Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
If I was completely honest with myself, he’d been a small reason I’d left on my…let’s call it a sabbatical.
Alessia flashed me a wry little smirk. “Adam recently promoted him to sous. He’s definitely still around, Griff.”
Fuck.
That wasn’t good news. The kid was admittedly a fantastic chef, and I’d been hoping he’d moved on. I mean, a young guy like that should have ambitions, right? To work in New York, Atlanta, LA, Vegas, maybe even Europe…?
But last year, he’d been rambling about the fucking cooking classes. He’d wanted Adam to let him host some of the classes once the upstairs area was renovated.
“You need to get along with him,” Alessia said.
Hmpf.
I’d rather keep my distance, but if he was the sous, that wasn’t gonna happen.
“He’s building something here,” she went on. “He’s gaining followers on Instagram, he’s got a wonderful reputation, and his classes are always fully booked.”
I wasn’t surprised. My beef with him had nothing to do with his skills. And I could reluctantly admit he could have ambitions and still linger in Washington. Working for Adam would get him a foot in the door. It seemed it already had if he was gaining a following online.
“He’s a punk,” I settled for saying.
Alessia sighed. “You always say that.”
I always meant it.
We headed behind the bar, and I pushed open the door to the kitchen, letting Alessia enter first. Adam was standing at one of the prep stations with a bunch of Post-its filling the work surface, and he looked up and grinned lazily upon seeing me.
“Dada!” Nicky exclaimed.
“Daddy’s got work, baby.” Alessia smooched the boy’s cheek, then excused herself to go upstairs.
“I’ll be up in an hour or so.” Adam ruffled the boy’s hair and kissed his wife before he turned back to me. “The lost brother finally returns,” he said. “Welcome home, buddy.”
I smirked and slapped my hand to his. “Thanks, man. I’m here to save your sinking ship.”
He laughed. “Good. Just in time for us to launch the fall menu.”
Fantastic. I rubbed my hands together and eyed the notes. “My schedule’s wide open, so put me to work.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he replied. “Did you find a new place yet?”
I nodded. “Same area as before, south of the Valley, but with more land.” I’d sold my cabin before leaving last year, wanting a fresh start the day I returned. “I get the keys on Wednesday.”
“Nice. Where are you staying now?”
“Cedar Inn.” It wasn’t like I had a lot of stuff. I kept half a dozen moving boxes at my brother’s place, and I was buying new furniture soon.
With the life I’d led, my personal belongings consisted of photos, articles my ma had cut out, knives, and memories from restaurants I’d worked in.
Forty-five years old. Six or seven moving boxes.
Fuck it. Fresh start and all that. I wasn’t gonna look back.
Instead, I eyed the notes on the table and saw my immediate future. Adam ran things differently because his restaurant was on the small side, even now when they’d opened up for an additional fifteen tables upstairs. Or so I assumed; Alessia had said the area upstairs was the same size as the one down here. The food wasn’t outrageously expensive either, which meant he wasn’t working with a long line of cooks.
“Who’s the expo?” I asked.
“Tracy’s running the back of house, and I do the front,” Adam answered. “All the tickets go to him first, and he drives the communication.” He side-eyed me. “If I put you in an executive role, you gotta fucking be nice to him. He’s come a long way.”
Jesus, what the fuck. I’d never been an asshole to him. Just…maybe grumpy.
Maybe.
“You can put me on salad prep for all I care,” I said. “I’m here to enjoy myself.”
Adam snorted and clapped me on the back. “Only a chef who already has a star will say that. And you completely dodged my demand. Get along with Tracy, all right?”
I showed my palms in surrender. “Whatever you say, Chef.” But his comment made me curious. “Are you shooting for the stars?”
His expression was funny and gave the answer away. “Fuck no! I left all that nonsense behind me in Atlanta and New York.”
That was a relief. Adam may not have received a star, but he’d retained two. We’d both burned out at some point in our careers as well. It wasn’t fucking worth it. I did know Coho was on Michelin’s watch list, though.
I spent the next few days learning the new menu, which was made easier by Tracy’s absence. He was visiting family in Georgia, though he was due to get back to work after this weekend when we launched Coho’s fall menu.
I’d thought it would be tough for him to jump into things without preparations, but apparently he’d assisted Adam a great deal in setting the menu in the first place, so I guessed the golden child would be okay.