with the warm color of the kitchen walls and the copper pots that hung from a rack near the ceiling. Tiffany had helped Grand pick out the mellow yellow wall color almost ten years ago, and had chosen the bold, bright fabric depicting every kind of vegetable imaginable from which Grand had sewn curtains for the side and back windows. A well-worn teapot held its usual spot on the back burner. Grand was always ready to make peppermint tea. It was her favorite, which might explain why it was Tiffanyâs favorite as well.
âWell, it sure is good to see you,â Grand said as she bustled around the kitchen to prepare the ladiesâ favorite brew. âI canât wait to hear all about your trip to Rome, and especially about the fella who has you wanting to cook up a storm.â
âGrand! Who said anything about a âfellaâ? Iâm here because I wanted to cook for you, and so you can help me perfect my would-be scallop masterpiece.â
âThat may be so,â Grand said as she walked to the other side of the island, which contained a massive cutting board. She picked out an appropriate knife from the butcher block and joined Tiffany in dicing vegetables. âBut youâve got a slew of food to cut on this here table, enough to supply a small soup kitchen. You got that habit honestly. I used to do the same thing when your grandfather was trying to court me and got on my last nerve in the process. Iâd retreat to the kitchen and get to slicing and dicing. Better those vegetables than his neck! Now, tell me about the man whoâs got you practicing your cutting skills.â
âHis name is Nick,â Tiffany said with a sigh. âBut itâs not how you think, Grand. Weâre friends, thatâs all.â
âUh-huh,â Grand said knowingly. âAnd Mona Lisa was a man.â
15
To say she had experienced first-day jitters at Taste was an understatement. Less than two hours into her new job, Tiffany had broken a nail, cut her finger, and shattered a glass mixing bowl. She wished she could have blamed her clumsiness on Chefâs harshly barked orders. But Chef Riatoli had been a taskmaster as well, and possibly because sheâd worked as a line cook in a super-busy restaurant while earning her culinary degreeâand not buckled under that insane pressureâsheâd blossomed under his heavy hand. Unfortunately it hadnât been the man barking orders in the kitchen who had Tiffany all discombobulated; it was the man who occupied the largest of the executive offices on the second floor.
While she tried to convince herself otherwise, Tiffany knew it was because of Nick that sheâd gotten the job. Why else would she have gotten a call the day after her interview, before the chef would have had time to check her references and review her school transcript? She even wondered if it was her imagination that the chef seemed a bit cold and aloof toward her. Often, chefs were temperamental at best, but the last thing one would want was to be told who to hire in his or her kitchen. Because Tiffany felt this might be the case was all the more reason she determined to be the best sous chef in LA.
Fortunately for her, the fast pace in the kitchen had made her first week on the job fly by. Sheâd been too busy to think, for which she was grateful. Because if sheâd given herself time to do so, then sheâd have to give in to the hurt and disappointment sheâd experienced yet again when her father had come and gone without calling her. Then sheâd have to think about how angry she was at herself for being hurt and disappointed. She knew better. Keith Bronson was simply being true to form.
Another blessing: in the two weeks that had gone by since sheâd started at Taste, sheâd only seen Nick once. Considering how her kitty meowed at the very thought of him, this single sighting was a good thing. Having seen his picture on the Internet,