Catering to Love (21 page)

He continued to remain silent, allowing her to vent. Truth was, she certainly deserved it. He’d had the lion’s share of venting.

“My survival at Carters’ depends on it. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll have to start laying people off because I can’t afford them. Now who do you think would be the first to go?” He shrugged. “Oh, c’mon, you’ve been in business.” He still didn’t respond. “The people who get paid the most money. So if the staff is willing to help me get this done in a three-week time frame, then I’m going for it. And if you’re not… then maybe you should just leave now.” There, she’d finally said it. “I don’t need you second-guessing my decisions. And I sure as hell don’t need your insecurities pulling me down. I’ve had my fill of your insubordination. Now, you can either sail with us or get off the ship.” She turned on her heels and headed out the door and back to work, leaving Corey behind. And this time, she didn’t care what he did.

Using a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon of oil and 1 tablespoon of butter until foamy. Add the shrimp and cook just until they turn pink (like Gabi’s face when she fired back at you), approximately 2 minutes on each side. Her tirade was longer than two minutes, but you deserved it because two minutes seems to be the length of time you manage to keep your opinions and temper in check. Skips and bumps in your personality are expected, but undermining the boss is not.

Remove the shrimp from the skillet and put into a bowl. Set aside.

Add remaining butter and oil to the same pan until it bubbles. Now, toss in the onion and garlic and sauté until
translucent. Add the apples, mushrooms, and snow peas; cook until crisp-tender. Toss the peels from the apple, onions, and garlic into the trash—the same thing that’s going to happen to you if you don’t shape up.

Pour the chicken stock into a measuring cup and add all the spices. Blend the mixture with a wire whisk and pour into the skillet, stirring until the sauce thickens. Return the cooked shrimp to the mixture and ladle the sauce over the shrimp. Taste and get a good kick in the butt. Serves 6.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen was deafening in the silence of the room and made Gabi anxious. Nine o’clock on Sunday morning. She’d expected Corey to show up at the regular time, eight o’clock, but now she wasn’t sure he was coming. He’d been pretty quiet for the remainder of the week, after she’d told him exactly where he stood. He hadn’t walked out, which she was thankful for, but she was certain he had expected her to make nice between them.

Gabi yawned and looked around. She’d been working since six o’clock and had consumed four cups of caffeinated coffee trying to wake up while she began on the new menu. It had wakened her all right; she had a buzz to rival someone leaning on the doorbell. She sighed and continued to write, until the whirling sound of the refrigerator caught her attention. She held her breath, waiting for it to calm down, and prayed it wouldn’t break—at least not this week. With the new staff and her marketing efforts, her funds were dwindling slowly, but at a steady rate. Placing a moratorium on spending for necessities would mean she’d have to cut something else out. But what?

She’d worked hard at trying to maintain a positive attitude in front of the staff so they wouldn’t suspect, but the fear of having to close up shop was too real in her mind. Maybe she was being overly dramatic, but things had seemed to slow down after the open house. The first week, she had assumed it had to do with the locals not knowing about the new menu that was in the works, so she’d advertised when they would have the unveiling. Had the locals already abandoned ship for another restaurant and made it their new go-to place? She’d even asked Stephanie if she’d heard anything, but she didn’t seem to know. Gabi was sure the staff had detected a slight change in meals output, but what they didn’t know was that the output needed to be better in order for her financing agreement to be doable. She thought the grace period in her agreement with Nell was ninety days, but she wasn’t positive. She’d have to get the contract to check. This new menu had to work. The thought of losing her business was terrifying. In addition to worrying about her own ego and failing, she had her parents’ house to think about too. She’d die if they lost their home because of her. She was going to make this work. She just had to. She’d always promised herself she wouldn’t put all her hopes and dreams in one basket, but she could see no other way to get out of this funk than to do just that. If the menu didn’t produce what she hoped, she was out of ideas, because lowering her prices would only change the ambiance of her fine-dining restaurant into a family restaurant.

Surrounded by cookbooks, she flipped through the pages for a few more ideas, wishing she’d gotten more sleep last night instead of tossing and turning well past midnight. When the streetlight had filtered through the sheer curtains
across her face in the wee hours, she had finally surrendered to her wakefulness and got up. Despite her attempts to go back to sleep, the anxiety festering deep inside her chest had convinced her it was a hopeless cause.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. Getting that darned menu done was imperative, and time was running out. She felt slightly jinxed because her ego had shot up after serving those 120 meals, but that was when she’d first taken over. In hindsight, her decision to wait to make the changes was a bad idea. But there was no turning back, only moving forward.

Gabi slumped back against the chair and massaged her neck, trying to relieve the tension that had worked its way up into her forehead. A slight headache encroached. She reached for the ibuprofen on the table and dropped two pills into her palm. Tossing her head back, she popped them into her mouth and washed them back with coffee. She’d work day and night if that’s what it took.

Gabi blew out a breath of air. While she had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to add to the menu, it was better to work with someone to bounce ideas off each other. She sighed again and tried to force the negative thoughts from taking over her mind. Her business’s sustainability depended upon it. She gave herself a pep talk and was heading back toward the coffee machine when she heard loud banging on the back door.

“Gabi,” Corey shouted. “Open the door!”

Despite a twinge of annoyance, her heart rate accelerated at hearing his voice and knowing he wasn’t quitting. That was one less thing to worry about. Actually, she didn’t have a right to complain about his tardiness. Sunday was
Corey’s day off. And since he wasn’t getting paid to be here today, she decided to adjust her attitude before she opened the door. Of course, there was always the chance that he’d come to quit. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open.

“Why do you look so surprised to see me?” he asked.

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“But I said I’d be here,” he said, edging his way into the dining room.

“Well, I just thought you’d be here the usual time, eight o’clock.”

“Now you are expecting too much.”

Gabi gave him the death stare, then lowered her head and continued to look through her recipes.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “C’mon, let’s call a truce. Let’s agree to disagree and be okay with it.”

Gabi heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just terribly frustrated.”

“I know. Try to relax,” he patted her hand. “Things are going to be okay. Really. They are.”

She wanted to believe him.

“Here, I brought you a peace offering from the Donut Factory.”

She smiled. “What’d you bring me?” she asked, like a surprised child receiving a birthday present.

“I couldn’t resist the buttery smell of hot cross buns sailing through the air when I came through town. I had to stop. I’m sure they won’t be as good as yours, but I thought we’d try them anyway.” They locked eyes, but there was still some awkwardness between them. They hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room.

She opened the bag and inhaled. “They should bottle this smell. Don’t you think?” she asked, making small talk.

“Yeah, but then we’d all be overweight.”

“For sure.” Closing the bag, she rose. “We need a new pot of coffee for these buns.” She walked inside the kitchen and filled an empty pot with water. When she turned to head back to the dining room, she came face to face with Corey. She gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“Look,” he paused, his eyes cast downward. “Before we start, I owe you an apology.” She gave him a twisted face. He lowered his shoulders and blinked his eyes. “I know it seems like I’m always apologizing for the dumb things I say and do, but I’m going to ask for your indulgence one more time. Please forgive me. I am working on it and I promise you’ll see an improvement on my part. I don’t mean to say those things. They just come out of my mouth.”

She sighed for effect. “Okay,” she said nonchalantly. “I am trying, Corey, but sometimes it just seems like you don’t have my back. As sous-chef, you’re second in command when I’m not around, and I expect your support and loyalty. Just because I do things differently than you did in your restaurant doesn’t make it wrong.”

“And I know that, but…”

“But you just can’t help yourself.”

“Exactly. But I’m trying to change all that. Please believe me.”

“I want to believe you. Truly, I do, but I need you to believe in me too. You’re always telling me I shouldn’t expect so much from them. Yet when you’re not happy with something they do, you shake them down in front of everyone. I’m not suggesting they don’t deserve to be spoken to,
but not in the tone of voice you use. Most people like to help others. They like the satisfaction of knowing someone is counting on them. It makes them feel important, like they’ve contributed to a worthwhile cause. And what better way than to help the boss who pays your salary?”

“Okay, I said you’re right.” He sighed. “I’m resentful that my business failed. I had so much to offer, and the rug was pulled right out from under me before I was able to bounce back with the finances.”

“And I’m sorry about that. I truly am,” she said, touching his arm. “But you can’t let it control your life. What’s done is done. I don’t know what your ex did to you, but between your restaurant and this woman, you continue to harbor those feelings inside. It’s eating you alive and certainly not doing you any favors as the surrogate boss.”

“It
is
eating away at me.” He lowered his head into his hand. “I’ll tell you about it some day. I promise. I just can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay. But you realize I can help you get over it.”

“You have in so many ways, you can’t imagine.” He pulled her toward him and gave her a kiss on the lips. “I’m crazy about you, Gabi, and I really want this to work between us. I think you and I have a good thing going. Please just be patient with me.”

“I’ll try,” she said, and this time, she leaned in and kissed him with deep emotion. They stayed in each other’s arms for a while, rocking back and forth until she smelled the coffee. “Hey, I think the coffee is signaling it’s time to get to work.”

“Yeah, it is.” He walked over to the station and grabbed a cup for himself and walked back over with the pot. He
filled her cup and poured one for himself. He sat down next to her. The warmth from his leg against hers brought a radiant glow inside. She closed her eyes to savor the experience. And she knew, this guy was going to drive her to the brink and back, but she was willing to take a chance on love.

Taking the last gulp of coffee, Corey pulled two folded papers from the inside pocket of his jacket, now draped over the back of the chair. “Here are those recipes I referred to the other day.” He unfolded them and spread them out. “This one is an amuse-bouche. It’s just the right size to whet their appetite. And it will set you apart from the other restaurants around.” His face was filled with pride. “Anyway, if you want to, this recipe is a chicken liver pâté piped into a pitted date. It was a big hit at my restaurant.”