Page 4 of Steve's Barmaid
“You know, you are awfully excitable this morning.”
“Hey, one of my best friends is finally taking a step toward doing something that makes her happy. That is reason enough to squeal,” she said sternly.
“Is it that obvious that I don’t love the kitchen?” I whispered, not wanting any of the other workers to hear. It was a valuable job, and I didn’t want them to feel like I disliked their company or that I was demeaning their efforts. It just wasn’t for me.
“Not to anyone who doesn’t know you,” she assured me. “But I see that wistful look you have on your face when you’re chopping your twentieth onion for the day and know being a line cook isn’t what you want.”
“No, no, it isn’t. And I don’t think I want to take over the kitchen one day either, like someone we both know,” I responded, pointing at Ottar, who had his back to us at another counter. Joey blushed to her roots. “Care to tell me what is going on there? Do I need to look at your back for marks?”
Joey covered her face in her hands, “Shhh,” she hissed.
“Oh, is there something you don’t want anyone to know about?” I asked raising my voice purposefully.
“Shut up, shut up,” she elbowed me in the ribs.
“So you haven’t imagined being his sous chef, bent over one of the counters while he?—”
“Jesus Christ, Billie!” she whisper-shouted as she clapped her tiny hand over my mouth. Joey was petite, even shorter than me. Which was saying something. But she was freakishly strong. I felt as if she’d knocked some of my teeth loose.
“Alright, alright. Fine. But I want to be the first to know when the nothing becomes something.”
Joey punched me squarely in the shoulder.
“Hey, you know I bruise like a peach!” I exclaimed, rubbing my arm. “I’ll keep it to myself for now. But the minute?—”
“The minute what?” A deep voice came from behind us.
We both turned to see Ottar standing there, quietly towering over us.
“The minute, uh, the minute…” Joey stammered, face drained of color.
“The minute Runa gets here, I want to ask her some questions about the abandoned bar,” I spat out quickly, saving Joey from embarrassment.
“Hmm.” Ottar looked out the window at the sun climbing above the trees. “She should be here soon. I will let her know that you wished to speak with her.” He opened his mouth, then closed it as if he had been about to say something else to Joey, then thought better of it and walked off with a promptness that was unusual for him back to his workstation. Halfway there, he noticed he’d grabbed the wrong stack of trays and had to swap them out.
As soon as she was out of earshot, he hissed, “See! This is why we can’t discuss my stupid crush in the kitchen. Save that gossip for our next gab fest at Piper’s.”
“Um, how aboutthank you?In covering your ass, I just told Ottar that I have my eye on the abandoned bar. What if Runa is offended or feels I am stepping on her territory? What ifOttarfeels that way?”
“Runa will not feel that way. She is exhausted. Everyone can tell she’s ready to retire and spend her days at home with her mate and her grandkids. She’s just waiting for Ottar to say he’s ready.”
I had to acknowledge that Joey’s statement was true. Runa seemed frailer and frailer as the days went by. If Ottar didn’t step up soon Runa was going to keel over in the middle of cooking soup one day. Joey and I went back to our tasks in silence.
I had no idea where Joey’s head was, but mine was whirring about a conversation I wasn’t quite ready to have with Runa. Not only was I afraid she would think I was encroaching on her job, but I was also worried she would think I wasn’t grateful for all the guidance and support she had given me and the other kitchen women as we settled into our new home.
When Runa arrived, I was finally done chopping all of the potatoes and carrots for the stew. They weren’t identical in size by any means, I was horrible at dicing things, but I got it done.
Gah. I slowly walked to her, twirling one of the loose curls at the nape of my neck—a nervous habit that I had never been able to rid myself of. I approached Runa and she gave me a kind, weathered smile. Even as a frail, elderly orc, she was at least five inches taller than me, requiring me to tilt my head up to look her in the eye.
“Hello, dear,” she said, pulling me into a hug. Runa really did love me, which made this conversation even harder.
“Hi, Runa,” I said quietly as she patted me on the head like a toddler. “Can we talk somewhere for a minute?”
“Of course, dear. Let’s go to my office.”
Runa had a tiny room off the side of the kitchen where she kept track of all the food that came into and went out of the kitchen. Without her careful attention to detail, we’d probably run out of food during winter. She took off her cloak and sat down at her desk.
“What did you want to talk about, Billie?” She asked while organizing the ledgers she had heaped in front of her.
