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Authors: Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant
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tears soon leaked from behind her hands as she moaned and sobbed. I moved to sit next to her. Resting my hand on her back, I said, “I’m terribly sorry.” I wiped my own cheeks. “This is such a tremendous shock. I can hardly believe it myself. I don’t know what to say.”
Ellie finally dropped her hands from her face. She looked positively heartbroken and miserable. Having no idea what to say, I reached out and wiped the mess of black mascara that ran down her face.
“How could this have happened?” she asked. “Why? And he was just about to really make something of himself. He was finally going to have his talent recognized! It’s not fair! Do you have any idea what the competition for this new job was like? He was so proud of himself for beating out the other chefs. Rightfully so, too, because he was up against some very good chefs. This just isn’t right!” She dropped her head, crying hard.
I snatched a handful of tissues from an end table and handed her the pile. “Can I call someone for you?” Ellie, I thought, needed the presence of someone she was close to, a friend or a family member, not the stranger who had delivered the devastating news.
“Georgie,” she said through her tears. “Call Georgie. My phone...” She pointed to a purse that sat by the front door.
I scrambled for her purse and found her cell phone. A quick scroll down through her contacts, past a list of numbers for Digger, revealed Georgie. I called the number and was relieved when Georgie answered immediately. I explained who I was and asked her to come to Ellie’s as soon as possible. Although I didn’t tell her about Digger, she must have caught the gravity of my request, because she assured me that she’d be right over. As we waited, I did what I could to comfort Ellie. My ineffectual efforts consisted mainly of emptying the box of tissues and murmuring words of condolence until the front door finally burst open.
“What’s wrong?” A tall, thin waif of a woman stood in front of us, her short blonde hair tucked behind her ears. “Ellie?” she asked with concern as she knelt in front of her friend.
“Digger is dead,” Ellie managed to whisper. “There was a fire and he’s dead!” More tears followed, of course, and more tissues.
Georgies already fair skin paled as she crumpled to the floor, holding herself up with her hands. “Oh my God. No! No!” She burst into choked sobs. “Oh, Digger! No!”
I shut my eyes for a moment. The grief was so painful to witness that I knew I’d be unable to hold myself together much longer. At least Ellie had a friend here who was compassionate and empathic, I told myself. Indeed, Georgie seemed to share her friend’s sorrow almost too much, but at least Ellie now had the support of someone she knew and trusted.
Georgie looked up at me from the floor. “Chloe?” She wiped her eyes. “How did you find out about this?”
I explained about the cooking demonstration that Digger was to have done for Hank, Kyle, and me, and I described arriving at his place to find the aftermath of the fire. “You knew Digger, too, obviously. I’m so sorry.”
Georgie nodded. “Yes, I did. And my boyfriend, Jay, had actually been in a friendly rivalry with Digger for the job at the Penthouse. He’s the sous-chef now, though. Ellie and I are going to be servers there.” She glanced at Ellie, and the two fell apart. “I’ll have to let him know, too.”
Ellie had told me that the chef who’d come in second for the job was furious. Was that someone else? But now wasn’t the time to straighten out the confusion, and I had no reason to care about who had or hadn’t become the executive chef at the Penthouse. Georgies boyfriend, Jay, would presumably take over for Digger. I didn’t envy him having to jump in at the last minute to get the restaurant ready to open. As I knew from watching Josh prepare for Simmer’s opening, he’d have a ton of work in front of him. Also, unless Digger
Ellie finally dropped her hands from her face. She looked positively heartbroken and miserable. Having no idea what to say, I reached out and wiped the mess of black mascara that ran down her face.
“How could this have happened?” she asked. “Why? And he was just about to really make something of himself. He was finally going to have his talent recognized! It’s not fair! Do you have any idea what the competition for this new job was like? He was so proud of himself for beating out the other chefs. Rightfully so, too, because he was up against some very good chefs. This just isn’t right!” She dropped her head, crying hard.
I snatched a handful of tissues from an end table and handed her the pile. “Can I call someone for you?” Ellie, I thought, needed the presence of someone she was close to, a friend or a family member, not the stranger who had delivered the devastating news.
“Georgie,” she said through her tears. “Call Georgie. My phone...” She pointed to a purse that sat by the front door.
I scrambled for her purse and found her cell phone. A quick scroll down through her contacts, past a list of numbers for Digger, revealed Georgie. I called the number and was relieved when Georgie answered immediately. I explained who I was and asked her to come to Ellie’s as soon as possible. Although I didn’t tell her about Digger, she must have caught the gravity of my request, because she assured me that she’d be right over. As we waited, I did what I could to comfort Ellie. My ineffectual efforts consisted mainly of emptying the box of tissues and murmuring words of condolence until the front door finally burst open.
“What’s wrong?” A tall, thin waif of a woman stood in front of us, her short blonde hair tucked behind her ears. “Ellie?” she asked with concern as she knelt in front of her friend.
“Digger is dead,” Ellie managed to whisper. “There was a fire and he’s dead!” More tears followed, of course, and more tissues.
Georgies already fair skin paled as she crumpled to the floor, holding herself up with her hands. “Oh my God. No! No!” She burst into choked sobs. “Oh, Digger! No!”
I shut my eyes for a moment. The grief was so painful to witness that I knew I’d be unable to hold myself together much longer. At least Ellie had a friend here who was compassionate and empathic, I told myself. Indeed, Georgie seemed to share her friend’s sorrow almost too much, but at least Ellie now had the support of someone she knew and trusted.
Georgie looked up at me from the floor. “Chloe?” She wiped her eyes. “How did you find out about this?”
I explained about the cooking demonstration that Digger was to have done for Hank, Kyle, and me, and I described arriving at his place to find the aftermath of the fire. “You knew Digger, too, obviously. I’m so sorry.”
Georgie nodded. “Yes, I did. And my boyfriend, Jay, had actually been in a friendly rivalry with Digger for the job at the Penthouse. He’s the sous-chef now, though. Ellie and I are going to be servers there.” She glanced at Ellie, and the two fell apart. “I’ll have to let him know, too.”
Ellie had told me that the chef who’d come in second for the job was furious. Was that someone else? But now wasn’t the time to straighten out the confusion, and I had no reason to care about who had or hadn’t become the executive chef at the Penthouse. Georgies boyfriend, Jay, would presumably take over for Digger. I didn’t envy him having to jump in at the last minute to get the restaurant ready to open. As I knew from watching Josh prepare for Simmer’s opening, he’d have a ton of work in front of him. Also, unless Digger
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