The blonde shook her head. “No, thanks. You look busy enough and we already ate. I need to go back and help get the shop ready for the rest of the day.” She glanced over toward his waitress, Maura. “Hey. How’s Emma?”
A genuine smile lit the waitress’s face. “She’s good. Thanks for asking.”
“Tell her I said hello. We put a couple sugar cookies in there for her.”
“She’ll like that. Thank you.”
The blonde—Naomi—nodded and stepped toward the door. “Well, I’ll see you same time tomorrow.”
The woman behind the counter waved. “All right.”
Something in Elijah uncoiled as she stepped out the door and he breathed a sigh of relief.
He turned back to try again with the paper wondering who in their right mind would want to eat a mud cake, but had no better luck with the scant news or the crossword puzzle that someone had already done. He glanced toward the kitchen area. The cook was still sweating like he was in a sauna and moving at the speed of molasses, but now the woman from the front counter was in the kitchen speaking with him, her brows turned down in annoyance. The cook gestured with a spatula, sending rivulets of grease flying through the air.
Elijah sipped his juice and turned his attention to straightening his salt and pepper shakers, hoping that his omelet was next in line because he was starving and he really wanted to be on his way.
Suddenly, raised voices were directly in front of him as the cook was moving toward the exit, the woman trailing him.
“Chuck! Wait! You can’t just leave. It’s the busiest time of day and we don’t have anyone to replace you.”
“Listen, Sharla.” The cook untied his grease-stained apron from his rotund belly and pulled it off. “I’ve had enough of you telling me to speed it up. I work at my own pace. So, if you don’t like it, you can try making all that slop yourself.” He tossed the apron on the counter in a wilted heap and walked away, leaving the woman nearly in tears.
She looked at Elijah. “I . . .” She obviously didn’t know him, and she obviously had no idea what to say, but she tried to pull it together as she picked up the soiled apron. “What am I going to do? I can’t cook my way out of a cardboard box,” she said to herself. She glanced around the full diner and shook her head.
Darn it. He just wanted an omelet.
She tucked the apron under the counter and he watched as a lone tear coursed down the woman’s cheek. Something about that tugged at the core of him and was impossible to ignore.
Before he knew what he was doing, he spoke. “I can cook.”
She turned wide, surprised eyes to him. “You can?”
He may no longer be an angel, but his belief in the commandments held firm. He couldn’t lie. He nodded.
She tilted her head, obviously appraising his longish hair and stubble. “What kinda experience you got?”
He still had no idea why he was doing this, but the words left his mouth of their own accord. “I was executive chef at Le Gavroche in New York City.”
“Never heard of it.”
He shrugged.
“You sure you can sling hash and make eggs to order? That sort of thing?”
He smiled. He’d handled Coq au Vin for heads of state and Boeuf Bourguignon for somebody they called Beyoncè and her husband Jay Something-or-other. He didn’t know who they were, but everyone in the restaurant thought it was a big deal. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” For a little while anyway. Maybe just a day or two until his car was ready to drive.
“Hey, Sharla!” someone yelled out from across the diner. “Where’s my breakfast? I don’t have all mornin’, you know.”
She glanced over, then back to Elijah. She sighed, seeming to appraise him one last time and he could nearly feel her anxiety rise as her desperation notched up. “Well, I guess we can try you out for one shift and see how you do, then talk about it later. Whadya say?”
He stood. The sooner he got to the kitchen and got this over with, the sooner he’d get his omelet. Even if he had to make it himself. “Sounds good.”
She smiled and led him to a side opening to let him into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s your name, anyway?”
“Elijah.” He looked her in the eye. “Elijah Smith. But you can call me Eli.”
The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) Page 32
