In Over Her Head: An Anchor Island Novel by Terri Osburn (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

Destination Anchor offices. Roxie checked them in as they arrived and then sent them to Lauren in the conference room one at a time. So far, three dishwashers, six waiters, five waitresses, and five cooks had passed through. All but four had served on the previous staff and none had given Lauren any reason not to hire them.

The interview with the former pastry chef had been the most encouraging. Deborah Prince knew her stuff, and she’d made clear that she was ready and willing to work for Lauren. The enthusiasm was appreciated and had quelled much of the concerns with which she had started the day.

The current interview was going just as well.

“Your level of experience is impressive.” Lauren scanned farther down the resume. “How did you end up on Anchor Island?”

“I came for vacation,” Mona Bradwell replied, “and I never left.”

Lauren looked up. “Really?”

“Really. I was working in Atlantic City and I hated it. The Marina had a sign on the door that said they were looking for a cook. Me and my daughter, who’s off at college now, could live on the ocean, afford a better place than the crappy studio apartment we were in at the time, and within five minutes of meeting Jackson, I knew I could actually enjoy the people I worked with. Have you talked to him yet?”

“No, but he should be in next.”

“He’s the best,” Mona assured her. “I’ve worked with every kind of chef you can think of. None are as calm and steady as Jackson. He doesn’t expect anyone to do what he isn’t willing to do himself, and he was always the first one in and the last one out.”

At this rate, Lauren wouldn’t need to conduct the next interview. “How do you think he would do as second-in-command instead of leading the crew?”

“Oh, Jackson doesn’t care much about that. He made the schedules and expedited the orders, but we were all equals in the kitchen.” Mona chuckled. “He might be the only man I know who doesn’t have an ego the size of Texas. The only chef for sure.”

The man sounded too good to be true.

“Speaking of egos,” Mona continued, “I caught some of that little head-to-head you had with Nick Stamatis at the farmer’s market.”

That had not been Lauren’s finest hour. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

“On the contrary. Deborah and I talked to him after you stormed off and got the gist of things. Good for you for telling him where to shove it.”

“What did Nick tell you?”

“That nonsense about all food being equal.” The woman shifted to lean her elbow on the back of her chair. “Not in a million years.”

Lauren couldn’t help but smile. If Jackson proved to be half the paragon his friends made him out to be, then as of that moment, Lauren could relax knowing she had a full, capable staff to help make her dream a reality.

“Ms. Bradwell, how would you feel about the station chef position?”

This was essentially the third-in-command and in larger restaurants would be held by multiple chefs. Considering the size of Pilar’s, plus Mona’s extensive experience, she was the perfect person to fill such a vital role.

“Chef Riley,” she replied with a grin, “you can count on me.”

Feeling better than she had in weeks, Lauren rose from her chair and extended a hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

Mona rose and accepted the handshake. “Same here. When do you want me to start?”

Since her visit to the farmer’s market, Lauren had nearly finished her menu, but she needed the weekend to add the final touches, and then a couple of days to get in the ingredients so they could begin building the dishes.

“Wednesday morning will be good. I’ll have Roxie email the details by the end of the day.”

They walked together to the door and Lauren showed her out. Waiting outside was Jackson Moore, right on time.

“Jackson, come on in,” she said, holding the door for him.

“Thank you, Chef,” he said as he stepped through. The way he straightened his tie revealed his nerves, but a genuine smile still reached his eyes.

“Have a seat.”

He waited until she’d taken her own seat before following the order. Lauren appreciated his manners.

“You have a lot of fans on this island.” Others before Mona had sung his praises. “I hope you can live up to the hype.”

A blush rose on his ebony cheeks. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I’m a hard worker and would like the opportunity to earn my place in your kitchen.”

“That’s good because this interview is just a formality. Your years with the Marina say a lot about your dedication, but the people who worked with you have convinced me. There’s only one issue to discuss. You were the head chef before, but at Pilar’s you would be the deputy chef. Will this be a problem?”

Jackson shook his head. “No, Chef. I’m a big believer that a kitchen doesn’t run without a solid team. We all have to pull our weight and I’ll do that in whatever capacity you need.”

A hundred-pound weight lifted off her shoulders.

“Excellent. Then it’s settled.” Rising, she added, “The others will start on Wednesday, but I’d like to add one or two staples from the Marina menu to give the locals something familiar. Are you available to come in on Sunday? I’d appreciate your help in determining which dishes to add, but I’ll have to try them first.”

Her new sous chef stood with a grin. “That’s a great idea.”

She hated to give Stamatis the satisfaction of following another of his suggestions, but he’d been right. Damn him.

“Then Sunday it is. Leave a list of ingredients with Roxie and I’ll pick them up tomorrow. Then we’ll meet at the restaurant at nine Sunday morning.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Jackson left the conference room with a skip in his step and Lauren relaxed back into her chair. She’d done it. She had her first kitchen staff and they were ready to work. Test one over.

Only