She shakes her head. “I doubt that. You have a wonderful place here. I’m sure you did most of it on your own.”
“Thank you.”
Heart racing, I move to table six and it’s the same thing. They mention August Cahill’s review and that’s why they’re here. Once I’m done talking to everyone, I hurry to the kitchen. Camryn notices my wide eyes and grabs her chest. “No one died, did they?”
“We need to boot up the laptop now,” I say quickly. I run over to my little corner which serves as my office. I have a small desk and on top is my laptop, resting beside numerous notebooks with all my recipes.
Camryn rushes to my side. “What are you looking for?”
I open my computer and turn it on. “August Cahill’s review. Apparently, everyone in the place is here because of it. I want to see what he said.”
“What the hell,” Noah calls out. “I haven’t heard a word about it. It must’ve just posted yesterday or something.” He comes over to us and we all stare at the screen. I type in August Cahill’s name and his blog pops up. When I click on it, the review for Maddy’s Tavern is right there on the first page.
Camryn squeezes my shoulders. “He gave us A+’s on everything. He never does that.”
I want to be happy and scream with joy, but I can’t. My business is booming and it’s all because of his review. Was it the truth? Did he give us the good report because he actually liked the food? I want to be the best restaurant in Chicago, but I don’t want it that way. He can keep his A+’s.
8
Adam
Dear August, Adam or whatever your name may be,
Please remove the review you posted about Maddy’s Tavern. It’s a lame attempt to get back into my good graces and it won’t work.
Sincerely,
Madeline Metcalf
Owner & Head Chef
Maddy’s Tavern
Dear Ms. Metcalf,
I’m very surprised to find a request to remove a glowing review from Mr. Cahill’s website. Normally, as you can imagine, he receives requests to remove the negative ones. As is his policy, all reviews stand and will stay on the website.
If you should need anything else from Mr. Cahill, I’ll gladly assist you.
Yours truly,
Brenda
Executive Assistant to August Cahill
Dear Brenda,
Is this another name for Adam? How many other names does he have? I think the public should know!
Not yours truly,
Madeline Metcalf
Owner & Head Chef
Maddy’s Tavern
Dear Ms. Metcalf,
I assure you August meant no harm in posting the glowing review of your restaurant.
Yours truly,
Brenda
Executive Assistant to August Cahill
Dear Brenda,
Your reply doesn’t even make sense. Can’t Adam check his own email? The review is biased and a way to make amends for his epic douchiness and I don’t want it.
Madeline
“Wow, Adam, this time she just signed it with her name and left out her title. What the hell did you do to this woman?” Brenda mocks me from the other side of my desk. She’s sat there for over twenty minutes reading email after email from Maddy. I had a feeling Maddy would respond this way to the review, especially after she figured out I was actually the food critic she feared the most, but I had no idea she would want us to take it down. I know for a fact, her business is booming. It’s been all over the news, the sudden infatuation with Maddy’s Tavern has foodies across the country clamoring to get a reservation. I should know, I’ve tried a few times. The tavern is now four to five weeks out for a booking.
I glance at Brenda with her eyebrow raised, waiting for my response. How do I tell her that I’ve slept with Maddy, multiple times, and if I had come clean on the first night in the tavern, I wouldn’t be sitting at my desk right now? I’d be in Chicago, romancing the hell out of Maddy.
“I feel like there’s a story here.”
“A long complicated one.”
“You know her then?”
I pick up the pen sitting on my desk. The name August Cahill stares back at with in the ridiculously small white lettering that has been etched into the casing. I don’t know why we have pens with my alias on them. It’s not like I hand them out to the chefs when I visit restaurants because that would give away my secret identity. One I have strived to keep a secret for as long as I can remember.
“Did I ever tell you how August Cahill started?”
Brenda shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
The pen spins between my fingers. It’s a habit I have when I’m lost in thought or reminiscing, which I’ve been doing a lot of lately. “My senior year at Northwestern, I met Maddy Metcalf. She was a freshman, but wise beyond her years. We connected immediately and started a relationship that we both agreed would end when I graduated. I was very vocal about leaving for New York and she still had another three years to go. But in the time we dated, she turned me onto food, and I don’t mean in just the way she cooks, but how to savor each spice, sauce or cream. How to let the aroma settle over me before digging in. Maddy taught me so much in those months.
“When I finally made it out of the dungeon at the studio and started going to dinners, these restaurants with their overpriced foods were horrible. I decided to start a food blog. It was more of a way to express myself and the experience. I never expected one person to read my ramblings, let alone millions or to have the Times pick up my articles. I wrote because it reminded me of my time with Maddy, which I had ruined of course, by not keeping in contact with me.
“And now, here I am. In love with the girl who made me
