“Stay here? Tonight? Thank you, but no. I prefer to not be fussed over.” She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the door is locked.”
“But the directions about you sleeping . . .”
“RahRah and I will be okay. I’ll set an alarm for every few hours. Besides, I won’t be sleeping late. I need to be at the Civic Center to help Emily before the Expo opens tomorrow morning.”
“I need to be there early tomorrow, too. There are a few more people I want to talk to about the malicious mischief with the refrigerator. It would make me feel better, though, if you’d let me watch you. I could sit in this chair.”
“Thanks, but no,” Sarah said. “Besides, I’m sure your family will be looking for you.”
“Not tonight.”
“Oh, are they on some kind of trip?”
“No. Hi and Peter Jr. are with their mom. It wouldn’t be a problem for me to stay.”
So, he was divorced or separated. She wondered which one. “That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be okay tonight.” She glanced at RahRah, seemingly asleep in her lap. “Peter, am I going to have to be alone?”
He turned his face away from her. “I’m working on it. I’m not sure yet.”
Chapter Eighteen
Too early the next morning, Sarah covered most of the bruises on her face with makeup, but she couldn’t hide the area surrounding the Steri-Strip. It was nearly as blue as the shirt she wore with her jeans. Thankfully, she didn’t have the horrible headache she’d expected. She wished she could hide until the bruise faded, but she’d promised Emily she’d snoop today. Besides, she needed the money Emily was paying her to work at the Expo.
In the kitchen, Sarah carefully stepped over RahRah. She put fresh food and water in his bowls.
He purred but didn’t move from his linoleum square.
“Right back to your special place as if last night didn’t faze you for a moment. You’re not fretting about anything, are you, RahRah?” Sarah ignored the fact that their conversation was one-sided as she checked his kitty litter. For one more night, it didn’t need changing.
She picked up her keys. “RahRah, I’ll be home late tonight, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure the door is locked. Just remember, Peter blocked the closet opening, so if anything scares you, hide under the bed.”
On her way to the Civic Center, Sarah wished she felt as secure as RahRah.
“I guess I didn’t get the message about today’s dress code,” Sarah said to Emily, twenty minutes later, after finishing an abbreviated rehash of her fall without mentioning she was pushed.
Emily smiled at the dress code reference. “I forgot to tell you.” She gestured at the other chefs working in the Southwind area. Except for Jane, who was wearing black balloon pants with a black Southwind chef’s jacket, everyone, including Emily, wore black jeans and a button-up black shirt with the word SOUTHWIND stitched on the top of the pocket.
“And Jane?”
“Being a server isn’t in her repertoire.”
“Well, outfit or no outfit, it doesn’t make a difference to me. You and I know I’m the last one who belongs in a kitchen. That said, what can I do to help today?”
“Not much right now. We’ll be setting up for the next hour, getting ready for the Expo doors to open at nine, but Grace and I have my area under control.” Their discussion was interrupted by a timer beeping.
Not moving from the front of the booth, Sarah watched Emily slip her hands into two black pocket potholders lying on her back table and carefully grab a hot spinach pie from her oven and put it on the empty top of her microwave to cool.
Coming back to where Sarah stood, Emily stopped to peek over Grace’s shoulder to see how she was doing at a makeshift cutting board station they had placed on their area’s side table. Emily patted Grace on the shoulder and said something too quiet for Sarah to hear.
Grace looked up and brandished her knife in Sarah’s direction by way of greeting before returning her attention and sharp knife to deftly separating the leaves from the rhubarb stalks. As Grace tossed the leaves in the trash and added the stalks to an almost full storage container, Sarah marveled at the swiftness of Grace’s strokes without slashing a finger in the process.
“As you can see, we’re using every inch of our space. Let’s see what we can do with you.” Emily looked toward the smaller end of the Southwind exhibition space, where Chef Marcus and Jacob had their heads together. “I don’t think those two can squeeze another person or thing into their area.”
Sarah followed the line of Emily’s vision. Mounds of different vegetables, spices, and salad ingredients were separated into distinct stacks on Jacob and Marcus’s table. Sitting in front of the two chefs was the largest bowl Sarah had ever seen. It appeared to her that Jacob, as guided by the older chef, was slowly adding various layers of ingredients and spices to whatever he was mixing in the bowl.
“Those two look like they work well together.”
“Definitely. Jacob is a sweetie and very talented. He worked under Chef Marcus in San Francisco. In fact, I got his job when he left to try something on his own. His new venture failed right about the time Chef Marcus opened Southwind, so Marcus gladly made a place on staff for him.”
Glancing behind her, Sarah couldn’t help but think how much Jacob and Marcus’s neatness contrasted with Jane’s workstation. In Jane’s work space, plastic containers glistening from condensation were interspersed with discarded bowls and utensils. Three grocery bags sat on the floor. Sarah could see the tips of leafy greens protruding from two of the bags. Unlike in Jacob’s and Emily’s areas, there didn’t appear to be a clearly defined prep area in Jane’s section of the Southwind booth.
Jane and Richard stood near Jane’s front table, which was covered with fresh spices and a small pile of vegetables. They obviously were engaged in a heated exchange. Each held a knife.
Sarah’s attempt to ascertain if one might have pushed her the night before by observing them was interrupted by Emily. “Uh-oh. I better break this up before he wastes his knife skills on her.”
While Emily squeezed through a small opening between Jane and her display tables, Sarah moved closer to hear the fighting couple.
“. . . I’m not an errand boy. I can’t help it if things haven’t worked out at Southwind the way you planned, but Bill and you promised I’d get my own Expo station.”
“Bill . . .” Jane stopped in midsentence when she noticed Emily approaching from behind Richard. She slashed her finger across her throat.
Richard turned his head and looked over his shoulder “The cavalry arrives.” He threw the knife in his hand onto the table. It missed, making a clattering sound as it fell to the floor. Grabbing his cinched knife roll, the prized possession of most chefs, from the table, he ignored the fallen knife as he pushed by Emily. “I need a smoke.”
Sarah thought Emily would follow Richard. Instead, Emily bent over and retrieved the knife from the floor. Handle first, she handed the knife to Jane, who placed the knife on the table with her other knives and thrust her flushed face toward Emily’s.
“This is the last straw. He’s got to go. I can’t work with Mr. Drama anymore. All he’s done since he got here is gripe. You’ve got to fire him.”
Emily crossed her arms over her chest but didn’t try to stop Jane’s tirade.
“It’s not fair. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be behind.” Jane moved closer to Emily. “I shouldn’t have to pay the price because you can’t manage employees.”
“Your lack of organization is my problem?”
“Yes! I’d be prepped if Richard hadn’t been so busy complaining. He’s talked more than he’s worked.” Jane twisted her mouth into a pout.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” Emily turned her back on Jane. She rolled her eyes at Sarah, who bit her lip to stifle a laugh.
“Emily,” Jane said in a suddenly sweeter tone, “you look like you’ve got your station going smoothly. Why don’t you let Gr
ace help me catch up before the Expo opens?”
When her sister turned around again to face Jane but hesitated to respond, Sarah peeked over at Grace. She could swear she saw Grace shake her head “no.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m sure Marcus wouldn’t mind you letting Grace work for me.”
“I’m tied up right now,” Grace said. “I need to cover this stuff and take it out to the back refrigerator. Chef Marcus also asked me to make sure we have enough ice and drinks at the employee table.” She swept the last leaves from her cutting board into the garbage, threw the remainder of the usable rhubarb into the storage container, and fled the booth.
“Grace is busy right now, but Sarah can help you.”
Too late, Sarah tried to keep her face from registering surprise. Had Emily lost her mind? Help Jane? She was about to remind her sister about her ongoing dispute with Jane over RahRah and Jane’s accusations she’d stolen Mother Blair’s bracelet, but because of Emily’s now-widened stance and relaxed shoulders, she waited. Sarah wondered what her sister’s crazy thought process was.
Emily certainly couldn’t be envisioning Sarah’s prowess in the kitchen would help Jane or make Jane and Sarah bosom buddies. Maybe Emily thought Sarah could learn something useful from Jane? Perhaps Emily hoped Sarah would screw something up for Jane? Or, it could be both.
“Sarah? Not on your life.” Jane closed her hand around one of the knives. She took a step forward. “You’re just trying to ruin my presentation this afternoon. You’re not going to get away with it.”
Sarah held her breath. She feared this might be a rerun of the other night, but without police officers to hold Jane back. She scanned the room for one of the Civic Center security guards or, if she was lucky, Peter, but didn’t see either. As Jane stepped toward Emily, Jane knocked over one of her grocery bags. Its contents spilled under Emily’s table.
Sidestepping the spillage, Emily placed her hand near the knives on the table.
“That’s enough!” Chef Marcus yelled.
Sarah didn’t know where he had come from, but she was relieved. His bulk filled the space between Jane and Emily.
He stared at Jane. “This isn’t the way chefs behave in my kitchen. Go wash your face and cool off.”
Jane started to protest but apparently had a change of heart. She left without another word.
After Jane was gone, Chef Marcus turned to Emily, who was smiling at him. “And you, I expected better from you. You need to learn how to manage your staff.”
Amazed, Sarah watched Emily stiffen as she clearly struggled to keep her temper in check and not respond.
“Get back to your station,” Chef Marcus directed. “I’ll work with Jane.”
Emily stood frozen.
“Go.”
Emily went, but not to the part of the station where Sarah stood. Rather, she headed toward the back room.
In all the years of their sisterhood, Sarah didn’t think she had ever seen Emily so forcibly restrain herself from speaking her mind. It didn’t suit her.
Chapter Nineteen
“What are you waiting for?” When Chef Marcus didn’t get an answer, he snapped his fingers in Sarah’s direction.
She jumped.
“Emily told me she asked you to help us out today. If you’re here to work, get to it. Pick up Jane’s things from under the table and help your sister with whatever she needs while I see to Jane.”
“Yes, sir.” Not waiting for further directions, Sarah crawled under the front table of her sister’s section of the booth. On her hands and knees, Sarah stuffed Jane’s vegetables back into Jane’s partially torn bag. Chef Marcus’s intervention on Jane’s behalf surprised her. Had Marcus or Jane—or both—killed Bill to get him out of the way so they could be together while keeping Jane as Bill’s heir? If Jane inherited Bill’s estate and Marcus then married her, he again would have full control of his restaurant. Maybe he promoted Emily to cover up his relationship with Jane to prevent the police from suspecting them of conspiring to kill Bill?
Squeezing the last tomato into the bag, Sarah wondered how long she could safely hide under the table before Chef Marcus noticed. She prayed Emily or Grace would return soon. She had no idea what needed to be done. The idea of explaining to Chef Marcus why she wasn’t being productive wasn’t something she relished.
“Are you planning to stay under there all day?”
Sarah peeked under the edge of the tablecloth. The disembodied voice belonged to a pair of Docksiders almost covered by khakis standing in front of the booth. She rose, carefully balancing the restuffed grocery bag.
“Hi, Harlan. What are you doing here so early?” She slid the bag carefully onto the table in Jane’s station.
“I’m on the Food Expo steering committee, so I’m obligated to make an appearance.”
“But the Expo isn’t open yet.”
“The better to make sure all the exhibitors note I was here. Being on the committee let me come in early. I can say hello to everyone and be out jogging by the time the Expo officially opens. What are you doing under this table? But first, what in blazes happened to your face?”
Sarah gave him the abbreviated version of her adventure from the night before and then added a quick summary of what had just happened between Emily, Jane, and the vegetables. He listened without interrupting. His gaze never left her face.
She’d always thought it cliché when authors wrote someone’s eyes were the same shade of blue as their shirt or that a character’s eyes twinkled, but anyone seeing Harlan’s blue eyes today would have to agree they met the stereotypical descriptions.
“Isn’t my office enough for you? Or are you here snooping, despite what I said about playing detective?”
“Now, Harlan, would I do that? How could I ever think of leaving the wonderful boss I have?”
He laughed. “That’s flattering, but I’m serious. Look what happened to you last night. Maybe Emily or your sleuthing is why you were attacked? You need to go home and leave the investigating to the professionals. Neither Peter nor I want anything to happen to you and we can’t always be around when you play detective.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. She’d been so focused on RahRah that she hadn’t considered the attack might have been personal. “Honest, I’m not here playing detective. I didn’t have to work or be at the animal shelter today and the Southwind staff is so shorthanded, Emily thought some extra hands onboard would help.” She held hers up. “Have hands, will work. I bet she could use you, too, if you’d like. You should know, though, she barely pays minimum wage.”
He waved his right hand in protest. “When it comes to cooking, I plead the Fifth. I’m simply here to be seen, nibble a bit, and be gone before it gets too chaotic.”
Sarah caught sight of Chef Marcus staring at them as he peeled the skin off plump eggplants with quick knife strokes. He looked away as Jane sidled back into the booth. “Uh-oh. I better get to work before I get more than the evil eye.”
Harlan glanced in the direction Sarah was staring. “Okay, but don’t get too comfortable in this environment. I expect to see you in the office Monday morning.”
She gave him a mock salute.
Grinning, Harlan walked over to speak with Jane and Chef Marcus.
Sarah wished Emily or Grace would come back and tell her what needed to be done next. Turning her back to Jane’s section of the booth, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and texted Emily. No response. She peeked back at Jane, Chef Marcus, and Harlan. Judging by how physically close the three stood, Sarah concluded Harlan had engaged them in a serious discussion.
To stall, but still appear busy, Sarah decided to fall back on her childhood kitchen habits. She grabbed Emily’s overflowing trash bag from the can and cinched it closed. “Any garbage you’d like me to take out for you?” she called to Jacob.
Jacob looked up from carefully transferring bunches of carrots from a big box into his mini-refrigerator. While she’d hidden under the table,
he’d apparently gone and changed into a nicer chef’s jacket. “That would be great. I’ve got plenty.”
She left Emily’s near the back of the booth and went to get his. Seeing his neatly stacked carrots and how clean his work area was, she marveled at how much he’d gotten done while managing to stay out of the fray with Jane. His giant bowl, filled to the brim, was centered on his front table surrounded by tasting cups and forks. Once he removed the Saran Wrap covering the bowl, he’d be ready to serve.
With a dramatic flourish Sarah was sure was for her benefit, he pulled his garbage bag from the can, tied its flaps into a knot, and handed it and the now-empty box from the carrots to her with a slight bow. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She dropped the bulky bag into the box and carried both back to where she’d left Emily’s garbage. Rather than immediately heading to the Dumpster, she tried another justification for staying in the booth until Emily or Grace returned. The idea of leaving Emily’s area unguarded didn’t sit well with her.
Her gaze lit on the nearby plate of Jane’s brownies. Only a few remained—and they were calling to her. Sarah weighed her options: take out the trash or succumb to temptation. No matter how delicious the brownies were, and they certainly looked good, she wanted nothing to change her tainted opinion of Jane. She decided the more noble choice, and the one with fewer calories, was the garbage.
Still hoping Emily or Grace would come back so someone would be in Emily’s part of the booth, she left the two filled bags and the box where she had dropped them and leaned across the side table Emily shared with Jacob. “Jacob, do you know where the clean garbage bags are?”
Instead of answering her, he reached under one of his tables and dragged out a large roll of oversize trash bags. He peeled two off and handed one to her.
Sarah was tucking the edges of the bag around the sides of Emily’s can in slow motion when Grace returned. She, too, was wearing one of the nicer Southwind chef jackets.
One Taste Too Many Page 9
