Heart of Gold – by Tiffany Carby
HEART OF GOLD
BY TIFFANY CARBY
Henley
I stood over the sink in my restaurant eating cookie dough that I had just mixed with a spoon.
The window looked out onto the dark parking lot, lit only by the reflections of the streetlights from the front of the building.
I really needed to do something about that.
My employees deserved to have a lit parking lot when they left after dark.
Some days were easy. Some days you stood over the sink eating cookie dough out of a mug.
In case you were unaware, a small spoonful of softened butter, a bigger spoonful of brown sugar, and two spoonsful of flour mixed vigorously in a cup would quickly get your sugar fix.
Unfortunately, cookie dough wouldn’t fix my problems.
My bartender, at least I assumed it was him, had been siphoning off my expensive Pappy Van Winkle bourbon and thought I wouldn’t notice. My guess was he had the siphoned bourbon saved in another container somewhere else waiting for the original bottle to be empty.
Smart idea if I wasn’t paying attention.
My sous chefs were sneaking out with cuts of our Wagyu beef, and they assumed I hadn’t noticed that either. It’s funny how when you ordered a certain amount of meat and served drastically less to your customers that there should be some left over … somewhere.
Oh, and I checked the waste bins. Daily. Any chef of mine wasting that much has not been trained by me and will not continue to work in my kitchen. I just had to find out who.
Somebody also was getting in the truffles.
The.
Fucking.
Truffles.
Put it all together and it would be one hell of a dinner party. Maybe that was their plan. I just hoped I’d get an invite, since I was providing all the food.
I went back to the pantry and scooped a handful of chocolate into my mug. Added a few walnuts too for good measure. It wasn’t like I had eaten all day, too busy working and whatnot. So sugar, butter, flour, chocolate, and nuts would round out a meal at one in the morning.
“Hey, Chef …” a sultry voice called out as I gulped, practically choking on the gooey dough.
I thought they had all gone home. I was hidden from whoever this person was that must have forgotten something.
And as far as I was concerned, they could get whatever they forgot and leave me to my cookie dough. “Henley?”
“What?” I marched out of the pantry. Ashamed of my dinner, I left it sitting on the shelf to see who was bellowing my name.
“Gawd, you scared me.” I held my palm over my heart, taking a deep breath.
“Sorry, Toots. Saw your car still here and figured you were closing.” Adam had been my best friend since grade school.
He also was a police officer in town and had weird shifts, so it wasn’t unusual that he’d stop by at random times.
“You really need better lighting in the parking lot. It’s not safe, especially knowing you’re here alone so often. ”
“Yeah,” I said.
Adam stared hard, and I knew my difficult day was written on my face.
“You too?” he said. “Cookie dough kind of night?”
Fuck, if he didn’t read me like a book.
Adam and I tried the whole “going out” thing in high school and realized it was just too awkward and started dating other people.
I went to culinary school, and he went to the police academy before we both settled back in our hometown of Spring City, Kentucky.
He joined the police force, and I opened up the town’s only upscale restaurant.
Here stood before me one of the town's most eligible bachelors, and he was trying to comfort me with my weakness for sweets.
“Shift over?” I asked, suddenly hoping the answer was yes. He nodded, and I knew my cookie dough would have to wait. “Real food? Then maybe cookie dough?”
“You know The Diner is all that’s open, unless you want to go to Lexington?”
“Raincheck on the big city? Steak and eggs sound just fine to me …”
“I’ll drive.” he said and winked, tossing his messy hair off his forehead. “I’ll even let you ride in the front.”
ADAM
“Thought you wanted steak and eggs?” I asked as Henley took a huge bite of strawberry-covered waffles with fresh whipped cream. I was suddenly regretting my breakfast choice as well.
“I did, but then I decided I’d rather eat my feelings.”
I could tell just by looking at her she’d had a bad day. My oldest friend was a happy-go-lucky gal who you rarely saw with a frown on her face, and tonight she was frowny and worn out.
“Here,” she said, scooting her plate toward me, talking with her mouth full, “you can have a bite and eat your feelings too.”
I wasn’t going to pass that up.
“So, tell me about your shitty day, then I’ll tell you about mine,” I instructed, stealing more whipped cream than I probably should have.
This was our way of decompressing, and I always appreciated the give and take.
I adored Henley. She was my bestie and had been for as long as I could remember.
We finished each other’s sentences and bickered like siblings.
Staring at her from across the booth, I saw a tiredness behind her eyes that I wasn’t used to seeing. She had been working so hard lately, and I knew she could use a break.
Hearing her talk about her employees skimming made me want to go police her kitchen. I knew I couldn’t, and that it wouldn’t do any good if I did, but I wanted to protect her.
“You can have my piece of bacon.” It was all I had to offer. No big plans on how to save the day had come to mind just yet, so bacon it would have to be.
“You know me. Salty, sweet.”
I did know her. She was her own mix of salty and sweet.
The little bit of relationship dabbling we did years ago didn’t satisfy my desire to taste more of her salty, sweet either, but I kept those feelings at bay knowing how good we were as friends.
I didn’t want to jeopardize that. We dated around, exchanged war stories, and always settled back in our comfort zones.
“Any ideas on what you’re going to do?”
“Can’t lock up the booze. Or the truffles. Or the Wagyu beef. Or all day long I’d just be unlocking things.”
She had a point there.
“Handcuffs? I could loan you a pair?” Bacon was gone; sarcasm was all I had to offer.
“Enough about my mess, what’s got you bothered today?” She was sweet to reciprocate.
We both finished off our plates of breakfast food and I ordered a coffee. After so many years of drinking coffee at all hours, the caffeine did not affect me. I think I just liked the comfort of a warm beverage in my hand. Especially in a real mug like they had at The Diner.
“Somedays I just feel like my skills on the force are not being put to good use. Ask me what I did today.”
“I’ll bite. What did you do today?”
“I parked my cruiser at the bottom of Pendleton Road near the train tracks so Old Man Goldner’s cows wouldn’t get out.” It made my face blush just thinking about it.
“His fence broke again? The man is going to have to get the whole thing replaced, or that’s going to be your future until the cows come home.” She chuckled. And then we had a good laugh about it.
“I don’t want to fine him. He needs to be spending money fixing the fence. But that was my day. Woohoo. Officer Walker has yet again saved the day.”
“I know some days your job isn’t very fulfilling—like today—but knowing you’re out there protecting the community is a relief to all of us.
You’ll be there when we need you, and that’s what counts.
” Henley reached her hand across the table to squeeze mine.
“And when I catch the truffle-stealing assholes, I’m gonna call you for those handcuffs. ”
“And I’ll happily oblige,” I told her and squeezed back. She always made me feel better. “You ready to call it a night … err … a morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll grab the check,” she said and swiped the ticket that was laying on the edge of the table. “You paid last time, but I will let you take me home if you don’t mind.”
I was glad she asked. Not that it was far, but I didn’t want her driving home at this hour knowing she was as tired as she was.
“Wanna crash at my place? I can take you to Baldwin’s on my way to work tomorrow.
” It wouldn't be the first time she had stayed over. We both spent a lot of time at each other’s places, and we both had guest bedrooms that felt like our own homes.
It was silly we didn’t live together, really, but the times when we were in a relationship would have proved that sort of living arrangement to be awkward.
“As long as there’s coffee on the way to work, it’s a deal.”
“Like you even have to ask.”
HENLEY
Adam’s place was an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Spring City.
His uncle left it to him when he died, the only living relative his uncle actually liked, and Adam had made it his own.
He’d remodeled portions of it and had plans to do more as time allowed.
I stayed over probably once a week and slept in the guest bedroom, which he had let me furnish how I wanted.
Said the woman’s touch was necessary for when he had “real guests.” It was probably a backward compliment if we were being truthful.
I managed to change into one of his T-shirts before crashing in the guest room, my clothes strewn all over the floor. I heard him come into the room and felt the covers magically appear on top of me, fingers brushing hair out of my face and a gentle kiss on my forehead.
Mmm.
Those lips were warm.
And soft.
And comforting.
His “good night” lulled me right to sleep.
I woke up about a half-hour before the alarm on my phone was scheduled to go off, and I could hear him in the kitchen. I was glad we’d have time for donuts and a fancy coffee from The Wishing Well, Spring City’s local coffee shop.