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She was a hard worker and a giver. She volunteered time toward charities and ran her energy company with a kind but firm heart.
Plus, she loves Warren and shows us all that every time they are together.
“I am.” I nod. “I think it’s a good step.”
“And eventually, you’ll be able to…” She cocks her head a little. “Sorry, would you be taking over the company then?”
I chuckle, knowing that she’s been talking to Warren about how his dad wants this to work. “Well, I don’t want to get my hopes that high. I just figure if I work hard, Henry will see that and keep me on a crew. I don’t really care what I do, I just want something steady.”
“I think Dad will see it,” Warren comments.
“I hope so.”
“Hey, what is this about a new chef at the restaurant?” Derek’s question has me tuning into the conversation and looking at Enzo who is already turning a shade of red.
“What? They actually hired someone else?” I take my fork and poke it into a potato.
Enzo shakes his head. “Yes. They did.”
The table quiets, all of us wondering what’s going on. Well, except April who loudly squirts ketchup on her plate.
She glances up at the quiet and looks to us. “What?”
I smirk before turning my attention back to Enzo. “Who is it?”
“You’re not going to believe me,” he answers, anger in his words.
“Did this just happen?”
“Yes. This morning she was introduced to the staff.” Enzo grabs his beer and nearly chugs the whole glass before setting it down with a sigh.
“She?” I prompt.
“Yes,” he replies again. “Nora fucking Miller.”
I barely hold in my bark of laughter, out of sheer surprise probably. “No way.”
“Wait, who’s this?” Jane inquires while Warren rubs one of her shoulders, his arm loosely around her chair.
“She’s a chef, apparently,” he announces. “And now we’re supposed to be competing for the head chef position.”
“I thought for sure you would be getting it,” I say.
He scoffs. “Me too.” Enzo shakes his head. “I mean, I know I’m a good chef. And I’ve worked hard, but I think the owner just hates how I do things. I don’t think I’ll win this.”
“So you’re quitting.” I take a guess, thinking back to our conversation a few days ago.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Quitting? No way.”
I raise a brow. “So… wait. You’re not? Why?”
He slaps the table lightly. “Because! I can’t let her win!”
“But you just said you were thinking of quitting.”
“Quitting would be letting her win.”
I shake my head, confused at this conversation, and then sigh, “So you’re going to try and beat her?”
