Saison for Love (Brewing Love)

by Meg Benjamin

  “Mom,” Carol called from the living room. “I found the chain-mail gloves on Amazon again. Should I go ahead and order them?”

  Or not. Ruth pushed herself to her feet, shambling toward the living room. “Hang on a minute and let me check them out first.”

  Chapter Seven

  Black Mountain Tavern didn’t do lunch on Mondays, which made it easier for Liam to persuade Peaches to come to lunch with him. His plan, so far as he had one, involved taking her to the Salty Goat and giving her a chance to look around. Then he could broach the somewhat more complicated question of whether she was interested in a new job in a kitchen with a real oven.

  He assumed the Salty Goat had a real oven. He hadn’t exactly checked.

  All of this ignored the multitude of problems that surrounded this potential fiasco. Would Ruth get rid of Barbara Jean if she had a replacement available? Would she like Peaches? And did Peaches even want a new job? He’d known people who had a perverse loyalty to employers who didn’t deserve it. Maybe Peaches was that way about Stanton.

  Peaches glanced around the small dining space in the Salty Goat, bordered by deli cases full of cheese and meat and other delectable things. She gave him a quick smile. “I’ve never been in here before. I’ve heard about the cheese, though. It’s supposed to be first-rate.”

  Liam nodded dutifully. “It’s great. I’m no goat cheese lover myself, but Ruth’s stuff is good enough to convert me.” He hoped Peaches didn’t see this lunch as some kind of date, but he was pretty sure she didn’t. They’d been working together for several months with zero sexual tension. He liked Peaches a lot, but she fell firmly into the friend category, and he was pretty sure she felt the same way about him.

  The teenage waitress who’d waited on him before stepped up to the table, notepad in hand. “What can I get for you?”

  “Can I get the grilled tomato and goat cheese sandwich?”

  “Oh, that sounds good,” Peaches said. “No, wait, I want the avocado and goat cheese. That sounds even better.”

  The waitress looked doubtful. “Let me see if those are available.” A few minutes later, she stepped to the table again. “Your sandwiches will be right out.”

  Peaches occupied herself by looking around the room. “This is such a nice space. So open. Love the sunshine.”

  Liam glanced around their table. He hadn’t paid much attention to the room before, but now that he did, he had to agree. Whoever had renovated the nineteenth-century building that housed the Salty Goat had done a good job. There were windows in front and along the side to let in the sunshine Peaches had mentioned. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high and the pressed tin lining might have been original. The floor was black-and-white marble tile, or a good imitation of it, and the oak café tables and bentwood chairs fit right in.

  “Nice,” he echoed.

  The door to the cheese room opened and Ruth came in, carrying her cheese basket. She paused when she saw them, her cheeks flushing faint pink.

  Blushing? For me? That would be a first. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” She smiled at them, sliding her basket onto the counter. “Here for lunch?”

  Liam nodded. “The tavern’s closed today. It’s our chance to see what’s going on at the competition.”

  Ruth gave him a tentative smile, casting a curious glance at Peaches. Jealous? Probably too much to hope for. “We’re not exactly competition for the tavern. We don’t even serve beer.”

  “Hi, I’m Peaches.” Peaches extended her hand to Ruth. “I cook at the tavern. Liam and I work together.” She gave Ruth the kind of cheery smile that seemed to indicate zero romantic interest in him. Thank you, ma’am.

  Ruth gave her hand a quick shake. “Hi, Peaches, I’m Ruth. This is my place.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your cheese. I can’t wait to try it. And the restaurant is lovely.”

  “Thanks. I like it. It’s a good space.”

  The waitress returned with two glasses of iced tea and two sandwich baskets. Ruth nodded toward their lunch. “What did you order?”

  “The grilled tomato goat cheese. Still one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I’m doing the avocado goat cheese,” Peaches added. “Can’t wait to see how that combination works out.”

  Ruth frowned, her eyes narrowing. “That’s interesting. Usually it takes a while to get those done.” She glanced toward the waitress, already busy at the next table.

  Liam took a bite, closing his eyes to savor the mixture of flavors again. “Primo. The best.”

  “This is really good. The goat cheese is just terrific.” Peaches licked a bit of cheese off the corner of her mouth.

  Ruth leaned forward to say something, her lips edging into a smile, as the door to the kitchen slammed open behind her. She jumped, half turning. “What the hell?”

  Barbara Jean stood in front of the door, stripping off her white canvas apron. She fixed Ruth with a lethal stare, her eyes crackling with fire. “I told you I didn’t allow kids in my kitchen. I told you. And there she was again, messing up my counters, getting in my way. I won’t have it. I can’t work under these conditions. I quit.”

  Ruth stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about? Was Carol in the kitchen?”

  “Yes, she was. In the kitchen fixing those fancy-ass cheese sandwiches of yours. Goat cheese. Tastes like cream cheese that’s gone bad.” Barbara Jean screwed up her mouth as if she’d just smelled something nasty.

  Peaches made an outraged sound. Ruth kept her full attention on Barbara Jean. “You’re supposed to give me two weeks’ notice if you’re quitting. You can’t walk out in the middle of a meal.”

  “I can, and I will. Just you watch. Don’t give me a reference. Doesn’t matter to me. I can always get work at a diner somewhere else. So what if it pays less? Some things are more important than money.” Barbara Jean narrowed her eyes, as if she expected Ruth to try to block her way.

  “Barbara Jean Maddox, you’re an idiot.”

  Liam turned around. Angel Lomax sat at a nearby table with her fiancé, Abe Parsons. She was shaking her head. “You don’t walk out in the middle of a meal, not if you’re any kind of cook at all. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  Barbara Jean looked like she was gritting her teeth. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense, and I’m leaving. That’s it.” She tossed her balled-up apron to the floor and stalked to the front door of the restaurant where she turned one more time. “You owe me for today.”

  “I owe you for last week,” Ruth said tightly. “I’m not paying you for today.”

  “Whatever. I’m glad to be out of this place.” Barbara Jean marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

  Was it possible for silence to echo? Liam had a feeling it was happening. All the customers had turned toward Ruth, staring at her in shock.

  She raised her chin, suddenly resolute. “If you folks will give me a few minutes, I’ll have your food ready.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Ruth, we can wait.” Angel smiled and gave her a quick thumbs-up.

  Ruth nodded, then turned toward the kitchen, pushing the door open with a flat hand.

  Liam looked back at Peaches, hoping she wasn’t too flummoxed.

  She shook her head. “That poor woman.”

  “Ruth?” he asked hopefully. Surely she wasn’t sympathizing with Barbara Jean.

  Peaches nodded. “That was an awful thing to do, walking out in the middle of service. Totally unprofessional. And now Ruth’s got to figure out the orders and figure out how far along they were when that woman walked out. That’s just…awful.”

  “Right.” He took another bite of his sandwich. He wasn’t sure where she was heading with this, but he was willing to ride along.

  “We have to help her.” Peaches pushed herself to her feet, dropping her napkin on the chair.

  We do? Interesting idea, particularly since it meant giving Peaches a vi
ew of the kitchen. He wasn’t a cook himself, but he’d been around a lot of restaurant kitchens and he knew enough to stay out of the way. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Ruth glanced up as they marched into the kitchen, her jaw tight. “Do you need something?”

  “We’re here to help,” Peaches announced. “Which orders need to be completed? I can do the grill work, but I don’t know the sandwiches.”

  “If you do the grill work, that’ll help a lot. I can do the sandwiches and salads.” Ruth nodded at Liam. “Can you expedite?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Can the waitress do the drinks?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at the orders clipped to the ticket holder. “Just read the tickets off and post them here as they come in.”

  Peaches peered over her shoulder. “Two burgers and a grilled cheese. I’m on it.”

  Ruth sighed. “And let’s pray for a patient bunch of customers.”

  The next hour and a half weren’t exactly the most pleasant of Liam’s life, but they were definitely interesting. Once he and Peaches got oriented in the kitchen so that they knew where things were, they were able to keep up with the demand. Posting the tickets didn’t take up a lot of time, so he started doing prep, chopping and dicing and bringing things out of the pantry as needed. He was back to being a runner, a job he hadn’t held since he was in high school.

  Oddly enough, there seemed to be more orders coming into the kitchen after the three of them took over than before. He took a peek out at the dining room. Every table was full at one in the afternoon, when the rush was normally beginning to slack off.

  Word must have gotten out about Barbara Jean’s exit. People came in for lunch out of curiosity and sympathy, and probably because they figured they’d get a better meal than they had when Barbara Jean was in charge. Ruth was definitely a better cook, and the presence of Peaches in the kitchen practically guaranteed good eats.

  Fleetingly, he wondered where Carol was. She hadn’t been in the kitchen when they’d arrived, although she’d clearly been there earlier, judging from Barbara Jean’s tantrum. The kitchen had a door that led out to the alley at the back of the building that was used for deliveries—he was betting that was the source of Carol’s quick exit. Also her original entry, since he hadn’t seen her in the dining room when they’d come in.

  Finally, at one thirty, the rush began to slack off. There were still a few customers wandering into the deli to check out the drama, even though all the real fireworks were very much over. Liam found his salvaged sandwich, which he’d carefully rewrapped before he became a general kitchen assistant.

  Ruth shook her head as she saw him pick it up. “Let me make you another one of those. That one’s probably all soggy by now. It’s the least I can do, since the two of you gave up your lunch to help out.”

  Peaches leaned back against the counter, studying the kitchen as Ruth pulled out the tub of goat cheese she’d been using for the sandwiches. “This is a really nice set-up. Do you bake your own pastries, too?”

  Ruth grimaced as she sliced a baguette in half. “Barbara Jean didn’t bake, and I doubt that I’ll have time since I’ll have to do lunch plus make cheese. We’ve been buying stuff from a commercial bakery in Durango ever since Barbara Jean took over. But when we had Honoria in the kitchen, yes, we definitely did our own pastries. She did a carrot muffin that was one of the best things I ever tasted.”

  Peaches raised an eyebrow. “What will you do now? Advertise for a new cook?”

  “I’ll try that. We do lunch plus coffee breaks in the morning and afternoon. It’s a lot, but really ambitious chefs aren’t interested.”

  Liam was careful not to look at Peaches. He had a feeling the next few moments would be crucial for his plans.

  “But you’re looking for someone to do a full lunch plus baking pastries for the morning and afternoon?” she asked.

  Ruth nodded again. “Ideally, yes. Honoria would come in around seven and get the muffins and scones going for the bed and breakfasts, along with whatever else she wanted to put in the pastry case for the morning. Then she’d do lunch. Then she’d put together the pastries for the next day along with the special desserts we had for sale in the deli case. We get a lot of traffic in the late afternoon with people grabbing things to take home for dinner. We may only do one meal a day, but running the kitchen is still a full-time job.”

  “A cook and a pastry chef.” Peaches’s voice sounded faintly dreamy.

  “Yep. Not an easy combination to find, unfortunately. Or at least it wasn’t the last time I looked for someone.”

  Peaches gave her a considering look. “Could you wait a couple of weeks?”

  Ruth frowned. “I don’t know. That depends on what happens at the end of the couple of weeks.”

  “At the end of the couple of weeks, I’ll walk out of Black Mountain Tavern with a clear conscience. I can cook. You saw that today. But I’m also one hell of a baker. I mean, I could make you a peach pie or something if you’d like to see what I can do. Or brownies. I can do a great cream cheese brownie, only maybe with goat cheese if I did it here. I don’t know—I’ve never baked with goat cheese, but I’d be willing to give it a try.” Peaches’s smile was so bright that they could probably see it in Crested Butte.

  Ruth looked slightly shell-shocked. “You want this job?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. I would love this job. I haven’t baked a lick since I came here—we’ve got no decent oven at the tavern. And I was a baker when I worked in Memphis and Breckenridge. I did a little bit in Jackson Hole, too, mostly muffins and coffee cake. Oh, and I can give you my references. All except Mr. Stanton at Black Mountain. I’m guessing he won’t feel much like giving me a good reference after I quit on him. But you might want to talk to him anyway.”

  “You can talk to me,” Liam cut in. “I’ve been eating Peaches’s cooking for the past six months. It’s beyond good, believe me.”

  “I…okay.” Ruth leaned back against the refrigerator. Shell-shocked had given way to dazed. “There are, you know, benefits. We’re part of a restaurant medical plan—it’s small, but we have it. And you can pay into a pension plan. My business manager takes care of that. And the salary is good, or at least I think it is.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Peaches was still beaming. “That’s just wonderful.”

  Ruth gave her another slightly dazed look. “I mean, I can give you a formal offer in writing.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Where I come from, handshakes count as much as writing.” Peaches extended her hand to Ruth, who took it a little tentatively, as if she were afraid Peaches might snatch it back.

  “Well, that’s all right, then. I’ll tell Mr. Stanton tomorrow. I’m willing to give him the full two weeks, but I don’t know if he’ll want it. He’s got a bit of a temper.”

  Stanton had more than a bit of a temper, as Liam knew only too well. If he had to guess, he’d figure on Peaches being in the kitchen at the Salty Goat within the week, which was best for everyone involved. Except possibly for Stanton.

  Ruth nodded. “You’ll need to fill out some paperwork, but it shouldn’t take too long. Just let me know when you want to start.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.” Peaches gave her another glowing smile. “I’ll do that for sure. I can’t wait to start. Really.”

  Judging by her grin, she was telling the truth. And chances were Ruth was probably feeling the same way. The sooner Peaches started, the sooner the load would be off her shoulders.

  A few minutes later, Peaches headed out the door, still glowing with happiness. Apparently, leaving the Black Mountain Tavern didn’t give her a moment’s pause, not that it should have.

  Ruth was arranging the items in the deli case, getting ready for the late afternoon rush of people who needed bread and salami and provolone for dinner. He still hadn’t seen Carol, but she was probably staying out of sight for her own reasons.

  He placed himself in front of Ruth, where she’d pretty much have to look at him
. “Have dinner with me.”

  She blinked up at him. “What?”

  “Have dinner with me. You’ve had a tough day. You need to get off your feet. Have dinner with me and I’ll give you a foot rub, so help me.”

  Ruth’s lips curved up in a dry smile. “Tempting though that offer is, I have to feed Carol.”

  “Bring her along,” he said recklessly. “I’ll feed you both. But the foot rub is only for you.”

  Ruth sighed, leaning forward on the counter. “I’d love a foot rub. But let’s do takeout. We can eat at the house. I’m not up to going out after all this drama.”

  “I can do that. Just tell me what you want—pizza? Gyros? Burgers? I might even be able to find something fancier if you’d like.”

  She shook her head. “Gyros are fine. With extra tzatziki and some stuffed grape leaves for Carol.” Her expression darkened slightly. “Where is Carol, anyway? I haven’t seen her since this morning. I need to find out what went on in that kitchen before Barbara Jean walked out.”

  “I can go look for her. And I’ll get the gyros around six. Agreed?”

  She nodded. “Agreed. If you find her, send her home. I can take care of the afternoon rush on my own, and I don’t want to get into a big discussion here. The customers have already had their daily ration of drama.” She gave him a quick smile, which seemed to be all she could manage right now. “Thanks, Liam. You’re a lifesaver.”

  He was hoping to be more than that, but he’d take what he could get. It was more than he’d had in a while. “Right.”

  He headed out the back door, then down the sloping field to the level patio by the river where Bec had placed a café table a few months ago. As he’d suspected, Carol was sitting by the side of the river, tossing pebbles into the rushing water. She hadn’t gone far. Just far enough to be out of the line of fire.

  He dropped down beside her. “So I guess you heard that Barbara Jean’s history.”

  Carol nodded. “She blew up while I was making your sandwiches. I figured she was going to do something like that.”