Sarah hadn’t really thought of that, and she could tell by the looks on Veronica’s and Harper’s faces that they wouldn’t be too thrilled if she left.
“You’ve done so much for O’Rourke’s,” Veronica said. “And your staff loves you. As does the rest of the team.”
“I know. I’m not sure what I would do about EightyEight if Raffe and I did get back together. I mean, just because we fix our relationship, I don’t think it automatically means I want to go work for him again. At the same time, it was kind of my dream. To be the head chef at a five-star restaurant, I mean. Don’t get me wrong. O’Rourke’s is amazing, and I have so much flexibility. And I am beyond grateful to Gertie, and I really wouldn’t feel right just leaving her to start all over again with a new chef.”
“Maybe you could figure out a way to work at both. You know, maybe you could create the recipes still for Gertie and work one day a week for the top event she has. Or you could do that for Raffe. Just an idea. You know she would die if you left. Plus, I don’t want to have to try to find a replacement for you!” Veronica said.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea, working at both places. I really do love them both. Who knows what will happen? I guess anything is possible, and only time will tell.”
14
Sarah rushed around the kitchen, triple-checking everything to make sure it was perfect for the ball. Her phone went off, and she glanced down at the text from Harper.
The cameras are all set up and good to go.
Good. That was one less thing to worry about. Raffe would be coming by any minute now to help them keep an eye on things.
“How much olive oil is in this?”
Sarah hurried over to her sous-chef to explain the recipe one last time. She had to weave herself in between serving staff that were at the front of the kitchen, most of whom were temporary help from the agency that Gertie used for events. Sarah always got a bit annoyed with them as they usually weren’t familiar with the kitchen setup and just got in the way. That was why she tried to have food delivered directly upstairs to the ballroom and placed in warming ovens or chafing dishes if possible.
“Oh, I couldn’t, Gertie. It’s beautiful, but the one I’m wearing is fine. Isn’t it?”
Gertie held her tongue as Myrtle twirled around in front of her in the office. Her gown was loud and garish. Like her eyeglasses and beads, it was bright and shiny, a red-sequined monstrosity in Gertie’s eyes. Myrtle was a pretty woman, and her glasses often distracted from her beauty.
“Try it on for me, please. You know how Edward is, and he'll be so upset if I don’t wear it, but I already have a gown I want to wear. If you wear it, maybe he won’t be so upset. Plus, I think the color will look beautiful against your skin. You have a bit of a tan.”
Gertie handed the gown to Myrtle, who walked over to the mirror and held it up under her chin, tilting her head and frowning.
“Veronica, come in here, dear,” Gertie called out as Veronica passed by her office.
“Hi, Gertie, I’m super busy. Give me a few minutes, and let me just go—”
“What in the heck is that?” Gertie exclaimed as she wheeled herself into the hallway and pointed at what Veronica was holding.
There were two white mice in a plastic box that Veronica was holding as far away from her body as she could.
“Mice? Are those from here? Do we have mice? Oh no!”
“Uhh, no! No, of course not, Gertie. You know we keep this facility spotless. These are my… pets. Pet mice. You know, like hamsters? Mice are very smart. I bring them to work sometimes, just so they get out of the house and have a different view. I told you about them once, remember?”
Gertie side-eyed the mice, frowning as she did so. She didn’t remember anyone telling her about having pet mice. She might be old, but she wasn’t senile. And if anyone was going to have pet mice, Veronica would be the last person that Gertie would guess to have them. She was too uptight.
“Really, they are your pets? Mice, huh? Well, keep them safe from Kidney. He’d love to get his little paws on them.”
“I will. By the way, I love his tuxedo for the ball! It’s so cute!” Veronica gushed.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? I love how Marly was able to work the Kidney Foundation color into it. He’s not the biggest fan of wearing it, but since he will get to eat his favorite food, those damn scallops, I think he’ll be fine at the ball.”
“Oh, he’ll stay put for any food, that’s for sure. Well, I need to get to my car. I forgot some toys for these guys.”
Gertie watched Veronica walk away with her creepy pet mice. It sure was a strange choice for pets, but it was a sign of the times, she guessed.
She turned and wheeled back into her office, where Myrtle was standing with the gown on. It fit like a glove, and although Gertie knew Myrtle well, she certainly hadn’t ever noticed that she had quite the hourglass figure. The length was perfect, and the flare at the bottom added a special effect to the gown.
“Not bad for an old broad, huh?” Myrtle laughed as she twirled around.
“That looks so amazing on you. You have to wear it! Here, let’s do your makeup for you. We need a different colored lipstick and maybe less blush,” Gertie said enthusiastically. Myrtle had a habit of wearing very bright lipstick and blush, and this dress and Edward needed a more subtle look for makeup. She was going to make sure that Edward noticed how great Myrtle looked if it killed her.
“Oh, that’s okay. I know you are busy, and I am more than fine doing—”
“I insist, Myrtle,” Gertie said firmly.
“Okay, okay,” Myrtle replied as Gertie wheeled back into the hallway so Myrtle could get changed.
As she sat in the hallway, she thought about Veronica’s pet mice. It just didn’t seem right. And how she and Sarah and Harper had all been out on the old loading dock. Something was fishy.
15
“This glaze is so good. And broiling it to get that crunch is perfection. Really.”
Sarah smiled as Raffe ate his third appetizer. The two of them were supposed to be prepping all the food, not eating it all! The charity ball was soon. Raffe had come by to help Logan set up the cameras and had stopped in to see Sarah.
“Thanks. I used spicy honey. We first used it at the Chef Masters Challenge, remember?” she asked him, placing a large sheet pan on the counter.
“Ahh, yes. So good. What’s going in here?” he asked, pointing at the pan.
“Tomato slices with mozzarella on top. Then drizzled with balsamic.”
Raffe frowned.
“What? Not good?” Sarah asked, spraying some olive oil on the sheet.
“Why don’t you add something crispy for the top? You know, like...”
“Like this?” Sarah asked, holding out finely crushed panko breadcrumbs. They were homemade and had butter and a pinch of garlic in them. “I plan on warming them up in the convection oven so they are crispy and then crumbling them over the top prior to serving.”
“Exactly. That’s perfect!”
Sarah smiled.
“This reminds me of the contest. We worked together so well there. What happened? I mean… we didn’t work like that at EightyEight. In fact, we worked the opposite way, more like we were on separate teams,” Raffe said.
Sarah took a deep breath.
“I agree that we worked together really well for the contest. But when I started working for you at EightyEight, I just felt like you were micromanaging me. That you didn’t trust me enough with the menu choices or specials, you know? And that really made me feel disappointed.”
“I can understand that. And let me just say this first, your food is always outstanding. It’s just that you usually come up with the final recipe at the last minute, and I need some time to work them into the menu. You know we print the night’s specials before one o’clock, but you don’t usually have a final dish until close to five. So then it isn’t in the menu or on the specials list, and it’s up to the servers to r
emember to tell the customer about it.”
Sarah stopped what she was doing. That example made perfect sense, but he had never actually told her that before.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before? About the deadline, I mean?”
“I’m pretty sure I did. And let’s not talk about all of the dishes you thought of last minute but didn’t have enough ingredients on hand for, which meant we ran out after a certain amount had been served. Remember, people were starting to talk about the restaurant by saying that if you didn’t get there before seven, the specials were gone? That wasn’t the best publicity.”
Sarah felt bad. She felt stupid and selfish. She had spent so much time focusing on Raffe asking her about her food that she hadn’t stepped back and looked at the big picture of why he was doing it. What restaurant wanted to run out of specials or not even have the item on the menu at all? Ugh.
“Welp, I feel like an idiot. I guess I owe you an apology for not taking the time to understand how my last-minute creations caused so many issues.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I should have explained things better, I guess.”
“So, what could I have done to fix it?” she asked.
“Give me the details a day ahead of time. Or, if you can’t, explain why, and maybe we could change how we do certain specials. You know, call it something else and have a special board for it at every table. Although I don’t want the tables to be too crowded, so maybe that’s not a good idea.”
“Well, a day ahead of time doesn’t really allow for me to be as creative as I want. No, not want. Need. I need to be creative.”
“Well, maybe there’s a happy medium. What about noon the day of? That way we have time to print the daily specials on paper as well as ensure we have enough ingredients on hand.”
“Hmmmm…that could work,” Sarah said.
“So, will you consider coming back then? To EightyEight?”
“Raffe, to be honest, I love working here for Gertie.”
Raffe looked disappointed, and Sarah immediately felt bad.
“But…I do love having the ability to work at EightyEight and create specials. Is there a happy medium? I mean, let’s face it. Maybe if I’m not there every day, it will be better for our relationship? I mean, if you still want one.”
She realized that their talk had only focused on work and not their actual relationship. Maybe he only wanted his head chef back?
“Sarah! Of course I still want a relationship with you. I’m miserable without you. If you don’t want to work at EightyEight, that’s fine, as long as you’re willing to give us another shot. That’s all I care about. You.”
Raffe moved closer to her, and just as he was about to kiss her, a loud noise from outside interrupted them.
“What the heck was that?” Raffe asked.
Sarah grabbed the closest thing she could, a meat tenderizer, and rushed toward the door.
“Stop! Don’t go out there yet. We need to think this through. What if there is something—or someone—dangerous outside?"
It was too late. Sarah had heard him, but she was already halfway out the door, the meat tenderizer in the air. Something caught her eye, and she flew over to the dumpster.
“Aha!” she yelled, jumping out, her right arm raised in the air with the meat tenderizer.
“What? Oh, for Pete’s sake, put that down, Sarah. What are you doing, trying to tenderize me?”
“Gertie! What the heck are you doing here?” Sarah lowered her arm, thankful that she hadn’t whacked Gertie over the head. Maybe Raffe was right—maybe she needed to think about things before she jumped in.
“Gertie, what are you doing out here?”
“Looking for Kidney. I need to get him ready for the ball. He’s the star! But I didn’t see him inside, and I can’t find him anywhere out here. I need to get back inside and find him before the ball starts!”
Sarah walked beside Gertie and opened the door for her. She watched her wheel away as Raffe stood beside her.
“Okay, so I guess I shouldn’t have had such a knee-jerk reaction,” she said, blushing as she went to put the meat tenderizer back.
“Ya think?” Raffe replied, laughing. “But in hindsight, we could have just looked at the cameras that Logan had set up to see who was out there.”
Brenda rolled her eyes as she walked through the swinging doors back into the hallway from the ballroom. That idiot food critic Franz Durkin was at the event, talking to Veronica and Gertie in their fancy ballgowns. She hated Durkin because he’d been one of the judges at the Chef Masters Challenge.
The three of them were drinking champagne and laughing. Well, they wouldn’t be laughing when their stomachs started to flip from the spoiled food. She stepped into the ladies’ room to check that her wig was still on correctly. She hadn’t worn one before and was worried that it would be crooked or fall off, but it was fine. A chin-length curly black bob and some thick, black-rimmed costume glasses, and she almost didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
She checked her pocket for the bottle of ipecac, patting it like it was a prized pet. It was concentrated, so a small amount was all that was needed to make a person sick to their stomach. She laughed, thinking how easy it was to buy it on the internet.
The bathroom door burst open, and a woman wearing a sky-blue gown flew past her into the end stall, where she started to throw up. Brenda made a face. Gross! Then she smiled, holding back a laugh. It sounded like the food might already be bad. Maybe she didn’t even need to go through with her plan!
Marly leaned up against the wall in the ladies’ room, catching her breath. This was horrible. How come they called it morning sickness when hers was all day long? She took some toilet paper and wiped her forehead off then listened for the door to open. She felt like an idiot. Someone had been standing at the sink when she had run past.
She waited until she heard the door open and close before she left the stall. Running her hands under the cold water, she realized she didn’t have her purse with her. She must have left it in Gertie’s office earlier. She had shown up at the event early with Jasper and Edward. Luckily, her makeup looked okay. There was a knock on the door.
“Marly? Hon, are you okay?”
She stared at the door, knowing it was Jasper. Yes, dear, I’m okay. I’m just pregnant, she wanted to say. She had been putting off telling him because he had been so negative about kids lately. He was always commenting on how he was glad they didn’t have any. He would point out noisy babies at restaurants or at the movies and say, “Thank God we don’t have one of those.”
How was she supposed to feel good about telling him that she was pregnant?
16
“Of course he’s going to be happy! How can you think that he won’t be?”
Marly's eyes welled up with tears, and she grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the corners in an attempt to stop the flow.
“Ever since the doctor said that I might not even be able to have kids, he’s been making comments. Just here and there, but still. What if he doesn’t want to have kids?”
She took a deep breath and stood up straight. Maybe it was the hormones, but she had been overly sensitive the past few days. She really couldn’t be falling apart right now, crying tonight at the ball.
“Marly, I’m sure he will be thrilled when he hears he’s going to be a dad. You can’t hide it from him forever! When are you going to tell him?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know. You’re right. I can’t hide it from him forever. And he’s certainly going to pick up on it when I don’t drink any alcohol tonight. As it is, I’ve been making up excuse after excuse over the last few weeks for why I’ve been sick or why I can’t have wine at dinner. Maybe I will tell him tonight if the timing is right.”
“I hate to tell you this, my friend, but odds are the timing will never be right.”
Marly sighed. Sarah was right. Odds were pretty high that there was never going to be a good time to tell Jasper that she
was pregnant.
17
Sarah wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, satisfied that things were under control. The main dishes had all been taken up to the ballroom. According to Veronica, everything was going perfect so far, and the guests all loved the appetizers. She told her sous-chefs that she needed to take a quick break and hustled down the hallway to the small room where Logan had set up the cameras.
“Any news?” she asked Logan and Raffe, who were both sitting in chairs across from the monitors, their eyes glued to the screens.
“So far, so good,” Logan said. “By the way, nice job catching that perp by the dumpster. Tell me, was your plan to tenderize her to death?”
Sarah gave Logan a playful slap on the shoulder as Raffe laughed.
“I won’t be quitting my day job to be a detective any time soon, I guess.”
“Well, everything seems to be going as planned. Do you see anything or anyone who seems out of place?” Logan asked them both.
Sarah looked at all the different monitors, focusing on the ones that were in the ballroom, and examined the crowd of people. No one in particular stood out to her. It was all just the servers from the temp agency, a few members of her kitchen staff, and Veronica and Harper.
“Jeez, if there’s a crime being committed, it’s how bad Franz dances,” Raffe joked, making Sarah and Logan laugh as they watched him on the monitor. He was on the dance floor by himself, spinning around in circles and clapping his hands.
“Wow, Myrtle looks fantastic!” Sarah said.
She watched as Myrtle walked past Edward to the dance floor and headed toward Franz. Edward did a double take as she walked by, looking her up and down as she slowly passed in front of him.
“Come on, Edward, ask her to dance!” Sarah heard Raffe mutter under his breath.
Dish Best Served Cold (Corporate Chaos Series Book 5) Page 9
