Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) (13 page)

She chuckled. “I suppose anything is better than staying at home all by your lonesome and obsessing about Mitchell.” One thing about Toni, she knew me too well. “Be ready in half an hour and I’ll pick you up.”

To my amazement Toni showed up on time, gorgeous in a form-fitting red coat. She sauntered up my walk, threw me a happy hello and helped me to her BMW.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I said as she slid into the driver’s seat.

She closed the door, checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror and turned on the motor. “That’s because I am.” She threw me a radiant smile. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to have a sister.”

“You sure are spending an awful lot of time with her.”

She laughed but didn’t deny it. She put the car into gear and took off.

Half a dozen blocks later, we pulled up to the restaurant and parked. “If a cop tries to give me a ticket for stopping here, I swear I’ll shoot him,” she said, tapping her purse.

“Are you crazy? You can’t walk around with a gun in your purse. Isn’t carrying a concealed weapon illegal?”

She threw her hands up, looking innocent. “Somebody threatens our lives, I say, shoot first and beg forgiveness later.”

I bobbed my eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s quite the way that saying goes.”

“I like it better the way I put it,” she said, climbing out of the car. I struggled out and onto my one good foot as she retrieved my crutches from the back seat. I was clop-clopping across the sidewalk to the entrance, when, to my surprise, a nice-looking man ran ahead of me and opened the door.

“Allow me,” he said, standing aside as I went through. I turned to look, almost disbelieving what had just happened.

Toni threw him a beaming smile. “Thank you. So kind of you,” she said—somehow managing to make those benign words sound suggestive—and proceeded to sashay by him like a sultry siren from a 1930s movie.

How did she do that? If I tried to walk that way, even without my cast I’d probably just look as if I was holding back gas.

“This is great,” she said, glancing back at him as he walked away. She gave me an admiring look. “You’ve got it made, sweetie.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at how much attention you’re getting. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, right—attention—everyone is staring at the girl on crutches.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “While you trekked those ten steps between my car and the front door, there must have been a dozen men practically falling over each other to open the door for you. That cast can be a real advantage.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life. If they were falling over themselves, which I seriously doubt, it would have been for the sexy blonde—you—not the girl on crutches.”

She tossed her hair. “Don’t be silly. You know what I always say. Opportunity comes in all sorts of disguises. This time it came dressed in a cast, you lucky girl.”

If I’d been a bit more proficient with my crutches, I think I’d have used one to clobber her over the head right about then.

At that moment, Jake appeared from the kitchen. He took one look at me and called over his shoulder, “Hey, guys, Nicky is here.”

Toni patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll go park the car. Be right back.” And she took off.

Scott, Marley, Charles and Jennifer came spilling out of the kitchen. Everyone started talking at the same time. “We were all so worried when we heard.”

“How are you?”

“How’s your ankle?”

“Does it hurt much?”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be home in bed?”

I help up one hand in the international signal for stop. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll have to wear this ski boot for the next six to eight weeks, but I can do anything I like as long as I don’t put any weight on that foot. So here’s how it’s going to work.” I explained my plan and the doctor’s suggestion. “Charles, you have a car, don’t you?” He nodded. “Can you go shopping for stool, or a chair—anything as long as it’s bar height?”

“Sure,” he said. “I bet I can find one for next to nothing at one of the used-furniture shops down the street.”

“That way, I can still supervise and even do some of the prep work.” I looked at Jennifer. “How would you feel becoming sous-chef until I’m back on my feet.”

She gave me an engaging smile. “I’d love it.”

I turned to Charles again. “And that means you’d be head chef.”

He grinned. “Great. Don’t recover too soon, please. I’ve always wanted to be head chef.”

“You’re going to have to do the shopping, create the menus.”

“I know the drill, don’t worry.” He grabbed his coat from the rack. “I’ll go get that seat right now, and be back in no time.” He ran out the door.

“Did you call that customer?” Jake asked. I looked at him, unsure what he was talking about. “Edna Jamieson, you know, that woman who keeps leaving messages for you. I gave you her number the other day. She called again.”

Gesturing toward my leg, I said, “I hope you explained I’ve been sort of busy.”

“I did, but she insisted that she had to speak to you as soon as possible. Please give her a call. She’s driving me nuts. She won’t tell me what she wants.” He flapped a tablecloth over a table, adding, “Promise me you’ll call her soon. I know her type. She’ll keep bugging me until you do.” He moved on to the next table and the others headed back to the kitchen.

Toni brought over the reservations book. “Wait till you see all the bookings we’ve been getting,” she said, setting it on the corner table.

I shuffled over. “Thanks.” I flipped the pages back to the past three nights, running my finger down the long list of entries. From what I could see, every table had been booked an average of twice during every shift, in some cases, three times.

“Not too shabby is it?” asked Toni, watching my reaction.

“Not bad at all.” I was impressed and continued flipping pages until the entries tapered off. By then I was well into the next month, a good three weeks away. “I can barely believe it. One television interview and suddenly our dinner shifts are jam-packed.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but business has been great.” She gave me a victorious smile. “I told you so.”

“Why would that be bad news?”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It proves we can get along fine without you.” Luckily she winked as she said this, otherwise I might have felt a tiny bit hurt. “I’m just joking. You know this restaurant wouldn’t be the same without you. We held our own for a few days, but if you’d been gone any longer, there might not have been a business to come back to.”

“That would have made at least one person happy,” I said, thinking of the crazy woman.

*

Half an hour later the door blew open and Charles came stumbling in carrying a stool—and not one minute too soon. Until his return I’d had no choice but to sit in the dining room and wait, not something I did well.

“I got you one with a telescopic seat,” he said. “You can bring it up or down to whatever height you like. Tell me where you want it. It weighs a ton.”

“It’s perfect. How about at the meat counter?” I said, hobbling to the kitchen after him. I looked around. I’d only been gone three days but it felt more like a month. I was amazed at how good it was to be back. “I really missed this place.”

“All kidding aside, we really missed you too,” Toni said from the doorway.

Jennifer paused from chopping onions, blinking away the burning in her eyes. “By the way, Nicky, Charles started working on that burger you asked for. We’ve been eating burgers until it’s coming out our ears,” she added laughing.

“How’s it coming along?”

Charles answered. “Good. We’ve tested a couple of versions and I think we’ll almost there. I have a secret ingredient that cuts the calories by one third.” Before I could ask him what was the secret ingredient, he raised a hand and said. “I’m not telling you. You’ll have to guess when you taste it.”

“Okay,” I said, climbing onto the bar chair. I glanced around again. I could hardly believe how smoothly everything seemed to going.

Everybody was working calmly and efficiently. The giant stainless steel bowl by the sink held the usual stack of fresh vegetables waiting to be peeled and chopped. Rows of individual crustless quiches sat on the counter by the oven. Toni had been telling the truth. They
could
run the restaurant without me. I wasn’t disappointed in the least. This was good news. It took loads of pressure off. “Do we have all the ingredients we need for the lunch menu?”

Charles nodded. “We’re fine. I made sure we were fully stocked.” He walked by Jennifer and patted her back, his hand lingering there an extra minute. Those two were so clearly in love. I was happy for Charles. He was a good guy and deserved happiness.

I nodded my satisfaction. On the chopping block, leaves of freshly washed romaine were stacked, and on the stove soup simmered. “What’s the soup of the day?”

“
Crѐme de poivron rouge
,” replied Jennifer. “It sounds fancier in French. Cream of red pepper soup. I made it.”

Yum
,
one of my favorites.
“All right, first things first—how are we on supplies for the rest of the week?”

Marley hurried over, his dreadlocks bouncing as he handed me a notepad. “I took inventory. We’re good on meat and poultry, potatoes and root vegetables, but we’re getting low on cheeses.”

I scanned the list. “It looks like we’re about to run out of eggs too. And how are we on fresh herbs and salad fixings?”

“You’re right. I didn’t have it on the list, but we are low on all of those, and also, Charles, weren’t you hoping to make risotto tomorrow? We’ll need mushrooms—morels and chanterelles.”

“You’ll have a big shopping to do tomorrow.” I threw Toni a glance. “Can you make sure he has enough money for the shopping?”

She nodded. “Not a problem.”

I settled at the counter in front of the mound of vegetables and began to peel and chop. I felt particularly clumsy and unattractive with one foot in a cast and the other in a sneaker. My strawberry blond hair was in a net, my queen-size body in a chef’s jacket, which did nothing for my five-foot-four frame. Toni, of course, was garbed in a black cashmere sweater, a miniskirt and her usual four-inch heels, making her over six feet tall. She wasn’t scoring any points by standing there looking like a fashion model. Strangely, I didn’t feel as envious of Jennifer, yet she was just as lovely. Maybe it was because she was self-effacing whereas Toni was so not.

Soon the lunch crowd began drifting in, and before I knew it, the kitchen was a tornado of activity. I sliced and diced as fast as I could. Meanwhile Charles was calling out the orders to “Stir,” “Whisk,” or “Get that frying pan off the stove before it burns.” Pots boiled, kettles whistled, and pans sizzled. And all around the wonderful aromas of savory foods and sauces filled the air. The rush of activity left me energized. There was nowhere in the world I would rather have been.

I got through lunch and then dinner, surprisingly pleased at how much I had been able to accomplish. Granted, I hadn’t been anywhere near my usual performance, but considering my handicap I hadn’t done badly. I grabbed my crutches and made my way to the door for a peek. The dining room was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, everybody. We can call it a day.” My words were followed by a general exit, leaving only Toni and me. “I don’t know about you but I’m dead tired,” I said. “All I want right now is to crawl into bed.” And hopefully hear from Mitchell.

As if she could read my mind, Toni said, “Will you give him a call if you don’t hear from him tonight?”

There was no point in playing dumb. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Liar. I bet you will.”

“What about you?” I retorted. “Are you going to tell Steven about Judy?”

She shrugged, suddenly looking miserable. “I don’t know. He’s been in a real mood these last few days. He’s still harping about my not telling him about my money when we were married.”

She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, reappearing with her purse in one hand and a wallet in the other. “Somebody forgot their wallet.” She rummaged through, pulling out a driver’s license. “It’s Jennifer’s. I guess there’s no point in calling her tonight. She can pick it up in the morning.” She returned to the kitchen.

“Toni,” I called after her. “Have you considered that maybe Steven’s upset about the lie and not about the will? I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t care at all about your money. He’s probably just hurt that you never trusted him enough to tell him.”

She appeared in the doorway, hand on hip. “Yeah, right.”

“Just out of curiosity,” I asked. “Who became your beneficiary after you got divorced?”

“You did,” she said, watching for my reaction.

My mouth suddenly went dry. “M-me?” I swallowed hard. “Wow.” For one brief instant, I thought about all that money and how wonderful it would be to be rich, to never have to worry about another bill ever again. What would I even do with millions of dollars? Would I sell my house? Buy a bigger, fancier one? Have a maid? Drive an expensive car?