Page 18 of Cowboys at Coconuts

I knew I shouldn’t have hired Julio, my childhood chef, to work at Fifth Avenue Catering. Both chefs have dominant personalities and totally different styles.After Julio had surprised her with a trip to Paris to see her mom last spring and then confided he was dead broke, she didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he asked for a job. After all, she had grown up practically drooling over the guy while a tween atop a chair in her family’s kitchen.

Talking nonstop and so fast she could barely make out the words, she feared Chef O’Leary would have a heart attack. Attempting to portray calm, Cheri said, “Give it time. I’m sure you two will work it out.”

“Time. Time? This ismykitchen.” His voice rose. “You and I had the perfect partnership, Miss Cheri. Why did you hire another chef? I don’t understand.” Sneering, he said, “Julio struts around like he’s the boss. He acts like he owns the place. The kitchen is my domain, not his.”

Projecting more experience than she felt at age thirty, Cheri said, “Yes, it’s your domain, Chef O’Leary. You do a phenomenal job. What exactly does Julio do that upsets you?”

Throwing up both hands, the fifty-something chef said, “What doesn’t he do? Julio expects preferential treatment. He acts like he’s in charge. And . . . he’s trying to change the menu.” Leaning so close to the phone she could see up his nose, he said, “And you say?”

“I say he’s not in charge. You are.”

Throwing up both hands, Chef O’Leary said, “So why did you hire him? We don’t need two main chefs. Aren’t you happy with me, Miss Cheri, because if you’re not—?”

Sighing, Cheri said, “You know I am. I gave you a hefty raise last month. We’ve been together since I founded Fifth Avenue Catering.” She knew she couldn’t tell him about Julio’s financial difficulties and the fact that she somehow felt obligated to employ him. “Why don’t you two try and work it out? In the meantime, I’ll talk to him.”

Chef O’Leary’s mouth formed a straight line. “I hope you talk to Julio sooner rather than later. I’m going to quit if this guy has equal say. I hate the omnipotent SOB. It’smykitchen.”

Heart hammering, Cheri realized chefs were often volatile and she couldn’t afford to lose Chef O’Leary. She relied on him for all of their mega celebrity clients. He knew her clients’ favorite menus by heart, remembered who had food allergies, which ones expected lavish events and who wanted more casual affairs. Besides, most, if not everyone in the kitchen, loved him. Liam kept the business afloat while she was away. They made a great team.I knew hiring Julio would be a disaster. I should have trusted my gut. So much for the relaxed time with the cowboy.

Chapter 18

The next morning, Hope was greeted with a ridiculous scuffle in the hallway—all before her morning coffee.

“What’s going on?” Standing with her hands on her hips, she said, “Break it up.”

The four students argued over who had played first string, who was benched at last night’s game, and who would likely play first string in the next game.

“Into my office. All of you.” Leaning back in her chair totally drained, Hope fixated on the leak-stained, tiled ceiling. She didn’t particularly enjoy sports but it came with the territory of being a high school counselor.

After hearing the male students’ respective stories, which, not surprisingly, varied wildly, Hope weighed her decisions and eventually got the student athletes’ attention by threatening to call the coach and have them all benched for the next two games. She doubted if she had the power to do that, but the students didn’t know the difference.

Finally getting immediate results, plus apologies, she watched as the kids heaved sighs, eyed one another cagily, and eventually shook hands. Leaving her office, she watched as two playfully shoved one another.

One shouted over his shoulder, “Thanks, Miss Truman.”

Another student said, “Sorry ‘bout this. Don’t tell Coach. ‘kay?”

Hope grinned. “Behave and I won’t.” Attempting her best forceful glare, she added, “But don’t let me catch you fighting again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the third and fourth students echoed.

After her door closed, Hope did a fist bump.Another small victory. I’ll take it.

Pettiness wore her out. Normally, Dr. Holmes handled disciplinary matters but the principal was at a week-long conference. Checking her voice mail for the first time that day, Hope listened to a message from her always-busy, biological father, Paul.

Smiling, she dialed his number. “Hi. Your timing is perfect. I’ve had a rough day. Want to meet for dinner at Rosa’s Mexican Restaurant?”

“You read my mind, but if you’ve had a bad day, this might not be—” Paul’s tone changed.

“Might not be what?” Hope asked.

He paused. “I have a newspaper article I want to show you. It’s probably nothing.”

Hope stared at a stack of phone messages before answering. “I’ve got some work to do, but I want to see you.” She avoided discussing the article. “See you at six.”

After they hung up, she stared at the macramé plant hanger in the corner.I bet it’s the article I’ve already read about a woman who appears to be Montana and is alive and well in a Nashville nursing home.

Chapter 19

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