Read Online Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) by Monique Domovitch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Monique Domovitch
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plating table a minute ago.”
“Oh, you mean this?” Charles pointed to a jug near the dishwashing sink. “I thought it was old gravy, ready to throw out.”
I sighed deeply and raised my eyes to the ceiling. “God, give me the patience.”
Charles burst into laughter. “Just kidding.”
“That was about as funny as a kick in the butt,” Jennifer said, pulling out quiches from the oven.
“She’s right,” I said. I placed a hand on my racing heart. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Okay, enough with the funny stuff. Get back to work, everyone.”
As they returned to their feverish pace I looked around, trying to imagine more workers in our already tight kitchen. I couldn’t see how it was possible. Maybe we could cram in one extra helper, but we’d be really tight. Sigh . So much for the idea of more staff.
Suddenly, Toni grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me to the swinging door. “Take a look at this,” she said, pushing it open a crack. “Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”
Our dining room, which we’d decorated on a shoestring budget, was bright and inviting. The walls were covered with a multitude of old gold-leafed mirrors. Some were chipped, some were cracked, but the flaws only added to the charm of the place. We’d painted the ugly, eighteen-foot ceiling a velvety black, against which the crisscross of rusty old metal pipes overhead seemed to disappear. The tables and chairs were a mishmash of styles, which we’d coordinated by painting them all fuchsia, adding a welcome splash of color against the black-and-white tiled floor.
The room looked amazing. It was twelve-thirty—the peak of lunchtime rush hour—and it was filled to capacity. Amazing. And still more customers stood at the entrance, waiting for an available table. Totally amazing!
I was taking all this in when Toni nudged me with an elbow. “Imagine, just a couple of months ago we were on the verge of bankruptcy. Now, we have to start thinking about opening a second location.”
“What!” I swiveled to face her. “No way—we’re finally starting to make money. I haven’t even caught up on my credit-card debt. I don’t want to open a second restaurant and risk what little success we’ve already achieved.”
“You know what I always say,” she said. I braced myself for one of her clichés. She gave me a gleeful smile. “‘You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.’”
Just once I wished I could come up with a smart retort when I needed it, instead of hours later.
At that moment, Jake came bursting through the door, almost knocking Toni off her feet. “Oh, uh, sorry. Where’s that Skinny Fettuccine for table three?” he demanded, looking harried.
“Coming right up.” I rushed back to the stove, glancing at Toni over my shoulder. “It might be a good idea to take care of the restaurant we already have before you start making plans for a second one, wouldn’t you say?”
She smiled knowingly. “Just think about it. You’ll see I’m right.” She returned to plating, humming happily.
By midafternoon, the welcome lull arrived at last. The day was not half over and we were already damp from exertion.
Toni grabbed a paper napkin and, lifting her hair, wiped the back of her neck, managing to make the gesture seem sexy. How did she do that? If I were to do the exact same thing, I’d only look sweaty and unattractive.
She glanced at her watch. “Good grief, we’ll hardly have time to recover before we have to start getting ready for the dinner rush.”
“So much for the joys of success,” I said. Bah, who was I kidding? The busier we were, the more I loved it, even if it did mean more pressure. It was all good stress, the kind I thrived on. “By the way, Toni, I didn’t tell you what happened after you left last night—a woman barged in and threatened to kill us.”
“What?” Her eyes grew wide as I told her what had happened. “Do you think she meant it? Shouldn’t
“Oh, you mean this?” Charles pointed to a jug near the dishwashing sink. “I thought it was old gravy, ready to throw out.”
I sighed deeply and raised my eyes to the ceiling. “God, give me the patience.”
Charles burst into laughter. “Just kidding.”
“That was about as funny as a kick in the butt,” Jennifer said, pulling out quiches from the oven.
“She’s right,” I said. I placed a hand on my racing heart. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Okay, enough with the funny stuff. Get back to work, everyone.”
As they returned to their feverish pace I looked around, trying to imagine more workers in our already tight kitchen. I couldn’t see how it was possible. Maybe we could cram in one extra helper, but we’d be really tight. Sigh . So much for the idea of more staff.
Suddenly, Toni grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me to the swinging door. “Take a look at this,” she said, pushing it open a crack. “Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?”
Our dining room, which we’d decorated on a shoestring budget, was bright and inviting. The walls were covered with a multitude of old gold-leafed mirrors. Some were chipped, some were cracked, but the flaws only added to the charm of the place. We’d painted the ugly, eighteen-foot ceiling a velvety black, against which the crisscross of rusty old metal pipes overhead seemed to disappear. The tables and chairs were a mishmash of styles, which we’d coordinated by painting them all fuchsia, adding a welcome splash of color against the black-and-white tiled floor.
The room looked amazing. It was twelve-thirty—the peak of lunchtime rush hour—and it was filled to capacity. Amazing. And still more customers stood at the entrance, waiting for an available table. Totally amazing!
I was taking all this in when Toni nudged me with an elbow. “Imagine, just a couple of months ago we were on the verge of bankruptcy. Now, we have to start thinking about opening a second location.”
“What!” I swiveled to face her. “No way—we’re finally starting to make money. I haven’t even caught up on my credit-card debt. I don’t want to open a second restaurant and risk what little success we’ve already achieved.”
“You know what I always say,” she said. I braced myself for one of her clichés. She gave me a gleeful smile. “‘You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.’”
Just once I wished I could come up with a smart retort when I needed it, instead of hours later.
At that moment, Jake came bursting through the door, almost knocking Toni off her feet. “Oh, uh, sorry. Where’s that Skinny Fettuccine for table three?” he demanded, looking harried.
“Coming right up.” I rushed back to the stove, glancing at Toni over my shoulder. “It might be a good idea to take care of the restaurant we already have before you start making plans for a second one, wouldn’t you say?”
She smiled knowingly. “Just think about it. You’ll see I’m right.” She returned to plating, humming happily.
By midafternoon, the welcome lull arrived at last. The day was not half over and we were already damp from exertion.
Toni grabbed a paper napkin and, lifting her hair, wiped the back of her neck, managing to make the gesture seem sexy. How did she do that? If I were to do the exact same thing, I’d only look sweaty and unattractive.
She glanced at her watch. “Good grief, we’ll hardly have time to recover before we have to start getting ready for the dinner rush.”
“So much for the joys of success,” I said. Bah, who was I kidding? The busier we were, the more I loved it, even if it did mean more pressure. It was all good stress, the kind I thrived on. “By the way, Toni, I didn’t tell you what happened after you left last night—a woman barged in and threatened to kill us.”
“What?” Her eyes grew wide as I told her what had happened. “Do you think she meant it? Shouldn’t
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