Page 38 of The Kitchen Contract

“I was halfway through the program when we had an assignment to come up with an original recipe that we would present to a panel of instructors. I was excited because I had some great ideas that I’d been making notes on for several weeks, and it wasn’t a secret that this assignment was coming. But there was this other girl in my class who had it out for me. I don’t really know why. She just didn’t like me from day one.”

“That’s hard for me to imagine unless she was intimidated by your awesomeness, but go on.”

She smiles at my interjection. “I don’t think that was it. Anyway, I tried my best to steer clear of her whenever I could. I just wanted to finish the program and get my certificate. So we got to the assignment, and I created this pasta dish that turned out really well, with a creamy pesto sauce and grilled veggies. The panel loved it—until the other girl made almost the exact same thing and accused me of stealing the recipe from her.”

“Uh oh.” I think I see where this is going, and it’s not good.

“Of course, I told them that I had written notes for that recipe down weeks ago, and I tried to show them in my notebook but that page was gone. I can only assume she ripped it out and took it.”

“And they didn’t believe you.” It’s a statement, not a question. This totally explains why my doubt of her explanation earlier hit her so hard. I’m sure it brought up the same feelings she had when this happened.

“No, it was my word against hers, and since her parents had recently made a pretty big donation to the school’s scholarship fund, I guess that was the tiebreaker. Plus, it didn’t help that I was already on the administration’s bad side for lodging a complaint against one of my instructors. Apparently, they preferred that students keep allegations of inappropriate behavior to themselves. Even though I know for a fact I wasn’t the only girl who was uncomfortable around that guy.”

My eyebrows pull together, and I feel a knot of anger in my stomach. “So they didn’t do anything about it?”

“Not a thing. They said that without solid evidence to substantiate my claims, they were unable to take any disciplinary measures against him.”

“They didn’t believe you.”

“I’m not sure if they didn’t believe me or just didn’t care enough to do anything about it. The end result is the same, I guess.”

I shake my head, clenching my fists. “I can’t believe that happened to you.”

She shrugs. “That kind of thing happens to people—especially to women—all the time. Why not me? I bet it’s happened to people you know before.”

I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize that she’ll only see that as dismissing her again. Besides, she’s left me with plenty to think about.

As the HR manager at our Nashville office, I’m the guy who deals with complaints like the one she submitted to the school. Allegations of misconduct very rarely come across my desk, but now I’m questioning how many incidents go unreported because of the assumption that nothing will be done. I make a mental note to be diligent in the future to give the cases that do cross my path the attention they deserve. I think I’ve done that in the past, but I feel more aware of it now.

“I’m really sorry, Rose. What happened after that?”

“I got a job in a chain restaurant—the one I’m with now—and worked my way up to head cook over the last three years. But I haven’t told you the worst part yet.”

My heart drops into my stomach. What else could have happened to her that would be worse than what she’s already told me?

“I never told anyone that I got kicked out.” Her voice is almost a whisper like she’s afraid someone might overhear. “My parents think I graduated.”

I nearly sigh in relief. I mean, it’s not great that this is weighing on her. But it’s certainly better than another terrible thing happening to her on top of all that other stuff.

“They didn’t get suspicious when there wasn’t a ceremony to attend?”

She shakes her head and continues fidgeting with the towel on her shoulder. “Whenever they would ask me how school was going, I would just change the subject. Then graduation happened while COVID was raging in 2020, so I told them there wasn’t going to be a ceremony, that the students would just get their certificates mailed to them. Which was true, I just wasn’t one of the students expecting mail.”

So it’s been several years since all this happened. Years that she’s been carrying the weight of this secret all by herself. My heart goes out to her.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” I ask, trying to understand.

“Because I was embarrassed.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but it’s more complicated than that.” Her eyes well up, and she blinks back tears. “My parents didn’t want me to go to culinary school. No one in either of their families had ever gone to college, and they wanted me to be the first. And I could have done it. I always liked school, had good grades. I even got accepted to a couple of schools and went to one for a year as a business major. But I wanted to work with food, and in the end, they gave me the little bit of money that they had saved for me to go to college and said they trusted me.”

She scoffs bitterly, a tear breaking free to trickle down her cheek. “And look what happened. They were right. I should have gone to college instead of wasting their money on a pipe dream.”

“Hey, don’t cry.” I cross the kitchen in two big steps and lean against the counter next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She turns and folds into me, her forehead resting against my chest as she sniffs and gulps air, trying to stem her tears. I bring my other arm around and pat her back gently.

After a moment, she leans back and I let her go reluctantly. I’m glad her tears are slowing, but I would have been happy to have her in my arms a little longer.

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