CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Madison’s life in Paris was over.
Her fate was sealed. She’d spit in the bully’s eye, and Dassault was going to kick her down. She would be persona non grata in the culinary world if he had anything to say about it. Certainly in France…she would have to see about elsewhere.
He’d also threatened to ruin anyone who helped her, and she had no doubt he intended to do exactly that.
As she scrubbed down the stove, she welcomed the sting on her hands from the steel wool she’d used for extra cleaning.
God, she’d been so close to having her star. Tonight had shown her just how close in the parting words of Christophe Flaubert and Chef Parnaud:We are in agreement. Your menu deserves three stars. Not that it matters now.
Somehow it was worse, knowing she’d achieved the excellence she’d hoped for. She would have to find another restaurant and start over. Would the Barcelona job even be open to her after tonight?
She plunged the steel wool in the bucket again, splashing the floor. If Kyle’s family could only see her now…
Except they had left after Kyle’s ultimatum.
She scrubbed the grates harder. On another night, she might have been thrilled that he’d stood up for her and drawn such a firm line in the sand. But she’d nearly burned her hand on the sauté pan when his voice had trailed into the kitchen.
He’d announced he planned tomarryher.
Was he insane? She wasn’t a wife. She was a chef. Her life was the restaurant. Not fetching him…whatever it was a wife fetched her husband. Slippers? With Kyle, it would be dry cleaning.
What in the hell had he been thinking? How could he tell them that before talking about it with her? And even more humiliating, her entire English-speaking staff had overheard, which meant everyone would know her business.
Respect mattered—especially being a female chef.
She stewed for as long as she could, cleaning the stove until it looked new. Then she stood up and gathered Pierre to her chest in a comforting hug. He’d been trembling from all of the drama tonight. “Almost finished, my friend.”
Stopping herself short, she bit off what she normally told him.We’ll go home soon, I promise.
Home…
God, she had to tell Kyle what had gone down with Dassault and then tell him she would have to leave for good.
“Don’t be sad,” the parrot crooned in his new English, rubbing his cream-colored head against her black apron.
“We’ll be all right, Pierre,” she whispered, except nothing would be for a long time.
Pierre would have to remain in Paris. He was an integral part of Dean and Jacqueline’s new business. Her heart throbbed with more pain.
Then there were her roommates, the Plus Ones…Nanine. Spike even.
God! The last seeds of hope were gone. She knew thelandscape, and it was as ugly and rough as her old neighborhood where she’d trudged alone.
She bit the inside of her cheek, the pain focusing her. She had to move forward. That was all there was to it. She’d need to do it quickly too. Because she couldn’t take big, emotional scenes with anyone. They would tear her into shreds, and she’d borne enough damage tonight.
Her staff was still cleaning around her, as if they too needed to scrub away the ugliness of the night and reestablish order in their stations. Walking to her special stash of liquors, she pulled out a rare bottle of yellow Chartreuse and headed to the center of the kitchen.
The staff turned their attention to her, hands folded behind their backs in a crisp line that did her chef’s heart good. She’d done well with them. Starting over with a new staff would be hard if she was lucky enough to land another job, but she’d do it. She’d done it here. She had to remember that.
“Tonight was our most challenging night yet, but we stood up to the pressure. I would like to personally thank you for your excellence. Two renowned persons in the culinary world tonight paid our cuisine the highest compliment. Let’s celebrate that.”
Because there was no way she was saying more, certainly not about Kyle’s parents and their party from hell.
Fabian and a few others brought out glasses, and they all had a drink. When it was finished, she walked to the front of the house stroking Pierre’s feathered head, where she knew Claude and the others were setting up for tomorrow.
