Amaya
The idea of working at The Promenade raced through my mind the entire day while I waited for a return email. I would love to not worry about job security and being able to see Orlando’s smile would be a perk. A smile crept across my face as I thought about that smile. It would be great to see him every day, but then, if we ever did date that could become incredibly awkward. Best to push it from my mind.
A reply finally came from Orlando telling me to come into his office at lunchtime two days later. I couldn’t have hidden the smile that crept up on my face if I’d tried.
I strode into The Promenade before noon, my low heels announcing my arrival. I wore a short, flowy black skirt and a hot pink button-up blouse with the top two buttons undone. Before I got to Orlando’s office, I undid a third button.
Yes, we would talk business, but I knew he had invited me at the lunch hour for a reason and I did not intend on giving him the upper hand. Giving my hair a final fluff, I approached his office door, which was wide open.
“Amaya, right on time,” he said, setting his cell phone down. “Come in. We’ll go over for lunch in just a few minutes.”
I clutched my bag in my left hand while I shook his hand with my right. “Go over? Where?”
A million-dollar smile and lifted eyebrow made my insides flutter slightly. “I’m considering bringing on a chef full time. Chef Aaron Tierney has been experimenting in the kitchen. I told him I would bring a distinguished guest over to taste test.”
He really was making changes if he was thinking about bringing on a chef full-time. As it was, The Promenade only had a list with a handful of approved caterers on it. An in-house chef would make things both easier and harder depending on how he handled things like dietary restrictions and allergies.
“But first,” Orlando motioned for me to sit, which I did. “Let’s talk shop a moment, shall we?”
“Absolutely.”
“First, I apologize for my comment the other day. I did not intend to make your work sound so trivial. And I’m glad you decided to hear me out.” He raised an eyebrow and I nodded for him to continue. “I’m looking at making several changes here once the business is fully mine and Mom retires. I spoke with our financial consultant this morning and the business is doing well. There are several options I’m considering – like hiring a chef or an event coordinator.”
He took a moment, and I spoke up. “What else are you thinking about?”
“All in due time.” He checked his phone briefly, but didn’t linger with it. “If we were to bring you on, it would of course include a reasonable salary and full benefits for you. You could still do the occasional wedding outside of The Promenade, but that would have to be when there’s nothing planned here, or enough time has passed that we can afford an assistant for you.”
He continued to talk as he stood and motioned for me to follow, which I did. I asked a few questions and he gave me honest answers if he didn’t know something right off, but the idea of a steady income and my own office was sounding quite nice. After a turn to the right, we were at a table just outside the kitchen.
Orlando pulled a chair out for me. “After you.” I sat and placed my purse in my lap. Those charm school lessons certainly had paid off. Orlando took the seat opposite me.
A slight man with reddish hair came from the kitchen, his hands clasped before him. “Mr. Daniels, Ms. Journet, I am delighted to have the chance to cook for you today. I do hope you will enjoy everything I have prepared.” Before we could reply, the chef disappeared and a small cart was brought out to us.
Chef Tierney went over all the items he had prepared, which was enough to feed a small army. Once he was done and we were served, Orlando asked him to join us, but he politely refused.
“I would like Ms. Journet to ask any questions she might have,” Orlando noted with a pointed look in my direction.
“Of course, I would be happy to answer.” The chef looked at me expectantly.
I asked him about dietary restrictions for clients who needed special meals, about allergies, and about how he would react in a few different situations. Orlando did not ask any questions himself, which made me wonder if he even knew what to ask. When Chef Tierney excused himself, we began to eat.
“This is delicious,” Orlando said as he closed his eyes. “Don’t you agree?”
“It’s very good,” I replied. And it was. The food was perfectly cooked, if a little on the bland side. “You didn’t ask him any questions.”
A wink came my way. “You had it handled.”
I put my water glass down. “You didn’t know what to ask.” When Orlando shrugged and shook his head, I balked at him. “Is that why you asked me to come over? To help you interview chefs?”
“Of course not. That was only part of the reason.” He laughed. “It was also partially an interview for you, so I could see if you know what you’re doing. And you clearly do. You know my mother adores you and I think you have a knack for this. When, and if, you want it, the job is yours.”
Not wanting to reveal too much of any emotion, I simply said, “I’ll think about it,” before taking another bite of my lunch.
What I was refusing to think about, however, was how much I wanted to take the job so I could spend more time with Orlando. There was definitely something there. I knew he could feel it as well. I was at ease around him and I already knew I liked his mother. Not to mention he was the most handsome man I had encountered in a long time.
After lunch, we went back to his office. “I do appreciate the offer, I hope you know. And I am going to seriously consider it. The idea of benefits included is very alluring. Even though I sound incredibly boring being excited about that.” When he sat at his desk, I leaned against it facing him.
The smirk he gave me said plenty, but he quipped, “I think it’s very attractive that you’re considering your options and weighing the pros and cons. You’re smart, you’ll come to the right conclusion.”
If I kept thinking with my body and heart instead of my head, I might not. But I was enjoying the moment too much to pause. I stood, sauntered to the door so he had a nice view of my backside, and turned back to him. “I’ll be in touch.”
Then I sashayed right out the door without a glance back at him. I hoped he was feeling just a little tortured over my exit. I know I was.