Page 272 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
My stomach growls. “Is my opinion worth some apple brandy pork tenderloin?”
He grins. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says, then he turns and looks over his shoulder while Zach calls an order.
“Plating two tenderloins, one salmon, two filets, one rare, one medium rare, and four southern chickens,” Zach says.
The cooks around the room echo back the order, and Lennox nods once before he turns his attention back to me.
“Then you can have all my opinions,” I say. “What’s up?”
Lennox quickly walks me through what he calls a staffing problem. But to me, it just sounds like a training problem. The hardest part about running a kitchen is how frequently peoplecall out, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. If there aren’t enough people left who can do what needs to be done, the few who can are stressed and stretched too thin. And that creates ripples that eventually hit your dining room.
From what it sounds like, Lennox has enough cooks, he just doesn’t have enough cooks who are trained to do more than one thing. Ideally, every station should be at least two deep with people who can handle every single dish on the menu.
“So hiring someone to replace Griffin will probably help, but I still don’t feel like it’s going to be enough,” he says. He pushes his hands into his pockets.
“I heard what happened with Griffin,” I say, remembering the conversation I overheard a couple of his waitstaff having. It was more than a little sexy to think of Lennox nearly punching a guy, though I never found out what Griffin actually said to set Lennox off.
“Don’t remind me,” he says. “Wasn’t my finest moment.”
“What did Griffin say?” I ask before I can think better of it.
Lennox’s jaw tightens. “Don’t worry about it.”
Oh,now I want to know even more. “That bad, huh?”
One of Lennox’s dishwashers crosses behind Lennox, a girl who can’t be more than eighteen or so. She looks at me, eyes wide, almost like she’s trying to tell me something. I furrow my brow.Isshe trying to tell me something?
Lennox follows my gaze, making eye contact with her, and she quickly turns away from us, but then she spins back around like she can’t help herself. “Griffin said something about you!” she blurts out, then her hand flies to her mouth like she can’t believe the words actually escaped. She peels her hand away to reveal an innocent smile. “He was defending your honor,” she says, motioning to Lennox, her tone dreamy and sweet. I suddenly feel like I’m in a scene from a Jane Austen novel. Lennoxdefendedmy honor?Well, yes please and thank you.
“Thanks for that, Paige,” Lennox says. “Really.”
“Sorry,” she whispers before scurrying off.
Lennox looks at me, his expression almost bashful. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Sorry for nearly punching a guy who said something rude about me?”
“Sorry you found out it happened at all.”
I appreciate him wanting to protect me. But does it hurt my opinion of the man to know he nearly lost his cool over me?Absolutely not.
Also noteworthy: fancy head chef Lennox Hawthorne knows the name of a random dishwasher.
Every time I think it’s impossible for me to like him more, I learn something like this, and my heart stretches a little bigger.
“Listen,” I say, stepping closer to Lennox, “I don’t think you need to hire someone to replace Griffin. Willow is great, and she’s anxious to learn. Train her. And then keep training. Make every station two or three deep so when people call out, you have a backup, and a backup to your backup. If you have a commis chef who’s anxious to learn, train them.”
He shakes his head. “But I can’t pay everyone like they’re all chef de partie.”
“You won’t have to. I’m not saying you have to train everyone down to your dishwashers. But you’re covering too much. And Zach is too. Two or three more people who can pinch hit when you have a station chef call out would mean Zach wouldn’t have to step in and cover for people, leaving him free to be expeditor, and you free to breathe every once in a while so you can focus on bigger picture stuff.”
He nods. “That sounds pretty nice, actually.” He props his hands on his hips. “So three people trained at every station.”
I nod. “That’s what we aimed for at Le Vin. Remember, they won’t all work at once. More trained chefs will also giveeveryone more breathing room in their schedules. That means less burnout.”
He finally smiles, and my heart flops into my stomach. “Pretty smart, Elliott. Pretty smart.” He holds my gaze, the air crackling between us before his eyes drop to my lips.
Annndhere we are again—thewantingalmost tangible enough to touch.
