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“That was a cracking buy, that was.”

“I think you meana crackpotbuy,” Dawn countered.

“That trout pate was a genius move, though,” Sophie said. “People loved that. You know we still get asked when that’s coming back on the menu.”

Laughter continued around her, but Gemma was distracted. It appeared that she and Kent had even more to discuss than she’d first thought.

CHAPTER 14

Gemma didn’t know where Kent lived. She didn’t even know if it was in Maldon. There were plenty of nice little villages within commuting distance, although he could have been a town person for all she knew. Perhaps he lived in Chelmsford or Rayleigh. It didn’t matter to her, as long as he was at work on time each day. Still, she had suggested they meet at the microbrewery just up the road from the Swan. The place was only open in the latter half of the week and did a great draught cider. Also, it was at the bottom of town, and the last thing she wanted was to walk all the way to the top and have to come down again to get home.

The goodbyes with George had taken longer than she expected, and as such, she was nearly twenty minutes late to meet Kent. Part of her hoped that he had given up and gone already, but as she pushed open the low door and stepped inside, she saw him there, sitting in the corner, sipping on a pint of pale ale.

As he saw her coming, a smile flashed on to his face. The expression surprised her, not just because she had never seen him do it before, but because of how much it changed him. It was as if his entire face lit up. He looked almost friendly.

“Sorry, it ran on a bit,” she said.

With a wave of his hand, Kent shook the comment away.

“Don’t be silly. You must have had a lot of memories to go over. I take it George had a good night.”

“I think so. He’s gone out for a meal with his family now, so that’ll be nice for him.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will.”

Silence fell between them. It wasn’t the type of silence Gemma normally felt with her work colleagues. The type where they didn’t need to speak, or didn’t want to, but knew that was okay. This was the awkward type of silence where it was clear they both wanted to say something, but neither one wanted to be the first to speak.

“I’ve got some notes.”

“You’re Oscar’s nephew.”

The pair spoke at exactly the same time. Gemma felt her cheeks heat. She hated blushing and had assumed that, given she was now in her early thirties, it would be something she had grown out of, but unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case. She cleared her throat, ready to speak again, when Kent got there first.

“Yes, sort of. He’s my step-uncle. But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t qualified. This isn’t nepotism if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No?” Gemma had promised herself she wouldn’t get into an argument, but the man was as deluded as he was arrogant. “That’s funny because I didn’t see your CV, and you’d think if someone was genuinely qualified, the person running the place would have at least been allowed that courtesy. After all, if you were the best candidate, I’m sure I would have seen it.”

Kent tilted his head to the side. “Oscar had it. I assumed he had sent it to you.”

“Then you assumed wrong. I knew nothing about you. Not even your name.”

“Wow.” That was his initial response. Then, rather than apologising for an oversight, which he may or may not have had a part in, Kent simply shook his head. “That’s a shame, but I can still assure you I would have been the best candidate you had. How many chefs around here have trained in Paris and Tokyo and in Michelin-starred restaurants?”

Gemma snorted.

“Sorry, you’re telling me you worked in a Michelin-starred restaurant, and now you’ve taken up a position in your uncle’s cafe where you’re mostly going to be making bacon butties and baking brownies? I’m guessing there’s a story in there.”

“Not an interesting one. Just life. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to talk about the changes I think we need to make to the cafe.”

CHAPTER 15

It was like he wanted to play the part of the comic book villain. Every time he said something that made Gemma vaguely intrigued, he would follow it up with a comment like this.

“I’m sorry, you want to change things?”

Rather than replying immediately, Kent reached down to the bag by his side and pulled out the tablet he’d had with him all week. It wasn’t, as Gemma thought, a normal iPad, but an electronic notebook. He switched it on and flicked over a couple of pages.

“One of the first things we need to address is how long single customers are taking up table space.”