The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1)

by Cindy Caldwell

  She lifted up her apron and played with the hem while she spoke. “And it’s my lucky apron,” she said, her voice lower.

  He regarded her for a moment, cocking his head to the side, and she thought he was incredibly handsome by the firelight. So much so that she looked away.

  “I’d sure like to know why it’s your lucky apron, Sadie,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees again.

  She shook her head, and with a twinkle in her eye, she said, “Not on your life, Mr. Morgan. Not until you tell me why you left the trail. And went to New York.”

  Her eyebrows rose, her mouth firmly shut—but it was all she could do to hold back a smile, trying to ignore that thought about staying out of trouble. Not pushing.

  He turned to the fire again, his look of surprise hidden as he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

  “Fair enough, Sadie. Fair enough.”

  He stood, reaching for her mug and placed it on the tray with his.

  As he passed her, he stopped and said, “Thank you for the lovely day—and interesting evening. Shall I put out the fire?”

  “No, I’ll do it before I retire. I’m not quite ready,” she said, staring at the beautiful flames that looked to her a bit like the sunset they’d seen together earlier.

  She sat as she heard him climb the stairs and close his bedroom door behind him. She laid her head back in her chair, wondering just what it would take to get this man to open up to her. Trust her.

  Walking to the fireplace, she stirred the fading embers until she was sure there was no more flame, placed the grate securely in front of it and headed toward the stairs herself.

  Maybe tomorrow. At the restaurant. I can show him how much help I can be, she thought as she slowly climbed the stairs, ready for bed and a fresh start tomorrow.

  Chapter 16

  Sadie had once again told Tripp that she wanted to go in early to prep. What she really meant was bake, though, as after the previous day’s events, she really needed to work out some nervous energy. After her talk with Suzanne, she couldn’t ignore any longer her growing feelings for Tripp. And since it was just a business arrangement to him, there was nothing to do but…bake.

  As she made another batch of meat pies to use up the cooked roast pork from the restaurant’s debut, she thought about the restaurant’s opening later this evening and breathed a sigh of relief that Suzanne would be there to help again. Her stomach fluttered with nerves every time she thought of it. She knew how much it meant to Tripp that this restaurant be successful, and she wanted that for him…for both of them.

  She’d made a double batch of meat pies, two different kinds, and had laid them on the counter to cool when she heard a knock at the door. She was wary for a moment as it was still very early in the morning, but she remembered Mr. Lewis and thought it might be him.

  Opening the door, she smiled at the sight of him, his hat in his hands.

  “Hello, Mrs. Morgan. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Lewis. Nice to see you, as well,” she said, wiping her hands on her lucky apron. “How are you today?” she asked as she ushered him into the warm kitchen.

  “I’m just fine, and I came by to thank you for the meat pies you passed along the other day. They must have been lucky, because I got hired on at the mine.”

  She clapped her hands together as she cried, “That’s wonderful, Mr. Lewis. I’m so happy for you.”

  Color crept up into his cheeks as he looked down. “I think it was the luck of the pies, ma’am. I shared them with some of the other miners and they sure did like ‘em. In fact, asked if I could get more.”

  Her eyebrows rose as she surveyed the man before her. She’d given him the meat pies out of kindness, just because she’d wanted to, and her heart swelled with happiness that he’d shared them with others. And was surprised that they’d liked them.

  “Well, that’s wonderful news, Mr. Lewis. And perfect timing. I just baked two more batches and really had no plans for them. Would you like to take them to the mine with you?”

  His face lit up as he eyed the pies and turned back to her. “I was hoping you’d say that, ma’am, but I also wanted to mention that they’d like to have them regular like. And pay for them.”

  She sat so hard on the kitchen stool that her breath came out in a whoosh. Her hand rested on her chest as the compliment sank in and her mind raced with thoughts of how to accommodate his request.

  “Mr. Lewis, that is awfully nice of you. I’m glad that they are being enjoyed. But I really do it just because it relaxes me. I’d not considered selling them.”

  She stood and grabbed an empty crate out of the pantry, a sturdy one with handles, and began wrapping the pastries. As she placed the last one in the box, she turned to Mr. Lewis and said, “Take these, Mr. Lewis, and I’ll think about it. My husband and I are opening the restaurant tonight, and I think that the menu will please your friends. I hope to see some of you in the dining room.”

  Mr. Lewis picked up the crate and headed out the door, tipping his hat at Sadie as he thanked her once again for her kindness.

  As Sadie closed the door behind him, she wondered if she could…or should…accommodate Mr. Lewis’s request. It wasn’t about money for her. She also loved to make people happy with her cooking, just like Tripp. She decided to see how the night went, maybe see what he thought about this idea.

  She glanced at the clock, realizing that Tripp would be there soon and set to cleaning up after herself, leaving that decision for another time.

  * * *

  She’d put Mr. Lewis and the meat pies to the back of her mind as she raced around Tripp, cutting, chopping, cleaning, fetching, anything he needed. She could tell he was nervous—and who wouldn’t be? It was a night he’d been preparing—and waiting for—for a very long time.

  After she’d chopped all of the onions, garlic and other vegetables he’d asked for, she said, “Is this everything that you need?”

  His nose was in a steaming pot as he inhaled deeply, smiling at his creation. A flood of warmth washed over her as she watched him in his element. She was glad the he was happy, but she wanted to be more helpful than just in prepping.

  What was that he’d called her? Sous chef?

  “Tripp,” she said again, feeling it, too, when he stood quickly, bumping his head on the pots and pans.

  “I guess we forgot to move those pans,” she said as she looked down and smoothed her apron.

  “Yes, we did,” he said, turning back to whatever was simmering in the pot.

  “I’m done with what you asked me to do. Can I help with what you’re doing?”

  He blinked a few times at her, his mouth open. “What?”

  “I said I’m done with all of your prep work and it’s all laid out in the icebox for you and I’d like to help with what you’re doing.” She started toward the stove and he took a step back.

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, setting down the jar of basil that he had in his hand.

  “Why not?” she said. “I think I could be helpful. I know how to cook.”

  He looked from the pot to her and back to the pot. “Well, yes, you know how to cook.”

  “And?” she said, her hands on her hips now, feeling the heat rise in her chest—and not the pleasant kind of heat as she’d felt the day before.

  “Sadie, you have to understand. This cooking is different than what you do. It takes a different…a great deal of…”

  He turned away, smiling at her apologetically before he did, and put the spoon back in the pot. As he lifted a taste to his mouth, he closed his eyes and smiled. “Perfect.”

  Just as she grabbed a pan and lifted it to clobber him and make his bump bigger, she felt it pulled out of her hand and heard Suzanne say, “Tripp, Sadie and I are going to fold napkins and set the tables,” as she grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the dining room.

  Suzanne grabbed her shoulders and sat her down in a chair so har
d that Sadie let out a big whoosh of air.

  “What was that about?” Suzanne said as she paced around the table.

  “I’m just a little aggravated,” Sadie said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Suzanne stopped pacing and mimicked her gesture, folding her own arms over her chest while she glared at her.

  After she’d sighed, put her elbows on the table and dropped her chin into her hands, Sadie said, “He won’t let me do anything. He thinks I can’t cook.”

  “That’s not true, Sadie. He thinks you’re a good cook,” Suzanne said, sitting beside her.

  “No, he doesn’t. He thinks I can cook, maybe, but a ‘chef’ is something different. I’m good enough to bake biscuits but not to touch his Fricassee.” She fiddled with the hem of one of the linen napkins on the table as her sister stared at her.

  “Is that what this is all about? That he won’t let you help?”

  “I guess so. I’d thought when you called for me that I’d be able to really do some good. I am glad I can help with the biscuits and bread, but I wanted to…I don’t know, really help. Not just be a…” She hesitated and started smoothing out the napkin that was now twisted into a ball.

  “A what?” Suzanne said, falling silent as she waited for a response.

  “A helper, I suppose,” Sadie said quietly.

  Suzanne reached out and pulled Sadie’s chin toward her, looking her in the eye. “You know as well as I do, sister, that these things take time. This is what he’s been working toward for over a year. He has included you. He does think you’re a good cook, but this is what he’s been trained to do. Please don’t take it personally,” she said, placing her hand on Sadie’s.

  “I know you’re right, Suzanne. But I’ve realized that I like him, and I want to be…I want him to…”

  “Like you? Think you’re valuable? Believe me, Sadie, he does. We’re just right in the thick of things, opening tonight. I know I said this already, but give it time.”

  Sadie squeezed Suzanne’s hand and dabbed her eyes with the napkin she’d been twisting.

  “Thanks, sister. I feel a little silly now. But one good thing did happen today,” she said, focusing on the task at hand. She picked up a stack of fresh napkins and started folding them, and Suzanne did the same.

  She quickly told her sister about Mr. Lewis, the meat pies and his request for more for the miners. When she got to the part about his offering to pay, Suzanne stopped folding, her napkin in mid-air.

  “Really? I know they’re good, but they want to buy them?” she said, her eyes wide as she watched Sadie continue to fold.

  “Yes, really. See? Somebody likes what I do.” She plopped another folded napkin onto the pile in front of her.

  Suzanne laughed and continued folding. “Everybody likes what you do. You’re comparing apples and oranges, Sadie, and you need to stop. Pull your lip back in. Pouting is unbecoming.”

  Sadie did as she was told with a laugh. “All right.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  Sadie stole a quick glance at the door to the kitchen. “I told him I had to think about it.”

  Her sister followed her gaze to the door, her mouth falling open. “And you haven’t told Tripp?”

  “Shhh. No, I haven’t, and I don’t intend to just yet. I just use up the leftover meat from the night before, and we have bags and bags of flour and plenty of yeast. And enough onions to last until Christmas. Honestly, if I don’t use it up, the mice might get to it before we do.”

  Suzanne looked at Sadie out of the corner of her eye, a smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t know about that, Sadie. I think you should tell him.”

  “Why? So he can tell me that I shouldn’t do it? That I should stick to biscuits? No, thank you. And, in fact, I think I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to do it.”

  Suzanne shook her head slowly as Sadie stood, carrying the folded napkins and setting them on the bar.

  “Good luck, Sadie. I sure hope it doesn’t go badly for you.”

  Sadie put her hands on her hips and looked from the door back to her sister. “It won’t. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I hope you’re right, sister. I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 17

  The restaurant opened with a bang as customers streamed in steadily, and Sadie and Suzanne juggled to keep them all happy.

  Tripp had kept the menu relatively small on purpose, wanting to make sure he could handle everything since he was on his own for now in the kitchen, and Sadie smiled as the dishes came out right on time—with a few exceptions. She was grateful that she’d made enough bread to put on the tables while people waited. It made her job much easier.

  Tripp had taken a brief break when he’d caught up with orders and strolled around the dining room, shaking people’s hands and asking how they’d liked their meals. Sadie couldn’t help but smile as she watched him proudly take a bow at each table, his smile wide as he accepted compliment after compliment.

  She kept busy for the next couple of hours with Suzanne, making sure everybody was happy in the dining room.

  After the last customer left, Suzanne and Sadie thumped into chairs, both of them bursting into laughter as they looked at each other for the first time all night.

  “You look exhausted,” Sadie said to Suzanne.

  “I was just going to say the same to you,” Suzanne said as she took the pins out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. “I don’t know how you can wear your hair in these things all the time. It gives me a headache.”

  Sadie’s brows scrunched together as she felt at the back of her neck where her bun was firmly in place.

  “I don’t know. I prefer it this way,” she said, pushing some of the pins in more tightly.

  Tripp came through the kitchen door, wiping his hands on the towel he carried, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Well, what do you think, ladies? How did it go?” he said as he sat down at the table with them.

  “Whew, it was a real whirlwind,” Suzanne said, re-tying her apron strings that had come loose. “But I think everybody was happy. Don’t you, Sadie?”

  “Yes, I do. Everybody loved the special, and nothing got sent back. Not once.”

  “Ah, that really made me happy,” Tripp said, putting his hand over Sadie’s. Suzanne turned so Tripp couldn’t see her face and wiggled her eyebrows at Sadie, who unsuccessfully tried not to laugh.

  “What’s funny?” Tripp said, turning to look at Suzanne.

  “Oh, nothing,” Sadie said. “We just enjoyed the evening.” She took the opportunity to wiggle her finger at her twin while Tripp was looking the other way.

  “They especially enjoyed the bread,” Suzanne said, her eyes widened innocently as Sadie pulled her hand across her throat like a knife where Sadie could see her but Tripp couldn’t.

  Suzanne laughed as Tripp spun to Sadie, who folded her hands in front of her and smiled. “Yes, they did seem to like it,” she said.

  Tripp laughed. “Dealing with twins is going to take some getting used to, I can see,” he said as he headed back into the kitchen. “I’m going to start cleaning up, so come on back whenever you’re ready.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Sadie said, then waited for the door to swing closed behind him. “Stop it. You’re going to make me laugh too much.”

  “Oh, you’re fine. I have to entertain myself somehow.”

  “How about not at my expense,” Sadie said as she lightly tapped her sister on the shoulder. “Did you hear any of the customers talking about that new restaurant over in Tombstone proper?”

  Suzanne perked up and walked closer. “Yes, I did. Quite a few of them were comparing Tripp’s food to that place’s. I didn’t know they were opening something similar over in town.”

  “I didn’t either. And I would venture a guess that Tripp doesn’t know about it. He’s been so focused with the loan and the building and the supplies…”

  “And getting married,” Suzanne a
dded.

  Sadie turned to her. “Well, yes, and getting married.” She felt that now-familiar flutter when she thought of herself as married.

  “Shouldn’t we mention it to Tripp?”

  Sadie considered for a moment before answering.

  “I don’t think so. Not yet. Everything went well tonight and I don’t want him to get even more nervous. What do you think?”

  “Hmm,” Suzanne said as she stared at the door to the kitchen. “Look at it this way. Would it help him to know? If he did know, what could he do? Maybe we should just wait a week or so and see what happens?”

  “I don’t have any other brilliant ideas at the moment. Let’s just keep it under our hats for now, shall we? We’ll probably know more after we’ve been in business for a little while.”

  “I don’t have a better idea, either,” Suzanne said as she bent over, pulling at the toes of her boots. “My feet are killing me and I’m exhausted. I vote for not borrowing trouble and waiting.”

  Sadie lingered for a moment as Suzanne headed into the kitchen to help with the dishes. The restaurant really was beautiful, and it had glowed with the copper ceiling and the candles lit, just as she’d envisioned. She couldn’t imagine what they would do if the restaurant wasn’t a success. She knew Tripp would be heartbroken—and she knew she would be, too.

  She blew out the last of the candles, watching the moon glow outside the windows as the room grew darker, bit by bit. She gathered the napkins in the linen sack, picking up the remaining lantern and, taking one last look behind her as she headed into the kitchen, said a silent prayer that everything would turn out all right.

  Chapter 18

  Tripp had been in his own world since the restaurant opening the night before. They’d talked on the way home, Sadie smiling and nodding as he explained in detail every dish he’d made, what had worked out well and what he’d had to fiddle with. By the time they walked in the front door, she was just about done in for the night.