Free Menu for Romance by Kaye Dacus

too much into Mr. Guidry’s expression, but he was pretty sure Meredith’s dad didn’t believe him. “She had to go out to meet clients at Lafitte’s Landing—probably won’t be back for a while.”
    “Oh. Okay. I’ll catch her later, then.”
    “Don’t you have an interview scheduled for this afternoon anyway?”
    Major checked his watch. “Yes, sir. I guess I’d better get back up to the kitchen, since that’s where I told them to meet me.”
    “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.” Lawson raised his hand palm forward, his own unique good-bye wave. “I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Major nodded his farewell, then booked it back to the elevator and returned to the twenty-third floor.
    Several kitchen and service staff stood facing him when the doors opened.
    “Bye, Chef.”
    “Have a great afternoon, Mr. O’Hara.”
    “See ya tomorrow, Chef.”
    He tossed a good-bye over his shoulder as he exchanged places with them, then headed across the expanse of Vue de Ceil to the kitchen on the opposite side. Vacuums’ whines filled the cavernous space, run by two of the waiters, both of whom had changed from their black pants and white button-downs into droopy jeans and sweatshirts.
    In the kitchen, only Steven and the sauté chef and two dishwashers remained. Steven and his second-in-command hovered over the whiteboard, which they’d taken down and laid on the long prep table in the middle of the room, discussing tomorrow’s lunch menu and assigning components to the various staff who would be here.
    Major stepped into his office and closed the door. He opened the wardrobe behind his desk, planning to wear his white chef ’s jacket for the interview—but it wasn’t there. He smacked his forehead. He’d dropped it off at the dry cleaner Tuesday and had meant to pick it up after the prayer breakfast this morning.
    He swapped his navy polo for the burgundy tunic and watched himself in the mirror on the back of the armoire’s door as he buttoned the double-breasted placket. Hmm. Must have shrunk when he had it cleaned. At least, he didn’t remember the buttons around his gut pulling like that last time he’d worn it.
    He sat down at the desk to write a note reminding himself to go to the cleaners tomorrow. The computer dinged, indicating a new e-mail received. Meredith usually checked her e-mail regularly when offsite, so maybe she’d finally decided to respond to him.
    But the message was from Anne Hawthorne to set up a time to discuss the menu for her rehearsal dinner and wedding reception. He flagged it for follow-up later, then scanned the rest of the unread messages in his inbox. None from Guidry, Meredith.
    If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was avoiding him.
    The five-minute warning of the time scheduled for the interview popped up on the screen. He quickly straightened up his desk, though that consisted of making sure the stapler and tape dispenser were at a perfect right-angle to the desk blotter and that the blotter lay exactly one inch—as measured by the tip of his thumb—from the edge of the desk.
    Back out in the kitchen, the dish sanitizers had stopped rumbling, and a solitary Steven was hanging the whiteboard back on the wall.
    “Everyone else gone?” Major paused to glance over tomorrow’s menu.
    “Yes, Chef. I’m about to call it a day, too, unless you need me for something.” He glanced pointedly at Major’s attire.
    Have Steven hanging around for the interview? “No. It’s already after four o’clock. Go on home.”
    “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steven slung his denim chef ’s jacket over his shoulder, tucked his knife case under his arm, and swaggered from the kitchen.
    Major gave him half a minute’s head start then stepped out into the warehouse-sized, sky-view room. Just as one set of elevator doors closed behind Steven, another set opened.
    Though he thought he’d prepared for it, the sight of Alaine