Free Wind Chime Café (A Wind Chime Novel) by Sophie Moss Page A

brought me a sample?”
    She nodded.
    Intrigued, Annie turned the paper around to face her. “And this is…?”
    “My résumé.”
    Annie scanned the words on the page. There was only one job listed, a law firm where the woman had worked as a receptionist for thirty years. Her heart sank. “You don’t have any cooking experience.”
    “Not professionally.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “But I do all the cooking for the community events on the island. The ones at the church, the firehouse, all the festivals.”
    “You live on the island?”
    “Born and raised.”
    Annie sat back. She was the first person who’d applied for the job who lived on the island. She thought about what Grace had said yesterday, about outside businesses moving in and pushing the islanders out. She’d like to hire someone from the island. But without any real cooking experience…
    The woman pulled a second piece of paper from her pocket. “I have a letter of recommendation.”
    Annie took the paper, unfolding it. It was a handwritten note, consisting of one sentence: “Della’s sweet rolls are to die for.”
    “It’s from the Fire Chief,” Della explained.
    Annie bit back a smile, peering at the pretty box on the counter. “Is that what’s in the box?”
    Della nodded.
    Annie opened it, pulling out a perfectly shaped sweet roll dripping with sugary icing.
    “Go ahead,” Della urged.
    Annie bit into it and her eyes almost rolled back in her head. She groaned as the perfect combination of butter, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla slid over her tongue. “Oh my God.”
    Della beamed.
    “Okay,” she said, setting the sweet roll down and laughing. “So we’ve established that you can bake. Can you cook?”
    Della nodded. “Ask anybody on the island. They’ll vouch for me.”
    “Could you cook a meal for, say, thirty people in that kitchen?”
    Della walked over to the kitchen, glancing at it through the doorway. “Yes.”
    “Are you sure?”
    Della gave her a strange look. “Yes, I can cook a meal for thirty people in that kitchen. It’s no smaller than the one I have at home.”
    Annie let out a breath, glancing back at the woman’s résumé. “Why don’t you have a seat and let’s talk a little bit about your work experience.”
    Della walked back over to the counter. She pulled out a stool across from Annie and eased her ample hips onto it. “What would you like to know?”
    “Tell me about what you did at the law firm,” Annie said, taking another bite of the pastry.
    Della folded her hands in her lap. “I worked as a receptionist, mostly answering phones, taking messages, organizing schedules and calendars. I used to plan all the social events and parties for the clients.”
    “And you were there for thirty years?”
    “That’s right.”
    Annie glanced down at Della’s résumé again, double-checking the dates. “Wait…your last day was Friday?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Did you retire?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Why the sudden change of heart?”
    Della looked down at her hands. “The firm merged with another company recently, a bigger firm from D.C. The new manager wanted someone more qualified for my position.”
    “Someone more qualified?”
    Della picked at the light pink polish chipping off her nails. “Someone who looked more like you.”
    “Oh.” Annie’s heart went out to her. She knew what it was like to be cast off, what it felt like to be forgettable and easy to replace.
    Della glanced up, her blue eyes sad. “My husband, Joe—he’s a waterman. He works hard, and has a second job working on Jimmy Faulkner’s construction crew on the weekends, but it’s still not enough for us to live on. We both need to have a job.”
    Annie gazed at the woman across from her. She knew what it was like to need a job, to wonder if there would be enough money to pay the rent or mortgage bill. It was risky to hire a chef with no restaurant experience. But Della had cooked for large-scale events.