Chapter 25
MATTHEW
“I found Damon.” Tyler was out of breath and wild-eyed. “Drunk. In a hammock.”
My stomach plummeted. “How drunk?”
“Passed out cold.”
This was bad. Cataclysmically bad. We could prop up a slightly intoxicated chef for the dinner service by infusing him with black coffee and putting a few extra hands in the kitchen, but if he was unconscious? Hell, there was no way around that.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I ripped off my baseball hat and slapped it repeatedly against the desk. Then I stared at it before shoving it back on my head. “Well, that didn’t help.”
Realizing that it was okay to laugh now, Tyler chuckled. “Looked like it helped, at least a little bit.”
Feeling like the patriarch of a dysfunctional family, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Guess the two of us are cooking, my friend.”
Tyler started walking backwards, ready to move on my plan. “Got it. I’ll meet you in the kitchen right after I get Chef to his cabin.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Leave Chef Damon where he is for now. We’ll deal with him later, after we’ve made our guests a meal.” Lauren’s voice came into my head, reminding me about Jimi Hendrix, but I refused to listen. “Let Kyra know what’s going on, okay?”
So much for looking like the capable ranch owner in front of Lauren for the remainder of her stay at Silver Sage.
Who knew what kind of random meal she’d be eating for dinner?
As I hurried to the kitchen, I cursed Damon for picking today to go on a bender.
Serenity was already there, prepping for a menu of lamb chops with a reduction of cabernet and black pepper, alongside roasted mushroom risotto and blistered cherry tomatoes.
There was no way I could prepare such complicated dishes on my own, especially within a limited amount of time.
Wait a minute—cabernet?
Dammit. I’d given Serenity access to the wine for this recipe. Had Chef stolen the key from her? This was no way to run a kitchen.
She and I went through the contents of the walk-in refrigerator until we had devised a plan.
The dinner entrée would be chicken, because the meat was available, and I knew how to prepare it.
As sides, we’d serve baked potatoes and salad.
Serenity would take care of the homemade salad dressing, then crisp up some bacon and chop fresh parsley to top off the potatoes.
There was nothing exciting or gourmet about the menu but, if no other calamities occurred, it would be edible.
I tied on my apron and thanked the heavens that Chef hadn’t pulled this shit during the Titans’ week, with forty alpha males on the ranch.
There was no way I could handle a dining room crowd of that magnitude without him.
If I could get us both through the summer without another relapse, it would be a miracle.
As I grabbed the ingredients to marinate the chicken, I spun around to see Raelynn standing behind me.
“Tyler told us about Chef,” she said. “I’m finished with laundry for the day, and I’m here to help you.”
She should have been leaving the ranch to head home, and I didn’t have the money to pay anyone overtime. From the sympathetic look on her face, she knew that already.
“It’s alright.” I reached for an industrial-sized container of garlic salt. “Serenity and I have got it under control.”
“Cut the horse crap, Matthew,” Raelynn barked in a voice I’d never heard from her before. “You’ve got guests and staff to feed tonight, and you need my help.”
“We can handle it.” I was being a stubborn mule, and we all knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Meanwhile, a vein was throbbing so hard in my head that I feared a stroke was coming on.
“Take the help, Matthew.” Serenity said softly. “Please?”
It was the kindness in her tone that did me in.
Something inside me snapped, and I grabbed hold of the counter and bowed my head.
That’s when I felt Raelynn come up behind me and put her arm around my waist. For a small woman, she had an iron grip.
When your mom is gone and a woman her age gives you a side hug, it’s enough to make you weep, and I would have shed a tear or two if there had been time for it.
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she whispered. “You’re in a tough spot.”
I nodded because if I spoke, my voice would crack.
I’d pay Raelynn overtime for cooking with us because it no longer mattered if I kept to a budget.
If I had to sell off equipment or even one of the horses to make payroll, I’d do it.
The ranch was going to be sold either way, so it didn’t really matter anymore. It was over.
I wanted to sit down, lay my head on a table and cry, but there was certainly no time for self-pity. I would channel my pain into work, like I always did. There was no other option.
* * *
The kitchen bustled that evening with more staff in the room than ever, creating a strangely festive atmosphere.
We were all pulling together, doing tasks that were foreign to us, to achieve a common goal.
Tyler put on some music, and he and Kyra got to work rolling silverware in napkins.
Raelynn washed and chopped vegetables for the salads while Serenity scrubbed potatoes.
Even Walt showed up to see what he could do, and I didn’t even attempt to turn him away.
Raelynn was right—I needed everyone’s help.
I’d needed help for a while now, but hadn’t wanted to ask.
As a result, I was beyond exhausted, ankle deep in horseshit, and finally ready to admit I wasn’t getting out of this mess on my own.
The kitchen rose in temperature with the flurry of activity, and over the next few hours, we put out a main course that was tasty to eat and served on time.
No, it wasn’t up to our usual standards, but it had to suffice.
Raelynn pulled a couple of cheesecakes out of the freezer and thawed them for dessert.
With cut strawberries sliced on top, they tasted and looked pretty darn good, even if they were slightly icy in the center.
Tyler raced back into the kitchen with clean plates and a smile on his face. “Chicken is a hit, boss!” He gave his dirty dishes to Walt and Serenity, my clean-up crew, and refilled his tray with plates of cheesecake. “They’re going to love this dessert.”
His positivity brought a damn tear to my eye.
To have someone believe in me as much as that kid did was overwhelming.
If I’d had a son, I would have wanted him to be just like Tyler, and I probably needed to tell him that sooner rather than later.
Serenity and Raelynn finally agreed to go home around nine o’clock, and I forced Walt out of the kitchen because he was dead on his feet and didn’t need to be mopping floors.
Tyler and Kyra hung around with me for the final cleanup.
“We pulled it off,” Tyler said, sounding impressed with our efforts as he sanitized the counters at the end of the night.
The poor kid thought he was getting an education in running a guest ranch but all he was learning was damage control.
Meanwhile, I felt like a failure as a mentor, just like I’d failed at everything else at Silver Sage.
He’d be devastated when I told him the ranch was going to be sold.
Tyler’s father was killed in the war in Afghanistan, and he’d kind of adopted me as a male authority figure in his life.
I hated to let him down, but maybe the new owners would give him a job.
Thoughts of Lauren sitting in my office and offering to buy the ranch popped into my head, but I pushed them out again, not ready to deal with that problem.
“That was wild,” Kyra said, pulling me from my thoughts. She leaned up against a counter, eating a piece of cheesecake without using a fork or a plate. “Are you gonna fire Chef Damon?”
“I’ve certainly thought about it,” I said. “If you know any skilled chefs looking for a job in a remote ranch from now until the end of the summer, please let me know. Otherwise, I think we’re stuck with him for the rest of the season.”
The only positive thing about Chef being too drunk to work was that it kept me busy in the kitchen, meaning I couldn’t make my usual rounds in the dining room.
I had a legitimate reason, other than my stupid pride, to stay away from Lauren.
That was a small consolation on what was an embarrassment of a night.
After we cleaned up the kitchen, it was time to pay Damon a visit. Tyler insisted on coming with me.
“Meet me at the hammocks in case he’s still there,” I told him grimly. “I need to get something first.”
Amazingly, Chef was in the same place Tyler had found him earlier, curled up on his side and snoring peacefully under a tree near Cottonwood Cottage.
That only lasted until I took my bucket of water and doused him with it.
He sputtered into consciousness like a rodeo bull whose flank strap had been tightened and then cussed at me with some colorful language.
It took a few more seconds for reality to set in.
“Oh my God,” he muttered. “What time is it?”
“It’s eleven at night. You missed dinner service, and I’ll fire your ass before the end of the season if you ever do this to me again, Damon. I’m serious. Get sober for good or get gone.”
I wasn’t bluffing. I should have canned him right then and there, but who would I find to cook for the Titans on such short notice? I had no choice but to pray he would stay on the straight and narrow until the end of the season.
“I’m sorry. I fell asleep.” He rubbed his trembling hands over his face, and a twinge of guilt fluttered in my gut. The guy had problems, and if I lost Gigi, I’d probably try to smother my pain in some less than ideal way too. Then again, I had a business to run, and I needed a sober chef to do it.
“Sorry is nice, but it doesn’t change the fact that everyone had to pitch in to help me tonight because you weren’t there.”
“I’m not surprised it took that many people.” He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Have you ever wondered how I pull off meals with so little help? I prep the food, cook it, plate it—you have no idea.”
“I have no idea?” I snapped. “I’m plunging toilets and patching fences, so don’t talk to me about doing things that are below your pay grade.”
“And you don’t think that’s a problem?” he said sourly.
I stuck my hands in my pockets and nodded. “I absolutely think it’s a problem. It’s a problem that weighs on me night and day. Do you have more booze in your possession?”
“No.”
I wasn’t even going to ask him where he got it. That didn’t really matter. Lauren had been right. I couldn’t control Chef Damon. He had to want to stay sober on his own.
“Then go to bed and don’t screw up again. You owe it to me and everyone else on staff to stay clean for a few weeks until we can wrap up the season. If you want any kind of good reference from me, you better get it together.”
He seemed surprised by my harsh words, which was understandable.
Typically, I handled his bouts of drunkenness with more disappointment than anger, but tonight he’d hit a nerve.
He was right about us being understaffed.
Trying to keep this ranch going wasn’t only foolish, it was selfish.
Lauren had tried to tell me that things needed to radically change around here, and she’d made a plan to do it.
And how had I responded to her? I was ashamed to think about that now…