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

“Ah.” Roxie nodded in understanding. “That is one downfall to hiring the old staff. They’ve been together for a long time and are set in their ways, I’m sure.”

Lauren had believed their teamwork and experience would be a benefit, not an obstacle.

“I have to give Jackson credit,” she said. “He’s reminded them three times that this is my kitchen now, but I only have ten days to make this work, Roxie, and I can’t fight them every step of the way.”

“I guess you could replace them,” she whispered. “But that would be kind of mean now that they’ve started.”

She could just imagine Nick flying through the door in a rage if she tried that. Not that it was an option. They’d received few applications outside the established staff, and most of those had little to no experience. She couldn’t launch her menu with a kitchen full of rookies.

“I don’t want to replace them. I just need to get them to trust me.”

Lauren knew her way around the kitchen, and she knew her food, but people skills had never been in her repertoire. Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to be so hard.

Roxie leaned back and crossed her arms. “Most of my jobs before moving to Anchor were temp work or retail, and no one in retail cares enough to argue how to do anything. Do you have any chef friends back home that could give you tips?”

No one from Lauren’s past was likely to take her call. Ironically, she had a reputation for not being a team player. Nothing like karma coming around to bite her in the ass. Running her own kitchen was supposed to be her dream come true. Her team. Her food. No one to tell her she didn’t belong. Yet on the first day in her own kitchen—she was once again the odd one out.

Unwilling to share the details of her past, Lauren shook her head. “I’ll figure it out.” Tapping the sample menu on the right, she said, “Let’s go with this, but I like the font on the cream one better. It’s easier to read.”

They were ordering simple card stock menus so they had the flexibility to add and delete dishes as the seasons changed.

“You’ve got it.” They both rose from the table as Roxie said, “What about Nick Stamatis? He was the new guy at Dempsey’s not that long ago. He must have ideas for how to run an established team.”

Lauren nearly groaned at the idea. After repeatedly telling him to stay out of her business, there was no way she would go crawling to him now.

With a noncommittal shrug, she said, “I’ll think about it.”

Roxie left and Lauren returned to the kitchen, catching the conversation inside before pushing through the swinging door.

“Why can’t we do things the way we’ve always done them?” a voice asked.

“Because this is Chef Riley’s kitchen and she says to do it her way,” Jackson answered.

“Her way just makes it way more complicated. She needs to let us do what we know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with learning a new way. If she wants us to do things differently, then she must have a good reason for it.”

Lauren made a mental note to give Jackson an immediate raise.

“And why are you all up her ass?” asked a different voice. This one sounded like Mona. “You ran this kitchen for fifteen years, and we were a team already. We don’t need her coming in here and changing shit. We know what we’re doing.”

“I need this job, Mona. Nobody else on the island is hiring full time and if I don’t make this work, Denise and I will have to leave Anchor for good. I don’t like her any more than you do, but I don’t have a choice.”

Like a bullet through the door, his words knocked the wind out of her. Anger, hurt, and utter defeat sent bile into her throat as she braced an arm against the wall to hold herself up. None of them wanted her here. None of them wanted to work for her. They just wanted a paycheck and were willing to stomach the new bitch of a chef to get one.

After several deep breaths, Lauren lifted her chin and pushed through the door. “That’s all for today. Everyone can go home.”

All eyes turned her way as Mona said, “We have another four hours to go.”

“No, you don’t,” Lauren corrected. “We’ve done enough for today.”

“But we just—”

“I said go home,” she snapped. After clearing her throat, she added in a more level tone, “We’ll start again tomorrow.”

The crew exchanged glances ranging from confused to concerned, but they slowly followed the order. Aprons were removed, knives were sheathed, and not another word was said.

Once Lauren was alone in the kitchen, she braced her hands on the stainless-steel prep counter and concentrated on keeping her emotions in check. She hadn’t cried since Mom died, and she wasn’t going to shed a tear today. Once her breathing steadied, she straightened, knowing what she had to do.

If Nick told her to fuck off, it would be her own damn fault.

He’d been home long enough to shower and dive back into his current car show on Netflix when the knock sounded at his door. Assuming it was Mia, Nick swept it open, saying, “What?”

But the person on his doorstep was not his sister.

Lauren held a six-pack out in front of her. “Peace offering. Can I come in?” Temporarily stunned, he stared at the beer in silence until she said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.” She spun on her heel and Nick snapped out of his daze.

“No, it’s fine. Come on in.”

She lingered on the porch. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He stepped back to let her enter and the scent of vanilla filled his senses as she passed. “Have a seat.”

There was no fancy foyer in his house, so the entrance opened into the living room. Nick padded around her and snagged the remote off the