“I’m not complaining, just pointing out an interesting observation. And if we want to keep Sue, I have to at least give her two days. You know that, Mama.”
“I do know that.” She peeks out the kitchen door, then turns back to me. “Just one person left thankfully. I’m too tired. What’s your problem with Hannah anyway?”
She may say she’s tired, but she actually looks spry. I hope that means she won’t have a flare for a while, but they can sprout up anytime.
I wash my hands and hang up my chef’s jacket. “I don’t have a problem with her. Hannah’s a great cook. I just wonder what’s going on with her and Wyatt. He’s too young to get serious with anyone.”
She shakes her head and mumbles something to herself.
“What was that, Mama?”
“Nothing, chile. All you have to do is ask them if you really want to know.”
The dishwasher comes from the dining room with an empty plate, a few bones the only evidence there was anything ever on it. That customer must have inhaled their meal, then licked the plate.
“It’s whatever. I don’t have time to worry about that right now. Let’s get this kitchen where it needs to be so I can go upstairs. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
She laughs to herself but doesn’t say another word.
*
Thursdays are our slowest days. That’s not saying much, but we do get a small reprieve. Morning prep is always the busiest on any day, but the time we’re closed between lunch and dinner gives us a run for our money too.
The kitchen is busy—what’s new?—with Hannah directing the two other cooks, and waitstaff rotating in and out. I step out into the dining room and inspect the tables, something Mama would usually do if she were here. Wyatt’s behind the bar with the new bartender. He’s been working on a signature drink, but it’s been eluding him so far. For an accounting major, he certainly is talented when it comes to alcohol, specializing in wine. Which is ironic considering I went to culinary school in the heart of Napa Valley, prime California wine country.
With only twenty minutes before we open for the evening, my phone rings with a four-one-five area code. My breath catches, then I answer. “Hello, this is Rowan Townsend.”
I can’t imagine what I look like when I hang up the phone but it must really be something because all the bustling activity in the restaurant comes to a standstill.
Tears are streaming down my face.
Wyatt gets to me first. “What’s wrong? Is it Mama?”
I shake my head no. Even though Mama said she was feeling well last night, she woke up this morning not great. She wanted to rest a couple of days, so Daddy picked her up and took her out to his house on the lake. They’ve been divorced over fifteen years but have always remained close. Even more so since she was diagnosed. As long as he doesn’t offer her any money to help out, they don’t have any problems. Neither have remarried, but they discovered they’re much better friends than anything else.
“It was a producer from Restaurant Family Feud.” I set my phone on the nearest table and sit down hard right there in the middle of the restaurant, letting out a high-pitched yelp. “We’re in, Wyatt. We made it.”
Wyatt pulls me up from the floor, and we dance around hugging and laughing. The waitstaff clap for us and I’m riding high. “Oh my God. I knew we had a great chance of getting in, but I didn’t think we would. Know what I mean?”
He high-fives me, a huge smile on his face. “I never doubted it, dear sister.”
Hannah peeks her head out of the kitchen door. “Congrats, guys. Time to open.”
I swear, if I wasn’t going to need her the next four months, I’d fire her ass. Wyatt could just be mad. Ugh, who am I fooling? She’s the best employee we have next to Sue. Plus, she’s right. I put on my get-down-to-business face. We can celebrate later.
When the last guests leave sometime after midnight, I flop onto the booth seat behind the host stand. My lower back aches and my white smock is covered in splashes of sauces and gravy, plus I smell of garlic. It’s been a long night and I’ve been running on pure adrenaline. I haven’t even had a chance to call Mama to give her the wonderful news. She’ll be thrilled.
The front door opens and someone walks in. Through my haze, I find his gait familiar but it’s a dark entry, and out of context, I have a momentary lapse. When he steps into the light of the host stand, I realize who it is, and pop up from the bench. “We’re closed, Everheart.”
“I’m not here to eat, Amber. I came to congratulate you and your family. I hear you’re going to be a TV star.”
I narrow my eyes and stare into his. Cornflower blue. Fuck. “What do you know?”
He winks, then steps back, widening his stance, and blows a huge bubble with his gum before popping it. The sound leaves a ringing in my ear. “I know we’ll be in competition in about three weeks.”
The words sink in slowly. We? I can barely think straight as I realize what he’s implying. My hands shake and my skin turns cold. “That’s impossible. Why would you? You already have a restaurant.”
“Just as you reminded me at the nursery…my father has a restaurant. Not me.” He goes to leave, but before he walks out, he turns back to me, smirking. “See you on the dance floor, Amber.”
*
“We have to drop out, Mama. I can’t be around Knox again. I won’t compete against him anymore. You not feeling well the last few days is a sign. What if you had a flare during competition?” I pace back and forth, nervous energy skittering over my skin.
Mama sits in her favorite chair in the family room of her one-story brick
