Chapter Five
“Sorry I’m late.” Gentry waltzed into A CertainTea and lobbed her brown leather Miu Miu satchel on the table where Colby had been impatiently waiting.
At five feet ten inches tall, Gentry commanded attention. Factor in her auburn hair and green eyes, and no one could deny her sister’s striking, if not beautiful, appearance. Her quirky fashion sense—today in a heavily patterned, short layered skirt and an intricate mesh top—only enhanced her eye-catching looks. The outfit looked like something she’d cobbled together from a secondhand store, but it probably bore a Gaultier label.
Gentry glanced around the space she hadn’t once visited during the renovation. “Looks nice. Love the gray floors and all the taupe and cream accents. The wood beams and live plants are a nice touch. Classy yet Zen.”
“Thanks. I’m shooting for hip yet pretty enough to be a wedding venue.” Colby particularly loved the floor-to-ceiling retractable glass doors that offered guests beautiful views of the lake.
“You nailed it.” Gentry collapsed into one of the leather-covered chairs. “So why’d you call me here?”
Colby held her breath. Here goes nothing. “I need your help.”
“My help?” Gentry’s disbelieving smirk pricked at Colby’s conscience. “With what? Dad?”
“No, not with Dad. With all of this.” She gestured around the restaurant.
Gentry sat forward, her long legs lazily sprawled to the sides, and rested her chin on her fist, causing the dozen bangles on her arm to jangle. “How can I help?”
How indeed?
“I’m overwhelmed by everything on my plate. You know I hate social media, so I thought maybe you might take the lead on keeping the website and media pages fresh and appealing. Between your photography background and your online presence, it seems like a good fit.”
Gentry’s pretty eyes narrowed. “Did Dad put you up to this? Is this his way of keeping me busy so I don’t have time to hang out with Jake?”
Colby could lie, but she suspected Gentry would know it. Maybe if people started treating her sister like a responsible grown-up, she’d start acting like one. “Okay, yes. Dad asked me to consider it, but he didn’t force me. After thinking about it, I realized you could help. You’d do a better job than I would with using apps to drive business our way.”
Gentry sat back, lips pursed. “What about my classes?”
“We could work around those. A lot of the work could be done on your own time. I’d only need you here a few half days each week to help me with other things in the office.”
“Why are you really doing this?” Gentry cocked her head, clearly untrusting.
“I just told you; I could use help. And it would be nice to work with my sister—someone who has my back—instead of an employee who doesn’t care if I succeed or fail.” That part was true, even if Colby had exaggerated the rest. “It’ll be a nice way for us to reconnect, too. I know I haven’t been the best sister these past few years.”
Gentry’s expression softened. “It’s okay. You’ve been grieving.”
“I still could’ve been better.” Colby hated that Gentry gave her a free pass. If anything, hadn’t Mark’s suicide reinforced the dangers of not paying attention to the people you loved? “So, will you help me?”
Her sister flashed the quick, eager grin Colby remembered from the days when Gentry had desperately tagged along behind her and her teenage friends. “Okay.”
“Good.” Colby slid a report across the table. “Read this market demographics report and think about how we might best reach our target audience. Take a stab at crafting some press releases, and we’ll meet back here in a few days to discuss your ideas. Initially I’ll retain oversight just to make sure we’re on the same page in terms of the brand image, but once I’m comfortable, you can run the show.”
Gentry wrinkled her nose. “Reports are so boring.”
“But necessary. Preparation is key, okay? Promise this won’t sit on your dresser until ten minutes before we next meet.”
“I thought you trusted me to have your back.” Gentry’s smile faded.
“I do. But don’t pretend you’re not easily distracted, especially by guys. Speaking of that, what’s the deal with Jake?”
“What did Dad say?” Gentry’s green eyes sizzled despite the cool, clipped tone of her voice.
“He’s eager to see you settled with something, and someone, stable.”
“It’s a little late for my mom and him to start being parents, don’t you think?” Gentry stuffed the report in her bag. Before Colby could reply, her sister declared, “Jake’s great. He’s sexy, fun, independent, and he doesn’t treat me like an afterthought.”
Alec arrived before Colby could further explore Gentry’s motives.
“Good morning,” he said, gaze falling on Colby.
Such a handsome face. The stray thought rattled Colby. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed because he’d become distracted by her sister.
“Gentry.” His eyes widened. “It’s been a while. I can’t believe how you’ve changed.”
Colby’s body tensed when her sister gave him an appreciative once-over.
“So have you.” Gentry’s saucy smile returned. She stood and hugged Alec, subtly thrusting her ample cleavage forward, as if he might somehow miss it on his own. “The idea of working here just got a whole lot more interesting.”
“You’ll be working here?” Alec’s brows rose.
“You didn’t get my text?” Colby asked.
He grimaced and shook his head.
“Alec, charge and carry your phone!” Colby heaved a sigh.
“I’ll do better.” He turned back to Gentry. “Will you be waitressing?”
Colby knew Alec well enough to recognize the concern in his expression.
“Hell, no. Would this manicure survive carrying all those trays around?” Gentry held up a hand and wiggled her bejeweled fingers. At least she was honest.
“In the kitchen?” Alec spoke with the level of caution required to navigate a minefield.
“Ha! You do remember who my mother is, right? The only thing I can do back there is reheat leftovers.” Gentry proudly embraced her spoiled life. Then again, she didn’t know anything different. The shopping, the frequent dining out, the weekly mani-pedi—all of that was her norm.
“Gentry’s going to help me in the office and with our social media.” Colby exchanged a knowing glance with Alec.
“Ah. Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, clearly relieved not to have to train her. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll be testing new menu items with the staff today.”
“Good luck.” Gentry flirtatiously touched his arm before he made off to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, she shot a wide-eyed gaze Colby’s way. “He looks good.”
“I think he’s finally coping with Joe’s death and losing Une Bouchée.” Colby hoped so, anyhow.
“No, I mean he looks good.” The purr in Gentry’s voice grated on Colby’s nerves. “Hot!”
“What about Jake?”
Gentry shrugged. “Dad always says it’s important to keep your options open.”
“Alec is off-limits.” Her staccato delivery caught Gentry off guard. In truth, it caught Colby off guard, too. “We can’t have coworkers getting together. That’s bad for business. Got it?”
Her sister raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. But you’d better have an all-male staff if you expect that rule to be followed.”
“I’ve hired mature, career-oriented waiters, and the two women cooks on staff are married.”
“Phfft.” Gentry rolled her eyes. “As if that ever stopped anyone.”
“When did you become so jaded?”
“Not jaded. Realistic. Look around. Your parents divorced. Mine work more than they have any fun. You may have had a good marriage until everything with Mark and Joe happened, but not everyone is that lucky.”
Good marriage. Lucky. The front she and Mark had put up in order to hide his diagnosis. Neither term applied, though, no matter how great of a snow job she’d pulled off.
She’d tried to make it true. Given every part of her heart and soul to her marriage. Patiently cleaned up after he’d do things like spray down the entire condo with fire extinguishers in order to “reveal” the ghosts he believed haunted him. Clung to the shining moments of Mark’s generous spirit and surprising bursts of romance. Voraciously read about his illness and tried to implement different coping strategies, hoping he would be like many other bipolar sufferers and learn to manage his illness and his life.
But in the murky places of her heart, she’d blamed Mark for not committing to treatment. Worse, she’d blamed herself for being unable to motivate him to stick with therapy and medication like other spouses in her shoes could.
In that light, loneliness seemed safer than entrusting her future happiness to any man.
Colby swatted the depressing memories away like flies even as they deepened her concern for her sister. “Promise me you won’t rush into anything.”
“What part of keeping my options open suggests that I’m rushing into anything?” Gentry grabbed her purse. “I’ve got to run. I’ll read this report and come up with a plan. Maybe I’ll swing by the day after next and get some photos. I think it’s supposed to be sunny.”
“Thanks, Gentry.” Colby stood and offered her sister a hug. “This will be good for both of us.”
“Unless we end up like my mom and Hunter.” Gentry snickered. “Just kidding. See you later!”
She flounced off, her little skirt swishing around her thighs, loose curls flowing down her back. Colby sat and drew a deep breath to quiet the fear that hiring her sister might be the best and worst decision of her week.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Alec barked at the sous chef, Chris, his voice reverberating off the metal surfaces in the kitchen. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry!”
“Why?” Chris shot him a vexed look.
Alec pointed at the meunière sauce smeared on the outer lining of the dish. “Does that look spotless to you? Do you think any customer wants to pay thirty-eight dollars for a dish and have it served looking so sloppy?” He whirled around on the chef de entremetier. “And do these first courses look consistent? Don’t answer. I will. They don’t. This one, too much sauce. This one, wilted chiffonade. That one isn’t properly seared!”
“You didn’t even taste them.” Chris flipped his palms heavenward, defending his subordinate.
“I don’t need to, because I wouldn’t let any of these items leave this kitchen. Look at them!”
“No one but you would notice the chiffonade,” Chris challenged.
Pressure built up behind Alec’s eyes. “What did you say?”
“Most people toss that aside.” Chris shrank back a step or two.
Clearly, none of these cooks had trained under the masters in Europe. They hadn’t worked eighteen-hour shifts on their feet for twenty grand a year and slept on hostel floors just for the chance to learn from the best.
“How do you think a restaurant earns a James Beard Award, or, if Michelin ever expands its US review territories to include the Northwest, a star? By being lazy? By ignoring the little details? No. No!” Alec’s palm slammed against the metal counter. He needed each of them to adopt his perspective if he had any chance of making Colby’s restaurant the best, or of winning awards and proving to his dad and the world that his talent wasn’t a fluke or a joke. “Every single plate that leaves this kitchen must, must, meet the standard I set. It will be perfect. It will be clean. It will be consistent. No one knows which customer out there is a critic. You can’t afford not to be perfect every single time.”
Chris dimly stared back at Alec, as if Alec were a madman. “Okay.”
“Okay? Putain!” Alec turned toward the rest of the cook staff, voice tight and rough. “Do none of you have the passion required to be the best? To produce the finest meals in the area? Because if you don’t aim for perfection, then I don’t want you in this kitchen.”
“Alec?” Colby’s voice cut through the room.
He whipped his neck around. “Yes?”
She offered a conciliatory smile to his staff. “Could I please see you out here for a minute?”
Alec noticed Chris’s smug satisfaction. Whether intentional or not, Colby had undermined Alec at a critical moment. He forced a lid over his temper. “Of course.”
He followed her into the dining room, counting to three in his head while she straightened her pencil skirt. For chrissakes, did she think he had time for a lecture? He didn’t need to be micromanaged in his own kitchen. Her restaurant, his kitchen, dammit.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “I heard you yelling from out here.”
“The staff isn’t up to par, Colby, and I only have a couple of weeks to train them.”
“Training? It sounded like screaming to me.”
Alec inhaled slowly, reminding himself that Colby disliked conflict and had never once worked in any kitchen. She had no idea of the difficulty, the coordination, the trust and teamwork that needed to be pulled off, hour after endless hour. He resented the way she now looked at him with distaste. Her husband had been a loudmouth, so why Alec’s behavior bothered her, he couldn’t quite say. “I need them to do exactly as I say. Exactly. If they don’t learn to work like clockwork, you’ll have increased costs beginning with wasted inventory and ending with higher workers’ comp claims because of injuries. That means I can’t have you undercut my authority.”
“Surely there’s a more respectful way to earn their respect and cooperation.” She folded her arms. “I told you, I want this restaurant to be a happy place for everyone.”
“This is a restaurant, not a spiritual retreat. Surely you understand the difference.” When his remark caused her to scowl, he blew out a breath. “Sorry. But if you want to ensure that your guests have an exquisite experience from the moment they enter to the moment they leave, let me worry about the kitchen staff’s ‘feelings.’”
“I don’t want to work in a war zone, Alec.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Now who’s exaggerating?”
She looked him up and down. “When did you become an arrogant jerk?”
“When did you become a fragile flower?” He reeled in his emotions, reminding himself she was his boss, not his employee. “I can’t believe you’re offended by me after spending so many years with Joe and Mark.”
Her mouth fell open. “Don’t change the subject. I’m trying to avoid a spate of harassment suits.”
“Harassment?” He practically choked on the word. “I’m setting the standard by which they must perform. It’s your restaurant, but it’s my reputation on the line, Colby. No one cares who owns the restaurant. The executive chef gets all the credit or all the blame. So don’t tell me to relax—or how to do my job—when you’ve never worked in a kitchen.”
“I asked you before not to belittle me.” Her voice had grown deadly quiet.
He raised his hands overhead. “Since when is stating facts belittling?”
“Since you keep dismissing my concerns as if I have no brain. I might not have kitchen experience, but I know poor management when I see it. I’m telling you right now, I won’t tolerate constant turnover. Maybe you had to endure shitty ‘training’ as a young chef, but I bet you didn’t like it much. Be a better man and find a better way.” Before he could respond, she twirled on her heel and stalked off, leaving him stewing in his own stomach acid.
Seemed she now made a habit of quick exits after laying down the law, so to speak.
Be a better man and find a better way.
Those words echoed in his mind as he made his way back into the kitchen. No doubt the staff had overheard their discussion.
For most of his life, he’d been considered weak. Quiet, thoughtful, a little shy. The kitchen had been the one—the only—place where he’d reigned supreme. Where he’d had complete confidence and control. If she expected him to go back to being that Alec everyone else pushed around or ignored, she’d better think again.
She didn’t appreciate his style? Too bad. It had worked for generations of chefs, and had made Une Bouchée an award-winning establishment. His dad would respect it. “No holds barred” had been that man’s motto for as long as Alec could remember. No one had criticized Joe for taking it to heart, so Alec wouldn’t worry about Colby’s current perception. Securing his dad’s respect, reclaiming his reputation, making her restaurant the best. That had to be the priority.
She’d forgive him once A CertainTea was featured in Bon Appétit.
“So, tell me. Who isn’t willing to meet my standards?” Find a better way. What Colby didn’t know was that there was no better way. “It won’t be easy, but a year from now, you’ll be proud of what we’ll accomplish together. You’ll learn more than you’ve ever learned before, too, but it won’t come without some pain and suffering.”
They all stared at him in silence. Some looked barely older than twenty-one. Good God, had he ever been that young?
“Shall I take your silence as meaning you’re on board? That each of you understands that every single detail matters?”
“Yes, Chef” came the reply in unison.
“Good. Let’s try again, from the beginning.” Alec called out a number of orders from the menu in another attempt to create a real-time test. “The soft opening is only two and a half weeks away. Let’s be ready.”
Yet despite his private pep talk, Colby’s words disrupted his concentration. Be a better man and find a better way.