Page 27 of Comforting the Grump

What time? I’m coming with you.

I braced myself for his inevitable protest—which I was going to ignore. Marnin needed support, needed someone who cared, and there wasn’t a force in Forestville that could stop me from being that someone.

Seriously?

His reply came back quick, the words tinged with surprise, maybe even disbelief. I could almost hear the sarcasm in his voice, an affectionate undertone warming the usual bite.

Dead serious

OK. My appt is at 11.

It’s settled then. I’ll see you Friday. I’ll be there around 9.

Thank you. It’s not needed, but thank you.

Well, that had been easier than expected, but I wasn’t done yet. And this second battle wasn’t gonna be pretty. I took a deepbreath and told Siri to call The Lodge, Mrs. Coombe’s reign of terror over every employee’s schedule looming over me like the ever-present mountains surrounding our little town.

“Mrs. Coombe, it’s Ennio,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous lump in my stomach. “I need to take this Friday off. I have to accompany a friend to a medical appointment.”

“Ennio, we’re booked solid. You know we can’t?—”

“Sorry, but it’s nonnegotiable.” My heart raced, but my voice was firm, assertive. This was for Marnin, for that gruff man who’d always been my brother’s best friend but was now somehow becoming my friend too.

There was a pause on the other end—a crackling void filled with her unspoken objections. But I stood my ground. I rarely asked for days off, especially on such short notice, so she’d have to accommodate me.

“Ennio, you can’t take a day off on a whim. You know we have that large party coming on Friday night. Your personal life cannot interfere with your work here.” Her voice was steel wrapped in velvet, but I wasn’t about to let her dictate this part of my life.

“Actually, it can, and it will. I’ve covered shifts for others before when they had personal emergencies. There has to be some give and take. You know I rarely take time off.”

She huffed. “Your timing is not smart, what with us about to finalize the sale of The Lodge.”

My stomach dropped. “It’s sold?”

“The couple buying it are visiting again this weekend to finalize the details. I’d hate to have to tell them I can’t in full conscience recommend they keep you on as chef.”

That vicious, backstabbing… “You’d honestly do that over one day off?”

“They’d need someone reliable, won’t they?”

I gritted my teeth, my patience fraying like worn fabric. “When have I ever been unreliable? In the eleven years I’ve worked for you, I’ve always taken shifts from others when needed and have rarely asked them to do the same. A quick check in your system will show I have over fifty unused vacation days I am legally allowed to take. I’m incredibly disappointed in your attitude, Mrs. Coombe, and if the new owners treat me the same, I’m not sure I’d even want to work there. Anyway, I’m not coming in on Friday. And come to think of it, I think I’ll take the whole weekend off. Have a nice day.”

My hands shook as I ended the call, but I’d never been prouder of myself. It was about time I stood up to her. That woman really thought she could just run roughshod over me. Well, she was wrong. I had promised Marnin I would be there, and come hell or high water, I would keep that promise. Mrs. Coombe could go fuck herself.

As I returned to my mushroom sauce, the call with her kept playing through my head. Where did she get the nerve to call me unreliable? And threatening to badmouth me to the new owners… What a bitch. She was dealing with emotional and mental upheaval, I knew that, but that was no excuse to behave like this.

Maybe I should see it as a sign that my days in Forestville were coming to an end. If the new owners didn’t want to keep me on, my chances of finding another job in the area were slim. Forestville had Eddie’s Drive-In—which was not a drive-in at all—and the Double F offered food, but that was it. And surroundings towns offered few possible employers for me as well. Small towns could only sustain so many restaurants.

I’d have to try my luck in Seattle, where it would be much easier. But was I ready to leave my peaceful life here behind?

I tasted the mushroom sauce again. Yup, that bit of lemon juice had done the trick, and I noted that on the recipe. There,done. I turned off the heat and poured the sauce into a glass container. I’d let it cool for fifteen minutes or so and then put it in the fridge. It would be perfect to take to dinner with my parents the next day and serve it with fresh pasta.

That done, I leaned against the counter. On impulse, I grabbed my phone again and hit the dial button for Marnin.

“Hey, what’s up?” Marnin’s voice, always so sharp and direct, cut through the static of my thoughts.

“I had it out with Mrs. Coombe over needing to take Friday off.”

“Tell me she didn’t try to chain you to the radiator.”

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