Page 42 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)
Robin
“Riesling or Sangiovese?” Jesse asks, holding up two half-full wine bottles. I point to the red. “Good choice,” he says, then splits it between two glasses.
“Cheers,” I say, clinking mine against his.
Sunday nights are my favorite shifts at Counterculture.
Jesse and I polish off the unfinished wines while we plan the specials and order supplies for the upcoming week.
It’s a nice escape from the tension brewing at the inn.
“Busy few days, huh?” I say, smacking my lips to savor the bold, herby Sangiovese.
“Great,” Jesse agrees, setting his wineglass on the metal prep station between us. “Since we started the dinner series, we’ve been booking up more frequently. Lots of repeat customers. Higher tabs too, and more tables ordering the chef’s tasting menu.”
We brainstorm seasonal dishes for the coming week based on what we’ve got a surplus of in the walk-in, but I’m interrupted by a buzzing from the pocket of my chef’s coat.
“Sorry, Jesse, I’ve got to take this. It’s my dad.”
“No problem.”
“Hey, Dad,” I say into my phone, stepping behind a storage rack. “What’s wrong?”
“Why’s something got to be wrong?” Dad says, chuckling. “I can’t just call my favorite daughter to check in?”
You can, but you don’t, I think.
“Sorry,” I reply. “It’s late. What’s up?”
Dad spends a few minutes catching me up on the new resident he hired at his practice and his trip to the zoo with the grandkids last weekend. He really must be changing. He never took Gabe and me to the zoo. Afterward, he asks, “How’s the inn? Closed on it yet?”
“Soon,” I say. “We’re almost done with renovations. We’ve got a walk-through with the buyer next week.”
“Glad to hear it,” Dad says. “Getting a good return on the investment of your trust fund money, just like I taught you. And great timing, because I’ve got a job opportunity for you.”
I freeze, unsure where this is headed. “You do?”
“A buddy of mine was tapped as director of dermatology for a new medical spa resort in the Sonoran Desert. You know, the kind of place where celebrities go to get plastic surgery and recover in private. They’re looking for a head chef.
Your name could be a real draw, and it pays almost as much as being a physician.
” He laughs at his own non-joke. “What do you say? Can I connect you?”
The gig reminds me of my Robin’s Egg location at Google HQ, which got shut down by Covid before it really got off the ground.
But before that, I was already frustrated by the limitations that came with being one small part of a big campus.
Too many higher-ups telling me what I could and couldn’t do.
“It doesn’t sound like my kind of thing,” I say.
“Psh. Living in the lap of luxury at a five-star resort is everyone’s kind of thing.”
“Thanks for thinking of me, but I don’t think it’s the right next step,” I say, picturing myself making brothy soups for actors with fresh lip filler to sip through straws. A medical spa resort sounds like where culinary inspiration goes to die.
“I didn’t realize you were in a position to turn down a good opportunity,” Dad says. “You got something else brewing I don’t know about?”
“I’m working on it,” I say noncommittally.
“Sure. Well, if you want something more low-key while you figure things out, our country club is looking for a chef. Nothing as fancy as a spa resort, but you’d be closer to home.”
“I’m not going to work at your country club, Dad.
” I realize as the words come out of my mouth how ungrateful I sound.
There’s nothing wrong with the jobs my dad is offering, and as recently as a few months ago, I couldn’t afford to be this picky.
I look toward Jesse, who’s pretending not to listen but has been examining the same bag of rice for a suspicious amount of time.
“Sorry, that was harsh,” I say quietly to Dad.
I rub my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to take my own anxiety about the future out on him.
“Your country club is great, and it’s thoughtful of you to suggest it.
I just want something that…feels like mine, I guess.
After being in charge of my own restaurants, it’s hard to go back to cooking for a boss. ” Besides you, I mouth to Jesse.
“Makes perfect sense, Birdie,” Dad says. “I’d feel the same way if someone asked me to leave my practice and go back to a hospital setting. So you’ll do more TV, then?”
Memories of four a.m. call times, infinite reshoots, and styling screen-ready entrées with tweezers pop into my head. “I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
“Well, Birdie, tell me what you want,” my dad says, his frustration beginning to show. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you however I can.”
“Whatever it is?” I say skeptically. “Even if it’s not a Michelin-starred restaurant or an award-winning TV series or something else that will impress your friends at the club?”
“To hell with my friends,” my dad says, nearly knocking me over. “You’re my daughter. I want you to be happy. Even if that means running the deep fryer at a catfish shack.”
Those are words I never once expected to come out of my father’s mouth. I look at my phone like I’m being Punk’d, then return it to my ear and say, “That’s…surprising to hear.”
My dad sighs. “You and I have had our differences. But I’ve always been proud of you, no matter what.”
Thinking of all the times he’s made me the butt of stupid jokes, how he talked me out of going to culinary school and pushed me toward a business degree, his belittling my success with the inn and pushing me to aim higher, I can’t help but say, “You’ve had some weird ways of showing it.”
There’s a pause before my dad speaks again.
“You’re right. So I’ll say it again. I’m proud of you.
Of what you built in Eureka, in your restaurants, on TV.
But also of where you are now, figuring things out.
It takes a lot of guts to step back from big opportunities and think about what you really want,” he says, serious, not a punch line in sight.
“I haven’t always been the most supportive parent.
But I’ve learned a lot from watching Gabriel with Annalise and Bradford.
Life’s funny like that. Sometimes you learn the most about parenting from your kids and grandkids.
Gabriel helped me realize that you two being happy and healthy is what really matters.
So what would make you happy, and how can I help you get there? ”
I’m at a loss for words. If my conservative, status-driven, patriarchy-born-and-bred dad can have such an open mind, I guess it’s my turn to grow up.
“That means a lot to me, Dad,” I say, my voice cracking a little.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I know. Maybe I can come down to Little Rock soon and we can talk about it. I’ll cook dinner.”
“Tell me when and I’ll clear my schedule, Birdie.”
I almost tell him to stop calling me that stupid nickname, but before I do, I realize it’s growing on me. “Okay, Dad. Thanks. I love you.”
“Love you too,” he says before hanging up.
“Your dad’s trying to find you a job?” Jesse asks as I take a seat at the prep station.
“Apparently,” I say, still processing what just happened.
I take off my backward ball cap and run my fingers through my hair.
Molly trimmed off the bleached ends for me last week, and now it’s completely back to my natural dirty blond.
“It’s nice of him, I guess. If only I knew what I wanted my next job to be.
That’s the whole reason I came to Eureka. To figure it out,” I say.
Jesse sits on a stool next to me, dropping his clipboard next to the sink.
“I know what might help.” I look at him curiously, hoping for a magic answer.
“What do you say to leading the dinner-series night next month? Whatever theme you want. It can be your culinary goodbye before you sell the inn and leave town. And maybe it will spark an idea for what comes next.”
I think about how Jesse’s dinner series gets my creativity flowing, how I always leave them on a high, reminded of why I love what I do.
Part of me wants to pass, not wanting to take up too much space in his kitchen, but I also recognize the honor it is to be invited to do something like this.
I decide I want to live up to the person he thinks I am. “I’d love to,” I say.
Jesse’s face lights up. “Dope! Just tell me what you need. I’m here for you one hundred percent, like you’ve been for me.”
“I know you are, dude.” As I pat Jesse’s shoulder, I remember how I asked him and Caro to consider returning to the Hummingbird.
I see now that I shouldn’t bring it up again.
They have their own legacies to build in Eureka.
Leaving that vision for the future behind, I say, “Thank you for the opportunity. Really. I don’t think I could have survived these last few months without you. ”
Jesse smirks at me. “I don’t know about that. Seems like Molly’s had something to do with it too.”
My cheeks turn warm. “Maybe. But truly, I’m grateful.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jesse says. “We’re in this together. And we’re gonna make a dinner they’ll never forget.”