The breakfast uniform hung on the back of my bedroom door. “Well, he’s seen me in it already…” I sighed and squeezed myself back into my slutty milkmaid outfit and swept my hair up into a loose ponytail.
Country music played in the kitchen as Eugene rattled around getting everything ready for breakfast. “What have we got today?” I shouted.
Eugene hopped in his chef’s clogs and then turned with his pudgy hand on his chest. “You scared me, Evie.” He looked at his watch. “You’re in early today.” A wry smile spread across his face. I was never early for breakfast service. “Would you like to try my new creation?”
The conditions inside my stomach had felt tenuous ever since I got up. Butterflies battered its walls, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to keep anything down—especially one of Eugene’s experiments. “I’ll make myself some toast today.” The toast station was on the server’s side of the line and I picked up a bag of sourdough bread.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in this?” He slid a plate across the line.
“A croissant?” I picked up the plate and examined the very ordinary-looking pastry.
“It’s stuffed with goat cheese and Clementine’s haskap berry jam from her cousin in Saskatoon.”
It sounded incredible and smelled even better. “I’ll see if there are any left after breakfast. I have the feeling this is going to be a big seller.” I smiled and popped a piece of toast on the conveyor belt of the industrial toaster.
“What should we call it?” He smiled beneath his salt-and-pepper mustache.
“Hmmm.” I tapped my lips. “Let me think about it.”
The toast slid out of the bottom of the machine, and I was about to grab it when a clatter from the dish pit almost made me hop out of my Mary Janes.
I tip-tapped my way across the tiles into the dish pit.
GJ’s feet poked out from under the steel countertop, like the Wicked Witch of the West, only instead of green andblack stripes and ruby slippers, GJs legs were argyle with Birkenstock clogs.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’ll be damned.” GJ shimmied out from under the machine. “When did you fix this?” She pointed to the pipe.
“I…I didn’t.” I crouched, and sure enough, there was a sheen of something fresh on the plumbing joint. “Maybe Edward found what we needed in the supply cupboard.”
“I’ll ask him.” GJ brushed her hands together. “That’s one less thing to worry about today—no floods for the holidays.”
I ran a rack of dishes through the washer and double-checked to make sure that there wasn’t a puddle of water on the floor. Everything looked like it was working perfectly.
Breakfast service went smoothly,but I was distracted. Every time there was movement at the entrance to the dining room, my eyes were drawn from whatever it was that I was doing to see if Nick was waiting there to be seated.
By the time the last table was cleared, and Nick hadn’t shown up, I wondered if he’d gone somewhere else for breakfast—or had slept in. Euguene checked his watch and then turned off the poached egg water. “Looks like we’re done for the day.” He took the plate with the croissant and tucked it under the Salamander. “You still haven’t finished your breakfast.” It only took a second for the pastry to heat up and he slid it across the line. “This little guy still needs a name.”
I’d been a bundle of nerves during breakfast, but now the hunger pangs were real. I took a bite. The cheese pulled into a long string as I set the pastry back on the plate.
It’s an orgasm, I thought to myself. The jam and the cheese and the pastry, it was perfection. “Hmmm.” I think I’llneed to finish it, there are a few names that are coming to me.
All of the names were naughty in nature and with each bite, they just got dirtier. Orgasmic Jam, Croissant Climax, none of the names were dining room appropriate. I had to get my mind out of the gutter.
“How about the Saint Nick…because it’s Christmas.”
Eugene was taking this as seriously as if we were trying to name his firstborn. I was worried that he hated the name, but then a smile spread across his face. “I like it.” He held up the spatula like a sword, “And you’ve given me an idea. I’m going to do a Christmas-themed special item every day this week.”
“I love that concept.” My eyes darted to the spare Saint Nick on the line.
Eugene used the spatula to nudge the plate toward me. “It will be your job to convince that grandmother of yours to put Saint Nick on the menu.”
“She’s a hardheaded woman, but…” I cut the croissant in half. “Let me see what I can do.”
My shoes tapped on the tiles as I marched out of the kitchen on a mission. “GJ,” I shouted as soon as I reached the lobby.
GJ was sitting at the front desk, scratching at her house book with a pencil. Eraser crumbs were all over the top of the desk. “We have a family of six coming in tomorrow and I can’t figure out where to put them.”
