Page 40 of The Promise Of You

“My name. It’s Chloe.”

“Whatever.”

“Or Ms. Sullivan. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Samuel.”

“I’m most comfortable with Chef.” I stifle my amusement, but he catches it.

“If you had any experience in the industry, you’d know to call me Chef.”

Right. “So. Back to the kitchen. Chef. Who am I supposed to have a talk with?”

“You can talk to me.”

At last! Ownership. I think? “Good. The kitchen was filthy. Dirty dishes. Greasy surfaces. Spoiled food in the cooler.”

He looks around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Looks pretty good to me.”

I see what this is. We’re playing games. Maybe I should have left it the way it was, after all. “Who cleaned it?”

“Whoever was supposed to. It was done.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“A’right, then, I’ll talk to them.”

“And who’s them?”

“Eric,” he says, pointing his chin to a young guy who just came in. “He reports to me. You have something to tell him, you go through me.”

“Great. So this is me telling you.” I lower my voice so Eric doesn’t overhear. “Party’s over. Do your job.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Anything else?”

“Yes. We need to discuss the menu.”

He swiftly uses the flat of the blade to slide chopped carrots into a large metal bowl. “There’s nothing to discuss. It’s set for the season.”

“Right. When is a good time?”

“For what?”

“For you and me to have a meeting.” Something about Samuel and a knife doesn’t sit well. Best have a talk when he’s not working.

“Next week?”

“Why don’t we make it Sunday?”

“We’re closed Sunday.”

“Exactly. Less distractions. Tell you what. I’ll take you out. Brunch?”

“Lady, I don’t brunch.”

“Your loss, Samuel. Next Sunday at noon, here. We’ll be discussing the menu.”

What a piece of work! But I’d say I didn’t do too bad. At least I didn’t lose my patience, and I showed I was no fool.

I think.

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