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He pursed his lips and turned away from me, saying over his shoulder, “it can happen.”
His response meant that it had never happened in his career, and now my kitchen reputation was at stake. The fact that they were here was already a taint to our shining rep. It would show up on their site by tonight that they were investigating us for E. coli. Plus, it would be put into the paper to announce, in case someone else got sick, but not bad enough to go to the hospital. They will want to track all the claims, and they will have to weed out the people who are trying to screw us by making a buck in a lawsuit—a lawsuit! Oh, my god!
I squeezed my eyes closed; I had to call Randolph and let him know what was going on before he heard about it through another chef. What time was it in France right now? I glanced at my watch; it was just after three here, and France was six hours ahead so it would only be nine there. He would be at his brother’s restaurant, probably cooking, so I’d wait at least another hour, or two, and then call him.
It was just after four, and they had tested every surface in our kitchen. We were seriously behind in preparing, and the kitchen was a madhouse. Luckily, my staff was professional and calm, and the minute they said we could return to the kitchen, everything started moving in super—but safe—speeds.
I sat at the desk in the back office and stared at the international phone number for Randolph. My gaze shifted to the report in front of me, and I was glad that Mr. Rushmore hadn’t found anything in his inspection. It made me even more confident that the person had gotten sick elsewhere.
I picked up the desk phone and started to dial the number. It took a few seconds to connect, and then it was ringing. A woman’s voice answered and spoke too quickly for me to understand. While I did know some French, it was reserved for simple phrases, and mostly kitchen terms.
“Puis-je parler avec Randolph Laurent, s'il vous plaît?” I asked for Randolph with stilted French.
“Juste un momento.” The phone clicked as she asked me to wait a moment.
It took almost a full minute before he answered gruffly, “Randolph.”
“Bonjour Randolph, c’est Ali. Comment vas-tu?”
“Ah, doux Ali, tout va bien.” He paused for one second and then switched to English, for which I was grateful. “I would ask you how you are, but if you are calling me, chérie, something must be wrong.”
“Randolph, the health inspector was here today. Someone reported that they ate here last night and came down with E. coli.”
“Overnight? Impossible!” he shouted and then started talking in French so fast that there was no chance in hell that I would understand anything. I figured after I heard someone respond to him in the background that he wasn’t talking to me. “Did they find anything?”
“No, they did a full inspection and found no signs of the bacteria in our kitchen or our food storage. I agree with you, and I don’t think that the man got it from us.”
“It was most certainly not! I know your standards and how you run my kitchen. You would not allow such things.”
“Thank you, Randolph. Hopefully, it is over, and the report will clear us, but I wanted to make you aware of it.”
“Merci mon coeu.”
After that, he asked how everything else was going, and we chatted for a few minutes until Ricardo stated that the doors were opening. I excused myself from the call and told him I’d keep him updated.
As I moved into the kitchen, it was all hands on deck. Stocks and soups were on the stove, and pastries were going into the oven. Then I realized that we had done something that we very rarely ever had to do. We pulled out our soup and sauce leftovers from the day before to get us started on the night. Thank god we did this for emergencies such as this. Randolph had said that while he detested leftovers, he would rather have a leftover than nothing to serve.
I walked around the kitchen, checking on things, and then set my phone up on the stand that I kept it on. When Holly called an hour later, I glanced at it and let it go to voicemail. Now was not the time to think about dates or dancing or television shows. We were having a bustling Wednesday night, and I needed to remain focused.
Chapter Seven
Harvey
Surprisingly, I was enjoying myself. No, I wasn’t a huge fan of dancing, but it was fun to try something new. My sister was off on the side, and she was always smiling when I looked her way. That right there made this whole thing worth the trouble. There wasn’t a better feeling in the world than to see her smile.
Maybe it was odd to feel that way about a sister, and perhaps that was because there was no other woman in my life, and no children to focus my attention on. She received all of my affections. I didn’t care what other people thought. Holly and I had been close since she was born, and I always felt like I had to watch over her and make sure she was alright.
“So, Harvey, how do you feel about the dance?” Tarin asked as we finished the break and prepared to go through the entire thing one more time.
“To be honest, I feel pretty good. It’s been more fun than I anticipated.”
“Is there anything that you are getting nervous about?” Tarin asked with a sly smile.
I chuckled. “The whole thing.”
“Well, you don’t look nervous when you do it. You really did pick it up rather quickly.”
I shrugged slightly. “I’ve never been big on dancing, so I never thought that I would have picked it up so easily.”
