Page 61 of Next Season
I barked orders as if I were a cranky captain steering a ship through hurricane winds. I liked order in my kitchen—gleaming counters, sharp knives, the best meats and produce, and a well-trained staff who worked in harmony. This was near chaos.
Boiling water hissed on the stovetop, the floor was littered with garlic skins, and the chatter around the prep island had a manic quality that didn’t bode well with three hours of service to go.
“Hey, are we short on the special tonight?” Nolan asked, sashaying through the kitchen door.
I glowered. “Un peu.We should have ordered more. We’ll sell out within the hour. On the bright side, we can serve your burgers and fries. Anything else?”
He frowned. “Yeah, uh…can you take a break?”
“Now?”
“Two minutes.” He held up two fingers and headed to his office.
I gritted my teeth and counted to ten before following him. I wasn’t angry at Nolan. It was simply bad timing. But the entire night felt like bad timing, so what the hell?
“What is it?” I folded my arms and leaned on his door.
“Nothing. You need a minute away from the stove, so this is me looking out for you.”
“Ah, that’s sweet of you.” I glanced at my watch. “Are we almost done?”
“Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nolan, I have a kitchen to run and—”
“Two minutes, JC. Talk to me.” He perched on the corner of his desk, casually elegant in khakis and a blue oxford shirt.
The thing about Nolan that set him apart from the crowd was his innately kind heart. He was a problem solver, a novice therapist for anyone who needed a friend, and while I appreciated his concern…timing.
“Okay. Thepot-au-feuis popular tonight. I should have known it would be, but it’s Monday and for some reason pork chops usually do better because this is Elmwood. Tonight, it’s beef. Live and learn, eh?”
“Yeah, whatever. It’ll be fine.” He pursed his lips and sighed. “Hey, I wanted to—”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You have one minute now.”
“Forty percent.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Forty percent. I own eighty percent of the diner and I can offer you half of that. It’s the best I can do today. My mom owns twenty, and yeah, she’s a silent partner, but this place has been in our family for a century so I can’t ask her to cede a portion of her—”
“Forty is generous,” I intercepted.
“So…is that a yes?”
I scrubbed my hand over my jaw. “Is it okay if I get back to you?”
He didn’t quite hide his surprise, but he nodded politely. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”
“I have some things on my mind, and my kitchen is on fire behind me, but—”
“Take your time. I just didn’t want you to think I’ve forgotten, ’cause I haven’t.”
“Thank you. I—”
“And I’ve thought about the place in Pinecrest too.”
“Oh?”