Page 25 of Finding Yesterday
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Were you at The Corner Cuppa by chance? And if you believe that rumor, then you’re gonna hate the one about you.”
A playful grin spreads across Jack’s face. “Nah, I don’thatethe idea of being your afternoon delight.”
We both bust up, but butterflies are flitting in my stomach from his words. I know he’s joking, except that when our eyes meet, his are sparkling. I struggle to pull my gaze away, but I finally do, focusing again on my ragged cuticles.
Jack clears his throat before he says, “We could really use a vegetarian chef at The Fine Bone. To help us accommodate customers like you who want meat alternatives.”
“Oh,” I mumble, as I don’t have another excuse ready to combat that. Thinking fast, I continue with, “Well, I don’t have a degree in culinary arts.”
“No.” His face goes serious. “But you’re a good chef, Claire. I ate your duchess potatoes,allof them. They were amazing. And that sweet potato ravioli of yours is what made Tangz famous.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Hudson is running off into the sunset with that ravioli. Thank you, though.” I lean in. “But seriously. There are steak chefs out there. Tell me the truth. Why are you here?”
We lock gazes again, but this time I don’t look away. This feels like a game of chicken, and I never lose at chicken, despite my nickname.
Finally, he looks away. “Look, Pops can be a little challenging to work with.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. And, he likes you.”
My eyes go huge. “That was himlikingme?”
“Well, yes, sort of. Relatively.”
“You know what, Jack? I’m gonna pass.”
“Look, I’m desperate.” His shoulders slump. “Our side dishes are outdated. They’re Maw’s old recipes, which are really good, but many are drowned in butter. That doesn’t work for those seeking healthier options. And when Maw and Pops had their restaurant eighteen years ago, it was good enough to offer a great steak. Things are different now. Chophouses have to be known for their amazing sides and variety too.” He rubs his forehead. “You’re the only person I know in Blue Vine who can create top quality, unique side dishes. And you’ll keep that going at The Fine Bone after I go back to San Francisco in five weeks. I’ll make you a good offer.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you fix our sides so they get top reviews, you can be the co-head chef at The Fine Bone along with Jordan, our best steak cook.”
“Are you serious?” My heart does a full somersault in my chest. A job as a head chef. In Blue Vine. It’s not a restaurant of my own, but I actually don’t want that right now. This will give me time to grow and get enough exposure to convince folks here that they could use a vegetarian restaurant, especially with more tourists flocking to the vineyards. “I mean that’d be amazing, but I don’t know.”
“Why not?” His face is unreadable. “You’ve already proved you can do it. I believe in you.”
“You do?” I shoot him a quizzical look.
“Of course. Tangz is a successful restaurant. You did that.”
Well, technically Ihalfdid that, but it feels really nice to have someone acknowledge it. Although, I know nothing about that critical other half—the business side of things. The Fine Bone could be an essential experience for me, being in charge of all things not steak. And Jack’s deal does sound fair.
So, I have to pay my dues first. Working in a steakhouse for a while. With a cranky, eccentric old man. How bad could it be?
“I won’t cook the steaks.” I lift my chin.
“No problem. You’ll be the side dish and vegetarian alternatives chef only. I’ll write you up an offer.”
I brush an invisible piece of lint off my sweatshirt.
“And, I also want you at my restaurant”—he shrugs shyly—“because you’re kind of a bad-ass.”
I cock my head. “Oh, come on. Now you’re just blowing smoke.”
“I’m being honest. When you realized you had to call off your wedding, you marched in front of the crowd and held your head high as you made a difficult announcement. Then you apologized and asked folks to enjoy the party. Most people don’t do that. Actually, I don’t know anyone who’s ever done that.” He looks up. “Well, until now.”
I study his face. “You mean that, don’t you?”
