Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
LUKE
I love owning my own restaurant, but no one ever tells you that most of the work isn’t creating fabulous culinary feasts, which is the reason I became a chef. It’s bookkeeping. My brain starts to fog over as I shuffle through a stack of receipts. I don’t look up until I hear the voice of my general manager, Eve. “Leave those. I’ll have Charlie tally everything up when she does payroll on Thursday.”
I indicate the chair across from my desk for her to sit down. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but it could be a month or longer.”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re going to be fine. Just keep us posted on your dad. Maybe send some pictures of your family restaurant so we can see how far you’ve come.”
As Eve crosses one long leg over the other, a flash of our two poorly-fated dates pops into my mind. All we could talk about was work, and you know what they say about all work and no play. Toward the end of our second outing, Eve confessed that she didn’t think we were meant to be more than friends and great business partners. I agreed with her, but I still thought it was too bad we didn’t click romantically. It’s hard to find time to date like a normal person when you run one of the best and busiest restaurants in Chicago. As such, it’s been years since I’ve so much as had a steady girlfriend.
“I appreciate everything you do around here, Eve. Capon would be nothing without you.” That’s not false praise, either. Restaurants are only as good as the front of the house. It’s well known that diners come to your establishment for the food, but they return for the hospitality. Eve is nothing if not extraordinarily hospitable.
“I’ve got a call out to the culinary school to bring in some temporary help while you’re away. Extra hands doing the grunt work will give the line cooks a chance to take on more responsibility. And you know how cooks are. Always looking for opportunities to enhance their station.”
Nodding my head, I tell her, “That’s perfect. I don’t want to hire someone full time if we won’t need them for long.”
Eve smiles endearingly while swiping a lock of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “The school loves to brag about being able to place their students in restaurants like ours, so it’s a win-win.”
“Just make sure the kitchen keeps a close eye on them. We don’t need any newbies cutting off their fingers while peeling potatoes.” I reference the first student the school sent. He cut off the tip of his finger because he was more focused on flirting with my pastry chef than on chopping onions.
Eve laughs before saying, “I’m sorry about the reason you’re going home, but I think the change of scenery will be good for you.”
My GM is always hounding me to take more time off, but there’s a reason executive chefs aren’t known for how many vacations they take. We have too many demands on our time to worry about our own pleasures. “I suppose it’ll be something of a break, flipping burgers instead of grilling filets,” I grumble .
Ignoring my surly tone, she decides, “It’ll be nice for you to be home. How long has it been, anyway?”
Eve knows I haven’t been back to Elk Lake in the two years since Capon opened. I don’t really want to divulge that it’s been longer than that, so I simply tell her, “It’s been a while.”
“You know that’s pitiful, don’t you?”
I usually like Eve’s straightforwardness, but that’s not currently the case. “Look, I work hard and when I get a day off the last thing I want to do is go home and listen to my dad rail at me for not going into business with him.”
“What about the rest of your family?” she demands.
“I talk to my mom regularly, and my sister visits me twice a year from California. My family life is fine.” I really need her to stop giving me crap. I’m nervous enough about the reception I’ll get from my dad.
Standing up, Eve concludes, “You’re going to have a great time. I just know it.”
“Uh-huh. Listen, if you need me, I can take the train into the city for a night here and there.” The train will be easier if there’s bad weather. And let’s face it, spring in the Midwest could mean anything from a tornado to a snowstorm.
“We won’t need you,” she assures me.
“But if you do …” I don’t have a chance to say anything more because my cellphone rings. Looking at the screen, I see that it’s my friend, Noah. I answer his call with, “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”
Not bothering with pleasantries, he says, “I found you a place to stay.”
“Thank goodness.” The last thing I want to do is stay at home.
“Lorelai is going to let you crash at my parents’ house with her.”
I grimace thinking about my friend’s freckly-faced, rusty-haired little sister. I would have been a moron not to have noticed how she was always hanging around when I was at Noah’s house. While I suppose it was flattering, it was also low-key irritating. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I’m only semi-teasing.
Noah scoffs. “Lorelai is twenty-eight years old, Luke. I guarantee she’s not still holding a torch for you.”
“Good. I mean, you know, it was kind of intense there for a while.” I cite the time she proposed to me when she was in the sixth grade. She even created a PowerPoint presentation for why it would behoove me to wait for her.
Grunting, he says, “Her mind is currently elsewhere.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Lorelai and her boyfriend just broke up. She’s pretty shattered.”
“That’s too bad.” Although, I’m secretly happy her thoughts won’t be on her past infatuation with me. I suppose it’s kind of egocentric of me to assume she’d still be interested, and I suddenly feel like a real heel.
“You might try being extra nice to her,” Noah suggests. “I promise it won’t hurt your tough guy image.”
“What tough guy image?” I demand.
“Aren’t you touted as the most challenging chef in Chicago?” He clarifies, “At least according to Chicago magazine.”
“There’s a difference between being discerning and being difficult.”
Noah laughs. “Call it whatever you want, just be nice to Lorelai. Oh, and don’t tell her that I told you about her breakup. She’s got this thing about people pitying her.”
“Why would I say anything?” If I have my way, I won’t be spending any time with her. I’ll just sneak in and out and keep to myself.
“Things have a way of coming up and I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to have enough on my mind.”
“You nervous about seeing your dad?” he asks.
“Obviously. But more than that, I’m worried about working at Pop’s without him knowing. There’s no telling how he’ll react if he finds out.”
Instead of addressing my concerns, Noah decides, “I think it’s a good thing you’re going home. It’s time.” I love how no one seems to comprehend the level of anxiety I’m feeling. All they think is that it’s time I make things right with my dad. But I didn’t cause our rift. He’s the one who refused to come to my graduation from culinary school. He’s the one who thought my future was up to him, not me. In fact, as soon as I told him I’d taken a job in the city, he started acting like I wasn’t even his son anymore. Things have only gotten worse since then.
“So, I just go to your house when I get to town?”
“Yeah. Lorelai works at the Elk Lake Lodge in the gift shop but she’s off tomorrow and the next day.”
“I’ve heard that place is doing gangbuster business,” I tell him. “I’d like to check out their restaurant while I’m there.”
“I’m sure Lor can help you get a good table.”
“You don’t think I could manage that on my own?” I snort. “Being a James Beard Award-winning chef does have its perks.”
“I thought you liked to keep your anonymity. You know, not wanting everyone to bow to you so you get to see what it’s really like to eat at other restaurants.”
He’s got a point. When fellow chefs find out I’m dining at their establishments, they tend to go overboard. And I do like to see how their average guest is treated. “Maybe you can come home for a weekend while I’m there and we can go together.”
“I have plans to take the team to first place this year, which is going to mean constant work. I won’t be able to get time off until school ends.”
“Good luck with that,” I tell him. My friend is nothing if not driven to have the top-ranking team in Illinois. With his work ethic, I know that’s only a matter of time.
“We don’t need luck. We just have to run our butts off. I swear every year these kids get lazier. ”
“You sound like an old man,” I tell him. “It wasn’t that long ago you were the one playing high school ball.”
“It’s been long enough to know that kids today expect their wins without putting in the effort. We knew what it took, and we put in the time.”
“Okay, grandpa,” I joke. “I need to get going and tie up business here before I leave tomorrow. Thanks for finding me a place to rest my head.”
“No problem,” he says. “Keep in mind that Lorelai wants to open her own bed and breakfast someday. I bet she’d love any tips you might have.”
“I don’t know anything about running a B & B.”
“No, but you know something about cooking. You could show her how to whip up some winning recipes that’ll knock people’s socks off.”
“Maybe …” That idea doesn’t seem at all appealing, but I don’t want to come off as ungrateful. “I’ll call you in a few days,” I tell my friend.
“Good luck, Luke. You’ve got this.”
I hope he’s right because at this moment I don’t feel the least bit certain things are going to go well. In fact, the only reason I’m going back to Elk Lake is because my mom begged me to. She dropped a guilt bomb the likes of which I didn’t see coming. She told me that someday she and my dad would be dead and gone and then it would be too late to make things right.
My dad is only sixty-three, so while I don’t expect that grim event to happen anytime soon, he did just fall off a roof. That alone might have been enough to usher him into the next world. I may not think it’s my place to fix our relationship—and I don’t—but it’s clear he’s not going to make the first move. If this feud of ours goes on much longer, we may never put things right.
Leaving stacks of papers all over my desk, I push my chair back and stand up. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can do this. I know that life isn’t always easy, but if this works and my dad and I somehow find our way back to being friends, it will all be worth it.
The bottom line is that I love the old guy, and I miss him. If I have to eat a little crow, I guess that’s just what I’ll have to do.