CHAPTER 1
NOEL
I walkedthrough one of Chicago’s farmers markets that had popped up close to the coast of Lake Michigan, offering the best selection I’d ever found of fresh produce, fish, honey, and handcrafted goods.
Now that I was without a job, I had more time than I knew what to do with, so like any good chef, I’d been experimenting with all the recipes I’d never gotten to try while at the Orchid Room.
The owner, Reginald, had promised me creative freedom—until it cut into the bottom line. Then he’d slowly tightened his purse strings into a noose, strangling all the hopes and dreams I’d had for my first restaurant. With cheaper cuts of meat, less fresh ingredients, and a stale menu, we’d quickly gone from Chicago’s exciting new eatery todisappointingandpedestrian,according to food critics.
They were assholes who’d decimated our bookings with a few words in print, but they hadn’t been wrong. I’d spent years working my ass off in other people’s kitchens, all so I could one day manage a restaurant.
Now, all I had to show for it was the awful realization that my backbreaking labor of love might be at an end. Not to mention allthe bills I was falling behind on without a job. My condo wasn’tcheap, and the head chef gig had paid well above my previous positions. I couldn’t afford to keep it, even if I was willing to go back to working on a line.
“What happened to you is a fucking shame,” Kody said. “I’d never treat a chef with your talent like that.”
“Yeah, well, you know how to manage a restaurant,” I said wryly.
I’d met Kody on a day trip to Christmas Falls for a wine-tasting event last year. I’d been impressed with his pub—which was really quite upscale for a little town—and he’d picked my brain about my favorite items on his menu and ways I might change them.
We’d clicked right then, and even though he didn’t need a chef, we’d stayed in touch. Occasionally, Kody came up to dine in great Chicago restaurants. He was always invested in making the White Elephant everything it could be. His enthusiasm was what I’d expected from Reginald—and sadly did not receive.
We stopped in front of a table covered in beautiful winter squash. I ran my fingernail over the edge of a butternut squash, testing the thickness of the skin, but I knew just from the looks of it—and the grizzled farmer who’d grown it—that it was going to be perfect.
“It’s a shit deal,” I said to Kody, continuing our conversation, “but it’s my fault for not sticking to my principles.”
He picked up a spaghetti squash and tapped the side, listening for the hollow sound that indicated ripeness. Satisfied, he set it in the joint basket we were carrying and dug in his pocket for a credit card. Most of the vendors were cashless, though there were a few holdouts.
Once he’d paid, we continued on, bypassing the fish stalls to browse the handcrafted goods. There were carvings of woodland creatures, delicious-smelling candles, even dog treats on offer.I snagged one for my sous chef. We were due to meet up and commiserate over our failed careers tomorrow night. Probably over too much wine.
“You should come down to Christmas Falls,” Kody said. “I don’t have a chef opening, but hell, you can come in and help us with some new recipes. I know everyone in town. Mik or Rudy might be open to hiring in their kitchen?—”
My phone rang, cutting across his words. It was sweet of Kody to offer. We both knew I’d have an uphill battle in Chicago.
I glanced at my phone’s screen. “It’s my mom. I can just call her later.”
“No, you don’t,” Kody said, a scold in his tone. “That lady loves you, and we’re just wandering around aimlessly. Pick it up.”
“You’re not my boss yet,” I grumbled.
Probably not ever. I appreciated Kody’s offer, but there was no quicker way to kill a friendship.
I answered the call. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Oh, Noel, I’m so glad I finally caught you!” She took a big breath. “You’re so busy that I just never know when to call.”
Guilt flared. A chef’s life wasn’t very family-friendly. I spent long hours in the kitchen, and when I wasn’t there, I was so exhausted I was mostly passed out or vegging in a fugue state in front of an old episode ofDexter. Watching a man chop up serial killers was oddly cathartic, and you had to admire his knife skills.
“Sorry,” I said. “I actually, uh, have some time off for the holidays.”
“You do?” Her whole voice brightened. “Oh, gosh, that’s lovely. If you have time, come see your dad. I know you’ve probably got much more important things to do, but we miss you.”
“You’re important, too,” I said, and then the rest of her statement caught up with me. An internal alarm went off. “Why should I see Dad?”
“What?”
“Well, you said I should come see Dad. Not both of you?”
“Oh.” She laughed. “I’m here, too, of course.”
