Ember.That’s what she is. She could light up my life by being herself. The nickname suits her.
That’s what I’ll call her from now on.
Welcome to my lair…I mean, my kitchen, Ember. I’m never letting you go.
I clap my hands.
“Show’s over. Service in ten. Let’s go.”
There's a chorus of, "Yes, Chef.”
Every member of my brigade picks up the pace. The staccato of knives on cutting boards, the hiss of pans, the clatter of plates being stacked, fills the air.
Satisfied, I slide her bag off her shoulder without asking.
She gasps. "I need that?—"
"No, you don't. Give me your coat.”
“Excuse me?" She blinks.
“You’re dripping water on my kitchen floor.” I stare at the puddle of water that’s gathering around her where she’s standing.
“Oh.” She reddens. “Sorry.”
“Put on your chef jacket.”
Instantly, she slides her coat off and hands it over.
Excellent. She’s a fast learner.
“These will be safe in my office."
Her forehead furrows. "Shouldn’t we talk about what happened when we last met? It will make it easier for us to work together.”
She’s right; we should. But I’m not ready. And I don’t want to delay the service further.
“We will, soon. I cannot spare a second more right now.”
I take her coat and bag to my office, leaving her to follow me.
"Three minutes."
I jerk my chin toward the corridor.
"Washroom. Hands. On your way back, study the plates on the pass.”
I glance back at her.
"You know the menu?”
3
Harper
I came prepared with the menu memorized, and his plating style studied from every photograph I could track down. That he even asked is an affront.
I'll show him.
