Chapter 13 #2
She said this last bit with such a pitying tone that Jared burst out laughing.
“Oh, is it?” he asked through his mirth.
She tried to keep up her somber facade, but the smile around her lips gave her away.
“It is,” she said. “Everyone thinks the chefs are the cool kids in the kitchen, but we just let people think that, because while you are chopping away, sweating over a million things that can burn you, we get to see the good stuff.”
He couldn’t have avoided playing along if he’d tried.
“And what’s that?” he asked.
“The people eating the food, duh,” she said, spreading her hands in illustration. “We get to see their happy faces when they take the first bite. You only get to see that when they specifically ask to pay their compliments to the chef.”
She… sort of had him there, to be honest.
“That does sound pretty good,” he admitted. “And it might be why I have the window in the kitchen looking out over the dining room.”
She reached out and patted his hand.
“It’s okay, Jared,” she said. “Not everyone can be a waitress. Only the luckiest among us.”
He grinned. There was something irresistible about her teasing.
Jared had been fortunate in his career in that he’d worked under chefs who had instilled in him the value of appreciating his support staff, although he knew that not every chef ran their establishments that way.
There were too many places where the head chef’s ego ruled the day, and everyone else was forced to suffer in misery or risk losing their position.
He was glad to hear that it didn’t sound like Hope had ever gotten stuck in such an establishment.
“Hey, don’t count me out yet,” he said. “You never know. I could always make a career shift.”
She eyed him speculatively. “Nah,” she said. “You’re a chef, through and through. I can see it in you.”
Strangely, this was one of the best compliments that he’d ever received. He wasn’t quite certain why.
Maybe it was just Hope. Probably it was just that it was her.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, smiling ruefully to disguise the tender feelings welling up in him. He’d gotten this far in the conversation without making it awkward; he could get himself over the finish line. “I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.”
A bittersweet expression crossed her face.
“I hope you don’t ever have to imagine it,” she said. “It is pretty uncomfortable to try to figure it out.”
He gave her a sympathetic look, but held himself back from patting her hand.
Before he could think of what to say next, one of his waitresses approached, looking decidedly worse for the wear.
“Oh boy,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” Molly said, pressing a hand to her throat.
He could tell that she was trying to quell rising sickness.
She had confided to him a week or so ago that she and her husband were expecting their first child, although she had not yet shared the news widely at work.
Jared had suspected as much, since the typically reliable waitress had started taking a lot more sick time than usual.
He was, of course, extremely happy for her, since he knew that she and her husband had been hoping for a child for a while now.
But the idea of covering for her during her maternity leave when his staff was already razor-thin made him practically break out in hives.
“Don’t apologize,” he told her. “Do you need a break, or do you need to head home?”
She gave him an apologetic wince that announced her answer in advance.
“I think I need to head home,” she said. “Not to give you too much information, but this has been…” She paused, grimaced. “A particularly rough day.”
That was more than enough information for Jared. Professional kitchens and upset stomachs were something that very much did not go together.
“Go home,” he urged. “Drink some of that ginger tea that you like. Put your feet up. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
She looked immeasurably relieved as she walked back toward where the staff kept their personal effects, enough so that Jared felt like a jerk for even thinking about how her illness and future time off affected him negatively.
It did, though. And he couldn’t quite put that thought from his mind.
Speaking of other inconvenient thoughts…
He turned back to see Hope’s lovely, adorable, sweet face twisted in an expression of concern. He let himself think about how wonderful he found her, just for that moment. He couldn’t suppress all his thoughts. He was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that that wasn’t healthy.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I’m going to have to run. I have to figure out how to re-shuffle the tables with Molly heading home, and we’re about to get started with the early bird diners. I need to get moving on the dinner prep.”
“Go,” Hope said, just as kindly as he had encouraged Molly only moments before. He faintly hoped that she was having conflicted feelings about this reassurance too, though. That would mean that she didn’t want him to leave her behind. “I’ve taken up quite enough of your time.”
“I promise that it was the nicest diversion I’ve had in a while,” he said. His shoulders clenched briefly as he worried that this had gone too far, that it would make things awkward again, but she just smiled.
“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again,” she said. “Small towns, right?”
“Right,” he agreed, rapping his knuckles twice on the table before reluctantly dragging himself back to the kitchen. It was a strange feeling. When had he last felt reluctant to go to the kitchen? It had been before he’d come to Magnolia Shore, for sure.
As soon as Jared got his knives back in his hands, everything else faded away, as it so often did during a rush.
He let himself get drawn into the patterns of the dinner service: he chopped this, sauteed that.
He tasted sauces, added garnishes, checked and double-checked tickets that had been flagged because the customer had an allergy.
He wasn’t certain how long it had been when the sound of a familiar laugh caused him to blink in surprise.
Was that… ?
He peeked out of the kitchen and… yes. Yes, it was.
Hope Landers was, improbably, waiting tables at his restaurant.