fair, he did ask about the caviar when Antoine had gone."
Kirsty thought it best not mention the passionate embrace and Reeve's words. He'd only done it to distract her so he could get things to turn out the way he wanted. In his own way, Reeve could be as devious as Antoine.
"Gina, Antoine is doing this deliberately. When I left the hotel, he stood outside waiting for me. He said if I admitted I'd lied he'd make sure I got a good reference."
"What happens if you didn't admit it?" Gina wanted to know.
"Reeve will believe him, and I'll get the sack. Added to everything else, Antoine will blacken my name in the catering world. The final outcome will be the end of my career." Kirsty had tears in her eyes as she picked up the empty plates and took them into the kitchen.
"It's so unfair!" Gina shouted after her. "He can't ruin your career, can he?"
"Gina, life's not fair," Kirsty told her as she came back to the table after wiping her cheeks. "Yes, he can do it. Antoine's word carries a lot of weight in catering. If he puts it about I'm no good, then it's over. My lifetime dream is down the drain."
"We'll see about that." Gina looked so fierce Kirsty hastened to caution her friend.
"Gina, don't do anything silly. I have to sort it out with Antoine and Reeve Stuart. I'd hate for you to get caught up in the middle of it all. You might lose your job, and I'd never forgive myself if you suffered for me."
"What are friends for?" Kirsty stared stubbornly at her friend and Gina reluctantly gave in. "All right, I won't say anything, but I will keep my eyes and ears open. You never know, I might be able to get some dirt on Antoine."
Early the next morning Kirsty pushed her muesli around and around in the bowl and jumped when the phone went.
"Hello."
"Good morning. Could I speak to Kirsty Lawrence, please."
"Speaking." Who on earth was this woman and why had she rung her at this time of the morning?
"I'm calling on behalf of the Apollo restaurant. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but we wondered if you could come in for an interview."
"Pardon?" Kirsty couldn't believe she'd heard right.
"The theatre restaurant, " the woman explained." You applied for the position of head chef."
"Head chef," Kirsty repeated. "I mean, yes, of course I did. Did you say you wanted me to come in for an interview?"
"Yes. We wondered if you'd be able to come in this morning?"
"This morning."
Stop repeating the words, the woman will think you're an idiot.
"I don't see a problem. What time?"
"Would eleven o'clock be suitable? Here at the restaurant. I apologize again for the short notice, but one of our panel has to leave for America tomorrow."
"Eleven would be fine."
After the woman rang off, a shaken Kirsty felt her legs give way and she flopped into a chair. They thought her good enough to interview! Just wait until she told Gina.
Details of the conversation flowed through her mind until the part of the interview time. With a startled look at the clock she shot into the bedroom and rummaged through her wardrobe. Smart casual or business woman? A quick check of the weather showed a clear blue sky with the sun singing brightly.
Kirsty eventually decided on beige linen trousers and matching jacket with a red blouse. Fifteen minutes later with her fawn shoes on her feet, and a frantically-stuffed matching handbag, she grabbed her keys and dashed down the stairs and out the door.
A quick check of her watch showed ten o'clock when she left Orewa, but knowing how the traffic into Auckland could build up, by the time she reached the city and found a parking space it would be cutting things a bit fine. The journey went well until the Harbour Bridge, where cars sat at a standstill. On the crest of the bridge the blue and red lights of police cars flashed, and in the distance an ambulance siren rapidly got louder as it made its way toward them. The dashboard clock showed ten-thirty, and Kirsty tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.
"Come on. Come on." Shame washed over her. Someone up ahead might be hurt or dying, and she could only think about herself. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, despite guilty feelings, when the police directed traffic onto the clip-on lanes. Within minutes she headed off the motorway at the Cook Street turnoff.
She parked the car with five minutes to spare. A quick check of her hair and makeup in the rear view mirror and, satisfied with her appearance, Kirsty pushed open the glass doors of the building. A young man behind the reception desk looked up as she walked in.
"Can I help you?"
"My name is Kirsty Lawrence. I have an appointment at eleven o'clock."
"If you'll take a seat, I'll let them know you're here."
Kirsty sat nervously on the edge of a high backed chair and watched the man cross the room to a door at the side of the reception area. He returned and ushered Kirsty into the interview room. Three people sat behind a large kauri table on the other side of the room and Kirsty felt her stomach churn, but straightened her shoulders and told herself she had the qualifications and the capability to do this job.
"Do sit down." The only woman of the panel gestured to a chair on Kirsty's side of the table. Walking steadily across the room she sat, tucking her legs discreetly to one side.
"Thank you for attending this interview at such short notice." The slimmer of the two men nodded at her.
"Now she's here, let's get on with it," the stouter gentleman snapped. "You're fully qualified as a head chef, so why are you working as
a sous-chef?"
"My main reason is because it gives me the chance to work with one of the best chefs in the country."
"I wouldn't have thought you'd pick up much experience in such a tiny hotel."
"Why did you apply for this job?" The woman frowned at the previous questioner.
"I felt the time had come to use my talents to their full potential." Kirsty hoped this didn't sound too pompous, but it wouldn't do to state Antoine had been trying to sabotage her career. "When I saw your advertisement in the trade papers, I knew I should apply."
"You knew?"
"Yes," Kirsty answered the antagonistic man. "I have the necessary qualifications, and I now have the practical experience. I also know I can do the job."
"Your present position is at a fairly quiet location." The slimmer man spoke so quietly Kirsty had to strain to hear his words. "What makes you think you'll be able to cope with a busy theatre restaurant?"
"I worked in Wellington for two busy restaurants while I completed my training. I believe I coped very well with the pressures of non-stop clientele."
More questions followed. The woman's were sensible, eliciting the information with the minimum of words. The antagonistic man barked a few queries, and the quiet man only asked one more question.
"What type of contract would you require if we offered you the position of head chef?"
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." Kirsty frowned. Surely they had the right to state the terms of employment?
"Some chefs have specific clauses in their contracts stating what they will or will not accept in their kitchen and their staff."
"If you offered me the position, I'd need to discuss the contract terms with my employers, which presumably means yourselves. I'm not unreasonable and I'm sure we could come to some mutual agreement."
"I think we've covered everything, gentlemen?" The woman glanced at each man in turn, and both responded with a nod of the head. "Do you have any questions to ask us, Miss Lawrence?"
"I'd like to know a little more about the kitchen, the number of staff and the expected number of covers during the dining hours."
Once her questions had been answered, Kirsty rose to leave. Both men stood politely, but the woman came around the table and escorted Kirsty to the door.
"Thank you once again for coming in at such short notice. We'll be in touch in a few weeks and, if you're successful, we'd need you to start in six weeks. You would, of course, also be expected to participate in the choosing of the senior kitchen staff."
On her way back up the motorway, Kirsty kept going over in her mind her responses to the interviewers. Had she come across as too sure of herself? Had she made them aware of her experience and confidence of being in charge of a large, busy kitchen?
"Well, it's too late now." Her voice shook with relief she'd survived the ordeal. "They'll either choose me or they won't."
The rest of the week she tried to forget both the interview with Reeve and Antoine, and the one for the job at the theatre restaurant.
REEVE HUNG UP THE PHONE and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers in front of his chin and tapped them absently against one another, considering the information he'd just received.
The Garden Group had purchased the theatre restaurant a few months ago and he'd asked to be kept informed of any likely applicants for the head chef position. To be told they were seriously considering Kirsty had surprised him. Why would she be looking for another job now? True, things had been difficult for her recently, but he'd told her everything would soon be sorted out. If things went the way he wanted, Kirsty would have no need to look for another job.
A few weeks ago he would have considered this evidence of her guilt, but now he knew it to be untrue. He should have been pleased, but he'd grown fond of her and didn't want to lose this annoying, lovable sous chef. Unfortunately, this would be a distinct possibility. If only he could tell her the truth, but he couldn't. He needed more proof before he could show his hand, and the trail had proved to be elusive.
He'd checked everything he could think of regarding Antoine, but still couldn't fathom why the man would try to bring about Kirsty's downfall. Antoine had visited him every morning to reaffirm he would not allow Kirsty back into his kitchen. Reeve sighed in frustration, then realized he was looking at the filing cabinets and an idea flashed into his mind. He jumped up and crossed the room to rummage through the drawers holding the staff contracts. Finding Antoine's he sat down at the desk and slowly began to read through it.
"Got it!" he exclaimed, his finger pointing to the spot he'd just read. "This is the reason he's picking on Kirsty."
A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but then he grew more sober. "Please, Kirsty, hang on a few more days." Although he spoke out loud, his voice was barely above a whisper as he wished he had some way to make her trust him.
EACH DAY OFF WORK DRAGGED as Kirsty tried to stay busy and keep her mind off the hotel. Every time the phone rang, she half expected it to be Reeve, although he had no real reason to call her. At night tormented thoughts made her toss and turn until sleep claimed her, but Reeve haunted her dreams. His kiss had affected her badly. Every morning she woke with the warmth of his arms around her, and for a moment would lie there content until the realization the scene was a figment of her imagination. Reeve Stuart was not her lover, but her betrayer!
All too soon Monday arrived. A nervous sous-chef made her way to work in the early morning sunshine. A step inside the kitchen toward the staff changing room and Chef Antoine ordered her from the kitchen.
"I have repeated my statement to Mr. Stuart, Lawrence. Your services are no longer required at this hotel. He promised me he would speak with you this morning, no doubt to give you formal notice. Unfortunately, it seems he will not be in today. I'm sorry to say you're not welcome in my kitchen and, as far as I'm concerned, your employment has already terminated." Antoine looked at Kirsty, a nasty gleam in his eye. He lowered his voice so the kitchen staff couldn't hear him. "It's all over, Lawrence. I gave you the opportunity to save something for yourself out of this situation, but you wouldn't listen, would you? Well, it's too late now. The catering business has had enough of you. Your career's finished, Lawrence!"
Chapter Eight
Sight blurred by tears, Kirsty drove as far as the beach before stopping on the grass verge overlooking the sand and sea. Despite the beautiful view in front of her, she was blind to her surroundings.
Chef Antoine's last words were what hurt the most. All her dreams of the future had been blown away by the actions of one vindictive man, and she still didn't know why he'd done it. Thinking back over the events of the past few weeks, Kirsty tried to figure out when he'd begun to act in such a weird way. Had it started when Reeve Stuart arrived at the hotel? No little things had happened prior to then—a finishing touch missing from a plate, despite the conviction she'd done it properly; a salty taste to a sweet dish when the caster sugar bag still sat on her work space. These and many more errors Antoine had blamed on her, and each one had earned her a soft reprimand from Chef, with a reminder to keep her mind on her work.
His understanding of these small lapses had convinced Kirsty it had been her at fault, but now she knew better. Antoine had known exactly what happened each time because he'd been the one making things go wrong.
How could I have been so dense? Why didn't I see my work was being sabotaged. Even if it didn't occur to me the someone responsible was Chef Antoine, I should have realized something was wrong. Kirsty rummaged in her bag and found a tissue to wipe her tear-stained face and blow her nose. Before her stretched the golden sand and turquoise sea. It was wrong to be so tense and unhappy in such a setting and her senses calmed, leaving her feeling limp and worn out.
Her thoughts turned to Reeve. Chef Antoine had made a fool of her professionally, but the new owner had taken her for a ride emotionally as well. Gullible Kirsty had believed his "promise me you'll trust me, no matter what happens."
Underhanded doesn't cover it and I'm going to let him know exactly what I think of his methods. Chef Antoine said Reeve had taken a day off from the hotel, so he would probably be home.
Kirsty drove back to the highway, headed south and searched for the side road Reeve had taken on their evening out. So much had happened since their restaurant meal, had only two weeks passed since then?
The road on the right looked familiar and she turned the car into it. Several meters later the road surface changed to a dirt finish and Reeve's yellow villa came into view, nestling in front of the horse paddocks.
A knock on the front door brought no response. Kirsty knocked harder, and receiving no response, hammered with her fist. Still no answer. Maybe a look around the rear of the property would find him. Her way down the side of the house took her past the garage and a window in the side door. She stood on tiptoe and caught a glimpse of Reeve's car parked inside.
"Well, at least he's somewhere around."
There was no sign of Reeve at the back of the villa. Kirsty returned to the front to try the doors, but they were locked. He could be inside, but hadn't heard her. Then again with her luck, the elusive Reeve Stuart would have been taken out for the day by friends, despite having said he didn't know anybody in the area.
Which doesn't mean a thing. You can't trust any word the man says.
Kirsty went round the house trying all the doors. The kitchen door opened at her touch and she nearly fell into the room beyond. Even more surprising was the state of the kitchen. What a mess! Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink and some had even crashed to the floor. Her foot slid on potato peelings as she crossed the floor, and a glance showed this wasn't the only thing which had overflowed from the waste bin. Knowing how immaculate Reeve appeared in the workplace, Kirsty could only surmise he liked being a slob about the house on his days off, but somehow it didn't ring true.
"Hello." Her voice sounded nervous. "Is anyone home?"
At first silence met her call, then from one of the rooms off the nearby hallway Kirsty heard a low groan.
Recipe for Romance Page 12
