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Authors: Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant
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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.
Georgie’s 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. Georgie’s 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 had kept all of his plans at work, everything he’d slaved over must have been lost in the fire, so his successor would have to start from scratch. But maybe the new executive chef would have wanted to make the job all his own, anyway.
“I’m so sorry to have had to break the news,” I said. “I should get going and leave you two alone.” I rose from the couch and walked to the door.
“Thank you, Chloe,” Ellie whispered. She reached for Georgie, who joined her on the couch.
I left the two tearful girls and drove toward home. The sky had clouded over and darkened the city. The gloomy atmosphere fit my mood. I shut off the radio, mainly to avoid hearing music that I would then forever associate with Digger’s death. I’d had high hopes that the day would go well for Digger and for me. Instead, it had turned into a nightmare. Whenever things went wrong in my life, I wanted to fix them
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.
Georgie’s 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. Georgie’s 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 had kept all of his plans at work, everything he’d slaved over must have been lost in the fire, so his successor would have to start from scratch. But maybe the new executive chef would have wanted to make the job all his own, anyway.
“I’m so sorry to have had to break the news,” I said. “I should get going and leave you two alone.” I rose from the couch and walked to the door.
“Thank you, Chloe,” Ellie whispered. She reached for Georgie, who joined her on the couch.
I left the two tearful girls and drove toward home. The sky had clouded over and darkened the city. The gloomy atmosphere fit my mood. I shut off the radio, mainly to avoid hearing music that I would then forever associate with Digger’s death. I’d had high hopes that the day would go well for Digger and for me. Instead, it had turned into a nightmare. Whenever things went wrong in my life, I wanted to fix them
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