Page 44 of Go Cook Yourself

“I’m sure I can find a different way to get my dog back with more time. I adore Cookie, but I can’t have you all get into trouble for him.” He shakes his head. “It’s a silly idea. Ignore I said anything.” Sweat covers his forehead, and panic sits inside me.

“Whatever it is, we’re going to do it, but we’re not doing it just for Cookie,” I say. I babble before anything, including my conscience, can shut me up. “We’re doing it for you. For the guy who fixed my light, spent his spare time improving my baking, helped Amber, and made us dinner tonight without question. He’s also the same guy who makes us laugh and happy and makes the cookery school a special place. The school is thriving because of you. So we’ll do this reckless, risky, and potentially illegal mission for you. And Cookie, too.”

Garett looks down at the floor.

“Garett,” I snap, getting his attention. “We’re getting your boy back tonight, no matter the consequences.”

“But—”

“No buts, especially as I’ve realised the best place to hide him. Tell us what you need us to do. Mission: Cookie’s Homecoming is all systems go.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Garett

Kath looks at me with a steely gaze and offers an occasional smirk. We’re in Clive’s restaurant, which used to be our restaurant. All the additions I insisted on have gone. There’s no wine bottles decorating the rustic walls or mini candelabras on the tables. He’s replaced them with mirrors and hanging lamps. All the surfaces are white and stark instead of shabby chic wooden furnishings and a cosy ambience.

A waitress who could have fallen off a catwalk takes our order, but she doesn’t check dietary requirements.

“Hi, sorry,” I say. The waitress stares me dead. “My friend is allergic to peanuts. I’m sure you don’t cook in peanut oil, but can I check?”

Kath smiles gratefully. She’ll have her EpiPen, but she won’t want to risk anaphylactic shock.

“I don’t know,” the waitress adds with a shrug. “Does it really matter?”

She walks towards the toilets. She’s not going to find out for us. I wasn’t planning to get in Clive’s face yet—it doesn’t fit Flora’s plan—but already, my limbs are tight and demanding action.

Suddenly, one of my old team members waves me over to the kitchen door. Rumour must have spread that I’m here because familiar faces peek behind her.

Chrissy, who worked behind the bar, embraces me. “You’re back.” She has a glob of mascara stuck in her eyelashes and a patch of tomato sauce on her blouse, but her beaming smile hasn’t changed. I shake myself. It’s been three months since he kicked me out.

“Why do you look like you’ve been cooking?”

Although she’s wearing one of the tight black skirts and breast-squeezing blouses that all the model-looking servers wear, she’s also wearing a hairnet.

She worries her lip, but when one of the kitchen staff nudges her, she confesses, “Clive moved all of your staff to the kitchen and brought in younger waitresses. They’re alright but don’t care about serving and have no experience.”

“But you were—are—brilliant at your job.”

She shrugs. “But we’re not attractive enough, and we were friends with you.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m so sorry, Chrissy. I can’t believe he’s treated you all like this. You were with us from day one.”

“That’s what Flora said. But he treated you so much worse, and you were supposed to be his friend.” Former servers, who also now wear hairnets and have splatters of food on their clothes, nod enthusiastically. “Everything’s changed. Do you remember that you used to offer every diner a plate of tasters?” I nod. I was proud of that. “Not anymore. And he’s reduced the number of desserts, too. He’s trying to make the place stylish for the elite while cutting costs, too. It’s all about money.”

The pudding menu was my baby. Maybe I was foolish to want people to have an experience that sat with them for days. As much as I believe this is about cutting costs, it’s also about wiping me from the place. I’d wanted to create a cosy Italianhomely feel in the middle of the town, but he’s obliterated that. This isn’t my place anymore.

My face falls.

“We miss you, Chef.”

“I miss you all, too.”

I give each one a bear hug. I was as strict as hell when I was here, but I gave love, too. I lost that side for a while. Until Ruby.

I glance around the room. I had plans for this place, including offering an opportunity for people to take extra puddings home and order them when they weren’t eating here. I wanted the experience to be more than a memory.

“Will you start another restaurant one day? We’d love to be part of it,” Chrissy says.

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