“How’s it looking for tonight?”
Stella sat in the chair across from my desk, ready to put out any fires, or hand me a shot ofFireball. Cinnamon was my thing.
“So far, so good. Looks like we have…”
I stopped scrolling when Greer Rowan’s name appeared on the list. He had reservations tonight.
“Hmmm…” My interest was piqued.
“What?” Stella asked.
“Nothing bad. Greer Rowan has reservations for two at eight-thirty tonight.”
Stella smiled. “That’s good! He must have been happy with how the Draft Party turned out.”
“Uh-huh,” I added, nodding my head. No special occasion was listed, so it appeared to just be dinner.
I clicked on the reservation to add his photo from Google so Sophia would recognize him when he arrived. Making it VIP, I shuffled the seating chart until I came up with seating the farthest distance from the kitchen.
“I’m just curious to see who he’s bringing to dinner.”
She stared at me. “Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. Like I said, I’m just curious.”
She snorted. “Well, heisyour type. Handsome, rich, and intelligent.”
I scoffed. “Very funny, but I’ve decided to ask Nick out on a date.”
The smile that crept across her face almost embarrassed me. “It’s about time, Preston. There’s more to life than building another culinary empire.”
She was right.
“I know, but let’s get back to tonight. Looks like we’re gonna have another full house. Do we have everything we need?”
Stella nodded. “We should after the last delivery. Hopefully, he’s got what we were out of.”
I lifted my head and shoved back from my chair. “Okay then. Let’s get started.
* * *
I’d been right.We’d been packed without a single seat available, even at the bar. It took a lot of energy to work efficiently in a small space, so that’s why I liked to feed my staff before they started work. More energy meant better service. It also helped them to know what to suggest if a customer asked.
As I circulated through the restaurant, talking with my customers while answering their questions about food and wine, I remembered why I loved this. Seeing others enjoying their food made me happy, and there were so many things I wanted my customers to experience.
Since moving to Portland, I’d found my love of cooking again. Buying this little place was a new adventure. I knew it was too small when I signed the papers, but I needed the intimate space to help me find out if I could regain my passion for it again. I didn’t need the money. I had that covered. What I wanted was for my customers to be happy when they came in, like Alejandro had done with the bar. I wanted to add to the downtown culture of my new hometown.
Shortly after eight, I went to my office to change my coat. I’d bumped into a server earlier and now I had Alfredo sauce on my black jacket. Not to mention I smelled like Parmigiano-Reggiano.
Needing a quick refresher, I tossed my coat onto the pile of tablecloths and napkins to be laundered, and put on a white coat. When I was all buttoned up, I popped a cinnamonAltoidin my mouth and dabbed on some of my cologne. While I loved the taste of the cheese, I didn’t care to wear it. And I didn’t care for the visual of a messy uniform.
I was back in the kitchen when Sophia came looking for me. “Preston, the guests you were waiting for have arrived.”
Smiling, I nodded. “Thank you, Sophia. I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”
“Okay,” she said.
Turning for the sink, I washed and dried my hands after finishing up plating a salmon filet.
