Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 2
Rhett
to mention that the black-haired chef I’d be working with was gorgeous. I’d sworn off women a year ago after my ex broke up with me when I was at my lowest, but this goddess fleetingly made me question my decision. I shook it off, determined to keep my promise to myself even though her ability to speak up to my uncle immediately caught my attention. Not many people I’d met had that courage. Even I struggled to do so.
“It’s just a dream,” Holly muttered under her breath.
“Holly?” I asked, leaning over the chairs to tap her elbow.
She met my stare.
“What do you say?” I asked. “Can we work together on this?” I looked forward to getting to know her better since I hadn’t worked with an executive chef this young before. It took a lot of hard work to make it to the top. To accomplish such a feat so early in her career meant Holly was one of the best. Between the two of us, we might just make our goal.
She clenched her fists. “Fine.”
This was the first time someone had ever clenched their fist in anger—annoyance?—at having to work with me. I stood and grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”
She spun on her heel, and I followed her out the door of my new office.
Holly obviously didn’t like that I had readily agreed to increase profits for The Boardwalk. But after choosing not to follow in my father’s footsteps and become an investment banker like him, I was out to prove myself.
I wanted to show that I could be just as successful as Dad on my own. I wanted to be known in the food industry as a top player. I wanted to break away from my uncle’s business and start my own without any help from my family or their money to do so. If it meant sucking up to Uncle Anthony for the time being while I gained the experience necessary, I would. Because ultimately, it would lead me to reaching my goal.
Holly stopped right outside the kitchen, pulled a silky black elastic out of her pocket, then swept her hair into a low ponytail. “Let’s go.”
The second she stepped into the kitchen, the noise stopped. I stood right behind her, shocked by the sudden silence. If I dropped a feather, I’d hear it slam against the tile floor. Interesting.
“Team,” Holly said stoically, her hands clasped tightly behind her stiff back.
The nine chefs directed their gazes from Holly to me and back to Holly. I smiled politely, meeting each of their curious stares.
“This is Everett Ivy, or Mr. Ivy, as you will address him.” Holly jerked her head back toward me. “He’s the new general manager. Show him the respect he deserves. Any questions?” She waited a quarter of a second. “That’s what I thought. Nico, where are we on dinner prep?”
The kitchen, and everything in it, was technically Holly’s domain. I wasn’t there to take over for her; however, I would be evaluating how she managed her responsibilities.
“Actually, Holly,” I interrupted the dark, curly-haired man currently speaking to Holly, “I’d like to say a few words, if that’s okay with you?” If she told me no, I’d leave. But I hoped she’d give me a moment to say hello.
The glare she shot me over her shoulder could melt the wicked witch without the use of water. “You have one minute.”
I bobbed my head in thanks. “Please, call me Rhett. Mr. Ivy is my uncle.” My eyes swept the room, making contact with each staff member. “I’ll be meeting with each one of you in the next few days. For now, I look forward to working with you and Chef Dewhurst.”
A female in her mid-forties, her black hair slicked back, snorted.
Holly snapped her attention to the noisemaker. “Darby, do you have something to say to Mr. Ivy?”
Darby’s eyes narrowed in return. “Not right now.”
My gaze darted between the two women having a stare-off in the middle of the kitchen. The air turned frigid, like someone had left the freezer door open. What’s the story there?
“Well,” I said too loudly, drawing everyone’s attention back to me. “It’s nice to meet you all.” In a quieter voice, I addressed Holly. “Chef Dewhurst, can we have a word in my office, please?”
“With all due respect, Mr. Ivy, I need to do my job right now. We can speak later.” She turned back to the curly-haired man.
For the restaurant to improve, we had to succeed, which meant presenting a united front. As much as I’d like to talk with her right now, I’d wait. The last thing I wanted was to undermine her authority. “I’ll be in my office. Just pop in when you have a moment.”
She nodded once, then turned back to what she was doing. I went to my new-to-me office, getting my laptop set up and ready to go. Half an hour later, Holly appeared.
“I’m already behind from meeting with your uncle,” she said, standing in front of my desk. “If you don’t want dinner to be late, I suggest you get on with it.”
I laced my fingers together, resting them on my wood desk. “Thank you for giving me an opportunity to speak in your kitchen earlier. I really am looking forward to working with you and everyone else. But just so you know, I don’t want to be called Mr. Ivy. I prefer Rhett.”
“It’s a sign of respect, something some of my staff members struggle with. I’m trying to maintain boundaries, Mr. Ivy.”
Uncle Anthony mentioned the staff reported that Holly was hard to work with, but I never liked to listen to complaints before judging a situation myself. Based on the interaction with Darby (I think that’s what Holly said her name was), did Uncle Anthony have it wrong? Was it the staff who needed to be reprimanded? Or were there issues on both sides? Holly hadn’t beaten around the bush, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was hard to work with. I mentally added this conundrum to my list of items to check into. “If you prefer Chef Dewhurst, I respect that. In return, I ask that you respect and support my decision. The next three months will be nothing short of torture—and possibly a failure—if we can’t compromise.” I smiled. “I, for one, think this could be a fortuitous partnership.”
“I won’t stop them from calling you Rhett, but don’t get all flirty with me or anyone else on staff.” She raised her brows. “Understood?”
Since when did smiling mean flirting? That had not been my intention. I was merely being friendly. “I know the rules, Chef Dewhurst.”
“Good.”
Uncle Anthony did not allow dating between his staff members. One of the first restaurants he’d opened had a disastrous human resources issue when the chef had an affair with a bartender. The fallout made him lose a talented chef, and it had taken him years to find a new one he liked.
I had no intention of ever committing to another woman and wasn’t worried about the no-dating rule.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Are we done now?”
“Almost.” My lips started to pull up into a smile of their own accord before I forced them back into a straight line. I didn’t want Holly to think everything I did and said was a joke or flirtatious. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m here to work with you. If there’s anything you need, anything at all I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask. We both have a lot riding on this goal, and I want to make sure we succeed. As such, I’m giving you a heads up that I’ll be evaluating the kitchen starting tonight. Just pretend I’m not there.”
“Done.”
Holly didn’t mess around, a quality I admired. “I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you any longer. We can talk later.” I gestured to the door. “Thank you for your time.”
“You’re welcome.” She spun on her heel, going back to her domain.
I couldn’t wait to assess how the kitchen ran while the restaurant was open. I had a feeling there was more to the story where Holly and her staff were concerned. Regardless of the outcome, there was a lot to do in a short amount of time. And I’d do just about anything to earn my promotion and get myself one step closer to opening my own restaurant management business.