"You're invisible," she said. "Polite but background. And if anyone asks about allergies, come get me."
"Got it."
The next four hours were organized chaos. Nadia commanded the kitchen the same way she told me she’d commanded the mess. I worked the floor with a couple of her regulars, kept glasses filled, plates moving. It was harder than it looked, but it worked.
She'd catch my eye across the room, give a subtle nod, and I'd know exactly what she needed. When another server nearly dropped a tray, I steadied it. When a guest complained about the soup temperature, I had it replaced before Nadia knew there was a problem.
We moved like we'd been doing this for years.
"Excellent service," the older woman said as I cleared her dessert plate. Expensive jewelry, confident bearing. "Very attentive."
"Thank you. I'll pass that to Ms. Becker."
"The owner? She's orchestrating all this?" She gestured to our palatial surroundings.
"Yes, ma'am. Nadia Becker. Coogan's Catering."
"Impressive." She handed me a business card. "Have her call me. December gala. I think we've found our caterer."
I pocketed the card, pride swelling in my chest.
But as I worked back toward the kitchen, I overheard two men at a nearby table.
"—heard something about health department issues."
"Really? The food seems fine."
"Only rumors, I think. You know how smaller operations sometimes cut corners."
I kept moving, jaw tight, mind racing.
After the event, while the remaining staff packed the vans, I pulled Nadia aside. News this potentially damaging couldn't wait. Rumors like this needed dealing with sooner rather than later.
I'd seen firsthand how rumors left to fester in prison became a nightmare. There was no such thing as "ignore it and hope it goes away" in a situation like this.
"Two guests were talking about health-department issues. Rumors about corners being cut."
The happiness drained from her face. "What?"
"They said it was rumors, but that's not random."
She pulled out her phone and went pale. "Oh, God."
She turned the screen so that I could read it. A Facebook post from the day before, "Concerned Coogan's Resident" asking about health code violations with a local food service provider. Shared fourteen times. Comments speculating about "what catering company?"
"This is Elevate." Her voice shook with fury.
"We don't know?—"
"Who else would it be?" She shoved her phone away. "They offered to buy me out. I said no. Now suddenly there are health concerns?"
By the time we'd finished packing up and dropped everything off at the kitchen, we were both dead on our feet. I hadn't been this tired since the lead-up to an important fight, except that the exhaustion had a purpose. I didn't risk permanent brain damage.
The only upside was that Nadia was too exhausted to stay up all night fretting about the health code rumors.
Strangely, Sunday morning was almost a repeat of Saturday. A call from Jen woke us earlier this time.
Nadia answered, speaker on. "Hey. Feeling better?"
