Chapter 31
MAX
When I came in here to check on the restaurant, I wasn’t sure what I would find. They have a few servers, a hostess, and what looks to be two people in the kitchen. With so many people in line outside, I knew I had to pitch in and help, at least somewhat.
Now, do I cook much? Not really, but I do know my way around a kitchen and how to chop vegetables, which is the job I took over from Marco, the owner.
He’s the main cook and thought he could handle all this on his own, which is showing a type of confidence I haven’t seen in a while.
To be able to feed a dining room of over one hundred with only two people in the kitchen seems insane to me.
Of course, this is a test-run, but I don’t know if he’s going to hire anyone else right now.
The good thing is, now he’ll have a reason to hire more help. With The Season only a few days away, maybe that will be a boost to his business, and he’ll find some willing employees.
I finish cutting onions and then turn to Marco. “What can I do next?”
He looks at me like having help is the last thing he wants but knows he needs it if he wants this restaurant to succeed, especially today, when so many people are experiencing it for the first time.
“Can I get some carrots chopped? I want them julienned and no bigger than a fingernail.”
I nod, not sure what the best method for doing that is, but I’ll do what I can. It takes some time, and while he doesn’t look overly proud of the work I’ve done, he accepts the bowl and adds them to the sauté pan.
When he asks me to fill the flour containers, I breathe with a sigh of relief.
A blister is forming on my index finger, and giving it a rest will help.
The sous chef digs out cups of flour to make the pasta, and I’m surprised they work on it from scratch.
That’s bold, but it’s going to be some of the best pasta these people have ever had.
“Where did you learn to cook like this, Marco?” I ask, pouring in another bag of flour. A puff of dust flies up and I cough, turning to avoid tainting the flour.
“From my mother, back in my home country,” he says with a sniff, working between the various pots and pans on the stove.
“What brought you here?” I ask, curious.
“I wanted to open a restaurant in America, one that would be loved. To introduce real Italian food to the people here. Not the abomination that is the chain restaurants.”
It takes serious work to keep a straight face, but I manage. “There’s nothing better than taking pride in your work.”
“What do you do?” he asks, which surprises me. Obviously, we’ve forged an unlikely acquaintance. He waves for me to keep working while I talk, and I smile, liking this guy even more. He reminds me of Europe, of the customs and the people.
“I work for a large company,” I say, keeping to my vague story.
“But your accent,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he glances at me.
I open my mouth and don’t know what to say.
“I thought I’d gotten rid of it long ago,” I say with a laugh.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in America and worked hard to sound like I’m from here.
” I’ve worked to make my German accent almost nonexistent, but leave it to someone from the country next door to still pick it out.
Marco gives me a hint of a smile. “No, sir. I can still hear a bit of it.”
“I’m from Munich, but I’ve lived in New York for the past few years.”
He considers my answer before turning back to stirring several things on the stove.
“Why Penrose Beach?” I ask. This is a new restaurant and from the looks of things, this man could cook with the best from some of the finest cities in the world.
“The rent was just right. And a donation helped get things rolling.”
Once I hear the word donation, my brain immediately clicks to Aiden. The man may be my best friend, but he’s full of surprises and a great person to model my life after.
I’ve been so caught up in my business, that I’ve had blinders on. But Aiden uses his money to help give people a breath of fresh air when they don’t have much hope.
“Be like Aiden” should be my new motto.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, brushing my hands off over the garbage can.
The door from the dining room opens, and Avery comes in, a bright smile on her face. When she sees me, she grins. “It looks like you got attacked by the flour, huh?”
I brush off my face. “It’s just attracted to this handsomeness.”
She grins, walking over to wipe it off. Her touch is tender, and I’m able to study her up close while she works. “How did you get it in your hair and in your ears?”
“Very carefully,” I say, letting out a small laugh when she purses her lips and raises an eyebrow at my answer.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, folding up the bag of flour. “Were you able to get a table?”
“I’ve been helping the hostess get people seated. I thought I’d come see if you guys need anything back here since we’ve got everything moving out in the dining room, and I figured a few more hands to get the food coming out quicker would be better.”
I glance sideways at Marco, who seems to stiffen at the thought of needing more help.
“This is the owner, Marco, and he’s doing a phenomenal job back here,” I say pointing to him. His body eases up a bit. “Marco, this is Avery, owner of Second Tide Coffee down the road.
“Well, Marco, I’ve heard good things about the food that has already gone out to the floor. I’ve worked to get wait times fixed, but it’s a good problem to have, honestly.”
Marco gave his first full smile of the day. “Why, thank you, Signorina.”
Avery held her hands out to the side. “I’m here to help with whatever you need.”
Marco looks between the two of us and says, “Why are you all trying to help me so much?”
I frown. “That’s what you need. Don’t you want this business to do well? This is the best time to get people coming and trying out things so you can tweak your process. I love seeing small businesses succeed. It’s a benefit for the economy here in Penrose, as well as for you.”
He looks at me for a long moment before saying, “I’m used to doing everything myself. No support.”
“It’s okay to ask for help, Marco. Before you get most of your customers coming,” I say, “you’re going to need to hire a lot more people, both for prep in the kitchen and for helping out on the floor.”
I go through a mental checklist of things that might help his business.
“Your hostess is mostly trained on what she needs to do when people come in and how to handle bigger groups,” Avery says. “You can change anything you don’t like, but I would think if you can get the right people, it will take a few things off your plate.”
“How do you know all this?” Marco asks, looking a little suspicious.
Avery laughs, the sound floating through the room and lightening the mood. “This girl had to work at a restaurant to pay for part of college. There are a few things that might be rusty, but they came back to me quickly.”
I grin. Avery is very competent, and she can fix a situation like this and her coffee shop as long as it’s not marketing.
One employee comes in and says, “I have a family emergency and need to go. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can, but I need to leave.” She hangs her apron on the hook and heads out.
Marco freezes, unsure of what to do. “I don’t know anyone I can call right now.”
“I can help with that,” Avery says. She walks over and grabs an apron from the hook, wrapping it around herself. “Do you have any notebooks, so I can take down orders?”
“I don’t have extras, just what I ordered for the servers here,” Marco says. “Look in the office over there.”
He directs me over to stir something on the stove and gets a bunch of stuff plated. I’m still surprised at how well things are running for such a slim crew of people.
Avery comes out with a smaller notebook and a pen giving us both a grin. “Okay, here we go.” She tucks them into her apron and grabs a large platter, placing several plates on it.
“Which table is it supposed to go to?” she asks.
Marco looks at the tab. “Number seven, please.”
I’m surprised at how more modest and grateful he is after an hour of working with him, but maybe he realized that was something he needed.
We all need help in our own way; it just depends on the situation and how much we’re pushed into something. Maybe that’s one of the things I needed to learn the most by coming here—that I do have the chance to choose, that I don’t have to obey every directive from my father.
My personal life doesn’t need to be part of the business. It shouldn’t be part of Alder Haus Markets.
I don’t want to be shackled to someone I’ll be pulling along, or wishing I’d never married in the first place. Sometimes I need that outside perspective to shine a light on what I couldn’t see before.
I feel like Victoria checks those boxes, which is probably why I’ve been avoiding calls from my father. That isn’t the future I want for myself.
We work together for the next three hours, and by the end, my hands are blistered from cutting so much. I’m tired, but it’s the good kind of tired. Satisfied, and like my time was well spent.
“Thank you,” Marco says with a note of humility in his voice. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do this without you and the bossy lady.”
I laugh and slap him on the back. “We’re happy to help.”
Marco raises an eyebrow and says, “Is she yours?”
“I wish, Marco. If only I could be so lucky.” I pause, only then realizing what I said. “It would be good if you keep that between us though.”
Marco frowns. “That’s not the best way to fulfill a dream, but I’ll respect your wishes.”
I hang up the apron and walk over to the sink to wash my hands. The warm water eases the blisters somewhat.
Marco says, “Since you helped for so long, take some dinner. Grab some for the bossy lady as well.”
I wiping my hands off on a towel. Marco packs two bags and hands them to me.
“It smells so good. I worked up an appetite.”