18. Oskar
Driving awayfrom Kelsey’s house, I nearly felt physically ill. I hated to go, but I was also stressed as hell about the restaurant. I was already calling Sophie to give me a rundown of the night before.
“Oskar, calm down.”
“But it was okay?”
“It was fine. There was like, one hiccup, but we figured it out. I promise.”
I felt the knot in my chest loosen a little bit. “You said it was slow.”
“Slow but not too slow. It’s actually quieter tonight.”
Would people not come in if I wasn’t cooking? Was that another thing I needed to worry about? Did I need to worry that my face was part of the draw?
And if that was the case, what did that mean for me and Kelsey trying to have a long-distance relationship?
“I’ll be back by dinner service,” I told her as I neared the highway. “Victor can start the prep, but I should be back by five unless I run into really bad traffic.”
“Okay,” she said. “We got this, Oskar.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay.”
“Hey.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “How was your weekend?”
“Oh.” I smiled. “It was great. It was really great.”
“Good,” she said. “You deserve to have a life too, okay?”
Right. The problem was, there was more than my life hanging on the restaurant succeeding. I had employees and vendors, and my sister was an investor. Josh’s winery was involved in it now. And more than anything, my own reputation was at stake.
There was an embarrassingly prominent part of me that wanted to throw Kelsey Rankin over my shoulder and drag her physically back to Arroyo Grande. With the last of my higher brain function, I reminded myself that love wasn’t an excuse for kidnapping.
And no matter what I wanted, it was going to have to be her decision to move back; otherwise, she’d just end up resenting me when things didn’t go according to plan.
Because if there was one thing I knew about life, it never went according to plan.
I also knew that telling her that I loved her in a language she could understand was liable to spook her. Hell, I was still getting used to the idea. I was pretty sure Kelsey would freak out.
I turned onto the highway and glanced at the screen in my car, noticing a voicemail. It was one of my vegetable salesmen, Dave Miyamoto. He’d left it a couple of hours ago.
“Hey, Oskar… it’s Dave. I know you’re out of town until later this week. I hate interrupting you, but give me a call when you get back, all right? Catch you later.”
Please don’t let us be short on anything for the week.That would screw up the menu I had set with Victor. I sighed. There wasn’t anything I was going to be able to do about it until I got home, so I concentrated on driving.
Passing through Gilroy and then Salinas, I wondered how familiar I was going to get with this drive. That also caused me to think more about Hanna. I had a feeling that I had been neglecting things with my sister. It was easy to think of Hanna as being completely self-sufficient because she had always been so independent, but I knew that I hadn’t been paying much attention to her as I should have been since starting the restaurant.
Hanna never talked about friends. She didn’t talk about seeing anyone in particular. I didn’t expect details on the men or women she chose to date, but she never mentioned one, even in passing.
She talked about work or she talked about what was going on with me or various mutual acquaintances from Copenhagen, London, or New York.
We were both workaholics, but I did have a social life. I’d made friends with Josh, and now Sergio, Kurt, and Talia were quickly becoming a regular part of my life in Arroyo Grande.
It had taken a while, but I finally felt like I’d found a place where I could build the kind of life I wanted. Kelsey? Well, she was just the icing on the cake.
“There was one hiccup…”
What was the hiccup?
I called Sophie back, but she didn’t pick up, so I called Victor.
His phone went to voicemail after two rings.
Two rings. Not immediately like he was on another call. Not after several like he wasn’t around his phone.
Two. Rings.
My sous had just hit Ignore on my call.
“What was the fucking hiccup?” I called Sophie again.
Then I called Victor again. Neither of them was picking up.
What. The. Fuck.
Sophie was young, but I put a lot of trust in her because she really knew what she was doing. She’d been a hell of a find for me. She grew up in a family restaurant but had no ambition to be a chef. She did, however, want to manage more than her family’s diner, so she’d interviewed with me on a recommendation from one of my vendors.
She was brutally organized and had an incredible sense for customer service, which I was almost completely lacking. She also had great judgment about people and spoke fluent Spanish, which was practically a requirement in the restaurant business.
Victor was young, but he was eager as shit to learn and he caught on to everything fast. Mesa was his first sous-chef position, but so far he’d risen to the occasion.
Maybe mobile service was spotty.
I switched on the radio and checked my rearview mirror before accelerating. The trip usually took around four and a half hours, but I knew I could shave off at least half an hour if I pushed it. I was starting to get anxious to get back to Mesa. Something felt off.
By the timeI pulled into Mesa’s parking lot, I was seething. I’d called Sophie and Victor multiple times, and neither of them had called me back.
I had a feeling the “little hiccup” had been a lot bigger than Sophie was letting on. I knew something had gone to shit last night, and I was really pissed off that they were avoiding me.
Damn it. Couldn’t I be gone for two nights without things falling apart?
As I walked into the kitchen, I saw Sophie and Victor pull away from a heated discussion and look at me. Victor looked guilty, and Sophie looked almost as pissed off as I was. I cleared my throat to get their attention and silently hung up my jacket before leaning against one of the worktables with my arms crossed across my chest.
I was trying to remain calm, so I spoke quietly. “Good afternoon. Anything going on that I need to know about?”
Sophie’s chin jutted out, and I noticed the flush on her cheeks. She looked pointedly at Victor. “Oskar, I want to apologize for not calling you back. Victor wanted to speak to you before I told you, but I shouldn’t have ignored you.”
Fuck. I knew something had gone wrong. “Thank you for apologizing. In the future, please remember that you are my manager first and his friend second. Don’t let it happen again.”
She nodded. “Yes, Chef.”
“Please excuse us. Victor, my office. Now.”
I turned and walked into my small office. I was mentally going over all the things that could have gone wrong and also reminding myself of all the mistakes I’d made as a young chef so I didn’t overreact.
I sat down on the edge of my desk and crossed my arms before pointing at the small chair in the corner.
Victor shut the door and sat down. “Oskar, I’m sorry?—”
“You will address me professionally right now if you want to keep working here.”
His face crumpled. “Excuse me, Chef. I would like to apologize, Chef.”
“Start at the beginning and tell me everything. Sophie said it was a hiccup. Was it more than a hiccup?”
Victor sighed. “Sunday was great. Smooth sailing. And all the prep yesterday went fine. I’d cooked everything with you before, so it was smooth, Chef. I promise it was smooth.”
“What happened last night?”
“Shit, Chef. I was being cocky. I should have called. I know that.”
“Just tell me what the hell went wrong.”
“It was the ravioli, Chef.”
“Start at the beginning. I need to know what happened.”
The vegetable delivery had started it. Victor had questioned one of the prices that Dave quoted, not realizing that I’d already agreed on it with the salesman. Instead of calling me on Tuesday morning like he should have, Victor asked Dave to replace the butternut squash, which we were using for a ravioli filling, with the cheaper pumpkin.
“Okay, Victor. First of all, never challenge Dave on a price. I’ve been buying from him for years. You should have called meif you thought something seemed off.”
“You were seeing your girl, Chef.”
“Absolutely none of your concern,” I snapped. “You call me.”
“Yes, Chef.” His cheeks were a little flushed.
“Is that why Dave is calling me today?”
“Probably.”
“You’ve probably pissed off one of the best suppliers on the coast. I can smooth that over, but I know something else happened or Sophie wouldn’t be so mad. Get to the main issue.”
He stared at his feet. “Chef, I’ve never made ravioli before. Not from scratch like that.”
I blinked. I knew Victor was self-trained, but he was so good at everything else that I’d never questioned it. Some of the best chefs I knew hadn’t been formally trained.
But what the fuck?
I asked him, “Victor, when you interviewed for this position, did you not tell me you were experienced in fresh pasta preparation and technique?”
“Yes, Chef. And I have done?—”
“Is ravioli a pasta?”
“Yes, Chef.”
He insulted one of my best vendors and lied to me about what he could do in the kitchen.
Pissed off didn’t really cover it.
“Then why the fuck are you telling me now that you can’t make it? When I set the menu for the week, I asked you specifically whether you were going to have a problem with anything on it. Did you think I wasn’t going to notice?”
“No, Chef. I mean?—”
“I’m assuming you knew that you would have to make them. Why the fuck am I hearing about this now?”
His cheeks were bright red and his jaw was tight. “I thought I’d be able to figure it out on my own, Chef. I didn’t want to tell you I didn’t know how to make them. I was practicing all day on Sunday and Monday and it went okay?—”
“We don’t make fucking okay ravioli in this restaurant. We make the best fucking ravioli our guests have ever had. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Chef.”
I kept my temper in check. “You owe me another apology.”
“I am so sorry. If you want me to?—”
“When have I ever embarrassed you for not knowing how to do something in the kitchen?”
Victor’s voice dropped. “Never, Chef.”
“You’ve worked harder than anyone I know to get where you are. You could have your own restaurant someday, and I want that for you.” Anger and disappointment was burning in my chest. “I thought we were better than that. You’re my sous. I don’t expect you to know everything, but I do expect honesty.”
I paced back and forth in my tiny office and tried to calm down. Victor sat there, not hiding, his chin up and his eyes forward. He was a good kid, and I tried to remember being that young and cocky. I never wanted to admit that I didn’t know something either.
But when I got caught, I fully expected to be ripped apart by my chef. He wasn’t shrinking from that, and that made me proud of him.
I was genuinely surprised he didn’t know how to make the pasta, and I wondered how I had missed that in the past. It wasn’t the first time it had been on the menu. I’d have to talk to him about it after I had dealt with his dishonesty.
“I’m disappointed that you felt like you couldn’t ask me to teach you that. It’s not a big deal, and I know you’re more than capable. Can I assume that your attempt didn’t work out?”
He sighed heavily. “Having the wrong filling didn’t help. But yeah, I messed up. They probably would have tasted okay, but they looked like shit.” He shook his head. “I didn’t serve them, Chef. I wouldn’t do that. I was able to substitute a risotto with pumpkin and wild mushrooms so we had a vegetarian option, but Sophie’s pretty pissed at me because we had to tell tables that their food was delayed.” He sighed again. “She’s probably going to break up with me.”
In that moment, he’d never been more twenty-four. “Victor, I am so unconcerned with your love life right now, you don’t even want to know. And for future reference, do not fucking drag Sophie into your shit again. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“Yes, Chef.”
I tried to think. I didn’t want to fire him. It was a mistake, but an understandable one. He was young, and I shouldn’t have had him open for the week without supervision. I had to accept responsibility too. I was really pissed that he’d lied to me, and some of my trust in him had been shaken.
“I want you here tomorrow morning first thing, and I will teach you how to make the most common filled pastas. You’re going to bust your ass the rest of this week, and you will be cleaning up the kitchen without help after every service. It better be spotless.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“I expect you to apologize to Sophie and Dave. You’ll be here the next time he delivers and you’ll apologize.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Thank you for owning up.” Finally. “Go apologize to Sophie. If you’re smart and you want to keep seeing her, I would recommend a little groveling. But do it on your own time; you need to start prep and I have a whole shitload of ravioli that I have to make on my own, so I’m not going to be able to help much.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Dismissed.”
I tooka break around four o’clock to call Kelsey. I should have called her as soon as I got back, but I’d been distracted by the ravioli catastrophe. Victor was tiptoeing around me in the kitchen, which also pissed me off but was understandable.
I’d sent Sophie home and told her to be back at the usual time.
I went out to the eucalyptus trees and sat down with my phone and a large glass of water. I flexed my hands, which were cramped from making all the pasta, and stretched my legs out in front of the picnic table. I dialed her number and hoped she didn’t have a meeting in the city that afternoon.
For the most part, Kelsey was allowed to make her own schedule, which was pretty nice. Other than being there for editorial meetings, she seemed to work when and where she wanted. When I was visiting her, I noticed her up in the middle of the night a few times working on things.
I knew she had certain areas and restaurants she had to cover, but I also knew she set the tone for her regular column and her editor took her word on what was or wasn’t worth covering. She did a lot of research from home, and she also had a hell of a lot of contacts. She seemed to know almost everyone in the restaurant and farming world in some way or another.
As the phone rang, I wondered how much she might be able to work from here because I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to jaunt up to the Bay Area like I’d thought I might before this weekend.
Kelsey’s phone went to voicemail, and I left her a quick message, asking her to call me back if she got the message in the next half hour or so.
I wouldn’t be back up north anytime soon, which made me twice as angry with Victor, but I had to check that. It wasn’t Victor’s fault that my girlfriend lived four hours away. It did add a whole extra layer of fucked up to the situation.
I was hoping after I met Kelsey that I’d have some more free time than I’d had in the past couple of years. Apparently that wasn’t going to happen.
My phone rang about five minutes later.
“Kelsey?”
She giggled. “Hey, Cupcake. I am drunk.”
I wiped my hand across my face and shook my head. “Is Felipe over there?”
“Yesssss.” She was really toasted for… I looked at my watch. Four in the afternoon?
“I’m jealous. I walked into a bit of a shitstorm here at the restaurant. Glad you’re having a good afternoon.”
Inside, I was wishing I could string two words together on paper so I could be a food writer too.
No, that was a lie. I never wanted to be anything but a chef.
Kelsey’s tone turned sympathetic. “Awww, honey. I’m sorry. Now I feel bad for feeling bad.”
Okay, that didn’t really make much sense.
“When did Felipe come over?”
“Umm… around noon, I think. He knew I was sad.”
So that’s what she meant. I was glad she wasn’t alone. I was also glad she seemed to miss me as much as I missed her. It made me feel a little better about being such a whiny prick about the whole thing.
I decided she could use a little teasing. “What are you sad about? You’re drinking at four in the afternoon.”
Silence.
Oh shit. Was Kelsey an emotional drunk?
I heard her sniff. Oh no. I made my girlfriend cry.
“I’m just sad you’re gone, and I miss you, and I had such an amazing time when you were here and… Felipe’s waving at me to give him the phone.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“Okay, here’s Fel?—”
“Girl, stop.”
“What? Why?” I heard her voice in the background. “Was I being dumb?”
“Oskar?”
“Hey, Felipe. Are you as drunk as she is?”
“Oh hell no. She was keeping up with me and she’s about half my size, so she’s pretty toasted. She was gonna start crying if she kept talking to you is all. She gets weepy when she’s had a few drinks, even if she’s happy.”
“I do not!” I heard her protesting in the background. “Wait, do I?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” he said. “I’ll stay with her and make sure she eats. Caroline’s got the café today. Kelsey, go get a sandwich, honey. There’re sandwiches in the fridge.”
“Oh really?”
Felipe asked, “So how did everything go at the restaurant while you were gone? Don’t even tell me fine, ’cause there’s bound to be at least one fuckup every time you surrender your kitchen.”
I cursed quietly.
“That bad?”
It was good to talk to someone who would get it. I realized that even Kelsey wouldn’t understand like Felipe would. “Not a disaster, but I discovered my sous doesn’t know how to make filled pastas from scratch.”
“Fuuuuuck.”
“Yeah, and this is after we set the menu for the week with butternut squash ravioli on it. He flat-out decided not to tell me, so I’m pissed at him.”
“Sounds young. Is he?”
“He is.”
“Unless he’s a fuckup in other areas, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. We all made shit-tastic mistakes like that when we were starting out and wanted to impress our head chef. At least, I know I did.”
“I did too. I just wish I had someone reliable to leave the restaurant with like you have Caroline.”
“Well now, Caroline and I are sort of a unique partnership. I know what you mean though. Gonna limit your time hanging around up here, isn’t it?”
“And that’s the last thing I want right now.”
“You know, man…” He lowered his voice. “I love that girl, but she could stand to work for it a little. She gets too stuck in a rut. I love her to death, but she needs to get her butt moving in a different direction. She ain’t happy here. Not really. Maybe if she’s missing something down south, she’ll see she needs to move back home.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. I guess I was relieved that someone so close to her thought the same thing I did. “Um… I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Oskar, my man, don’t even worry about it. I saw the way you looked at her. That shit’s between you two though. None of my business. I tried to poke my nose in about Austin, and she just ignored me. I’m staying out of it this time.”
Speaking of Austin…
“Hey, Felipe, he’s not dangerous or anything, is he?”
Felipe just laughed. He laughed for a long time. When he finally came back on the phone he asked, “Oskar, have you met Austin?”
“Yes. He came by the house while I was there.”
“Damn. And you’re still asking? He’s not dangerous, just annoying. And I know he’s scared of me. I don’t think that guy has enough imagination to try anything dangerous, but he will keep bugging her. What did Kelsey say when he came by? I can imagine her being dangerous if he doesn’t quit.”
“So I had an idea?—”
“You gonna make drama?” Felipe sounded delighted. “I live for that. Tell me everything.”
I filled Felipe in on my visit with Asshole Austin and my little plan to get him to stop bugging Kelsey while simultaneously contributing to the Bay Area’s most ridiculous charities. He belly laughed while approving wholeheartedly and promised to take care of any suspicions raised by notices of anonymous donations in her name to the Save the Ferrets Foundation.
“Should we tell her?” I asked him.
“Hmmm. I know we probably should, but I sort of want to get back at her for every boring dinner party she made me sit through with that man. I say we keep it to ourselves, at least for a while. Besides, she’s nice. She’d probably make us stop ’cause it was mean or something.”
“Fine, but if she finds out, you’re taking part of the blame. Oh, and start working on finding some ridiculous charities, all right?”
It was getting close to dinner service, so I needed to get back to work.
“Hey, Felipe. Has Kelsey sobered up at all?”
“Yeah, she just walked in here and she’s sticking her tongue out at me and asking for the phone. She must be feeling better. Here you go, lovebird.”
I heard Kelsey grab the phone.
“Oskar, I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I’m kind of a mess when I’m drunk. I ate something, so I’m better. How is the restaurant? Is everything going to be okay?”
“It’s fine. It was good to get some perspective from Felipe. Tell him I said thanks.”
“No problem. I’m glad he could help. He’s good for that.”
“Yeah.” I felt a twist in my gut. “I miss you already. I wish you were here.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Did you figure out a weekend that you can come down?”
“Not this weekend or next, but maybe the one after that. I think I could come down in the middle of the week and combine it with some work stuff so I can stay through Sunday. That would give us a long weekend. You’d have to work, but maybe we could go to the farmers’ market together this time.”
I smiled. “I’m already looking forward to it. Let me know when you know for sure.”
“Then two weeks after that is Thanksgiving week, and I might be able to swing the whole week off. I hardly ever take my actual vacation days, so I have some coming. I really want to spend it at Josh’s this year.”
I did a mental and actual fist pump. “I’ll cook if he provides the wine.”