He looked at me, his eyes again flooded with pain, then moved toward the front door.
I followed, wishing I could hug him.
When we were a step or two from the door, he turned to face me. "I have to tell you I really enjoyed this. Your food, obviously, but also talking with you. My favorite interview ever."
Delight bubbled through me, and I looked up into his eyes and yet again told him the truth. "Mine too."
*****
The interview left me so happy I almost didn't mind walking eight long blocks back to my apartment. My insulated bag's handle cut painfully into my fingers after only one block but I had to walk: I couldn't afford a streetcar ride.
I'd been doing all right financially, not getting ahead but not falling too far behind either, until last month. Why my cousin chose to get married in England when she and her groom were from Toronto I didn't know, but my mother had insisted I go since my brothers couldn't make it. I suspected those two weasels had fabricated business trips to give themselves an excuse. Sadly, I hadn't been quick enough on my feet.
Alan had graciously given me ten days off, naturally without pay, and since my job seemed secure I'd been fairly comfortable paying for the flight and hotel and the wildly extravagant wedding present Mom had sent in my name.
But Alan had a friend's son fresh out of culinary school fill in for me and the kid's "whatever you say, oh brilliant leader" attitude had clearly resonated too well with him; our arguments had increased on my return until my frustration spilled over and I quit.
Of course, when I cooled off I'd realized I had nothing but the paycheck Alan had given me minutes before that last blow-up. I had managed to pay November's rent, but if Kegan didn't hire me I'd have to find a job before December or crawl back to my parents. Back to the same town as Charles.
I'd rather eat cat food.
I unlocked my building's rickety front door and climbed the four flights to my apartment. After dropping the bag in the kitchen, I pulled a can from the cupboard. When I popped it open, I wrinkled my nose at the offensively fishy smell, but before I could stick a spoon into the can the scent woke the furry beast on my battered couch and he rushed over to dance around my feet.
"C'mon, Saff." I gently pushed him away. "Let me get a bowl."
I scooped out half the can and stood watching him devour his food. The day I moved in I had seen the big orange cat lurking by the front door, shivering in the snow and terrifyingly skinny, and fallen for him at once. I'd always wanted a cat but Charles hated them. Finding one that day had felt like fate.
I scratched Saffron behind the ears then set to washing my food containers while daydreaming about working for Kegan. As I dried the last one, I heard the knock I'd been expecting and dreading. I checked the peephole then opened the door. "Hey, Brian."
He leaned against the door frame, still a good few inches taller than me even on an angle. "Hey. How'd the interview go?"
Happiness filled me again but I held it back, not wanting to jinx it. "Pretty good, I think."
Saffron, done with his food, came over to let Brian pat him. Bent over the cat, Brian said, "Great. Look, any way I could borrow a twenty?"
I had seventeen dollars in cash and sixty-eight dollars and thirty-seven cents in my bank account. Though every fiber of my being felt guilty, I said, "I really can't. I'm sorry."
"Hell. I have that interview tomorrow and I'm out of gas. I thought maybe, since I took care of Saffron while you were in England..."
I sighed. If he didn't go to his job interview I'd feel terrible. And he had been great with Saff. "I can do ten."
He brightened. "That's awesome. Thanks. And I'll come over tomorrow night and tell you about the interview."
I'd almost give up my remaining cash to prevent that. Brian expected me to listen and give him advice, but he'd never once returned the favor. Making a mental note to be out tomorrow night, I pulled the bill from my wallet, careful not to let him see the rest of my money.
He took the cash and tried to give me a hug, which I deflected by pretending I'd stepped on Saffron's tail while moving forward. I couldn't hug Brian. We'd hugged while hanging out together drunk and miserable on Valentine's Day, and it had escalated into something that should never have happened. Unless I wanted another meaningless and unmemorable sexual encounter, I wouldn't hug him again. He hinted frequently about a repeat, but the fact he obviously thought we'd had a great night and didn't realize he'd left me utterly unsatisfied made ignoring those hints pretty easy.
Even if I did want to sleep with him again, I wouldn't have. Charles and I were still married, and hadn't even started the divorce process. Our handful of phone calls and one meeting since I left had made it clear we wouldn't be getting back together, but I still didn't feel right about being with another man. Charles would be livid if he knew; he'd been upset enough I hadn't also been a virgin when we met.
Brian left, clutching my money, and I vowed for at least the tenth time this would be the last time. He owed me easily three hundred dollars, money I could sorely use, money I knew I'd never see again. But he only asked for a little each time so I'd felt I had to give it to him.
"But no more," I told Saffron, trying to sound convincing.
I put away my containers and set to work on the beef stir-fry with ginger and paprika I'd discussed with Kegan. I had the cheapest beef I could find, but once I got the seasoning right I'd know the taste would be even better with good meat.
The flavor was just approaching perfection when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen and excitement flooded me at my soon-to-be-boss's name on the call display.
*****
Hours later I still lay on the couch where I'd dropped after ending the phone call, unable to summon the motivation to move.
Of course Kegan could do whatever he wanted with his businesses, but why didn't he decide before interviewing me not to open Magma? I wouldn't have had my hopes raised that way, raised then crushed like a grape underfoot.
Now what? I'd have to find a job; I couldn't keep Saffron in cat food without one. But I didn't want to work anywhere that wouldn't further my career. I'd already had one job in Toronto that was nothing more than glorified dish-washing and I didn't want to take another. I would, to avoid moving home, but I hated the idea.
Kegan had probably meant to ease the blow by saying, "If you don't have a job in three months, although I'm sure you will, come see me and we'll open Magma." But his words had made my pain even worse. I was three months too early for my dream to come true. I pulled in a deep breath and let it shudder back out. My dream career waited in January for me. Three months. Such a short time. An eternity.
Saffron wandered over and meowed, and I put out a hand to keep him from jumping up. I didn't want to be sat on. He ducked my hand and made it halfway up before I pushed him gently back down. "I said no, buddy. It's not a good time."
Clearly unconcerned, he stalked to the end of the couch, jumped up there, and walked back along between my legs until he could climb onto my stomach.
I shook my head and scratched him behind the ears. "You don't listen, do you? You just keep trying and eventually I give in."
My fingers stilled on the now-purring cat as I realized what I'd said. Could that work on Kegan?
He'd clearly been regretful, but he'd also given no sign he'd change his mind. I ran through our conversation in my head anyhow, wondering if there might be a loophole.
"Mary, I hate this, but I can't open Magma right now. I've been agonizing since your interview but I have to face it: the timing's all wrong. I'm truly sorry."
I hadn't been able to say a word, too shocked, so he'd gone on. "If you need me to rave about you to another restaurant, it's done, although I have no doubt you'll be able to find a job on your own with how wonderful your food is."
This had stirred me enough to say, "I won't. None of the top restaurants are hiring right now."
Kegan's turn not to speak and mine to carry on. "You won't co
nsider... I think I'm perfect for Magma, and—"
"You are perfect. No doubt. This isn't about your ability, please don't think that." He'd then said the whole "I'll hire you in three months" bit, apologized again, and ended the call.
He'd have called the other chefs he'd interviewed too. Did he tell them they were perfect for Magma? Suggest they come back in three months? Offer to rave about them? Maybe not.
Probably not. Though I could hear my mother's voice in my head saying, "Don't be so braggy, Mary," I had to be honest with myself. He had definitely liked my food, and I'd felt we saw the restaurant business the same way. I probably had been his top choice.
Could I somehow convince him to open Magma?
If I acted like Saffron, could I work my way into Kegan's lap? His career lap, of course.
Chapter Two
I changed my mind about the wisdom of my plan easily a dozen times, but seven in the morning found me sitting on the edge of a concrete flower box outside Steel armed with a notebook, several pens, and my favorite cookbooks and reference manuals. I spent a few minutes planning what I'd say to convince Kegan and then settled into creating new and innovative recipe ideas for Magma. When Kegan showed up, I wanted him to see me hard at work and focused, just like I'd be when he hired me.
After I'd made notes for a handful of dishes, I heard a foot scuff against Steel's walkway and I looked up to see Kegan approaching, his face inscrutable.
My heart shifted into a too-high gear and terror wiped my speech from my mind, but I put down my stuff and stood, drawing my shoulders back and trying to approximate Saffron's "you will do what I want, you just don't know it yet" attitude.
He stopped and said neutrally, "Good morning," his eyes searching my face.
"Hello," I managed. Not liking my shaking voice, I took a quick breath and pushed my shoulders back even further. "I'm here to talk to you about Magma."
"Didn't we talk yesterday?"
I held his gaze. I had to be strong. "We did. And I can't accept it."
Kegan's eyebrows went up. "You can't accept my decision about my business? Not sure that matters."
Panic swept me. "I don't mean it like that. It's just... I need this. Please."
Nice. Groveling. Good job.
"Mary, as I said yesterday, I can't. I'm sorry you wasted a trip down here, but I won't be changing my mind."
He walked past me, toward the restaurant's front door, and I knew all hope would be gone once he went inside. I went after him, words falling from me. "I'm doing this wrong and I'm sorry. But answer me one question."
He took hold of the door handle but didn't turn it.
"Please. One question."
He turned to face me.
Through my relief, I planned what to ask and realized one wouldn't be enough. "Two questions."
The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile but he straightened it out quickly. "Two."
I looked into those deep blue eyes. "Do you want to open Magma now?"
"I just told you I can't."
"That's not the question."
He looked to the side, then back at me, and I saw the answer on his face before he spoke. I'd known it before I asked, but I'd wanted him to say it. "The only thing I want more is fixing Steel. So I can't. But yes, I do want to. Very much."
I'd thought we'd connected during my interview, thought he would be honest with me, and I was glad to be right. His words had set an idea growing in my mind, a way I might be able to convince him, but I needed more information first. "Second question."
He waited.
I took a breath but couldn't bring myself to speak. I probably did have it wrong. He couldn't have meant it the way I heard it, and asking him would leave me humiliated. I took one step back, still looking at him, then started to turn away.
He started to speak but I turned back before he could get the words out. Humiliation be damned, I couldn't give up until I'd done absolutely everything possible. "You said if I didn't have a job in three months I should call you. You said you'd rave about me. You said you were sorry, and that I'm perfect for Magma."
"I did. None of that is a question."
I raised my chin, took another deep breath, and made myself ask, "Did you say that to everyone you interviewed?"
He studied me, and I struggled to keep my face calm. Then he said, "No. And since you don't have a third question, I'll give you a free answer. I didn't say that to anyone but you, and I meant it."
I shut my eyes, overwhelmed, and couldn't hold back the smile trying to spread over my face. He'd really wanted to hire me. I'd impressed a top restaurateur that much. I opened my eyes again and looked up at him. "Then—"
"Then nothing changes. And while we're at it, I have a question for you. Why don't you find another job for three months?"
"Because it's my dream to work for you."
"You met me yesterday. Short dream."
I shook my head, struggling to find the words to express how I felt. "I want to work at a restaurant that cares about customers, that's passionate about them and won't give them anything less than the best. That's all I've ever wanted. I didn't know I was dreaming about Steel and Magma, and you, but I was."
His eyes softened, and I seized my advantage and laid out my idea. "You want to open Magma, and I want you to. I know how to make this work. I'll spend every day at Magma, make sure it's set up exactly how you want, and you can supervise Steel's repairs. Then you'll have both places running and your dreams will come true. Mine too."
Kegan stood frozen, and I dared to hope. Then he said, "Come back in three months," pulled open the door, and locked it behind himself before disappearing into the darkened restaurant.
I stood staring at the closed door as if I could somehow bring him back out, then sank onto the flower box filled with nothing but dirt and dropped my head into my hands. Tears and hopelessness swirled in me but I held back the first and tried hard to shake off the second. I couldn't give up yet.
Once I was sure I wouldn't cry, I sat up straighter and took deep breaths, looking for a solution. He'd said no, but I knew he'd wanted to say yes. Maybe if I went home and—
As I thought of leaving, even to search for a new strategy, I realized it would be disastrous. If Kegan didn't see me, he wouldn't have to think about me and my offer. If I stayed, though, camped out on his very doorstep, I would prove my sincerity and be a constant reminder that he could open Magma but had chosen not to.
I turned the plan, such as it was, around in my mind. I might well annoy him enough to keep him from hiring me, but I could also end up impressing him with my determination. Since I didn't have any other ideas, I decided to go for it. I would stay at Steel until Kegan hired me.
*****
The hours perched uncomfortably on the narrow flower box should have passed more slowly than they did, but I lost myself in the task of finding interesting possibilities for both restaurants' menus and almost managed to forget where I was and how much it mattered.
At around noon, Kegan walked past me without a word. I watched him go, willing him to turn around and hire me. He didn't, so I took the opportunity to grab a sandwich and tea with my remaining cash at the café two doors down from Steel since he'd gone off in the other direction. I ate the unexpectedly tasty meal on the flower box then got right back to work, not wanting him to catch me slacking off.
I was mentally debating the right ratio of cumin and cinnamon for a chicken recipe when I sensed someone standing nearby watching me. A quick glance, without raising my head from my work, confirmed it was him. Nervousness filled me but I didn't look up. If he wanted my attention, he'd have to talk to me.
He stayed for a few seconds, without a word, then walked away into Steel.
I sat staring at my notes without seeing them, again hoping I was doing the right thing. If he wouldn't speak to me, he'd never hire me.
And he didn't seem inclined to speak. He went out a few times in the afternoon, always passing me in silence, and no
ne of his employees, some clearly construction workers and some probably his regular staff, acknowledged me either whenever they walked by. Their neglect did nothing for my hopes of success.
People began to leave Steel at around five. A bleached-blonde woman, rail-thin and heavily made up, opened the front door as I was taking a brief break from reading the tiny print in my cookbook. Our eyes met, and she pulled her over-lipsticked mouth into a puckered frown and walked away without a word. The short round woman with white hair who left a few minutes later didn't say anything either, but she cleared her throat and when I glanced up she gave me a furtive thumbs-up with her hand at her side. She hurried away before I could respond, but the warm glow of knowing someone supported me made all the difference, let me believe for the first time that I might actually change Kegan's mind.
The glow vanished, though, an hour later when my battered cell phone began to sing, "Ding dong, the witch is dead". As always, I felt guilty for having downloaded that ring tone for my mother, but I'd done it after a particularly annoying call and the flicker of satisfaction it gave me was too enjoyable to resist. I considered not answering, but I knew from past experience she'd keep calling until I talked to her, so I gave her as cheerful a greeting as I could.
"Mary, don't you think this has gone on long enough?"
I first thought she meant my hours on Kegan's flower box, but of course not. She was still obsessing over something even less likely to end. "No, I don't. I told you last week, and the week before—"
"I saw poor Charles today. He looks exhausted, and he's lost weight. I'm sure he'd forgive you for all this."
Poor Charles. She'd been calling him that since I'd left. Never once had I heard "poor Mary". She'd never even wanted to hear why I'd left him, why I hadn't felt our marriage could be saved. I had tried to tell her but I'd have had better results telling the flower box how to cook crepes. "I don't want him to forgive me. Not that he has anything to forgive me—"
"Nothing to forgive! When you walked out on him and—" She gave a deep and clearly fake sigh. "Well, I didn't call to rehash this with you."
Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5) Page 76
