She followed Hattie out of the kitchen and found her leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.
Claudia wasn’t sure how to handle the moment. Shake her? Hug her? “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Hattie kept her eyes shut. “I’m fine.”
“Right.” Maybe she should call Anna. Anna always knew the right thing to say. “It was a great speech you made back there.”
Hattie opened her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, really. If I wasn’t stuck in the kitchen, I’d be booking a table to eat.” Claudia patted her on the arm. “Get me these whites and then go and do whatever you do to relax. Eat cake. Take a bath. Whatever works. This is going to be great.”
Hattie swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Claudia smiled. “I’m a top chef, didn’t you know?”
“In that case I need to talk to Helen.” Hattie hurried off and Claudia was back in the kitchen minutes later.
“First things first. Where are we on the menu?”
Someone handed her a menu and she saw instantly that Chef Tucker had made everything as elaborate as possible, presumably to make himself indispensable. Or maybe to feed his ego. She’d met his type. She’d worked with his type. All fuss and foam.
And however talented he was, she knew the menu wasn’t going to work tonight.
“Eight courses?”
“Yes. Chef only offers the full taster menu. But there are a few problems.” The sous-chef, Helen, was back from a conversation with Hattie, apparently none the worse for wear, and determined to carry on. “There is no parmesan—they didn’t deliver the quantity we ordered, so Chef sent it all back.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Great. “So no parmesan.” Claudia decided it was best to have all the bad news up front. “What else?”
“He did the same with the mushrooms. It’s a key ingredient for the taster menu.”
“Tonight we won’t be offering a taster menu.” She needed to pare down the menu, and she needed to improvise. And she needed to do it fast. She couldn’t make any dramatic changes, but she could simplify what they had. She scanned the menu. “We’ll offer a choice of three appetizers—two soups, one of them vegetarian, and the paté with the chargrilled brioche and plum-and-sweet-apple chutney. We need the emphasis to be on fresh and in season.” She was thinking aloud. “The spiced venison already on the menu? We’ll keep that. The buttermilk chicken, too.”
Helen was making notes. “We serve that with parmesan crisped potatoes. There’s no parmesan.”
“Tonight we’re serving mash. Swap out the parmesan for local aged cheddar. It will be delicious. It’s snowing outside. People have been out enjoying the winter air. They need warming comfort food and that’s what we’re going to give them. Where are we with dessert?” She flashed a smile at the pastry chef. “Shelley, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Before we move to dessert, I have a fig-and-goat-cheese tart—you could offer that as an appetizer or an entrée.”
“Good. Let’s add that to the menu.”
“For dessert I have raspberry torte, maple-and-walnut ice cream made from our own maple syrup,” Shelley said efficiently and enthusiastically, “a chocolate mousse, and a warm apple compote served with cinnamon crumble and whipped cream from our local dairy.”
Claudia allocated tasks to the other members of the kitchen staff, checked everyone was happy and knew what they were doing, and then turned to find Erica standing in the doorway watching her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Erica leaned casually against the door frame. “I’m just watching someone who hates cooking fall in love with cooking again. It’s entertaining and more than a little heartwarming. I’m trying hard not to say I told you so.”
“I haven’t cooked anything yet, and I’m not in love.” But it was true she felt a buzz that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was probably adrenaline. Who didn’t get a kick out of helping someone who needed help? If Chef Tucker had happened to walk in at that moment she would have told him what he could do with his brains. “Currently, I’m solving a problem. That’s it.”
“Tell yourself that, by all means.”
“If you’re going to be smug, could you do it somewhere else and not in my kitchen? If you’ve time on your hands, you can type up a new menu.”
Erica straightened. “I can do that. Do you have it?”
“I will in five seconds.” Claudia took the tasting menu she’d been given and drew a line through most of the dishes. She scribbled, amended and altered the layout. “We need to change the font. Make it easy to read and friendly. All that curly type is intimidating. Food should never be scary. Where’s Hattie? Last time I saw her, she looked as if she was in shock.”
“She’s fine. Currently exchanging small talk with a couple from Ohio who are celebrating forty years together. Paying attention to their every need. She’s good at it. I would have thrust a guide book and a local map into their hands and told them to get on with it.”
Claudia handed the menu to her friend. “Which is why you don’t work in hospitality.”
“That could be it. But Hattie has a gift. See her with the guests and you’d never know she was weathering a crisis.” Erica scanned the menu. “No brains? Shame. Chloe will be heartbroken. Leave this with me. I’ll deal with it.”
Claudia realized that since Stephanie’s dramatic exit she hadn’t given a thought to Erica’s situation. “How are you doing?”
“Me? I’m still here, if that’s what you mean. And you know me—handling a crisis is my comfort zone. I’d rather do that than talk about feelings.” Erica waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Go and create. We’ll talk later.”
Erica vanished, and Claudia worried about her for a moment and then turned her attention back to the task at hand.
The team of four worked quietly, heads down. When she spoke to one of them their heads jerked up and there was a wariness in their eyes.
Expecting to be shouted at for something, Claudia thought. She’d been there, although whenever she’d been nervous or upset she’d never let the executive chef see it.
“Chef?”
It took a moment for her to realize that they were talking to her.
“Yes?”
“Do you honestly think we can do this without Chef Tucker?”
“I know we can.”
“If we pull this off tonight, it will be a miracle.”
Claudia reached for a skillet. “Then it’s a good thing it’s Christmas. It’s the perfect time for miracles. Now, let’s get back to work. Those carrots aren’t going to peel themselves.”
FIFTEEN
Anna
One of Anna’s favorite memories was of reading to the twins when they were very young. Sometimes she’d managed to engage both of them at the same time, and the three of them had snuggled in the bed, taking turns to flip the pages of the book. More often she’d taken one of them and Pete the other. Occasionally over the years, she thought back wistfully to that time and she thought of it now as she was snuggled on the sofa with Delphi, cocooned by tall shelves of books and warmed by the fire.