"Did that young lady say she was going to seat us in thepoacher's room?" the old man asked.
"Yes, their chef was nice enough to let us sit back here while she's poaching eggs."
"All I'm saying is that they shouldn't call her a poacher," the old man grumbled. "Something else comes to mind when you say that."
"Well, I think their specialty is poaching eggs, so I'm sure they can call it whatever. I mean, and if you think about it… they did… poach the eggs… from the chickens."
It was the young man who said it; he was speaking quieter than the other man. I smiled at his joke because I had the same chain of thoughts the first time I heard Carly call me that. She was the only one who had ever said it.
I did my best to tune them out. Cal was off on Saturdays, and we had a weekend cook named Mark who came around the corner with plates and cups that had been prepared for me to add eggs, sauce, and any other finishing touches. I tended to mycooking, and for a moment, it was so intense that I lost track of the conversation that was taking place in the room with me. They spoke to each other. When I tuned into the conversation again, they were talking about the scenery in Montana. It was the older man's first time there, and it sounded like the younger one was trying to sell him on the looks of it.
"I know it doesn't look just like Missouri, but from certain angles, it does. The property has meadow views if we film facing away from the mountains. I have the shots planned. I'll take you to the ranch this afternoon, and we can walk in the spots where we'll be filming so you can see it. I'm pumped about it, though. I've gone through all the plans with my team so many times that I know what to expect once we all get here. I'll do the story justice. I want you to know that's important to me. Did you read the script I sent?"
"No, I… I didn't. Your grandmother did."
I plated a few more eggs, concentrating intently as each of them came out of the pot. People came here for these poached eggs, and I had been shaking in my boots the whole time I was back here making them—going on five weeks.
My older sister had always been the one who found excitement in the unknown. Not me. There were too many variables in cooking—too many chances for failure as a chef. Audrey loved that kind of thing, though. She was now a chef with a whole life in Montana. I was a student who lived oncampus and near my parents. I had put everything into my grades and academia so that I could maintain a scholarship and get more of an education than we could afford. I had been focused on that for so long that the thing with my sister made me feel like I was a plastic Little Tikes car that had been thrown into a Formula 1 race. I had been forced into this, and my brain hadn't had time to—5, 4, 3, 2, and I took three more eggs out of their pots and plated them.
I stuck my head around the corner and waved at Mark rather than hollering at him like I would normally. Mark understood that I was trying not to disturb the men at the table, so he slipped into my area and retrieved the plates.
The restaurant was so busy that I had an easy time tuning out of their conversation.
Just then, Mark came back with the gentlemen's prepped plates and put them under the heat lamp.
Within seconds, their eggs were finished. I prayed and held my breath as I placed the eggs onto the dish. They were delicate and perfectly cooked, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I got the last one onto the plate without popping any of them. I was convinced my sister was a complete adrenaline junkie because I held my breath and got a whole-body nervous reaction every time I plated a poached egg. These seemed even more important since the gentlemen were right here next to me.
I gave the plates a once-over after I had put the finishing touches, and then I took them to the gentlemen who were sharing the room with me.
I placed one plate in front of each man.
"Hope you enjoy," I said, bowing a little as I retreated. I had briefly made eye contact with each of them. The older gentleman had a thick white mustache like a walrus, and the younger one was comically handsome. I had to stifle a smile at the whole situation and the fact that I felt a bodily reaction when this guy stared at me. I didn't have time to think about it because I had other orders to attend to.
"Excuse me, can I get some salt and black pepper?" It was the older man who said it, and I stopped in my tracks before I made it around the partition.
"Yes sir, I'll have someone bring you some in just a second."
I heard him mumble something back to me, but I was too busy to listen.
Mark was in the doorway with four protein cups, which he lined up under the heat lamp while I walked around the table.
"Could you hand that man some salt and pepper?" I asked, making eye contact with Mark and nudging my chin toward the guys who were sitting at the table.
He made a face like he didn't want to do it, and I made a face back at him, begging him to.
Chapter 3
It was busy in the restaurant that morning, and I concentrated so intently on poaching eggs that I had no problem tuning the gentlemen out. They talked about this movie they were making. They brought up a ranch and another location. The conversation was about different places to film, and it all seemed to be in Montana. I honestly didn't listen much.
At one point, I heard someone's tone get odd. It sounded like the cadence of their words dropped off and got awkward and choppy. I tuned in to the conversation. I glanced at the clock and realized they had been there for nearly an hour.
"Now you're changing your mind? Why wouldn't you want to go?" I heard the younger one ask. "We should definitely go, Grandpa. We should see at least one of the locations. Neither of them is far from here—an hour or so. I think you should see them both. All these ideas can come to life in your mind once you're there, standing in the backdrop. You'll see what I'm seeing."
"I don't need to go stand in a backdrop," he said. "I've already seen and heard enough. It's off."
"What does that mean, Grandpa?"
"Look, Alexander, it's all really romantic, the idea and the story being about our family and everything… but it's a bad investment. I'm sorry, son, but this whole thing is… you're a bad investment right now. I know one when I see it. How else do you think I got this money?"
