Rest in Pizza (5 page)

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Authors: Chris Cavender

BOOK: Rest in Pizza
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“How sad,” I said. “It shouldn’t be that way.”
Oliver smiled as he turned to face Cindy. “You know what? I like her.”
“I do, too,” Cindy said with a relieved expression. I wasn’t sure how Benet was going to be, but Oliver seemed nice enough once we broke through his frosty shell.
It was time we all got busy. “Now, what can we do to make Benet, er, Chef, happy?”
“If I knew that, I’d have my own show by now,” Oliver said with a smile. “The test kitchen isn’t going to arrive for another hour. Would it be possible for us to visit your pizzeria while we’re waiting? I need to do some recon work there, too.”
“You’re not going to tear the place down, are you?” I asked.
“Not me, but I can’t speak for Chef.”
Oliver and I started to walk out, when Cindy asked, “Do you need me? If I may, I’d rather stay here while they’re setting the kitchen up for tomorrow’s demonstration.”
“Stay,” Oliver said, and then paused a moment to add, “I’m sorry if I was too hard on you before. Working for Chef has a tendency to do that to people.”
“You’re forgiven,” Cindy said with a broad smile.
After we left the bookstore, I said, “I’m curious about something. I was under the impression that celebrity events were planned well in advance. This kind of happened at the last minute, didn’t it?”
Oliver nodded. “Tell me about it. We were all set to debut the book in New York for the morning talk-show programs, but Chef decided at the last second that he had to come to North Carolina.”
“And you don’t know why?”
Oliver frowned. “No offense, but he turned down a massive amount of exposure, something that’s completely out of character for him. Plus, if he had to go someplace in North Carolina, why here? Bookstores in Raleigh, Charlotte, and Asheville all put in requests for him, but he insisted on coming to this little burg.”
I couldn’t let that comment slide, not with the way he’d said it. “I know we have a small town. That’s why so many of us like it.”
Oliver looked around at the shops, the brick promenade, the trees, the statues, the obelisk, and the captured cannon. “I didn’t mean anything derogatory, trust me. I can see why you all love it. It’s charming, and there’s no denying it.”
“But it’s not exactly a place for a proper book launch, right?” I asked.
“No, not in my mind. Is that your place?” he asked, pointing to my blue building.
“It is,” I said as we neared. “We’re open right now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disrupt our business any more than you have to.”
“Of course,” he said, and then said, “Why blue, if I might ask?”
“You can ask, but I honestly don’t know myself,” I answered honestly.
He studied the painted brick, mortar, and stone, and then said, “It looks as though it would be expensive to remove. I’m guessing you were stuck with it when you got the place.”
“Right in one,” I said. “How could you possibly know that?”
Oliver laughed. “You might have your own hidden sense of whimsy, but you look far too sensible to paint the structure blue yourself.”
“I might just surprise you,” I said, grinning at him. I held the door open, and after he walked in, I followed him.
During the time I’d been at the Bookmark, my pizzeria was now over halfway full. Greg and Josh were both waiting on customers, but both young men looked at me with matching inquiring glances as I walked in with Oliver. I smiled and nodded with as much reassurance as I could muster that all was right with the world, and they both went back to work. It was nice having them both look out for me, even if I didn’t need it as much as they thought I did.
“They’re worried about you,” Oliver said softly.
“I didn’t realize you caught that,” I said with a smile.
“Believe me, I don’t miss much.” He looked around, and then said, “I may have spoken too hastily. This place is really quaint.”
“We like it,” I said.
“May I see the kitchen?”
“This way,” I said, leading him to the back.
Maddy was surprised to see me, and before she noticed that we had company, she asked, “How bad was it? Is the man as dreadful as we thought? I can’t believe you’re already back here. I didn’t get any texts.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about at first, and then I realized that she was talking about the 911 call I was supposed to make at the first sign of trouble.
As the chef’s assistant joined us, I said, “Maddy, this is Oliver Wills. Oliver, this is my sister, Maddy, the best front person we have, and a rather excellent backup in the kitchen as well.”
They shook hands, and then Maddy said, “You must be special, Oliver. Eleanor doesn’t let just anyone come back here during working hours.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about being special. I’m the chef’s personal assistant and food-prep man. It’s not really all that much of a claim to fame.”
“I assume you’re talking about Chef Benet,” Maddy said. “I’ve got to tell you, I just loved his Chicken Parm Twist from the show last night.”
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.
I was about to answer for her when Maddy said, “Try me.”
Lowering his voice, Oliver said proudly, “That was actually one of mine.”
“Really?” Maddy asked, clearly happy with the backstage information.
“Well, at least it was my basic idea. The chef expounded on it and made it his own, of course, but I thought of the twist.”
“You’re good,” Maddy said.
Oliver seemed pleased with the praise, and then noticed the conveyor oven. “Is this how you make your pizzas?” he asked.
“Yes, it works fine for our needs,” I chimed in.
“You don’t have a wood-fired oven?” he asked.
Why did everyone believe that pizza had to be baked on a stone by the fire to be authentic? “There’s actually one on the square, but it’s in another restaurant.”
Oliver nodded. “May I see that one instead?”
“I’m sorry, but the owner is out of town until further notice.”
It was true. Nathan Pane had left town after losing his nephew, a man who had opened a rival to our pizzeria, and as far as I knew, the pizzeria’s true owner had no immediate plans to come back.
“That’s too bad,” Oliver said. As he looked around, he said, “I suppose this will just have to do.”
“It works for us,” Maddy said coldly, clearly not enjoying Oliver’s take on our kitchen. Whatever goodwill he’d amassed so far was now gone, and what’s more, he could tell it from our expressions.
“Please, don’t misunderstand,” Oliver said. “I learned to cook in a kitchen a great deal like this that my parents owned when I was a young boy. I personally think that it’s just about perfect. Chef is the one that is so hard to please.”
“He’ll just have to learn to live with a little disappointment, then,” Maddy said, some of the coolness easing out of her voice. But it was still clear that she wasn’t happy about having me, or Oliver, in the kitchen when she worked.
“Thanks, Maddy,” I said as I led Oliver out. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“It was truly nice meeting you,” the chef’s assistant said.
“You, too,” Maddy said, and she even managed a slight smile.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said as we walked out into the dining room.
“About what?”
“We tend to take things personally around here, and my sister doesn’t mind expressing her feelings when she’s not pleased about something,” I explained.
“There’s no need to apologize. Actually, I thought she was quite charming,” Oliver said.
“Boy, you really are used to abuse if you think my sister is pleasant,” I said with a smile.
“What can I say? We all have to put up with things we don’t like in order to do the things we do.”
“Wow. So, you’re a chef
and
a philosopher,” I said.
“No, I’m a cook. Just a cook,” he repeated as though it were a mantra. “We should get back the bookstore and see how Cindy is doing.”
“Do you think Chef will approve of our kitchen?” I asked. Blast it all, now he had me doing it.
“Don’t worry about it too much. He’d complain if you had a culinary institute at your disposal instead of a pizzeria. It seems to just be his nature.”
“I won’t sweat it then,” I said. “Listen, no matter what, this event is really important to Cindy, so if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
“I will,” he said.
His smile turned into a frown when we got back to the Bookmark and saw the new demonstration kitchen’s layout. “What happened? This doesn’t follow the plan at all. It’s all wrong. We have to redo everything.”
Cindy was about to break down, but I stepped in and said, “Then let’s do it. Why don’t you go tell them exactly what you need, Oliver?”
I gave her a quick hug as he talked to the moving men, who were thankfully still on site packing up their equipment.
“Do you really think that it’s going to be all right?” Cindy asked me, the hope bright in her eyes.
“I can’t guarantee that, but at least it will be quick,” I said with a grin. “In three days, it will be just like he’d never been here.”
Only I was wrong saying that then.
I just didn’t know it at the time.
Chapter 4
“I
’m truly sorry about all of this,” Oliver said to us as Cindy and I worked with the installation people to get everything in order for the demonstration the next day. “I just know that if we don’t get it right the first time, Chef is going to be insufferable, and you don’t want to see what that man can do when he’s not happy. It’s bad enough when he’s in a good mood.”
“Any examples you might like to share about the man at his worst?” I asked as Cindy and I worked at unboxing the bowls, pans, and utensils for the big event.
Oliver shook his head in disbelief. “Where do I start? Once, in Virginia, he intentionally locked the bookstore owner in a storage closet without telling anyone what he was doing, and the place was in a complete panic over the missing woman as he continued serenely on with his demonstration,” Oliver said.
It was clear that story wasn’t going to help Cindy’s peace of mind. I asked, “Why would he do something like that?”
Oliver frowned as he explained, “Chef said that she kept asking too many questions, and he was beginning to lose his focus. He didn’t even try to lie and say that it was an accident.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair as he added, “I can’t tell you what we had to do to make that problem go away.”
“Come on, we won’t share the story with anyone else,” I said.
“No, you don’t understand. I signed a nondisclosure agreement harsher than any writer ever had to agree to in their lives. If I say a word about it, I’ll not only lose my job, but I’ll most likely go to jail, too.”
“That’s pretty bad,” I said. “I’m amazed no one ever took a swing at him.”
That brought a smile to Oliver’s lips. “Trust me; you wouldn’t believe the number of people who have done just that. Chef claims that his arrogance is one of the things that make him a great creator of dishes, but I don’t believe it for a second. I think he just enjoys being a bully.”
I shook my head. “And yet you stay on with him. If you don’t mind my saying, I have to believe that you can do better than this.”
Oliver looked around, and then lowered his voice. “This has just been a means to an end all these years. I haven’t just worked as his researcher and main assistant on the show and for his cookbooks. I’ve constantly been pitching my own ideas to the execs at the network, too.” I noticed that his fists were clinched as he added, “If they’d only given me one shot at my own show, it would have given me the career I should really be having, instead of working for Chef.”
It appeared that having an oversized ego wasn’t just his employer’s problem. “But in the meantime, you’ve been paying a pretty big price for an opportunity that might never present itself,” I said.
“I like to think of it as paying my dues,” he answered, “But trust me, I won’t be paying them that much longer. I’ve just about had enough.”
“Well, then, I hope you get exactly what you deserve in the end.” Oliver could interpret that statement however he wanted to, but if he took a moment to really think about what I’d just said, he’d realize that I hadn’t exactly wished him the best of luck. In my mind, it was the perfect curse. Who among us would truly be happy if we actually got what we deserved in life, both the good parts and the bad?
“It must be frustrating watching him take the stage every day, when that’s where you want to be,” Cindy added.
“Deserve to be,” Oliver corrected. He took a deep breath, and then his voice faltered a little as he said, “I know it must sound crazy to you two. But it’s not going to keep going on like this forever. Honestly, there are some days when I don’t know if it’s ever going to happen, but if it does, it’s going to have to occur quickly.” He looked all around us, though we were alone at that moment, and explained, “I’ve decided that I’m going to try one last pitch to Chef’s executive producer tomorrow after the demonstration, and if she turns me down again, I’m moving on to another dream, and she can find someone else to hold Chef’s hand.”
“What will you do if you leave this job?” I asked.
“Who knows? I might just work in a real restaurant where I can actually get credit for what I cook,” he said. “I’m better than most people could imagine, but I’ll never be able to prove it if I can’t get out from under Chef’s thumb.” Oliver must have realized just how much of his thoughts he’d been revealing to us. As though he needed to break a spell we had him under, he shook his head and looked over the setup we currently had. After nodding, he said, “I think this will do great. Ladies, you were a huge help today. Thanks so much. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re most welcome.” I’d been touched by Oliver’s confessions, and how hard he worked for a man that he clearly didn’t like. He deserved at least something for all he’d done today. “Would you like to come by A Slice of Delight for a bite to eat? It’s on the house, and you can order whatever you’d like.”
He took a moment to consider it, and then reluctantly said, “Thanks, but I’m worn out, and I’ve still got to work on tomorrow’s presentation for Chef. I think I’ll just go back to my hotel room and work there, if you don’t mind. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, ladies. Have a nice evening.”
“You, too,” we said as Oliver left the bookstore and we were alone.
After the chef’s assistant was gone, Cindy hugged me.
“What was that for?” I asked after I pulled away.
“Are you kidding? Eleanor, you saved me today.”
I could hardly call the little bit I’d done anything that dramatic. “Oliver wasn’t all that bad.”
My friend shrugged, and then said, “Not after you got here. How did you manage to handle him so well?”
“All I did was talk to him,” I said. “I asked a few questions, and then listened to what he had to say. That’s all most of us want these days, someone who will listen to us. It’s amazing how intoxicating the feeling can be.” I touched her shoulder lightly, and then added, “Cindy, you really shouldn’t worry about tomorrow.”
“Not even a little bit?” she asked me with a grin.
I smiled back at her. “Okay, a little is okay. Heck, I’d even say that it was normal. You should know that when Joe and I started the Slice, I don’t think I slept more than ten minutes at a time the week before we officially opened.”
Cindy got quiet for a moment, and then asked me in a somber tone, “Eleanor, do you ever stop missing him?”
I realized that the question was less about my late husband than it was about her feelings toward hers, so I was very careful when I answered her. “I miss him, and I always will, but it’s not the same gaping wound that it once was. I know it doesn’t feel like it at the moment, but it does get better over time. It’s kind of the great equalizer.”
She looked troubled by my statement. “That sounds as though I’m going to forget him, and I never want to do that.”
I touched her hand. “I’m not saying that at all. What time does is it gives you perspective. Instead of feeling mostly pain when you think of your late husband and turning him into some kind of saint in your mind, you begin to remember him as a man, flaws and all, the good right along with the bad. When those thoughts start to occur, you’re on your way to healing. At least that’s how it’s worked for me.” I was a little embarrassed by the way I was lecturing her, but Cindy had asked me for my take on things, and I owed her the most honesty I could muster.
“Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again?” she asked, her voice sounding almost frightened as she posed it.
“That’s a complicated question,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I just started dating someone, and we’re still just finding our way, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be worth it in the long run.”
“I know I shouldn’t be grilling you like this, but there’s no one else I can talk to about what I’m going through.”
“I don’t mind,” I answered. “If I’m not comfortable with your questions, I may just not answer them.” I tried to add a slight smile, but I knew that it wouldn’t do much to ease Cindy’s troubled mind.
“What motivated you to ever date again? I can’t imagine doing it,” she said, and I could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
It was an answer I’d sought myself, and one that I was comfortable giving her now. “Joe would never have wanted me to spend the rest of my life alone. He was too full of a strong spirit to want me to waste away longing for the past. I finally realized that I was actually doing him a disservice by the way I was living my life.”
Cindy hugged me again, and as she did, I could feel a shiver go through her. “It’s so hard, Eleanor. How do you get through it?”
“It’s like everything else. You take things one day at a time, and you rely on your friends,” I said. “I’m here for you, Cindy; I know that Maddy is, too, and at least a dozen other people in Timber Ridge. If you need help, all you have to do is reach out and ask for it.”
“I’ll try,” she said as she pulled away and wiped her cheeks.
“It’s not easy, is it?” I asked, smiling at her. “The best way to do it is just practice.”
“Hey, I asked you, didn’t I?” she asked, a slight grin warming her face. I was glad to see it.
“Baby steps are all right,” I said. “Just as long as they’re all heading in the right direction.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said.
 
When I got back to the Slice, business had definitely picked up. Greg and Josh were busy up front waiting on customers, and it was pretty easy to see that they could use Maddy’s help out front, too. For a split second, I considered giving them a hand myself and letting my sister continue to work in the kitchen, but I knew how stressed-out Maddy got when the orders started piling in, so I couldn’t do that to her. It was easy enough to understand why she felt that way. I’d had a lot more practice coping with it than she had, and it still managed to get to me sometimes.
“I’m back,” I said as I grabbed my apron off the hook once I walked into the kitchen.
“I’m not even going to pretend that I didn’t miss you,” Maddy said as she gladly gave up her spot at the prep table. “How did things go at the bookstore?”
“I was about to give up ever making things right, but we finally got everything in place over there,” I answered. “Now all we have to do is wait for Chef Benet to grace us with his presence.” I glanced beside the oven and saw that something was obscured by a dish towel. When I pulled the cloth off, I saw that it was Chef Benet’s last book.
“What’s this?” I asked with a grin as I picked it up. “I didn’t realize that you were that big a fan of the man.”
Maddy smiled back at me. “Sue me, I like autographed books. Do you think there’s any chance that he’ll sign this for me tomorrow?”
“All bets are off, but it couldn’t hurt to ask,” I said as I handed it back to her.
“I know that there are all kinds of terrible stories about how the man acts in public, but honestly, I can’t wait to meet him,” Maddy said. “I’ve got a dozen signed books from quite a few authors, but they are all mysteries. This will be my first cookbook.”
“Then it’s going to be a big day for all of us,” I said.
Greg came through the door with another order. “Man, the natives are getting restless out there. How’s the food coming along back here?”
I glanced in the oven and saw that two pizzas were close to coming out. “Give us two minutes and we’ll have something for you.”
“What do I do in the meantime?” he asked with a smile. “I know one thing. I’m not going back out there without food in my hands.”
“You could always tap dance, sing, and just generally try to entertain us with your amazing talent,” Maddy suggested.
“Hang on, I thought our goal was to keep our customers,” Greg answered. “Not the cooks.”
“You may call us chefs, if you please,” I said in my haughtiest tone. We all cracked up at that as I reached in and pulled the first pizza out, since it looked good. Checking the order, I saw that it was for the dining room, so I slid it out onto a serving trail, cut it deftly, and then handed it to Greg.
“How’s that for timing? You are saved from embarrassing yourself,” I said.
“At least for now,” he answered, and then took off with the pizza.
“I’d better get out there and give them a hand,” Maddy said. “Can you deal with this by yourself?”
I looked at the stacked orders. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it. Thanks for holding down the fort. I mean it. I really appreciate it.”
“I was happy to do it.” As Maddy started to go out front to join Greg and Josh, she hesitated long enough to add, “Just do me a favor and don’t make a habit of it.”
“Look on the bright side. At least we’ll be closed tomorrow until four,” I said. “The demonstration will be over by then, and we’ll get our pizza parlor back.”
“If you want to know the truth, it can’t happen soon enough for me,” she said.
“You and me and Cindy, too,” I said as I started knuckling a new ball of cold dough into one of our large pans to fill the bottom order on the stack.
“Is she freaking out over there?” Maddy asked.

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