Pushed

Chapter 2

The wild riceand morel mushroom soup had been simmering for hours. Lifting the lid, I breathed in the tantalizing aroma. Yes. After weeks of perfecting my recipe, the spices were just right. I ladled it into a bowl for my boss. The pan-seared walleye with herb-infused butter, wild rice pilaf and asparagus was already plated and ready to go. Taking a steadying deep breath, I carried the dishes to his table.

I’d been the head chef at Moonstruck Steakhouse for several months and hadn’t been allowed to make any changes to the menu. But if Mr. Quince liked this soup, that could all change.

I held my breath as I approached his table and set the soup down. This was it. My moment of truth.

“Here you are, Mr. Quince. I’ve been working on some new recipes that I think you’re going to love.”

“These look and smell delicious.” The stocky man leaned over the bowl, his round belly pressing into the table as he wafted the steam toward his face. His eyes closed with a deep inhale. “Thank you, Chef Scott.”

“I’ll let you eat in peace and will check back with you in a little bit. Is there anything else that you need?”

“No. This is fantastic. Thank you.”

I fled to the safety of the kitchen but kept peeking out at the dining room. From where he was sitting, I could see him eating, but I couldn’t see the expression on his face. Couldn’t tell if he liked it or not.

He mustn’t think it’s too bad if he’s eating it all.

Before he finished his meal, I dished up dessert and carried it out to him.

“How are you enjoying the meal so far?” I asked.

“Mm. It’s absolutely delicious.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a contented sigh while patting his belly. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I also made a special dessert, Blueberry Rhubarb Torte. Made from all local ingredients. Even the drizzled honey is local.” I set the dessert on the table next to his plate.

He took a bite with his fork and moaned. “Wow. This is incredible. This might be the best dessert I’ve ever tasted.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “I was hoping to add these items to our menu as seasonal specials. They would appeal to the tourists and the locals as well.”

The joyful smile fell from his face. He set down his fork, his head slowly swiveling side to side. “As good as these are, the menu is staying the way it is. My wife, God rest her soul, perfected this menu over the years. She put her heart and soul into this place. I owe it to her memory to keep her legacy the way she created it.”

The air rushed out of me like I’d been sucker-punched in the gut. He loved my food but rejected my ideas. Again. And I’m supposed to accept that? He might as well have patted me on the head and told me to go back to the kitchen like a good little girl.

It probably wouldn’t do me any good, but I had to fight for what I wanted, and at least talk him into a compromise. “How about just some daily specials, then? The menu will stay the same, but we can offer a few daily specials like this, for people who want to try something different. It’s a win-win.”

He shook his head. “This restaurant and its menu have worked just fine the way they are for forty-three years. I see no reason to change it now.”

“But sir, I’m sure we could bring in more guests and increase our profits if we tried out a few of my ideas.”

“I hired you to cook Myrna’s recipes, and you promised me that you could do them justice, and you have. But if that’s not enough for you and you want to do something different, maybe I need to find a new chef.”

I pressed my lips closed and steeled my spine to keep my emotions in check as I gathered his dishes. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I’m happy to continue making your wife’s creations and doing her proud.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Now be sure to leave the dessert. I’m not ready to let that go yet. I might even lick the plate.” He winked at me. As if he hadn’t just given me an ultimatum.

“Certainly. Take your time.”

I rushed back into the kitchen, deposited the dishes into a bin, and leaned my hands against the counter. “Uuuggh.” I groaned and pounded my fist against the smooth metal surface. “He’s never going to give me any creative control in this kitchen. What am I even doing here?”

You’re trying to prove yourself, remember? That takes time.

Right. He loved the dishes I made. That’s something. I’ll just have to hold on to that. My time will come.

As I was prepping for the evening, my sous chef and second in command, Eric, came in the back door carrying what looked like a box of vegetables. A tiny white-haired lady followed on his heels.

“What’s all this?” I asked, with a little more bark than I intended.

The old woman smiled. “I brought you some fresh herbs from my garden. Thought you might be able to put them to good use.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Was it okay to accept the goods of a stranger and use it in the restaurant? I wasn’t sure what the policy was.

“I’m Tillie. I was an old friend of Myrna’s, and I used to bring her herbs all the time. So Ted shouldn’t have a problem with you using them. You can use them here or bring it all home with you. Completely up to you.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”

“I understand you’re new in town, but that’s the way we do things around here. We try to help each other out whenever we can. Oh, and I have something else for you. An extra ticket to a fundraising gala this week. It’s to raise money to fight world hunger. A lot of restaurateurs and vintners will be there. When I was trying to figure out who to give this ticket to, I thought a chef would be the perfect recipient. The tickets are quite expensive, and very sought-after. I understand the event is sold out. I’d love for you to go in my place. We can’t let this ticket go to waste—please say you’ll take it.”

She handed me an envelope. A buzz of excitement moved through me as I opened it and pulled out the gold embossed ticket. This event would be the perfect opportunity to network with other chefs and restaurateurs. I bet some of them would appreciate my skills and creativity and be grateful to have me. Maybe my luck was finally changing.

But why would this woman I’d never met, give this to me? There had to be a catch.

I tried to pass the envelope back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“Oh, I’m positive. I’ve been to this before and had a wonderful time. Met some very handsome men, too.” She waggled her eyebrows and winked at me. “But now it’s time to pass the torch to the younger generation and see what changes they can create.” She reached out and touched my hand, looking me straight in the eye. “Sometimes dreams change, but other times they just manifest in a different form than we expected. Don’t give up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The knot in the pit of my stomach said differently.

“It’ll come to you when the time is right. But for now, just promise me you won’t let this ticket go to waste. It’s very important that you go.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what, dear?”

“Why is it important that I go?”

“Have you ever heard of a pivotal moment where everything in your life changes based on one event or decision?”

I nodded.

“This gala just might be that moment for you.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Not in the least. Your dreams are about to come true.” She smiled and her eyes lit her entire face. Then she danced out the back door, humming as she went.

I looked over at Eric. “What was that all about?”

He burst out laughing. “You’re officially a part of Moonlit Lake, now that you’ve encountered Hurricane Tillie.”

“Why would she give me this ticket? It’s probably worth hundreds of dollars. And she doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s Tillie. And it’s best not to go against what she says, even if it doesn’t make sense. The woman just knows things.”

“What do you mean? Like she’s psychic?” Goosebumps rose on my arms.

“Something like that. All I know is that when Tillie advises you to do something, it is wise to do as she says. If she says your dreams will come true at this event, you better be there.”

My dream was shriveling and dying in the hands of Mr. Quince, so what did I have to lose? “Alright. I guess I’m going to a gala. Can you cover my shift Thursday night? I’ll get everything ready for you before I go.”

“I guess so. Far be it from me to stand between you and your dreams, whatever those may be.”

“Then you better get chopping. Right now, my dream is having everything ready before the rush so our night goes smoothly. Get a move on.”

In the privacy of the back office, I pulled the ticket out again to get a better look at it. My hand shook when I saw my given name—a name I never used, much less shared—printed on the ticket.

It’s not like I was in the witness protection or anything. I just preferred to have everyone call me AJ or Chef Scott. But this strange woman showed up here and said she had an extra ticket. A ticket that already had my given name printed on it. It didn’t make sense.

How did Tillie know?