One Menu at a Time Read online

  Angry with myself for being an old softie, I knew I needed to be more parent-like if I was going to survive these toddler years. As I gave a thorough scanning of the room with my eyes I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The nursery walls were covered with various shades of lipstick in wavy lines and circles with smiley faces, the exact height of Bailey—not that I needed additional confirmation to prove she was the culprit.

  “Bailey, you were a bad girl to go into Andrea’s purse. And Aunt Cassie’s going to be mad too.” Bailey pouted and took off for the mirror when Cassie stepped into the room.

  “Oh my,” she said trying to hide the laughter. “I guess Josh has his work cut out for him tomorrow, huh?”

  “Oh, Cass, I am so sorry.”

  “Stop,” she whispered. “What can you expect? She’s three. She sees Andrea drawing on her pad all the time—she probably wanted to do the same thing.” She turned to Andrea. “Where was your purse?”

  “It was on the floor next to the chair.”

  “Not hidden?”

  “No, I guess not,” she huffed. “I guess I’d better get the bucket and start washing these walls to get the marks off.”

  “I’m not so sure lipstick comes off that easily.”

  “I’ll pay for this,” I added.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “But I have to do something.” I looked for Bailey and noticed her playing with toys. Frustrated, I turned to Cassie. “You have to say something to her so she knows you’re upset; otherwise she’ll think it’s okay. I’ve already made that mistake once.”

  “But I’m not upset.”

  I gave her a stony look.

  “All right. Do I need to look stern?”

  “Yes.” I cringed as more of Renee’s warnings sailed through my mind. What’s cute at three isn’t so cute at six.

  Cassie groaned. “Okay, if I have to.” She turned toward Bailey, who was now leaning over in the toy chest pulling things out. “Bail, come over here to Aunt Cassie.”

  Bailey ran over to her. “I’m not very happy about your artwork on my walls.” Bailey puckered her lips and lowered her head. “You have to promise Aunt Cassie you won’t do this again or I won’t let you come back here. Do you understand me?”

  “I play now,” bounced out of Bailey’s mouth. Cassie turned to look to me for help.

  “No, no, you’re not playing,” I said firmly. “I think Bailey needs to stay in time-out for a while.” Bailey started to wail loudly. I didn’t like hearing her cry, but as the leader of the Parental Reject Society, I had to stop jumping through hoops to please her. I grabbed Bailey’s coat off the hook. “I’m sorry, Cass, but I’d better get her home. This is no place for a screaming child.”

  “It’s probably best.” Cassie checked her watch. “And I’d better get the next class started.” She turned to leave, “Andrea, I’m not very happy with you either. Next time, hide your purse in one of the cabinets.”

  I tucked Bailey into bed for a nap when I heard the doorbell and figured it had to be a salesman. I thought I’d just ignore the bell and go about my business. When it continued to buzz, I shut the door to Bailey’s bedroom and checked through the peephole to see who it was, and released a loud groan when I saw my sister.

  “How’d you know I was here?” I asked her as she slithered past me.

  “I stopped at the shop. So, I understand Bailey created some artwork again this morning, huh?”

  “On everything, including herself.”

  “So did you punish her?”

  “I scolded her and put her in time-out for a while after I bathed her and then tucked her in for a nap. Why?”

  “Jamie, I hate to say it—”

  “Yeah, I know,” I interrupted, “but you told me so. Thanks, Renee, but I’m in no mood for this conversation today, so give it a rest, will you?”

  “What are you going to do about the shop?”

  “I’m going to change jobs, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know,” I barked. “Something I can do to make money and still take Bailey with me—”

  “Hey,” Renee interrupted. “Did you hear about Chase Walker?”

  “Geez, Renee, I’m over here trying to figure out what I’m going to do for employment and you’re changing the subject and talking about someone I don’t even know. Where’s your compassion, for God’s sake?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just thought about him. It was on the news. Don’t you ever listen to the news?”

  “No, I don’t,” I answered, clearly annoyed, but she ignored my irritation and continued.

  “He’s the brother of my college friend, Courtney Walker. You remember her, don’t you?”

  I sighed and decided getting aggravated over her disregard for other people was hardly worth the effort. She was still talking but I wasn’t listening. She stopped and stared at me.

  “What?”

  “You don’t remember Courtney breaking Mom’s expensive vase?”

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do. So what’s this about Chase Walker? Who is he?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t believe you don’t remember him. He’s only the hottest Sprint Cup Series contender in NASCAR.”

  “So.” I guess she was expecting me to jump up and down.

  “So he’s lying in a hospital bed in critical condition, that’s all. And he’s Courtney’s brother.” She shook her head in bafflement. “You know, if you watched the news, you’d know.”

  “Renee, geez. I’m really sorry my lifestyle doesn’t measure up to your standards. And while we’re at it, why do you come over here to see me?”

  “Because I love you, that’s why.”

  “Well, it sure doesn’t sound it, the way you’re so critical about everything I do or don’t do. And for the record, I don’t think you’re such a scholar either.”

  “I know I’m not. I only want what’s best for you.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t, okay? Bailey and I are doing just fine.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes again and slammed me with guilt. It seemed she was always tearing up these days. Maybe I was being too hard on her, or maybe I was the first person to give it back to her. Either way, I wasn’t sure which approach was better because the girl just couldn’t help herself.

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t know why I do this to you.”

  “Okay, okay. Stop with the waterworks already.” I counted to ten to calm my temper. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend’s brother. I’d forgotten his name until you just said it. I remember Josh and Papa Pirelli discussing him on Sunday.”

  “I sure hope that four-car pileup didn’t do anything to his face,” Renee said. “Whoa, he’s really hot.” She looked in the distance as if in deep thought. “I have a great idea. Why don’t the two of us go visit him in the hospital?”

  “I’m not going to visit someone I don’t know. I’ll feel absolutely stupid.”

  “Yeah, but you know Courtney and he’s her brother. C’mon, do it for me.” She grinned. “You won’t be sorry when you feast your eyes on him.”

  All righty then! We don’t blame you for not wanting to admit that your sister was right about discipline, but she doesn’t need to know it. Do it on the QT—let her think your way of raising kids is the right way. She may just learn something from you yet. Tough love is hard to do with kids—not so much with men and older sisters, but you knew that already.

  Dice the veggies and toss into a large bowl; add remaining ingredients and stir to combine. Now do a jig to the refrigerator and place the bowl on the shelf and step away from the fridge for four hours before serving. Ladle into a bowl or, if you really want to impress the masses and have people think you’re pretty clever, use a martini glass as the vessel for serving. Add a dollop of sour cream and then a sprinkling of chopped cilantro over top and serve. Simply delicious and refreshing for cooks at any level. Serves ten to twelve.

&nb
sp; After Renee left, I sat down on the sofa with my laptop to do some searching for alternative jobs. The events of the day made it clear I needed to find something else for employment. I really hated to leave teaching cooking classes and working with Cassie, but I had to figure out what was best suited for my new life. I logged onto my alma mater’s website and surfed through the job listings and found nothing but restaurants looking for help. While that sounded appealing, working twelve to sixteen hours a day was not. I knew there wouldn’t be any openings at a restaurant that could accommodate my lifestyle, but I hoped nonetheless.

  Frustrated, I rested my head against the sofa and thought of some things I could do to earn money when I remembered an article I’d read about being a personal chef. I sat up abruptly, excitement rushing through me. I keyed personal chef into the search engine for more information, and a slew of sites flashed on the screen.

  “That’s it,” I said aloud, after reading the information. “That’s it. I can cook for busy professionals who’ll be working all day. Instead of cooking in their kitchens, I’ll rent a kitchen and do the cooking there so I can bring Bailey with me, and if Cassie will let me use the refrigerated truck to deliver the food, I’ll be set.” I thought about it some more and decided this would be a perfect solution to my problem. A half hour later I was confident this was what I wanted to do.

  The wheels started turning in my mind about ways I could advertise without spending a lot of money. I could write a press release and send it to various newspapers to see if one of them would do a story on me. I groaned, wondering what the likelihood of that would be. More ideas flowed through my mind. “Wow,” I said aloud, “I could make up flyers and distribute them to all the apartment buildings…but what if I wind up with more requests than I can handle—how will I do that all by myself?” I brushed the thought aside and decided I was getting way ahead of myself and would deal with that issue when I got to it.

  “So how’s our little artist?” Cassie said when she entered the apartment as she removed her coat and hung it in the hall closet.

  “She’s napping. Did the lipstick come off?”

  “Almost. I ran out of cleaner. But it’s fine. Don’t give it another thought.”

  An overwhelming feeling of guilt and despair rushed through me. I knew I needed to discuss this with Cassie, but I felt as though I was letting her down. I cleared my throat. “Um…we need to talk.”

  “Okay. What about it?” she said.

  “I really don’t see how I can continue teaching classes now that I have Bailey.”

  “I know.” She pouted. “I thought about it after you left today, and I’m as upset as you are. I know you have to consider her first, but I’m really disappointed.”

  “Me too. And I feel like a rat for letting you down.”

  “Please stop beating yourself up. As I said before, it’s not as if you planned any of this.”

  “But who will you hire as my replacement? If you’re not happy with Gabi…”

  “I’m not sure yet, but give me time. I’d consider Gabi, but as I said, she’s not as good as you. But hey, with training she’ll be fine—that’s if she wants the job. I do know she’s getting pretty fed up with the catering.”

  “She’s not going to let her clients down, is she?”

  “I guess she’ll do it in between. I don’t know. I haven’t discussed it with her yet, but if you’re sure…I will.”

  “I wish I could tell you I’m not, but given the circumstances…I’m sure.”

  Cassie pouted. “I know I’m being a big baby about this, but—” She wiped the tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. Please don’t pay any attention to me.” She tightened her lips and expelled air through her nose. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about a solution all afternoon. What do you think of me starting a personal chef service? How many professional people do you know who come home and cook dinner? This service might be right up their alley…especially if they’re tired of eating out.”

  “I’d say that person would be one lucky customer to have you cooking for them. I also think the idea of them having a home-cooked meal every night would be like dying and going to heaven.”

  “Well, they’d still have to heat the food, but it’s better than cooking it from scratch. Do you think it would work?”

  “I do. Where would you do the cooking for them?”

  “I would most likely rent a kitchen so I could bring Bailey with me. Some people just don’t like strangers in their houses when they’re not home.”

  “I wish I had the extra stove at the shop so you could cook the food there, but I guess the second-best solution is a rental. Then what? You’d deliver it to their homes?”

  “Right. But I’d need a refrigerated truck so the board of health doesn’t come after me.”

  “I have a refrigerated truck,” she piped up. “You could use the shop’s when I don’t need it—but then you won’t be working weekends, right?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” I grinned. “I’m not planning to work weekends, but I’ll do whatever needs to be done to stay afloat.”

  “It’ll be good advertising for the shop.” She pointed to her head. “I’m so smart, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are. So, you really think it could work?”

  “Absolutely! I think it’s a much-needed commodity.”

  “Phew, thank you, Cass. I’m so relieved to have someone in the field understand the concept and think it’s a good idea.” We continued talking for several hours until Cassie was tired and headed for bed.

  Relieved I had her approval motivated me even more. I had planned to prepare the documents I needed tomorrow, but our conversation had me so revved up, I knew there was no way I was going to sleep. After Bailey conked out like a light, I put my nervous energy to good use and worked until two o’clock in the morning. Contracts written, sample menus prepared, and interview questions for food preferences all ready, I sighed and crossed my fingers, praying my idea would take off like wildfire. Exhausted but content that I had what I needed to get my business started, I headed for bed.

  A sharp kick to my shin and I shot up in bed wide awake, my heart pounding from the fright of not understanding why until I saw Bailey’s blonde curls peeking out through the top of the covers. I rubbed my leg to ease the throbbing pain and wondered how much longer I could handle having her sleep in the same bed. Unfortunately, having the smallest room in the apartment meant there was barely enough room for my bed, much less two—unless I used bunk beds. At twenty-six, sleeping in a bunk bed wasn’t likely to happen.

  I eased out from under the covers without disturbing her and made my way to the kitchen for tea. The house was quiet, which meant Cassie and Josh had already left. I filled the pot with water and glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing it was six o’clock in the morning. I grumbled and meandered around the kitchen for the tea bags and a cup when the phone rang. Surprised anyone would be calling at such an ungodly hour, I was tempted to forgo the call, but it was a number I didn’t recognize. Business crossed my muzzy mind and I cleared my throat and hoped I wouldn’t sound like a frog croaking.

  “I’d like to speak to Jamie,” a husky voice as deep as a DJ’s bellowed through the receiver.

  “This is she.”

  “Sounds like I woke you.” I guess I blew that one.

  “The reason I’m calling so early is because I have meetings all day today and didn’t know when I’d have an opportunity to call again.” He snickered, apparently amused with himself, while I was trying to figure out whether he had a wrong number or if I should hang up. “You’re probably wondering who the heck I am, so let me introduce myself.”

  “The thought did cross my mind.”

  “Sorry. My name is Mike Turner. I was in Soranno’s Bakery shop this morning talking about needing a chef and a Cassie somebody recommended you. I’m very interested in your service.”

  I was relieved my in
itial reaction to his number was correct. “Then you’ve come to the right place. When would you like to meet for an interview?”

  “Why do you need to interview me? To see if you like me?”

  I chuckled. “No. So I can build menus based upon your allergies and food preferences?”

  “Oh. What if I don’t want your service?”

  “Then you’ve wasted ninety minutes, tops.”

  “I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it? Hmm…okay, like I said, I’m booked solid with meetings today, but I actually need your service for tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “But maybe you could meet with my wife Sally instead.” He paused and I could hear him conversing with someone, whom I assumed was his wife. “Excuse me,” he said, “hold on…hold on.” I could hear a woman’s muffled voice in the background and became amused by his urgent New York personality. The teakettle whistled, and I made my way over to the stove to fill my teacup. “Yeah, no,” he said. Sally was still talking to him. “Well, okay,” he announced, “she can’t meet with you either. Can we do a little bit of an interview over the phone, and would you be able to deliver tonight at five-thirty?”

  “Sure…why not?” Holy cow went through my mind at an alarming rate. My first customer. “Let me just get my interview sheet.” I did a little jig and pulled the sheet out of the folder I’d placed on the stand next to the phone. I took a quick sip of tea, hoping it would snap my fuzzy brain into work mode so I didn’t come off as a bumbling idiot. “Okay, let me tell you about my service first.”

  “Do I need to sign a contract?”

  “You will eventually.”

  “But first, I only want service for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Oh, so you’re not really interested in a long-term service. Just a dinner for tonight?” I tried to conceal my disappointment but I don’t think I did very well.

  “No, I do want your service long-term, but for tonight I have my boss and his wife coming for dinner, and my wife,” he whispered, “is a lousy cook, and I thought having a home-cooked meal would be wonderful, not just for them, but for me too.” I could tell by the sound of his voice he was speaking through gritted teeth. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”