Then the mushroom course hits and everything spirals.
Josh drops a tray. Six plates shatter. We're suddenly short on our already-reduced portions.
"Derek, pull mushrooms from the backup mise," I say. "Samantha, replate those six. Josh, clean up the glass and get back on station."
They move. Fast and efficient. The kind of response that comes from drilling until your body knows what to do when your brain panics.
We recover. Barely. The mushroom course goes out three minutes late but it goes out.
Entrees are smooth. The protein is perfectly cooked. The vegetables are bright and balanced. The plating is confident.
I watch the temps work and feel something like pride.
At eight-forty-five the Foundation coordinator appears in the kitchen.
"The board wants to meet the chef," she says.
My heart rate spikes.
"Now?"
"Now."
I follow her into the dining room.
Twelve people in formal wear sit around a long table. Crystal glasses. Linen napkins. The kind of money that writes checks without thinking.
"Everyone, this is Rogan Thorn," the coordinator says. "The chef behind tonight's menu."
They applaud. Polite and measured.
A woman at the head of the table stands. Silver hair, sharp eyes, elegant suit.
"Mr. Thorn," she says. "This meal has been extraordinary. The flavors are bold but balanced. The sourcing story is compelling. We're impressed."
"Thank you."
"We'd like to discuss future partnership. Quarterly events. Possibly a summer gala."
My brain goes very quiet.
"I'd be honored," I say.
She hands me an envelope.
"Your payment for tonight. Plus a retainer for initial planning on the summer gala. We'll be in touch next week to discuss details."
I take the envelope. It's heavier than expected.
Back in the kitchen, Maya's coordinating dessert plating. I show her the envelope.
"Open it," she says, already bouncing on her heels with anticipation.
I slide my thumb under the flap and pull out the contents. The check sits crisp and official in my hand, and for a moment I just read the numbers, trying to make them make sense.
"What is it?" Maya demands, craning her neck to see.
I blink. Read it again to make sure I'm not hallucinating from exhaustion.
