She looks at me like she knows exactly what I did and she's choosing to let it go.
"Fine," she says. "Let’s go."
The kitchen is quiet, just a handful of staff getting acquainted with the space, assessing the equipment, making inventory.
The scent hits when we walk in. Olive oil, fresh herbs and grilled bread.
Elias is with his team, looking at a small plate, discussing and taking notes. They have been testing recipes and deciding on the menu, before the hotel opening.
Elias Kassianis is what people refer to as being larger than life. Greek, mid-forties, the kind of person who makes you feel good just to be around him. He is already looking at Sienna with a questioning look.
"Chef Elias, this is Sienna Cross," I introduce them. "She's designing the kitchen garden. Elias, do you have time to talk about it? And can someone put together something to eat? She hasn’t had anything—"
"Oh, there's no need," Sienna says immediately. "I don't want anyone to bother—"
Elias waves this away completely. "I will do it myself." He's already moving. He looks at Sienna with heated focus.
"Besides." He smiles. "How do you Americans say it? The way to someone's heart is through the stomach?" He winks at her.
She starts to blush.
I note the wink. I note the blush. I note that my internal reaction to both is maybe out of proportion.
After Sienna washes up we sit at the staff table. Elias puts together a mezze in the time it takes most people to find a menu. Hummus, warm bread, olives, halloumi still crackling from the pan. He sets it down and the aroma is mouthwatering.
Sienna and Elias start talking about the kitchen garden before I've picked up anything to eat. What to grow, the rotation logic, which herbs need full sun versus partial, what the kitchen will actually use versus what looks good on a menu. She leans forward on her elbows. Her hands move when she's certain about something, small quick gestures. Elias matches her energy without effort.
I eat. I don't add much to the conversation. I'm watching her be completely lit up about something she cares about, and no particular desire to interrupt her enthusiasm.
“I was thinking of doing some cooking workshops with the guests.” Elias mentions and Sienna almost jumps in her seat with joy.
"Start outside," she says. "Bring them to the garden first. Let them harvest what they're going to cook. " She's building it as she speaks, hands moving faster.
Elias points at her. "Yes." He glances at me. “She’s good!"
I know.
After we are done, he says goodbye to her at the kitchen entrance with the specific enthusiasm of a man who has enjoyed himself and wants her to know it. She thanks him twice. He makes it clear she can come back whenever she wants, and I privately clock the extra half-beat he holds the goodbye before he steps back.
Sienna turns to me. "I'm calling it a day. I'll be back tomorrow."
I nod.
We walk out through the hotel and into the late afternoon. Her truck is where she left it. She digs out her keys.
"It's a long drive back," I say.
She looks down the road through the valley. "It is. But the scenery makes it worth it."
"Text me when you're home."
She blinks. "There's really no need, it's a safe drive, I don’t want to bother—"
"Text me."
She goes quiet. She looks at me and then she nods in agreement. I feel warm happiness spread through me.
I watch her reach the bottom of the hotel road and disappear around the bend. Then I go back inside and work through the inauguration guest list, the catering logistics and a million other things that need my attention.
