“You are a tremendous asset in the kitchen, and that’s what you’re paid to be. Nothing more, nothing less. You do work for the best fucking restaurant in Star Falls, and that means not only me but that means everyone else I choose to have as part of this operation. I will not—do you understand me on this?—will not stand by while you insult the team that stands by me day after day.”
What I don’t say is that these people are family to me. I’d sooner shoot off my own foot than fire Rita. The day I tell Sassy she has to go because she’s old is the day I shut the doors on this place for good.
I may not be the best businessman, but I know my values. Food, people, and customers.
Those are what matter and in that order.
“Now,” I tell her, “I appreciate that you’ve taken the initiative to complete this application, but I’m not going to submit it.” Her eyes widen, but I push on. “I’m not going to apply for the SBA grant. You don’t have to like it, you don’t have to agree with it, but it’s my decision. End of discussion.”
Mags looks down at her clogs, her lips pinched in a tight frown.
“We’ve had our differences, and I’m going to say one more thing, and then I’m going to let you speak.” I take a deep breath and lean over my desk toward her. “Mags, as much as you’vemeant to me all these years, I can’t have the attitude you’ve shown around here. Not toward me, and certainly not toward your team. Now, I’d like you to tell me what you plan to do. I need to be surrounded by people who have my back. Not the other way around. I’m not going to watch my back in my own restaurant. If you can’t stay, then I’ll give you a great reference. It’s that simple.”
I clamp my lips together, congratulating myself on keeping my fucking cool.
Mags meets my eyes. “I’ve been applying,” she says quietly. “I wanted you to send in that grant because I applied for a job with Culinary Creations. I sent Willow my résumé a couple weeks ago. I was hoping if she saw the application, she’d know what a great job I did pulling it together and would interview me.”
I congratulated myself way too soon. “Excuse me?” I seethe. “You did what?”
She lifts her chin. “I sent Willow my résumé. I was hoping to get in on the ground of the new place. Make a name for myself.”
I feel my guts stir around in my belly, and a sour flavor coats my tongue. “What’d she say? Was she happy to poach my best employee right out from under me?”
Mags shakes her head. “She was kind of weird about it. That’s why I’ve been so stressed out. If I fucked up by reaching out to her and I fucked over things with you…” She laughs, a bitter, grating sound.
“What do you mean, she was weird about it?” I ask. I can’t deny that I’m curious. “What did she say?”
Mags lifts a shoulder and shrugs. “She just talked about what a great guy you are, such a good cook and a good man.” She flicks a look at me. “She talks about you like she knows you. Like she’s in love with you or something. But she said she’s not interviewing now and that I should communicate with you. Give you a chance to work through any issues we’re having.”
My heart swells at Mags’s words.
We’re both quiet for a second. The reality of what we’ve said, what’s left unsaid, and what can’t be unsaid hangs between us.
“Where does that leave things?” I finally ask her. “I’d like to resolve this so I know whether I need to replace you.”
“I’d like to take some time off,” Mags says. “I have a couple vacation days left. A week, I think.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Can you cover the kitchen?” Mags looks worried, sucking her lower lip between her teeth.
“Absolutely. You take the time you need. I’ll handle the rest,” I assure her.
Mags stands and walks toward the door. I don’t know what the right thing to do now is. Do I thank her? Give her a stern warning? I’ve never fired anyone. This is as close as I’ve gotten. I’ve always had Mags to do the tough stuff for me.
“Hey, Mags,” I say, stopping her before she can leave.
She looks back at me, the expression on her face as uncertain as I feel.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done over the years. Don’t think a day goes by that I’m not crystal fucking clear how much weight you carry here. Thank you. No matter what happens from here, thank you.”
She blinks fast, nods once, then leaves.
I look over the grant application on my desk, then crumple it in my hands, tear it in two, and toss it in the trash bin. Then I grab my phone.
Me: You got some time? I’d like to talk to you about some things.
Willow replies a minute later.
