The Chef's Passion Read online

  Just thinking about my future extended belly makes me want to pass out from dread, but instead, I smirk sarcastically. “Better get all your hugs in now.”

  We laugh together, and I tell her that I’m so tired that I just might pass out on one of the lounge chairs. She gives me another big hug and thanks me for coming.

  I can hardly keep my eyes open as I drive home. When I make it inside, I kick off my shoes, strip off my dress, and fall right into bed without taking off my makeup. I’m out like a lamp seconds after my head hits the pillow.

  The next time I wake up, it’s late Saturday morning. I got through Naomi’s graduation day, but now I’m back to feeling like woe is me. So I spend the rest of the weekend lying in bed, watching home renovation shows all day. I only get up to make myself arugula salads with toasted pecans and to drink water. I also get out of bed to pee often.

  It seems as if the weekend goes by at record speed. On Monday morning, my internal alarm wakes me up at my regular time of 7:12 a.m. It’s a new day, and frankly, I could just as well sleep this one away too. I press my hands against my flat stomach. I wish I could still hope, but I’d be silly to deny reality at this point.

  So I force myself to rise even though I’m physically and mentally drained. I walk through my regular rituals of breakfast and personal hygiene and get dressed. I drive to school and attend all of my classes. It’s so strange. It’s abundantly clear that my life will never be the same, and yet it feels as if nothing has changed. I still made the best-tasting apricot-ginger sauce in my Soups and Sauces class today. I still sat on the edge of my seat as I listened to Chef Jeanne share part two of the secrets to cooking fine French cuisine.

  My last class ends, and it’s time to drive to the Calypso. For some reason, working there doesn’t suffice anymore. I only applied for a job because I knew I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore—actually I never wanted to be one. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with my life. All I knew is that I had to work on my lackluster people skills. Strange, but whatever career path I decided to choose, I knew I would have to figure out how to please the public. That meant learning to grin and bear it even when the person I was serving was being a jackass.

  Calypso’s customers weren’t too rude though. Mostly, Randy was the one who has been demanding, impatient, and unforgiving. However, on the bright side, he knew his shit. He and I arrived at the café just around the same time, a year ago. I was hired a week after he started. The restaurant was known to have the worst of everything—coffee, sandwiches, and baked goods. But Randy changed recipes and trained staff on how to make the food and drinks consistent. I learned a lot from him in the early days—I really did. Maybe that’s why I found myself attracted to him enough to lose my head and screw him on nights when he and I were closing together. At first, I thought he was having sex with all the girls he closed with, but I soon discovered that I was the only one, which was sort of strange because he rode me harder than anyone else.

  Regardless, those were the old days. In the new days, Randy is going to be a father and I a mother. Poor baby.

  I shake my head as I pull into the parking lot, which is emptier than usual. But I see Rita and Sarah standing in front of the door. I wave at them because they’re watching me. They’re both frowning, and I wonder what in the world is going on.

  I park next to Rita’s car and rush across the asphalt.

  “We can’t get in,” Sarah says before I reach them.

  “Oh”—I open my purse—“I have a key.”

  “So do I,” Sarah says.

  “And so do I,” Rita says.

  I clutch my keys in my hand. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Our keys don’t work,” Sarah says.

  I figure we all have the same key, so I don’t try mine. Instead I cup my hands on the glass and look through the window. The pastry case is half filled, there are cups on the table, and some of the chairs around the table have been pulled out as though whoever sat in them left abruptly.

  “Has anyone tried to call Rex?”

  Sarah and Rita look at each other with wide eyes. Therein lies the answer to my question.

  “I’ll call him,” I say. Unlike Randy, Rex gave us all a direct number to reach him just in case of an emergency.

  I take my phone out of my purse.

  “There he is,” Rita says.

  I look up to see Rex’s white truck driving into the parking lot. We stand in silence as he parks, gets out, and walks toward us. He has a stressed-out look on his face, and he’s avoiding eye contact.

  “The Calypso is officially out of business,” he says before reaching us.

  “Why?” I ask although I already have it figured out.

  He throws his hands up. “The place has zero operational budget.”

  “How does an establishment lose its operating budget in less than twenty-four hours?” Sarah asks.

  The sides of Rex’s mouth turn down in a severe frown. “Well, the owner could gamble it way. You can buy this place if you have three hundred fifty thousand in cash.”

  Rita gasps and then slaps her hand over her mouth. “Then it was true. Steve is a gambling addict.”

  Rex nods. “It’s true.” He sighs.

  “But I have my things in my locker,” Sarah says.

  “Me too,” Rita says.

  “Me three,” I say. I have one textbook and two recipe books in mine.

  Rex twists his lips thoughtfully, pondering while the three of us wait for him to finish. “Steve was here this morning. Follow me.”

  We trail Rex as he leads us to the back of the building, where there’s a narrow alley. We stop near the dumpster. Rex glances toward the back door and then looks up. About eight feet above us is a window that’s cracked open.

  “Steve opens the window to smoke in the bathroom and never closes it. I can hoist one of you up there, and you can go in and unlock the door. Any takers?” He sizes us up with his eyes. “Sarah, you’re the tiniest.”

  She shakes her head. “There’s no way I’m doing that. I’m scared of heights.”

  Rita crosses her arms. “Me too.”

  Both of them are looking at me. I groan and roll my eyes. “Holy shit—I’ll do it.” I want to shame them by saying I’m pregnant and all, but I would never divulge my secret to gossip queens one and two.

  Rex interlaces his fingers. I step on the platform he provides, and he lifts me up to the window. Actually, I’m the perfect size for this. I’m taller than both Rita and Sarah, and my height helps me open the window more and hike up a leg and thrust it over the windowsill.

  “Are you okay?” Rex says.

  The frame of the window is pressing against my vagina, and it hurts like hell. Despite being in an uncomfortable position, I say, “I’m fine.”

  I figure the faster I get this over with the better. I contort my body to make room for my other leg to go through.

  “Be careful,” Sarah says.

  “Yeah, be careful,” Rita says.

  I see that Rex is loving the eyeful he’s getting. At this point, in order to make the climb work, I have to pretend I’m a spider monkey or something. Somehow, I’m able to control my body and land with two feet securely on the flat part above the urinal. The next part takes balance, and that strength comes from the core where junior lives. At first, I’m afraid to tighten those muscles. Will I hurt myself, or it? But what a stupid thought. I tighten my stomach muscles, squat down, and clutch each side of the urinal then steady my feet and hop down.

  My feet slap the ground, and I stand still, taking inventory of how my stomach feels.

  “Gina, are you okay?” Rita calls.

  I lift my arm and give a thumbs-up even though no one can see me. “I’m fine!”

  I bolt out of the men’s restroom and down the quiet hallway to unlock the back door. They’re already standing there when I open it.

  “Oh my God, thank you so much, Gina,” Sarah says as she sweeps past me.

  T
he others enter, and as Sarah and Rita head to the locker room, I go to the dining room. The space is so fresh and large. Not only that, but the Calypso really does have a great atmosphere. I walk between the tables, sliding my fingers across the tops as I go. I’ve often dreamed of changing out the parquet floors to dark wood that match the glazed tables I would put in here. I would also add floor-to-ceiling windows on the long wall and the back one with the sidewalk entrance. I sit on the nearest chair and close my eyes just to sort out the feelings that are rushing through me.

  I spent four years as an undergrad, earning a degree in biology. I wanted to be a doctor, but after two years in, I changed my mind but still finished out the program. My GPA was 2.7, barely above average. Then I spent three years earning a law degree. My GPA was 3.0, but I had to work hard to keep it that high. It only took a year before I came to the conclusion that I didn’t want to be a lawyer. But after graduating, I still tried to pass the bar. Each time I woke up way too early to make the exam and sat in a room full of hundreds of eager aspiring lawyers, I would actually face that test, and my mind would go blank. Heck, I could never picture myself standing before a judge, arguing a case in a courtroom. I couldn’t care less about who wins a legal dispute. But I care if people enjoy my food. All I’ve gotten in culinary school are As and praise for the food that I make. Cooking makes me happy. It’s how I want to spend the rest of my life.

  I open my eyes. Three hundred fifty thousand dollars. That’s how much Steve is selling this place for. I wonder whether he’d take two hundred fifty thousand cash if I offered it.

  I spring to my feet and give the space another inspection. I think I’d like to do it. I’m going to buy the Calypso!

  “Hey Gina, do you need to get something out of the locker? We should get out of here as soon as we can!” Rex says from somewhere in the back.

  “Yep,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. “Here I come.”

  I walk toward the back, but the bells on the door catch my attention. I used to love hearing those bells every Tuesday at two o’clock in the afternoon when Naomi and Elena would walk in to chat with me during my break. I run over to the string of bells and untie them from the door handle. I’m taking them with me. Perhaps one day I’ll string them again, but the next time they go up, I’ll be the owner of the Calypso.

  11

  As soon as I walk through the front door of my house, I flop down on the sofa and get ready to make the phone call of my life. I asked Rex for Steve’s number before I left today. He wondered why I needed it, and I told him I wanted to buy the Calypso. At first he chuckled, but then he saw that I was serious.

  “You have that kind of cash lying around?” he asked.

  “Not lying around but in the bank—yes.”

  After his long pause ended, he gave me the number. Now I punch it into my phone and stuff my ear buds in as the call rings. I look around my living room, waiting for him to answer. I’m the one who had the contractor knock out the wall that separated it from the dining room and kitchen and opened up this space. That was a good call. I have so many ideas for remodeling the Calypso that I’m getting all tingly just thinking about them.

  “This is Steve, leave a message.” Beep.

  I’m not shocked that I got his answering machine. “Hi, Steve, this is Gina Gilbert. I work, I mean worked, for you at the Calypso Café. I heard you’re looking to sell the place. I’m looking to buy it. I also heard the price you want to get for it. I can give you 270K in cash. That’s my offer.” I leave him my number and urge him to get back to me as soon as possible.

  I quickly end the call. All the tension releases from my shoulders, and I take a deep sigh. Jeez, I didn’t realize how anxious that made me. Now all I can do is wait, hoping that Steve takes my call seriously. I scoot up to stand, and my phone rings. I quickly swipe it off the sofa and look at the number on the screen. It’s Steve.

  I tap the green button. “Hello,” I say, keeping my voice calm.

  “Yeah, Gina from work. How are you?” He sounds friendly.

  We’re in negotiations, so I have to keep it business. “So did you get my message?”

  “Yeah, yeah… sure. I talked to Rex, and he said you’re looking to purchase the café? Didn’t you used to work the register?”

  “Mostly.”

  He pauses. “Gina, are you fucking with me?”

  “No, I’m not. I can give you two seventy K in cash.”

  He laughs sarcastically. “That’s a big discount you’re asking for.”

  I’ve seen Steve’s desperation. I know he’s strapped for cash. I’m pretty sure he could get full asking price for the location the Calypso’s in, and other than needing a facelift, the place is in pretty good condition. “Yeah, well, that’s cash, and I have it right away.” If he’s got as much of a gambling problem as I think he does, he might just go for it.

  Steve grunts. It’s a sound that says he’s taking me seriously. “Three hundred thirty.”

  I smirk, satisfied I was able to move him off his 350K mark. “Two eighty-five.”

  “Ah…” He sighs. “You know I can get a lot more than three fifty K.”

  “I’m sure you can, but is it a real cash offer today?” I say.

  He breathes heavily through his nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “I already said I was, and I’m done answering that question. My time is valuable too, and I sure wouldn’t sit here and waste yours.”

  “Okay, then. Three hundred K,” he says.

  “Look Steve. I’m going to wire you the money the minute my lawyer okays the deal. That means as early as tomorrow, you can have two hundred eighty thousand dollars in your pocket to do with whatever you want. You’ll be free of this burden. But I can’t pay a dime more.”

  “Okay,” he snaps.

  “Good. I’ll have my lawyer call you in the morning.”

  I tell him it was nice dealing with him and call Naomi to tell her I need a big favor.

  “I’ll do it,” she says. “But are you sure you want to go this alone, especially now that you’re pregnant? Have you told Randy yet?”

  I groan because her questions are giving me an actual headache. “As always, I can count on you to kill my buzz.”

  “Well, it is a significant purchase, and I can tell that you’re dead set on making it, but you should at least find a partner who knows more about the business. Do you know you have to file for a license?”

  I love Nom, but sometimes I feel like taping her mouth shut. “Of course.” My tone is deadpan.

  She sighs. “Okay. I’ll exit Negativeville and say, congratulations. I wish you all the luck in the world. And yes, I’ll contact this Steve guy and get the ball rolling.”

  I smile from ear to ear. “Really?”

  “Really. Listen, Gina, you can decide to fly to Mars tomorrow, and if you’re dead set on doing it, then you’ll have my support. I love you.”

  “Ahh…” My heart swells, and my eyes tear up. “I love you too. Now, what’s your hourly fee?”

  She chuckles before telling me. It’s quite steep, but she gives me a thirty-five-percent discount for being her best friend. Before ending the call, I accept the fees and feel quite confident that everything will go smoothly. I chuckle, amazed. Naomi was determined to go into criminal law, which is the direct opposite of what her father, Dick Sutters, does. He owns one of the largest law firms in the city, specializing in corporate law. She used to be hell bent on not following in his footsteps. I’m starting to think that has changed, and I wonder if it’s because of Derek Valentine. I mean, could love make a woman alter all her ambitions? If so, then I’d better stay far away from it.

  I look down at my belly and press a hand on it, thinking maybe this kind of love has the same effect. If so, then I’m very happy that I chose to buy the Calypso. That way, I’m in it before the little one can make me change my mind. I grin victoriously and hop up off the couch. Now I’ll go make us dinner. Since I don’t have work today, I have nothi
ng but time.

  “What would you like?” I ask my stomach.

  In a faint voice from deep inside, I can hear him or her say, “Feed me healthy food, Mommy, and make vegetable egg drop stew tonight.”

  “You got it.” I give my belly one last rub before dancing off to the kitchen.

  Suddenly, my phone buzzes, and I trot back over to the sofa to see who just sent me an email. I’m hoping it’s not Steve changing his mind.

  I retrieve my phone and see a message from Samantha, one of the girls who worked at the Calypso. It says: “Official farewell tomorrow night at eight at the Bryant Lake Bowl. See you there?”

  12

  It’s Tuesday night, and I arrive at the Bryant Lake Bowl. The place was started in the nineties but feels more like it’s been around since the seventies. It’s got a bar, a dining area with a black-and-white-tile floor where the white looks more like yellow, a kitchen offering a palatable assortment of foods, a bowling alley and, go figure, a theater—all crammed into a small space.

  I walk through the door and see Rita and Samantha at the bar. They tell me that everyone else is in the theater as they’ve got something planned.

  “Oh, really.” I roll my eyes. “This ought to be good.”

  Rita grabs a tray full of beers. “What are you drinking?”

  I’m distracted by the eclectic ambiance and the clashing sound of bowling balls striking pins.

  “Gina,” Samantha says. “What are you drinking?”

  I look back to the bar. “Water.”

  They both look at each other and then at me like I’m crazy.

  “Tonic water with lime,” I say, hoping that sounds a little more cocktail-like.

  “Okay,” Rita says.

  She orders my drink, and I follow them around the corner into a theater, which has got to have fewer than a hundred seats.

  The staff of the Calypso is sitting in the front near the stage, where there are some small round tables, each already holding a couple of empty glasses. And to my complete surprise, Randy’s there.