Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 3
Holly
corner, a hint of a smile on his lips, and watched me. Rather, observed the kitchen as a whole, but I swear every time I peeked over my shoulder at him, his gaze met mine, and then he scribbled on his tablet.
What was he writing about me? Did I have a hair sticking up? Sauce on my face? Did he agree with my staff about being an ice-cold witch? Was snot coming out of my nose?
I hoped someone would at least tell me about the mucus, as that was a health code violation. If we were trying to increase profit, getting shut down by the health department wouldn’t help.
“Flip that fish, Reggie,” I called out. “Blackened doesn’t mean burnt.”
“Yes, Chef.” Reggie grabbed the fish spatula and turned the trout. Was I grumpier than usual tonight? Possibly. I was definitely in a mood. My employees, unfortunately, were getting the brunt of it.
“Darby,” I shouted, “stop chopping that onion. I want it minced, not cut the size of golf balls.”
I grabbed a clean knife and cutting board and showed Darby the proper way to dice the onion into tiny pieces. “Like that.”
The head waitress ran in, her cheeks flushed red. “A huge table just came in. It’s going to be a looong night.”
Josh, aka chef-on-my-shiz-list, groaned. “There goes closing on time.”
“Stop whining,” I barked. “More dicing, and we may get out when we’re supposed to.”
An alarming overcooked scent reached my nose. What the…? I whirled toward the ovens. “What’s burning?” I grabbed an oven mitt and opened the top door. Steam billowed out, slamming into my face. “Why are these rolls black on top? Who forgot to set the timer?” I growled.
Mistakes happened, but the fewer on my watch, the better. I didn’t need to give Anthony Ivy any more reasons to fire me.
Starla, my pastry chef, moaned. “Sorry, Chef D. Totally my fault.”
If it were anyone else, they’d get more than an earful from me, but Starla and I had something in common. She’d only told me because she needed time off, but each of us had a parent battling cancer. I knew how stressful being a caregiver was. “Don’t let it happen again,” I warned. “Or the next batch comes out of your paycheck.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
Most nights went in a pattern. I’d look over the schedule I posted on the wall for the night and shout out instructions. After that, I’d dive in on the courses I was cooking, oversee the food not being made by me, and ensure every item plated looked its best.
I always knew how much time we had left by the level of achiness in my knees and feet. Rhett’s presence distracted me. I was completely disoriented. What time was it? How much longer did I have to suffer under his scrutiny? My neck hairs stood on end, knowing he was watching me.
If only he weren’t as handsome as a demigod, it might make his presence less noticeable.
I glanced at the black clock hanging on the wall by the kitchen entrance. Blah. We still had two hours until closing. I turned back to my staff, surveying their work. Any time I hovered over an employee, their shoulders stiffened. I wasn’t sure if pride or sadness swirled inside me over that fact.
I did my best to ignore the man in my kitchen and continued grilling steaks to perfection. Two hours later, we were officially closed for the night. The waitstaff brought the rest of the dishes in from the dining room. My relief cook cleaned the counters, and the dish washers were busy trying to make a dent in the heap of dirty kitchenware the size of Mount Everest.
I addressed my employees in a clipped tone. “Another mostly successful night. Good job. Finish cleaning up, and then you’re free to go.“ I dismissed them with a wave and left the kitchen.
Rhett followed me to my office. “Was this a typical night?”
“Regarding what?”
“How things run in the kitchen.”
Pretty much. “Yeah.” It would’ve been nice if his attention had strayed to other people rather than me all night, but other than that, tonight had been no different than any other at The Boardwalk. “Is that all you plan to do to increase revenue? Observe the staff?”
I walked into my office and sat in my hunter green velvet office chair. Rhett leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb.
He tutted while shaking his head. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
”I don’t know you,“ I retorted. His uncle may have faith in him, but until Rhett proved himself, I held little confidence that this wasn’t a case of nepotism.
“We’ll remedy that soon enough.” He smirked.
No, we won’t.
He continued, “Anyway, no, I don’t plan on only watching what goes on here. That’s just the first part. I’ll pay attention to what’s currently being done, make notes, study reports, then formulate a new path toward success.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “How long is this going to take you?”
“You and I will meet next week.”
“Oh, joy,” I sassed. “How will I ever survive the long wait?” I batted my lashes.
He grinned, his brown eyes sparkling. “You’ll be singing a different tune soon enough.”
His confidence was astounding.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said dryly.
He rapped his knuckle against the wood door frame. “We’ll see. Goodnight, Chef Dewhurst.”
I offered a stiff wave. “‘Night, Mr. Ivy.”
He chuckled as he walked away. “My name is Rhett!”
When I got home, I tiptoed across the tan carpet in the master bedroom to check on Mom. Noah and Trevor usually left once she fell asleep for the night. Her slightly yellow-tinged skin looked worse against her white pillowcase. Chemo treatments for her renal cell carcinoma had really kicked her butt. We were waiting for her to feel well enough for surgery, praying it cured her. The doctors said she was close.
Her soft breaths puffed out between her dry lips in a rhythmic motion. Satisfied she slept as peacefully as possible, I retreated to my room. I shot off a text to my brother Trevor and cousin Noah.
Holly:How’d tonight go with Mom?
After I peeled the stinky clothes off my skin, my phone pinged.
Noah:Meh. I convinced her to sip on some of that broth you had in the fridge.
Holly:Drat. I figured as much since she wasn’t up to doing much earlier. Maybe our outing yesterday was too much for her? Or because I was late giving Mom her meds it messed up how she felt?
Noah:It’s not your fault, Holly.
Noah always knew when my overzealousness turned to doubts. If I hadn’t slept in, her day would have been better. If I’d had more soft foods in the fridge, her mouth wouldn’t be so sore. I beat myself up, thinking if only I’d been the perfect daughter, Mom wouldn’t be fighting a disease right now. That’s not how life worked, but blaming myself felt a whole lot better than getting angry at Mom.
Holly:Thanks, Noah. How’s business lately?
I set my phone on the bathroom counter and turned the shower handle to hot. As the water warmed, my phone alerted me to a new text.
Trevor:Some of us have to be up early. Next time, don’t text so late at night.
I rolled my eyes.
Holly: Sorry! [rolled eye emoji] I was worried about our mother. You know, the woman who birthed us and is battling cancer?
Trevor: Text Noah on a different thread.
Holly: Fine
Noah: ‘Night, bro!
I shot off a new text to my cousin. Holly: So, the food truck? [donut emoji]
When Noah didn’t respond right away, I hopped in the shower. The hot-as-could-be-without-giving-myself-second-degree-burns water pounded into my achy muscles. The spray melted away my terrible day.
I hopped out of the shower and put on my loose pink pajama set, complete with little lobsters all over them. Noah had given them to me for my birthday last month, and I absolutely loved the silky material, even if Noah had meant them as a joke.
Grabbing my e-reader off my nightstand, I snuggled into my plush bed, ready to pick up where I’d left off in my latest fantasy romance novel. When the hero cradled the heroine’s cheeks, my phone pinged. Annoyed, I ignored it. The kissing scenes were my favorites. Noah could wait.
The characters’ lips met right as my phone buzzed again. Come on, Noah, you’re ruining the best part! I lovingly set my book aside and angrily snatched my phone.
Noah:Goin’ good. I should have enough money to open my donut shop next year. [party popper emoji]
Noah:Are you coming to the fall festival? I’ll be there.
Part of the charm of living in Lampton was the festivals throughout the year. Every major holiday was celebrated in the town square, and I loved the music, food trucks, and vendors selling homemade gifts. The event committee spared no expense when it came to decorating. I loved seeing our usual drab city center transformed into a scene from a movie.
Holly: Depending on how my mom is doing, we’ll swing by in the morning.
Noah:Perfect. The pizza guy will be there…[wink emoji] Want an introduction?
Noah loved trying to set me up on dates. I didn’t have time between work and caring for Mom. Sadly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out with a guy.
Holly:Pass. [arms crossed over face emoji]
Noah:Hols, you need a real-life man, not just the guys you read about in books. [eye roll emoji]
Oh, how wrong my dear cousin was.
Holly: Actually, I don’t. Book boyfriends let me escape real life, and I need that.
Noah:Book boyfriends can’t kiss you and, my dear sweet cousin, you could use a nice long make-out session. [kissing emoji]
A laugh blurted out of me. I loved that my cousin watched out for me and cared about my love life, or simply my kissing quota. But the mere thought of putting any sort of effort into dating right now sent me into a panic. My life did not have a spare minute for men. My focus was on my job and Mom.
Holly:Your feelings on the matter are noted. [checkmark emoji]
Noah: I have a breakfast to cater in the morning. ‘Night [sleeping emoji]
No skin off my back. My book burned a hole in my comforter, waiting for me to get back to it before I fell asleep and repeated my schedule all over again. I might not have a real boyfriend to kiss me goodnight, but I’d happily settle for living through the characters I read about.
Holly: ‘Night. [blowing kiss emoji]