She argued about beans. About acid. About whether flaw could become character if a bottle knew how to carry it. She answered every test I gave her as if tests were beneath her, which they were, and that was when I understood the real trouble. She was not trying to impress me. She seemed constitutionally uninterested in impressing anyone.
She simply cared about what she cared about.
That is rare.
It is also expensive to be near, if a man is paying attention.
I taste the sauce and add salt. Not much. Enough.
The back door opens.
Julien arrives without announcing himself.
I don’tturn.
He stops just inside the kitchen. I hear the pause. I hear the small shift of his bag as he lowers it onto the shelf. I hear the silence become interested.
“Good morning, Chef,” Julien says.
“Good morning,” I say.
Julien washes his hands. “You’re early.”
“I own the restaurant.”
“You always own the restaurant. You’re still early.”
“I’ve been early every day since opening.”
“Yes,” Julien says. “This is different.”
I taste the sauce again and decide it is correct enough to wait.
“Is there a delivery issue?”
“Not yet,” Julien says.
“Then find one.”
“That sounds like avoidance.”
“It is instruction.”
Julien dries his hands and moves to the prep table. He does not smile. That is his way of making this worse.
“I did not say anything,” Julien says.
“You have already said enough.”
“I said good morning.”
“You gave it weight.”
Julien looks at me for one clean second.
“Did I?”
“Don’t,” I say.
