Page 66 of In a Pinch

“In the last couple of months, you have made some impressive growth. You have always had the talent in the kitchen. That was never something that needed TLC. Your people skills? Those needed some work.”

I shift in the hard metal chair, halfway from the uncomfortableness of the chair and the other half from the uncomfortableness of the moment.

“But you have grown. You did good work with the class. And the most recent round of new hires, they needed a lot of work. I haven’t had a single one come to my office crying about how you were mean to them. You have learned the difference between tough love and, well, just being a jackass.”

I huff out a laugh because that was a lesson that took me too long to learn.

Nodding my head, I reply, “Well, thank you. I have made more of an effort to remember what it is like to be that green in a kitchen and trying to be more patient with that.”

“I’ve noticed. Even the staff has mentioned your overall demeanor is much more positive. A few didn’t even know that you could smile.” He chuckles at this and I join in.

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “I smile all the time while cooking. So, they’re just being dramatic.”

“You smiled at the food, but not really the people.”

I don’t need to tell him that most people suck; he’s lived and worked long enough to know. The few friends I have made here, have seen me smile.

“I’m not sure what has changed for you, but it was what I have been looking and waiting for.”

I know exactly what changed—a little redhead walked into my class and pulled the jackass stick out of my ass. She’d probably argue that I can be a bit of one still, but it has been slightly muted.

“I’m glad.” I don’t know what else to say, and compliments feel repulsive. Especially when they’re about me. You can rave about my food, and I will gloat all day. But my character? Write it on a card, so I can feel uncomfortable in solitude.

“Well, son, I called you in early today to let you know this week will be your last week as my sous-chef. Starting Tuesday, the kitchen will be yours.” He grins at me, the wrinkles under his eyes becoming more pronounced with the intensity of the movement.

“What?” Shock and disbelief fill me. There's no way. No fucking way. This was supposed to be a year-long transition, and we’re doing it next week? A trickle of fear enters my mind at the thought of being the one holding all the responsibility, but the excitement wins the overall battle of emotions.

He must sense a bit of my conflicting emotions because he quickly jumps back in with: “I will be staying on staff the first month of the transition, but starting next week, it’s yours. Planning menus, hiring kitchen staff, arranging schedules. All of it.”

Confusion etches deep into my furrowed brow. “What happened to the transition period?” Not that I am complaining, but I feel like I have to convince myself that this is actually happening.

Chef jerks his shoulders in a shrug. “You achieved what I was needing to see in order to feel like it was your time.” He lays his index finger on my chest with each point he makes. “You did it. You worked hard. You showed up and grew up. I’m proud toknow you and proud to have you as my successor. Now, I get to retire knowing it’s in good hands.”

Tears fill my eyes. I blink them away as quickly as they came, not wanting to show all my cards. TheI’m proud of youmeans even more than the promotion.

He gives my shoulder two quick taps. “Let’s take a walk and we can chat some more.”

I nod my head in response, not quite ready to trust my voice.

Walking out into the dining room from the black swinging doors, colors flash in front of my face as mini streamers and confetti pop. Chef gives me a few big pats on the back and sends me on my way to my celebration. Taking a second to look around, I find myself dumbfounded.

Addie’s smile in the crowd guides me to her. “Congratulations, baby!” Just as I go to reach for a hug, a loud pop goes off as she sets off another round, and bright streamers dance in my face.

“Thank you.” Her arms wrap tight around my waist, and I feel every nerve in my body settle. Stepping half a step back, I release one arm and wave it toward the room. “How did this get set up?”

“Well, one of your coworkers had Theo’s number. Theo had Regina’s number, and then she called me. And, well, here we are.” Her soft, small hands find each side of my face, forcing me to look down into the prettiest shade of green I’ve ever seen. “I’m so proud of you! I thought this was like a year down the road.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I say, “Honestly, I did, too. Chef had me thinking my ass was getting fired. I came in, racking my brain for shit I've done wrong.”

Theo walks up, smile beaming. He’s holding a handful of multicolored balloons, some sayCongratulations, and some have a chef knife on them, making me wonder where the hell he found those.

“Congrats, man. Well-earned and deserved. We will throw you a proper celebration down at the bar when you get a day off.”Theo grabs my hand and pulls me in for a one-arm hug and a pat on the back.

This is one of the biggest moments of my career. I’m about to be the youngest head chef Flambé has ever had. While our town is on the smaller side, this restaurant is on the map. People come through just to get a chance to eat here.

A quiet, almost undetectable bit of sadness hits me. While everyone in this room is incredibly supportive, it makes me sad that not a single member of my family is here. That’s partly my own doing. It’s taken a moment like this to realize that I’ve successfully pushed everyone away.

A loud laugh causes me to look over to my little group of people—the family I made on my own. I smile because, well, not everyone has been pushed away. I make a silent promise to hold on to these ones with all I’ve got.

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