Lissa giggled. “Sorry. Surfer term. You look like you’re facing down some waves you don’t like.”
Elena grabbed Lissa’s arm. “God, am I. I’ll tell you over lunch. But first, I need to ask Delia something.” By now it had become a habit to walk past the line and go straight in. Pete just gave them a wave as they headed for the kitchen.
“Ladies,” Delia said from the prep line. Her tone told them the kitchen was in the weeds—it looked like they were down a person and Delia had hopped on the line to try and get them caught up.
“I have something to ask you when you get a minute,” Elena said.
“Girl, does it look like I’m gonna get a minute? You wanna ask me something, grab a knife and hop on.”
Elena’s heart did a little jig, then sped up the good way it had every time she’d faced down a breakfast or lunch crowd. She grinned, took her blazer off, and draped it over the back of her chair.
“She’s kidding, Elena.” Lissa pulled out her chair.
“No, I amnotkidding.” Delia bashed a clove of garlic with the side of her knife as if to prove her point.
“Whoa,” Lissa half-laughed. “Better get in there, then.”
“My pleasure.” Elena grabbed a black apron with the logo for Delia’s in gold printed on the front. It felt so good to suit up and do something she loved for a change. She washed her hands and joined Delia. Not to be left behind, Lissa was right behind her, scrubbing up and grabbing another apron.
“Is this even legal in California?” Elena asked.
“If a health inspector materializes, you were hired five minutes ago,” Delia answered.
Elena’s heart did another little flip at that. “Good enough.” She took one look at the already-prepped food and figured out the special of the day and what needed to be done. She went to work chopping peppers.
“Damn, you’re good,” Delia said. “Lunch on the house for life.”
“How about you just do me a favor instead?”
Without pausing, the chef gave her the side-eye. “That all depends.”
“This is a good one.” Elana scooped up the diced pepper and dropped it in a glass bowl, then grabbed another. “Cici Bennett, Roger Bennett’s wife, needs a last-minute caterer for Roger’s political shindig. She loved lunch yesterday and asked me to ask you if you’d be interested.”
“Hmm.” Elena wasn’t fooled by Delia’s lackluster response. The woman paused and pursed her lips before attacking the next garlic clove.
Elena decided to sweeten the pot. “She said the publicity couldn’t be beat.”
Delia snorted. “You think I needmorebusiness? Pete, what’s it look like out there?” The maître d had just come through the door.
“They’re about to eat each other. I’m in hiding.”
“My maître d is in hiding.” Delia pointed her knife at Pete.
“But without the business crowd, this place is so dead on the weekends you don’t even bother with lunch on Saturday and you’re closed Sundays. Catering could make up for that.”
Delia huffed.
“Please?” Elena asked. “She’s kinda desperate. And really nice.”
Whoops. Elena wasn’t sure about the sudden triumphant look in Delia’s eyes. “Okay, okay, you twisted my arm. But on one condition.”
“Uh-oh,” Lissa chimed in. She bumped shoulders with Elena, but she had an excited smile on her face. “Here it comes.”
“Here comes what?” Elena looked back and forth between the two women.
“I will agree to this if you manage the gig for me.”
“What, are you joking?” Elena’s heart leaped.
