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"Excellent."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Is the chef still here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you ask if she has a minute?"

"Of course." He takes my empty plate. I sit back. My heart starts beating harder than it did when I boarded the plane. I've faced worse things than a woman in a chef's coat. None of them mattered this much.

***

Maddy

***

Daniel comes through the kitchen doors while Julian and I are reviewing tomorrow's reservation count. "Chef?"

I look up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. There's a gentleman at the corner table asking to see the chef."

Julian looks at me. I look at him. "Did he complain?"

"No."

"Send Julian."

Julian shakes his head immediately. "Absolutely not."

"You're also the chef."

"Not tonight."

I narrow my eyes. Daniel is trying not to smile. "Something funny?"

He clears his throat. "I think he might be a critic."

Julian looks toward the dining room. "Why?"

"He's been here a while. Several courses. Wine. Dessert. Asked questions about ingredients."

"That describes half the people who eat here," I say.

Daniel lowers his voice. "He's also very well dressed."

I stare at him. "That is your evidence?"

"And very particular."

Julian points at me. "You go."

"You're a coward."

"I hate food critics."

"You love them when they like us."