Ishivered despite the warm day. Did I even want to consider those questionswithout a cup of coffee first?
Iyanked open the rusty door to my Land Cruiser and decided my crazy musingscould wait until after caffeine. My foggy brain didn’t have the energy forserious self-examination right now.
Thursdaymorning traffic was as difficult as every other day of the work week. Durhamwasn’t an overly populated city by any means but driving downtown was always aspecial experience. Traffic made me rage-y.
Bythe time I got to Killian and Vera’s restaurant, Salt, I had devolved into afurious, cursing caveman. I noticed Dillon’s Lexus in the parking lot andbreathed a minute sigh of relief. It was comforting to have an ally in life inthe nearby vicinity. Knowing I was meeting up with Dillon soothed some of myfrazzled edges and whispered rational thought back into my haggard brain.
Although,after wrestling my purse from the passenger’s seat and walking the shortdistance to the main entrance, my traffic frustration and subsequent calm hadturned to buzzing nerves and a flurry of internal butterflies.
Ididn’t know Vera enough to call her a friend, but she had always been nice tome. If we ran into each other in a public space, I wouldn’t hesitate to walkover and say hello. Killian, on the other hand, was intimidating as hell. Likesome kind of brutal warrior from Greek mythology that was willing to kill youover a stolen wineskin. My courage shriveled to an embarrassing shell ofitself.
Hewas mortal, I reminded myself. Exactly like me. Fine, four years of my life hadbeen spent working for him, listening to him yell at me, perfecting my craft sohe wouldn’t yell at me, trying to do whatever it took to avoid him yelling atme… But he was as human as me.
I shouldthank Killian for those difficult years. He’d given me the tools for successthat I planned to use to climb my way to the top of this city’s culinary upper echelon.He’d helped mold me into a competent, experienced chef. He’d promoted me to oneof his coveted sous chef positions and demanded perfection and because of thatI was confident I could produce perfection.
Still,I’d lived over four years of my life balancing the growing pains of maturityagainst trying desperately to not cross his line of fire. I’d seen him at hisworst, throwing dishes across the kitchen and snarling at anything thatbreathed near him. And I’d seen him at his best, earning awards and stars andaccolades from the most important organizations and people in our industry. Hewas hardheaded and cocky, but also fair and talented, and pretty much a geniuswith food.
Hewas everything I wanted to be. That said, walking into the restaurant that he’dabandoned Lilou for was like some kind of religious pilgrimage for me. Arestaurant like Salt was the big goal, the destination. I was convinced this waswhat was at the end of the long, arduous journey I was willing to struggle myentire life to reach.
Ihad no false hopes that I would be able to accomplish what Killian had in thetime that he had accomplished it. Killian was kind of a freak when it came tosuccess. I was on the right path and I needed to remember that.
Myfingers trailed reverently over the bright blue doors that opened into the maindining room of Salt. They were the only bright spot of color in an otherwisestarkly white layout. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the rest ofthe space.
Therestaurant might as well have been glowing with an angelic hue for all thewistful and slightly jealous emotions rushing through me. It was the first timeI had been inside, and the first time I realized it was so close to completion.
Veraand Killian had both left amazing jobs—dream jobs—to pursue opening arestaurant together. Killian had abandoned a lot of his claimed awards byleaving Lilou, ones that were specific to Lilou’s kitchen. Vera had given upher food truck for this. And they had no guarantee that it would succeed.
Iwas as impressed with their persistence as I was worried for them. They wereboth unquestionably good at what they did. But was good enough?
Fora lot of great chefs, it wasn’t. There had to be more than good food to make anacclaimed restaurant. Where the real awe in my assessment came from was the“it” factor they had nailed with the décor and ambiance. Between the big woodenrafters and the garage door walls that would open to the outside during thewarmer months, I already felt comfortable in this space. I already lookedforward to the food. I was already planning girls’ nights out here. I couldn’twait to book a reservation and discover the menu.
They’dnailed it. And I tried not to hate them for it.
“Hello?”I called out when I realized I’d been standing frozen on the stone entrywayfloor for long enough. “Is anyone here?”
Dillonpopped her head through the swinging kitchen doors and waved me back. “We’re inhere.”
Myeyes dropped to the mug in her hand. “Is that coffee?”
Shesmiled at me, waving her cup in the air. “It’s fresh. Better get back herebefore Vera drinks it all.”
Myrespect for Vera leveled up knowing she was as much of an addict as I was.
Thepromise of caffeine took the edge off my nerves and I entered the kitchentotally unprepared for the gleaming glory that awaited me. Lilou’s kitchen wasspotless. Especially after I spent hours scrubbing it last night. But it was alsoold enough to have lost some of the shiny sparkle that brand-new kitchenspossessed. Like a cartoon with an illustrated glow, every surface, everyappliance, every inch seemed to wear a halo.
“Wow,”I heard myself say with childlike awe that I couldn’t help.
“Welcome,”Vera greeted, as pleasant and kind as I’d always known her to be.
Itore my eyes from the expensive machinery to focus on the chef I had come toadmire and respect over the last year. “This is crazy.”
Hercheeks turned pink. “Itiscrazy.”
Herembarrassment only endeared me more. “It’s nice though, yeah?”
Shelaughed self-consciously. “There’s more room than the truck. That’s nice forsure.”
Ilooked around at her massive kitchen space, mentally comparing its size toLilou’s. Salt had it beat by at least five feet on every side. “This kitchen isamazing. I can’t wait for you to open.”
