Читать книгу A Dash of Love - Liz Isaacson - Страница 5

Chapter One

Nikki Turner moved around the small kitchen in the diner with ease, the space familiar and cozy. She glanced up as the bell rang again, wondering where in the world Gus was going to put all these customers. She noticed a family bustling by the diner in their winter gear, and she mourned the fact that she’d be working long past the time when the sun would set. Shame, too, when it was shining so brightly, a welcome sight after the gloomy winter they’d been having in Lakeside.

The scent of spaghetti drew her gaze from the front windows, reminding her that the orders were still piled up.

Nikki enjoyed her time in the diner, making sandwiches, slinging pie for the couples celebrating Valentine’s Day a few weeks early, and ladling chili into bowls. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything else she’d rather be doing.

Every seat in Gus’s Kitchen had been occupied for hours, and that bell kept ringing like there was room for more. Nikki smiled as a couple who’d come in to Gus’s every week for the past year greeted the restaurant’s namesake and started speaking with him.

A rush of affection for the white-haired man slowed Nikki down for about two seconds. Then she put together the Kitchen’s signature sandwich: pastrami and turkey with tomatoes, olives, and a special spread she’d developed over the course of six months and a lot of feedback from Gus’s regulars. She grinned at the sandwich like they were old friends before setting it in the window for pickup.

She garnished her signature, secret-recipe chili with a healthy dollop of sour cream and a generous sprinkling of chopped scallions. She wanted to sneak a tortilla chip, but just because she hadn’t been to culinary school didn’t mean she didn’t take herself seriously as a cook. She’d been working in a commercial kitchen for years, and a pro would never snack while on the job.

She put up the bowl of chili as a rousing cheer for Gus rose into the rafters. A thread of sadness pulled through her as she thought about going home tonight and not coming back to this diner where she’d worked for a year and a half. She kept the smile on her face, though, as she grabbed the next ticket from the old-school holder.

Nikki managed to chase away her worries by working as quickly as she could, getting the food out to the customers without delay, and trading quips with Angela. The waitress had become Nikki’s best friend when Nikki had started at Gus’s eighteen months ago, and they’d moved in together very soon after that. Angela was fun, sarcastic, and the perfect roommate for Nikki and all her quirks. And soon, they’d both be out of a job.

At least Angela had already found something else to pay the bills. Nikki, however, was having a much harder time getting something that aligned her career goals, her passion for food, and her absent degree.

Someone waved for her to come out of the kitchen, and she went to congratulate Gus while the crowd was still thick. Angela hugged him in front of the huge, multicolored Farewell Gus! banner, and then Nikki embraced him. He reminded her so much of her own grandfather, from the wispy white hair right down to the smell of clean and crisp dryer sheets. She wished this restaurant wasn’t closing—wished she’d been able to bring it to a different ending.

But she refused to let any of her sadness show and stepped back into the kitchen. She felt most at home here, and her melancholy lifted like the steam off the huge pot of chili to her right.

By the time the restaurant closed, Nikki’s pinky toe pinched in her shoes, and her back ached for a healthy dose of ibuprofen. Angela stood at the bar, putting glasses into a bin, and Nikki exhaled heavily as she sat across from her best friend.

“Has to have been our busiest day ever.” She put her coat on the stool next to her and glanced over to a busboy saying his final goodbye to Gus.

Angela leaned on the counter. “It certainly was our best tip day ever!” She tossed a napkin into the bin beside her.

“Well, get used to it, Ang. You’re gonna be making a lot of tips at a place like Holly Hanson’s.” Though exhaustion nearly consumed her, the smile wouldn’t leave Nikki’s face. So this chapter was closing. She felt certain a new one would open for her the same way Ang had found a job at Holly Hanson’s, the premier restaurant in the city.

Nikki had entertained the idea of applying at Holly Hanson’s for about point-four seconds. But they had real chefs with tall white hats and pieces of paper testifying to their skill with a knife, spices, and flavor combinations.

“It’s definitely a perk,” Angela said. “But I am going to miss working with you, though.”

“And I’m going to miss working.” Nikki tucked her reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “I didn’t get the job at Café Rouge.”

Angela was kind enough to look shocked. She even sounded it when she said, “I thought they really liked you.”

Nikki’s smile faded. “They did, but they just don’t like that I don’t have a culinary degree.” No one liked that, it seemed.

“That is so unfair.” Her light eyes flashed with indignation. “You are, hands down, the best cook I know. And I’ve worked at a lot of restaurants.”

Nikki shrugged and tried not to focus on the negative. She glanced around the restaurant that had become her refuge, grateful for the time she’d had here. “I sure am going to miss this place. They just don’t make diners like this anymore.”

Gus sidled over as Angela took her bin of dishes and trash into the kitchen, the rest of the employees finally slipping away into the night. “Not too late to take it on. I’m telling ya, someone is gonna come in and turn the place into a juice bar or something.” He looked horrified at the thought, as if juice were the wrong liquid to consume at all, ever.

Sympathy settled in Nikki’s heart. “Oh, Gus. You know I wish I could.” And she’d never meant anything more sincerely. But working as a cook and making her own way in the city didn’t leave her much money to buy a restaurant. “It certainly is a dream of mine to own a place like this one day.” She watched as a waitress took the bunch of balloons floating outside the diner and walked away from Gus’s. “But I don’t have the money. Not to mention the lack of business experience.”

“Business can be learned,” Gus said in his wise voice. “But talent? That’s something that just comes as a gift to you. And you, kiddo—you are talented. So you just keep your eye on the prize, and someday I’m sure you’ll get your dream.”

Nikki’s smile returned in full force. She’d been lucky to know Gus, and she hoped she’d see him around the city after today. In fact, she made a mental note to make sure she did.

“Just don’t forget to let me know when that happens.” Gus leaned forward, his face open and kind. “I may be retiring, but I’ll never be too old to come and have some of your chili.” He covered both of her hands with one of his. Nikki’s heartstrings squeezed, and she masked her tears behind an affectionate smile.

“Speaking of chili,” he said. “Will you finally tell me what your secret ingredient is?”

Nikki gave a little chuckle and tilted her head to the side. “Cinnamon candy.”

“The ones I keep by the cash register for the customers?”

“Those are the ones,” Nikki singsonged.

Gus chuckled and shook his head. “Well, that would explain why the jar was always empty.”

As they laughed together, he switched off the last of the lights in the diner.

Nikki admired the framed menu of Gus’s Kitchen she’d just picked up from the custom art shop down the street. She hung it next to the menu from King of the Court and above Alfredo & Sons.

Gus’s made five framed menus, and Nikki took a moment to think about her time at each restaurant. She possessed experience in spades. Surely, someone would see that. Soon.

Sunlight streamed through the front windows of the apartment, declaring another day had begun. Another day without a job. Another day closer to Valentine’s Day. She banished the thoughts of her least favorite holiday before they could infringe on her good mood.

Angela came out of her bedroom and stalled at the sight of the bright red toaster on the table. She eyed it for a moment and then sat down. “Another toaster? Where’d you get this one?”

Nikki admired it. “Got it at the flea market yesterday. Beautiful, isn’t it?” She really didn’t have a lot of money to be spending on frivolous things like toasters, but she did have a lot of time on her hands. And if wandering through Lakeside and looking at antiques made her happy, why shouldn’t she do it?

Angela poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the table. “So, what’s wrong with modern toasters?” She took a sip and glanced at Nikki like she already knew the answer.

Nikki shrugged, her voice much too high when she said, “Nothing. The older ones just brown more evenly.”

Angela only barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Right. You do know that our place is starting to look like a diner museum, don’t you?” Her playful tone told Nikki that she didn’t really care that it appeared as if a fifties diner had thrown up in their apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Nikki said, a plea in her voice. “It’s that I see all these things, and I just can’t help but picture them in my own restaurant one day. I can’t help myself.” She nudged the frame a bit to the right and cocked her head to see if the menu was straight. She pushed it left again and backed away from it.

But now some of the others looked crooked. “So how was work yesterday?” She made minute adjustments to each frame.

Angela exhaled. “Tense. Going from Gus’s Kitchen to Holly Hanson’s is definitely a challenge. Last night, she yelled at me for carrying too many plates on my arm.” She spoke with an incredulous note in her voice and took another sip from her mug.

Nikki thought for a moment. “Well, Holly Hanson’s is formal dining, so I kinda see her point.” Not that she’d ever been a waitress. Or eaten often in such a ritzy setting. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.

Angela gave her a look that said she was going to let that comment pass because of their friendship. “Listen, hate to break it to you, but your favorite chef isn’t the nicest chef in town.” She tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder.

Nikki abandoned the fruitless quest to ensure all the menus hung in perfectly straight lines. Disbelief tore through her. “Really?”

Angela looked a bit pained. “Really.” She sighed in an I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-go-back-there-tonight kind of way. “She’s condescending, and she’s got this diva quality about her. And to tell you the truth, you’re a better chef than her.”

“No, I’m a cook, not a chef.” Nikki shook her head and picked up her favorite coffee mug, a tall green piece of stoneware with hand-painted red and purple flowers on it.

“Tomato, tomahto. Point is, her recipes aren’t even that great.”

Nikki was halfway to lifting her mug to her lips when she paused. Shock traveled through her. “Okay, I don’t believe that.”

She ignored Angela’s little half-shrug and kept going. “I mean, she just, she came out of nowhere, and she built an entire brand. She’s an award-winning chef. She’s opened up an entire restaurant, and—and she’s published four cookbooks in four years. It’s amazing.”

She didn’t mean to speak so emphatically, but surely Angela didn’t get it. Holly Hanson was phenomenal. They didn’t just hand out awards for cooking if recipes were bad.

“Nikki, you’re amazing,” Angela said. “You have all the skills to achieve the same success.” She watched Nikki, who simply stared at her. She and Holly Hanson weren’t even in the same league. How could Angela not see that? “I’m just saying…”

Nikki appreciated the vote of confidence, deciding to take it for what it was. “Thanks, Ang.” Her friend had always believed in her, and Nikki seized on to that knowledge, needing to use it as ammunition for the day’s events. “Well, I’ll just be happy if I can get a job.” She smiled like she was thrilled to be out there, dressed like she was heading to the symphony, practically begging someone to let her cook for them. “Two more interviews to go.”

“Good luck,” Angela said.

Nikki picked up her mug as she stood. “Thanks.”

She couldn’t go to an interview—especially this first one at Finique—with only coffee in her stomach. The very idea was laughable. All women everywhere knew that a job interview, whether it was at a restaurant where a very bad breakup had happened or not, required carbs. And in Lakeside, the best place to get properly carbo-loaded was Delucci’s Bakery.

Nikki entered the doors to a charming chime from the bell and approached the counter. The smell of freshly baked rolls and breads made her stomach roar. And the espresso—Nikki needed one, stat.

Trish, the owner of the bakery, was one of Nikki’s favorite people on the planet. Though she probably got up in the middle of the night to come to work, she greeted everyone like they were old friends.

“Hi, good morning,” Nikki said.

Trish, who was more Nikki’s mother’s age, beamed at her. “Good morning.” Her emerald-colored sweater made her eyes seem more green than blue today. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” Nikki felt like she had someone she could confide in here in the city. Her own mother lived so far away, and she hadn’t wanted Nikki to come to Lakeside in the first place. So Nikki only told her the good things about her life, reasoning that there was no sense in burdening her parents with the negative. After all, she was sure one of these two upcoming interviews would net her a job.

Trish gave her a conspiratorial look. “Double whip?”

“You know it.” Nikki laughed with Trish, the weight of her interview flying away, at least for the moment.

Trish returned a minute later with a mocha latte and reached for the can of whipping cream. She squirted more than a healthy amount on top and handed the to-go cup to Nikki. “So, how’s the job search going? Any luck yet?”

“No, no luck.” Nikki ignored the twist in her chest. “But I’m trying to stay optimistic. I’m not gonna lie, though. It’s pretty hard.” She ducked her head and tucked her hair. She was wearing the right clothes today. She’d studied Finique’s menu, their hours, and their history listed on their website. She knew everything about the establishment. She’d cooked at five restaurants.

“Well, I have no doubt you’ll find a job soon. This is a big city with a lot of hungry people.”

Nikki sipped her latte and licked the cream from her top lip. “I hope so. Because if I don’t find something soon, I’m going to be one of those hungry people.” She wanted to believe Trish with all her heart—so she did.

Trish’s husband, Marty, emerged from the kitchen in the back, a tray of chocolate-drizzled biscotti in front of him. The smell made Nikki close her eyes and take a deep breath, instantly transporting her straight back to her childhood. Her grandmother had made biscotti for Christmas every year when Nikki was a little girl. Since she didn’t drink, she’d taught Nikki to dip the Italian cookies in hot apple cider.

She let the memory play out as Marty set down the tray and reached for a pair of tongs. “Did I hear someone say they were hungry?” He picked up a bag.

“Ooh, fresh biscotti. You know I can’t resist that.” She couldn’t, even if her pocketbook would take a three-dollar hit.

“My father opened these doors with this very recipe.” Marty put a fresh cookie in the bag. Nikki started to pull out her wallet, a cute pink thing she’d bought for herself after her Valentine’s Day fiasco two years ago.

There was that thought again. Probably because in only a few short weeks, she’d have to experience that day all over again.

Though she could stuff reminders of Valentine’s Day away, she couldn’t quite do the same with her memories of Finique. Her heart rate picked up, and she couldn’t believe she was even considering stepping foot back inside the restaurant where her heart had been broken. But desperate times called for her to shelve her pride and hope her memories didn’t suffocate her when she went to her job interview later that morning.

“No, no, put your money away,” Marty said.

Nikki stared at him.

“When you get a job, then we’ll let you pay,” Trish said, glancing at her husband.

Their generosity touched Nikki’s heart. “But—”

“You heard the missus,” he said. “And trust me, you don’t want to argue with her.”

Trish giggled and playfully swatted his arm. “Marty.”

Nikki accepted the bag with the biscotti and put her wallet away. “All right. Well, thanks.” With both Trish and Marty looking at her with such affection, she inhaled. They believed in her. Angela’s words from that morning replayed in Nikki’s head.

She could ace this interview. She squared her shoulders and lifted her latte. “Well, I’m off to another job interview. Wish me luck!”