Читать книгу A Dash of Love - Liz Isaacson - Страница 6

Chapter Two

That afternoon, Nikki stood outside of Finique, her heart swimming around in her chest. Here she was again, face-to-face with the very place where the most humiliating breakup of her life had happened.

She remembered the exact table where Ryan had said those horrible words. The precise meal they’d shared. The walk she’d taken back to her apartment, alone.

Gotta go inside, she told herself. She didn’t have to dine here, but she did need a job. Badly.

She breathed, strengthened her resolve, and told herself it was going to be fine. Just fine. She stepped down the sidewalk and through the doors. The restaurant wasn’t open yet because it was one of those fancy ones that only served dinner.

Everything in front of her was white. White walls. Stark white tables with white chairs. The shelves held glasses and shiny silverware.

A man with dark hair and eyes approached. “Nikki?” The manager wore a pale blue shirt and a posh, striped tie with a suit that probably cost more than her month’s rent. He obviously paid attention to his appearance, but he needed to find a new barber because the short, choppy haircut wasn’t doing him any favors.

Be nice, she told herself. Only positive thoughts. No judgments on someone’s appearance. She knew better than anyone that looks usually only ran skin deep.

“Yes.” She flashed him what she hoped was a bright-as-the-sun smile and handed him her resume. He didn’t return her grin, and she felt hers slide right off her face.

“This way.” He led her to a table smack dab in the middle of the waitstaff preparing the restaurant for opening, and she glanced around nervously.

“It would be such an honor to be a cook here at Finique,” she said, her voice just the tiniest bit squeaky. She longed to clear her throat to lower it, but she didn’t dare. Finique definitely wasn’t a place where people went around clearing their throats. They probably asked for seltzer water for such things.

The manager, who had not introduced himself, looked up from her resume. “Yes. It would.” His eyes skated over her, almost like she wasn’t worthy of his full attention.

She sat on her hands so she wouldn’t fidget. “I ate here once, and it was one of the best meals of my entire life.” She went ahead and did the throat-clearing. No one popped from the immaculate woodwork to arrest her, and the manager continued to stare at her single piece of paper like it was typed in Latin.

“It was Valentine’s Day,” Nikki said, unsure why she couldn’t make herself stop talking. “My boyfriend took me out, and we had the most breathtaking meal.” She waited for him to look at her, acknowledge that she was speaking at all. When he didn’t, she mentally named him the Silent Supervisor and wished she could yank her resume from his perfectly manicured hands.

“It was a four-course meal with a perfectly paired, peppery zinfandel finished off with the most decadent chocolate soufflé.” A giggle burst from her mouth, though there was nothing happy about where this story was going. “Which he ended up dumping me over—which wasn’t so good, as you can imagine.” She cut her voice off as the Silent Supervisor looked at her like she’d turned green.

Well, the soufflé had been delicious—just not the part where Ryan had ended things while couples around them kissed, got engaged, and made plans for their future.

The Silent Supervisor cleared his throat, but not in the nervous kind of way. More like the I’m-so-much-better-than-you kind of way. Sort of a hoity-toity cough, really.

“But the food was very, very good.” Nikki enunciated each very with a hand gesture, as if the Silent Supervisor didn’t understand the meaning of the word.

“Your resume doesn’t state where you went to culinary school.”

Her heart sank all the way to her shoes. “I… I didn’t. I’m self-taught.” She infused as much confidence into her voice as she could.

The Silent Supervisor seemed to roll his whole upper half, not just his eyes. “Self-taught?”

Nikki nodded, glad the word-vomit about her breakup with Ryan seemed to be over.

“This is Finique, darling.” The condescending tone wasn’t hard to find. The Silent Supervisor tossed her resume to the table and pushed it back toward her with one finger like it contained a contagious disease. “We don’t hire amateurs.” He checked his watch as if he had a billion more important things to do.

She lifted her eyebrows, her confidence shot straight through. “Amateurs.” She smiled though there wasn’t anything to be happy about—anything to keep the anger and hurt from leaking out. The need to get out of this building pressed down on her. “Right. Of course you don’t.” She picked up her resume with her decade of experience on it. But not the right experience, apparently. “Thank you for your consideration.” She stood, her legs conducting her out of this awful restaurant—where now two of the most humiliating experiences of her life had taken place.

She marched down the street, her head held high. Finique had just lost a customer for life. She hoped they knew that. Sure, maybe she couldn’t afford their gourmet dinner prices right now, but someday, when she could, she still wouldn’t eat there. And that Silent Supervisor could really use a new haircut.

Vindicated, she headed back over to Delucci’s for their day-old bread. They’d graciously agreed to let her have it for free on Wednesdays, as she used it at the community center’s daily free meals. Nikki figured if she couldn’t get paid to cook, she could still practice her skills, do what she loved, and help some people along the way. She only volunteered twice a week, but it was something.

She pushed into Delucci’s even though the sign read CLOSED and found Marty and Trish at the counter, counting out their till.

Marty glanced up at her and picked up a big bag. “Not too much left over today, but here it is.”

Nikki took it with a smile, glad her day of interviews was done and she could simply do what she loved most: cook.

“So how’d interview go?” Marty asked, leaning into the counter.

“Marty!” Trish swatted him with a dirty look on her face.

“What?”

“Why do you have to be so nosy?” She looked at Nikki, an apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Nikki forced a giggle out. “No, no, it’s okay, he can ask. But I…I didn’t get it.” Her shoulders slumped and she had to work to keep her emotions bottled up. She was tired of talking about the job hunt and how she kept getting passed over. Seriously, looking for a job had to be the most demoralizing activity on the planet.

Marty’s face fell. “Oh, really. How come?”

She shrugged, her hurt feelings rushing forward again. “Well, aside from going off on a really bad Valentine’s Day rant, I don’t have a culinary degree, so that disqualifies me. Again.” She wouldn’t sniff here, just like she wouldn’t clear her throat at Finique. Marty and Trish already felt bad for her. Their defeated posture suggested as much. Perhaps she should return to her hometown. She could work at the diner where her mother had waitressed for three decades, live with her parents, get back on her feet. But the thought of leaving Lakeside for a small town hundreds of miles away made her chest ache.

“Don’t worry,” Marty said. “I know you’ll get the next one.”

“I just wish I could open my own place, you know?” Nikki sighed and gazed at them like they’d be able to make her dreams come true. “I mean, I know I’m a good cook, but I’m just not good at convincing others I am.”

“Well, your food is certainly convincing.”

“It sure is, all right.”

A flood of gratitude filled her. She picked up the bag of bread. “Ah, you guys are sweet. Well, thanks again.” She made her way out of the bakery and down the bustling street where restaurants, shops, and boutiques all tried to lure customers into their stores with pretty window displays.

A couple of blocks down, she found Gus putting up a FOR SALE sign in the window. Not quite the display she wanted to see, and her mood shifted once again. She knocked on the glass, a hearty smile in place for the man who’d given her enough advice to last a lifetime.

He’d been there on February fourteenth last year, when she was reliving her nightmare from the year before. Gus had given her the task of making a new sandwich for the customers. He didn’t know it, but that one thing had kept her from spiraling into a dark place. Creating a sandwich had given her purpose.

He grinned and waved at her, and she did the same. He was branded in her life, and as she walked away, she wished once more that she could afford to buy Gus’s building and start her own restaurant.

She arrived at the Lakeside Community Center a few minutes later, the large bag of day-old bread starting to get heavy. With dinner in only an hour, Nikki got to work chopping, dicing, and slicing.

In front of her, more volunteers set up tables and chairs for the anticipated crowd. Wednesdays were notorious for having an unpredictable number of people to feed. Nikki hadn’t been volunteering long, but she loved making large quantities of food and setting them up buffet-style for whoever came.

As she put the finishing touches on an almond rice pilaf, she had a brief flash of herself eating here every Wednesday. She really needed a job, and for the first time in years, she’d have to consider other options besides cooking.

Dinner started, distracting her from her personal troubles, and she went out into the crowd after most of the people had been through the line. There was a fantastic turnout tonight, with nearly every chair full and most of the food gone.

She collected an empty basket from one table. “Let me get you some more bread.” It did her heart good to be here volunteering instead of lounging at home feeling sorry for herself.

She approached the serving area and spotted Beth, the center’s director. A petite woman with red hair she always secured in a bun, Beth wore a smile all the time but used a commanding voice when giving directions. Nikki had never known anyone to disobey her.

“Wow, such a big turnout today, huh?” Nikki eyed the bin of Valentine’s Day decorations in Beth’s hands.

She set them in an empty spot at the end of the paper goods table. “Well, that’s because you’re here.”

“Uh, what?” Nikki cocked her hip as she lifted her eyebrows.

“People love your cooking. Once word got out that you volunteer here on Wednesdays, everyone comes. You’re like a rock star chef to those in need.” She beamed at Nikki like she’d solved world hunger singlehandedly. All she’d done was make some chicken.

A well of resentment opened up in her soul. “Well, at least someone appreciates my cooking.” She had a hard time keeping her voice even, and she dropped her gaze to the gaudy Valentine’s Day items in the bin. The roses looked like a giant had sat on them. “Wow, Valentine’s Day already, huh?”

Beth beamed into the offending box of red and pink. “Yeah it’s coming up.” She sighed. “I think we’ll get some volunteers to help us decorate once we’re done.”

“Count me in.” Even though Nikki would rather not celebrate Valentine’s Day in any way, her alternative was going home to an empty apartment and waiting up for Angela so they could talk about Holly Hanson’s. Again.

“Okay.” Beth pulled out the smashed roses, and Nikki took that as her cue to get the breadbasket refilled the way she’d said she would.

The next afternoon, Nikki couldn’t avoid her situation any longer. She fired up the laptop and got herself over to an online job board. Her second love was dogs, and she found a dog walker position in only a few minutes.

The sound of Angela’s footsteps came closer as she left her bedroom and entered the kitchen. “What are you doing?” She looked at the computer screen and then Nikki for an explanation.

Nikki turned from the bar where she’d been doing her job research. “Well, given that my job hunting isn’t going so well, I figured I might need to get a ‘day job,’ so to speak.” She twisted her fingers together the way she did when her nerves got the better of her.

Angela finished securing her dark hair in a ponytail. “A day job?” She wore her black work pants and a white shirt, which contrasted with her dark skin. Nikki couldn’t escape her friend’s light green eyes, and a little flutter stole through her stomach.

“Yeah, you know, something where I can earn a paycheck while I continue to search for my dream job.” She waved her hands like there were birds flying through the apartment. She consciously lowered them to her sides. “And since I’m pretty good with dogs, I figured maybe…I could be a dog walker?” Why she’d framed the last part of her sentence as a question, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because she wasn’t sure about anything in her life right now.

“Nikki, you can’t just give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” she assured Angela. “I’m just considering other options. I’ve got to pay the rent somehow.”

Angela moved over to the kitchen table where her purse sat and pulled out her keys. “Well, I wish I could help you out. I’m just not making the kind of tips I thought I would.”

Nikki cocked her head, concerned about her friend. “Bad tippers at a place like Holly Hanson’s?” That made no sense. Men like the Silent Supervisor went there...oh, wait. Actually, Nikki couldn’t see him leaving that great of tip. But still. Even fifteen percent of a hundred-dollar ticket was good money.

Angela shouldered her purse. “No, the tips are fine. There’s just not enough of them. Business is down.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. And surprising.”

“Hey, if you don’t have any plans later, maybe you could come by at closing, grab a glass of wine?”

Nikki shook her head, her face scrunching into a distasteful grimace.

But Angela wouldn’t be deterred, and she knew where to hit Nikki hard. “If Holly’s there, maybe I can introduce you.”

“Really?” Nikki wasn’t sure what she’d say to the woman, but the possibility of meeting her was too exciting to pass up.

“Yeah, I mean, considering you idolize her, maybe you might want to meet her?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” She edged forward a little. “I just hope I don’t make a fool of myself and start to ramble.”

Angela remained straight-faced as she shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine that,” she said with more sarcasm in her voice than actual air.

Nikki scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Okay, I can imagine it a little bit. But that’s why we love you! I’ll see you at ten.”

“Mm-hm.” Nikki nodded her head in short, little bursts as Angela walked out. She turned back to her laptop, which still showed the cute little pug that needed a dog walker. “Okay.”

She exhaled, but her enthusiasm for staying up until ten didn’t wane. Her eyes traveled to the cookbook she’d be cooking dinner from that night.

Holly Brings the Heat! sat there, and Nikki’s smile grew at the same rate as her anxiety. “Holly Hanson,” she whispered.

She whipped around and went into the bathroom. She looked at her own face and practiced not saying anything. She counted to ten, thinking about Holly’s fiesta tacos she’d cooked last week.

Nothing came out of her mouth.

She could do this. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be a rambling, bumbling fool that night with her idol chef, she went back into the kitchen and paged through the cookbook, looking for something that would take a couple of hours. Anything to distract her from thinking of possible conversation topics.