Alaskan Holiday
Page 25

“Good,” he said, obviously relieved that the invitation included him. “For a minute there I thought you only wanted Palmer.”
“You’re welcome anytime, Jack,” I assured him.
“Wonderful! What time should I arrive for breakfast?”
Behind me I heard a commotion taking place in the kitchen. I wanted to groan, knowing Chef Anton was on another one of his rampages. His loud voice spilled into the dining area, causing the room to go silent.
Palmer’s eyes connected with mine and he frowned. I wanted to explain but didn’t dare take the time. “I’ll meet you outside the restaurant at eleven,” I said, reluctantly leaving my friends to rush back to the kitchen before any more damage transpired.
Palmer seemed to have a hard time releasing my hand, and I was just as hesitant to leave him. He seemed like he was about to say something, and then apparently changed his mind.
Sure enough, the kitchen was in chaos. Chef Anton was shouting at one of the line cooks, waving his arms and making no sense whatsoever. When he saw that I had returned, he whirled on me.
“You are forbidden to go into the dining room.”
“I was greeting friends from out of town,” I explained, hoping that would placate him.
“I don’t care if it was the Pope.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. It wasn’t my habit to desert my post. One time. For friends. I’d listened to his verbal abuse for weeks and I was finished. Done. I’d had enough. More than enough.
“When was the last time you were in the kitchen or at the restaurant for more than an hour or two?” I asked him, my hands digging into my hips. “This is your restaurant bearing your name. Investors have entrusted you and you’re nowhere to be found. When I interviewed for this job, it was understood you would oversee the kitchen for the first year. When you do bother to show up, you’re either high or drunk.”
I noticed the kitchen crew nodded in agreement, although no one else said anything.
“You agreed—”
“I agreed to this position with the understanding that you would be my mentor. I had no idea that I’d be running an entire restaurant on my own and—” I wasn’t allowed to finish.
“You signed a contract, so if you think you’re going to walk out on me now, then I will sue you into the next century.”
He made the threat sound all too real, and I had to admit it caused me to think twice. In only a matter of seconds, however, I realized he had no grounds to take me to court. “The contract says nothing about being subjected to your abuse or taking on a dozen duties that would normally go to the executive chef. This,” I said, making a sweeping gesture around me, “isn’t my full responsibility. It’s yours. It has your name on it, and your recipes. I was hired as a sous-chef, not the executive chef.”
Chef Anton glared at me, his eyes spitting fire. “I am giving you an opportunity of a lifetime—”
“Responsibility of a lifetime, you mean, but with none of the benefits. I’m finished.” I stripped off my apron and tossed it into the garbage can.
The chef tried to block my exit. “I will sue you for every penny you ever hope to earn.”
“Then sue me. You’ve already fired me any number of times anyway, breaching the contract yourself.” He wouldn’t have the nerve to press a lawsuit, and I knew it. Especially since he’d fired me that very morning when the wrong vegetables were delivered. I had witnesses who would gladly testify against him. Chef Anton had made no friends with the kitchen staff because of his volatile nature. The man was unstable.
I turned to walk out of the kitchen when three of the crew, who had simultaneously removed their aprons, joined me.
“If Josie quits, then I do, too,” the line chef declared.
“And me.”
“Same here.”
Chef’s face turned the color of ripe beets. “I’m suing you all. You’ll regret this, every last one of you,” he raged. “Get back here. You can’t leave until I say you can.”
Once I was outside the kitchen, I experienced the most freeing of sensations. I felt lighter than air. My one regret was that I had quit in the middle of a shift, but it was what Chef Anton deserved. Although I hadn’t shared my suspicions with my mother or any of the other staff, I believed Chef Anton had some sort of drug addiction, and that slowly, over time, he’d become incapable of dealing with the intense pace of the restaurant industry. It was sad to see such a great talent go to waste.
I hurried to collect my belongings and rushed out, hoping to catch Palmer and Jack. My heart fell when I saw that they had already left the restaurant.
* * *
—
I returned to the restaurant at eleven to meet Palmer and by unspoken agreement we walked along the Seattle waterfront, which was beautifully lit up for the holiday season. Happy to be with Palmer, I chatted nonstop; it seemed like forever since we’d talked.
When I realized I was the only one speaking, I felt I had to ask: “You aren’t saying anything?”
He grinned. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to seeing him without the beard. I had to resist touching his face.
“It’s hard to get a word in,” he said, teasing me.
Laughing, I leaned against his shoulder, so content it was hard to hold all that joy inside me. “I have been talking a lot, haven’t I?” I knew I should tell him about my run-in with the chef and that I’d abruptly quit my job. The relief was overwhelming. I felt free for the first time in weeks. The weight off my shoulders made me feel like I could take off and fly.
In time I would tell Palmer everything; he deserved to know. But not now. Not when we hadn’t seen each other in so long. I wanted to enjoy these few hours we had before he left for the East Coast. The last thing I wanted was to weigh down our conversation with heavy subjects. There would be time for that later. For now, I simply wanted to bask in his company.
We strolled past the ferry dock, my arm wrapped around his elbow. I could see a ferry halfway across Puget Sound, heading to Bainbridge Island. The sight was one I would never tire of seeing.
I’d purposely stopped talking, giving Palmer an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. After a few minutes he told me he’d changed his flight back to Alaska so there would be plenty of time later to discuss our future. Then he grew quiet again, although he kept me close to his side. I had to wonder at his mood, and then realized there was probably a good reason he seemed withdrawn and reticent.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” It made sense, seeing that he had only just arrived in town. It’d been a long travel day for him and Jack. He must be exhausted.
“A little.”
“Do…would you rather go back to the hotel? We can meet up again once you return from Pennsylvania.” I made the offer and sincerely hoped he’d decline. I wasn’t ready to let him go.
“No. I want to be with you.”
I immediately felt better. “And I want to be with you, too.” Lights from the Kitsap Peninsula glowed in the distance. The waterfront Ferris wheel was still lit up, I noticed as we strolled past.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since that morning.
Palmer must have heard it, because he asked, “Did you have dinner?”
“No.”
“Then let’s find you something to eat.”
We decided to go to an all-night diner close to Queen Anne Hill that I knew about. We sat next to each other, holding hands. Palmer seemed more at ease now, and we talked until shortly before one. I yawned and then he did, too, and although reluctant, it was time to call it a night.
We parted, neither of us wanting to leave. I could tell Palmer wasn’t quite himself; he admitted he hadn’t been sleeping well but didn’t mention the reason. Perhaps he had held back from telling me something, too.
Palmer walked me to my car, and under the light post drew me into his arms and kissed me. My eyes filled with tears. I hadn’t realized how much I missed being in his arms or how empty my life had felt without him. I clung to him and we held each other for several moments until the taxi appeared that would return him to his hotel.