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“The week working as guest chef was just a ruse to learn this sauce recipe,” she’d said, only half joking. “Thank you for this gift, Chef.”
He’d grumbled about having to mollycoddle young chefs, but Bryce could tell he’d been pleased.
Now here she was, basically told she’d be given the position as sauté chef of Cascade—one of the most prestigious restaurants in Western New York. She’d been a hit with her colleagues here, and in control of all she surveyed. This would have been the pinnacle of her career.
If she weren’t so miserable.
It was more than the blow from hearing Ryker’s last voicemail—his calling another woman “sexy” and “sweetheart” hit hard. Worse than that was her ache for Addison, Cecily, and June. Missing the girls felt like an open wound in her chest. She’d called them every morning and every night, but for the past two days her calls to June had gone to voicemail, and this morning June’s message indicated that her voicemail was full. She’d tried both Harvey and Adele, but they’d hurried off the phone with her, and she hadn’t gotten to talk with any of her nieces. It was as if they’d all forgotten her.
Bryce dipped a tasting spoon into the hollandaise sauce. She added another smidge of white pepper before ladling some over four orders of eggs Benedict, garnishing them with a sprinkle of sliced chives.
“Go.” As she waved the server off, Bryce dropped her tasting spoon. She’d picked it up and was heading to toss it in the dirty dish bin when her gaze caught on something glimmering in the nearby garbage. It was a metal saltshaker, the top dented as if it had been accidentally mangled by the dishwasher or hit by the wheels of a serving cart. It was silver—not real silver, but restaurant-grade sterling, like the utensils—and it looked abandoned, sitting there atop potato peels and kitchen waste.
Bryce plucked the shaker from the trash, using a nearby towel to wipe it down. It was roughed up, but it still worked. Crystals of salt glimmered against her palm as she flipped it upside down. She frowned. Cecily would’ve rescued it. With a little work, the dent could be hammered out. It might not be good as new, but it was still beautiful, despite its imperfections.
Maybe because of them?
Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about her nieces and the girls’ grandparents. That situation was dented. Some might say it wasn’t salvageable.
Yet, all she’d been thinking about this week was missing the girls, and she was downright miserable. What was she doing here?
No doubt, cooking brought her joy. It was something she was effortlessly good at, unlike being a daily kid-wrangler. But as she stood there looking out over the massive kitchen, the rows of Vulcan ranges, the cooks and servers and chefs, she missed the tiny, cramped area behind the swinging doors of PattyCakes café. She missed the challenge of coming up with new menu ideas with limited budgets, of ways to use leftover ingredients to make something spectacular. She missed watching the kitchen clock, counting down until her nieces were done with school, whipping up a snack for them, figuring out ways to prepare their favorites and introduce new delights, expanding their limited palates.
Gazing down at the dented saltshaker, she realized that after Bentley’s death, after her world had been forever changed, what brought her the most joy and healing hadn’t been cooking. It had been her time with her nieces. Being silly, playing sumo wrestler as they grabbed her legs, or being the hapless victim in the endless game of Tinker Bell and pirate. It was the times she’d cajoled a smile from June, successfully gotten Cecily bathed, or heard Addison’s sweet voice saying, “I love you.” Her nieces melted her heart.
She may be a disaster as a mom-like creature.
But that title was the best prize.
It’s what made her happy.
Carefully, she slid the saltshaker into her pants pocket. With shaking hands, she untied the apron around her waist.
“I’ve got to go,” she said to Chef Nassur, whose white eyebrows bunched together in confusion. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get back to my…my kids.”
***
Two hours later, and after a pep talk from her father, she’d pulled beside the Paynes’ big SUV in their driveway, the large vehicle practically hiding her BMW from view as she walked to the front door.
Her father’s words from earlier echoed in her mind.
“Little Beamer, nobody’s born knowing how to parent. And no parent, or parent-like creature, is perfect. Your mother used to say there wasn’t a recipe for success as a mom. Like cooking, you’ve got to stand at the stove every day and do your best.” Her dad’s words, and the memory of her mom comparing everything to cooking, brought a smile to her face.
But more importantly, it brought the steel back in her spine.
She might not be a perfect mom-like creature, but she adored her nieces. Her kids. Bentley and Heather had chosen Bryce to raise their children, and Bryce was going to do everything within her power to prove to Adele, Harvey, and the judge that her late brother and sister-in-law had chosen correctly…but that she’d rather do this as a team. Together, they could figure out a way to make their dented relationship not only work, but show that its beauty was because it wasn’t perfect. It was unique. Strong. And worth saving.
Gathering her courage, she rang the Paynes’ doorbell.
Shouts and cries sounded from within—some of them from her nieces. Some could be from…the Paynes?
Adrenaline spiked, and without thinking of the consequences, she twisted the knob and burst inside the white ranch-style house. The foyer and living room looked like a pack of rabid raccoons had rampaged through, and her eyes darted everywhere.
Crayons, scissors, and construction paper lay on every available surface. One of Cecily’s black sneakers lay by the door, the other a footstep away, as if she’d literally walked right out of them upon entering the house. Coats, sweaters, and socks littered the chairs and floor, and two plates of half-eaten sandwiches and potato chips sat forgotten on what had previously been an immaculately kept coffee table but now held a riot of LEGOs, Barbie dolls, and a motley assortment of rocks and leaves.
“Hello? Harvey? Adele?” Bryce called out and was rewarded by the sound of the Paynes coming down the hallway.
“Bryce, thank God!” Harvey and Adele rushed to her. Both wore wrinkled clothing, and Adele’s face was devoid of makeup. They had bluish bags under their eyes, as if they hadn’t slept.
