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Grace smiles and grabs an apple from the tray, I’m holding. “I’ll see you later?”
“Absolutely.”
An hour later, I’m singing along to the radio in my car. Pearl Jam is blaring, and I’ve never felt better. Every time I think of Grace, I smile.
The phone rings, and I press the button on my steering wheel to answer through the car. “Hello.”
“Boss?” Jenn, the assistant manager of my restaurant sounds like she’s crying.
“Jenn? What’s wrong?”
“We had a fire.” She sniffs.
Those words are every restaurant owner’s nightmare. My heart leaps into my throat. “How bad?”
“Not too bad, but we won’t be able to open for service for a few days.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
Another sniff. “Seth burned his arm. He’s at the hospital. He probably saved the place from a total loss.”
My gut twists. Seth’s been my head chef ever since I started running two businesses. He’s been fantastic as an employee and a friend. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the restaurant with the police and fire department.” She sounds more stable.
“All right, I’m going to check on Seth, then I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell the police where I am if they need me sooner.” I get off at the next exit.
A long breath pushes through the speakers in my van. “Thanks for not going nuts, Landon. I didn’t know how to tell you. I know how much you’ve got on your plate.”
“It will be alright, Jenn. If Seth is okay, then everything else can be replaced. Take a breath and try not to freak out.” Rather than ask her all the questions I have rolling around in my head, I say goodbye and wind through the streets like a madman to get to the hospital.
I run inside and ask the receptionist where Seth is.
She points down the corridor to the emergency room.
I find my cook smiling up at a young and pretty doctor. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Hey, boss.” Seth waves with his good arm.
The doctor wraps a bandage around his right forearm and hand. “He’ll be fine. Could have been much worse. Second-degree burns will heal in a few days, and if it scars, you can make up some story about how you got them saving kittens.”
“I’d rather tell our grandchildren about how I met their grandma.” Seth is too smooth to be hurt badly.
I laugh, as does the doctor. She tapes up the wrapping. “Come see me in three days. Keep the bandages clean, and call sooner if there’s puss or too much swelling.” She gives him a smile as she steps out of the cubicle.
Standing beside the bed, I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
He grips my arm. “It’s not your fault. That new kid put a towel too close to the stove. I was just telling him to move it, and the thing caught fire. It went up so fast, I’m guessing there was alcohol or grease on it. It could have been much worse.”
“Jenn says you saved my bacon.” How do you thank someone for that?
“I did what you would have done, boss. We’re chefs. Fires happen. I was just lucky the catering cloche was nearby. I smothered it with that. It would have been nothing if that towel hadn’t had some kind of accelerant on it.” He points to his burned arm. “It’s nothing, and I got that doctor’s number, so it might turn out to have been worth it.”
I shake my head. “Leave it to you to find a hot MD to make getting burned into a good thing.”
A nurse comes in with instructions for care and discharge papers to be signed.
I’ll pay whatever our insurance doesn’t cover. “We need to have a kitchen safety instruction day.”
