Chapter Five
Angel
“How many reservations do we have tonight?” I asked, tying my apron at my back before moving onto my hair.
The host, Brody, glanced down at his clipboard.
From the moment I walked in, I was overwhelmed by the front of house staff.
Margie was out today and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.
When I’d gotten the call that she would be having a colonoscopy today, there had been some anxiety.
But she, as always, had assured me everything would be okay.
Her doctor just wanted to get it done because they’d had a cancellation.
Because of this, I went into work worry-free.
It was just another day. Felix would be leading and keeping a watchful eye, and I’d be at my station, prepping the desserts while remaining on standby to step in if I was needed. Some shifts I was, and others I wasn’t.
Margie’s Place had slowly been growing out of its mom-and-pop intentions, moving into a creative culinary space, which put Margie and her menu on the map in the PNW.
This restaurant had always been an Astoria staple, a place for tourists to find by chance and a haven for the locals.
Then, after her husband passed, she wanted to do something more.
She wanted to push the boundaries. And in just a few short years, Margie’s Place had already been featured on the Food Network and the New York Times.
“A hidden gem by the sea,” is how food critic Analiese Jones described it.
That article had been published just after I was hired as a hostess.
Because of the traction it brought in, Margie separated the dining rooms, and reserved seating took off.
Those tables had the best view of the water and a special menu that would never be repeated again.
“We have twenty,” Brody groaned with wide eyes. “How in the world are we going to manage that when we’re down three tables?”
I jerked, the new information hitting me. “What? Why are we down three tables?”
He pursed his lips, glancing at the dining room before clicking his tongue and looking back at me. “Because the twenty-first reservation is a twelve top.”
Margie had a strict rule about large party reservations on Friday nights—they were not allowed. “Who approved that?” I asked, holding my hand out for his clipboard.
“I don’t know, and normally, I would’ve caught something like this; you know how I like to be prepared for the weekend shift.”
I nodded, my eyes scanning over the names, and froze when they landed on the reservation name: Joseph Grayson. “Oh shit.”
“I know!” Brody hissed, stepping closer to me. “What the hell are we going to do? The party is set to arrive in like half an hour!”
“Is something the matter?”
Both of us jumped and spun at the sound of Felix’s deep voice. He was dressed in a pair of sweats and a compression shirt, wiping his hands with a towel, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us.
“Uh, no,” I blurted, noting the crease between his brow was deeper than normal.
In fact, everything about Felix was off today.
Usually, he would show up to work in uniform and immediately begin overseeing prep for the featured meal.
Him standing here, beyond the kitchen doors, was foreign to me.
I didn’t know how to feel about Felix—who, like me, was a creature of habit and ritual—being out of place.
Before I could let my mind start to dive into all the possibilities and assume the worst, I asked, “Are you okay?”
His gray eyes met mine instantly as he gave me a single nod.
“What are you doing out here, Chef?” Brody blurted.
Felix’s face was set like stone, his irritation evident.
I was half tempted to smack him on the shoulder but refrained. “What Brody means to say is—”
“I just wanted to see the sunset,” Felix answered, his focus on the windows.
My eyes followed his, finding the start of the sunset, the sky a mix of purples, pinks, and oranges.
The seagulls were swarming, the fishing crews just starting to come in from their trips with full chests of fish to sell.
And there were a few people on the docks taking photos of the art in the sky.
I had to admit, it was breathtaking. “I don’t blame you.
It’s beautiful today,” I said, smiling at him.
He didn’t smile back. “Excuse me,” he murmured as he stepped between Brody and me.
“What’s gotten into him?” Brody whispered, leaning toward me as we watched the chef weave through the empty tables, hands behind his back, eyes on the sun.
“Maybe he’s had a bad day?” I guessed. “Nature always helps me when I have a bad day.”
“Yeah, but the difference is, Chef Felix never has any good days.”
A pit in my stomach formed, and with each passing hour, it only grew.
The night was half over, and I’d managed to just stay in the kitchen, avoiding Joseph Grayson and his guests.
Each of them ordered a dessert, and I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn’t find the additional key lime pies I’d made earlier this morning.
Someone had moved them to a different shelf in the walk-in.
When Grayson’s table was finished, Brody came barreling into the kitchen to spread gossip for a few minutes.
Nearly everyone in Astoria knew who Grayson and Carrie were, and most knew their story.
He’d saved her life. Multiple times. He had also been shot in their home and on the docks.
She, along with Margo and the manager of Rossy’s books, had been kidnapped.
Red Snake Investigations had saved them.
My hands were starting to shake, but I didn’t have time to worry about it.
There was too much to do, and the kitchen was two seconds away from catching on fire.
Chef Felix had been yelling for the past hour, and our line cooks had burned three chicken breasts.
In. A. Row. By the third one, I was ready to duck and take cover.
I’d never seen Felix so angry—and he was an angry man.
“When is Margie supposed to be back?” one of the prep cooks asked me as they walked by my station.
“Alex,” I warned softly, glancing at Felix, who was now across the kitchen, chopping onions. “I wouldn’t piss him off.”
She rolled her eyes. “Angel, babe? When is Felix not pissed off?”
“Yes, well—” My words were cut short as a crash skittered through the hot air of the kitchen, bouncing off the walls.
Everyone froze, holding their breath.
My eyes dropped to the shattered plate on the floor, glass mixed in with onions, and then to the wall where he’d thrown it.
More specifically, to the picture of the kitchen staff.
The glass inside the frame was cracked right over Felix’s face, the damage splitting all the way down between him and Margie.
“You all right, Chef?” Russ, another line cook, tentatively asked.
My head snapped up, a wave of dizziness crashing into me, knocking me off balance. My hand shot out, slamming down on my prep station, sending a secondary jarring sound through the space. I winced, doubling over, spots filling my vision.
“Someone see to Angel,” Felix barked. “Check her blood sugar.”
A second later, Monty’s voice was close. “I got her, Chef.”
“How are the guests looking?” Alex called out, clearing her throat.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. “The dining room is fine, but some people did hear the crash. That’s why I came back here.”
There was more silence, and if I had the strength to look up, I knew everyone would still be staring at Felix. It was one thing for him to yell, but throwing things? That was new. And highly concerning.
“Hey, you can’t faint on me. You told me I could have a slice of cake when the night was over,” Monty said.
A weak laugh left me. “I just need to sit down for a moment.”
He was gone and back again, the emergency chair behind me. “Take a seat. Where’s your bag?”
“In my cubby,” I rasped, leaning back and keeping my eyes closed.
My stomach rumbled and my brain was finally able to focus on my body instead of the outside world.
By the time Monty returned with my bag, it sounded like things were moving in the kitchen again, but someone could slice the tension with a knife.
“All right,” Monty drawled, “we got chocolate chip and granola or a peanut butter protein ball thingy.”
I cracked open a single eyelid. “Protein ball thingy,” I parroted.
He held up the red and tan packaging. “Yeah, these things.”
“No, Monty. That’s what I want. Give me two of those please and my water.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Here you go.”
A few minutes later, when I started to feel better, the dots and dizziness having slunk back to wherever they usually hid out, Chef Felix came over to me.
I made a move to stand up, but he shook his head once.
I waited for him to stop walking, but he didn’t.
He leaned over me, bracing a hand on the back of the chair, hiding me from the rest of the kitchen staff.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
“Could ask you the same thing,” I said, taking a final sip of water.
There was that stone set look again.
I sighed. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m good to go. I need to get that cheesecake out of the oven.”
He looked over his shoulder and barked out the order. “Someone grab that cheesecake out of the oven.”
“Heard, Chef!”
Felix returned his attention to me and gave me a flat-lined smile. “This is my last night.”
“Excuse me?”
He pushed off and held out his hand to help me stand. Once I was back on my feet, he told me to follow him to Marg’s office. He didn’t even let the door shut before dropping the bomb. “I can’t do this anymore.”
A chill shot down my spine like a cold front. “What do you mean?” I whispered, leaning back against Marg’s desk.
He looked at her desk and then the rest of her cramped office. “This isn’t my dream.”