A Dash of Love. Liz Isaacson
“But the food was very, very good.” Nikki enunciated each very with a hand gesture, as if the Silent Supervisor didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
“Your resume doesn’t state where you went to culinary school.”
Her heart sank all the way to her shoes. “I… I didn’t. I’m self-taught.” She infused as much confidence into her voice as she could.
The Silent Supervisor seemed to roll his whole upper half, not just his eyes. “Self-taught?”
Nikki nodded, glad the word-vomit about her breakup with Ryan seemed to be over.
“This is Finique, darling.” The condescending tone wasn’t hard to find. The Silent Supervisor tossed her resume to the table and pushed it back toward her with one finger like it contained a contagious disease. “We don’t hire amateurs.” He checked his watch as if he had a billion more important things to do.
She lifted her eyebrows, her confidence shot straight through. “Amateurs.” She smiled though there wasn’t anything to be happy about—anything to keep the anger and hurt from leaking out. The need to get out of this building pressed down on her. “Right. Of course you don’t.” She picked up her resume with her decade of experience on it. But not the right experience, apparently. “Thank you for your consideration.” She stood, her legs conducting her out of this awful restaurant—where now two of the most humiliating experiences of her life had taken place.
She marched down the street, her head held high. Finique had just lost a customer for life. She hoped they knew that. Sure, maybe she couldn’t afford their gourmet dinner prices right now, but someday, when she could, she still wouldn’t eat there. And that Silent Supervisor could really use a new haircut.
Vindicated, she headed back over to Delucci’s for their day-old bread. They’d graciously agreed to let her have it for free on Wednesdays, as she used it at the community center’s daily free meals. Nikki figured if she couldn’t get paid to cook, she could still practice her skills, do what she loved, and help some people along the way. She only volunteered twice a week, but it was something.
She pushed into Delucci’s even though the sign read CLOSED and found Marty and Trish at the counter, counting out their till.
Marty glanced up at her and picked up a big bag. “Not too much left over today, but here it is.”
Nikki took it with a smile, glad her day of interviews was done and she could simply do what she loved most: cook.
“So how’d interview go?” Marty asked, leaning into the counter.
“Marty!” Trish swatted him with a dirty look on her face.
“What?”
“Why do you have to be so nosy?” She looked at Nikki, an apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Nikki forced a giggle out. “No, no, it’s okay, he can ask. But I…I didn’t get it.” Her shoulders slumped and she had to work to keep her emotions bottled up. She was tired of talking about the job hunt and how she kept getting passed over. Seriously, looking for a job had to be the most demoralizing activity on the planet.
Marty’s face fell. “Oh, really. How come?”
She shrugged, her hurt feelings rushing forward again. “Well, aside from going off on a really bad Valentine’s Day rant, I don’t have a culinary degree, so that disqualifies me. Again.” She wouldn’t sniff here, just like she wouldn’t clear her throat at Finique. Marty and Trish already felt bad for her. Their defeated posture suggested as much. Perhaps she should return to her hometown. She could work at the diner where her mother had waitressed for three decades, live with her parents, get back on her feet. But the thought of leaving Lakeside for a small town hundreds of miles away made her chest ache.
“Don’t worry,” Marty said. “I know you’ll get the next one.”
“I just wish I could open my own place, you know?” Nikki sighed and gazed at them like they’d be able to make her dreams come true. “I mean, I know I’m a good cook, but I’m just not good at convincing others I am.”
“Well, your food is certainly convincing.”
“It sure is, all right.”
A flood of gratitude filled her. She picked up the bag of bread. “Ah, you guys are sweet. Well, thanks again.” She made her way out of the bakery and down the bustling street where restaurants, shops, and boutiques all tried to lure customers into their stores with pretty window displays.
A couple of blocks down, she found Gus putting up a FOR SALE sign in the window. Not quite the display she wanted to see, and her mood shifted once again. She knocked on the glass, a hearty smile in place for the man who’d given her enough advice to last a lifetime.
He’d been there on February fourteenth last year, when she was reliving her nightmare from the year before. Gus had given her the task of making a new sandwich for the customers. He didn’t know it, but that one thing had kept her from spiraling into a dark place. Creating a sandwich had given her purpose.
He grinned and waved at her, and she did the same. He was branded in her life, and as she walked away, she wished once more that she could afford to buy Gus’s building and start her own restaurant.
She arrived at the Lakeside Community Center a few minutes later, the large bag of day-old bread starting to get heavy. With dinner in only an hour, Nikki got to work chopping, dicing, and slicing.
In front of her, more volunteers set up tables and chairs for the anticipated crowd. Wednesdays were notorious for having an unpredictable number of people to feed. Nikki hadn’t been volunteering long, but she loved making large quantities of food and setting them up buffet-style for whoever came.
As she put the finishing touches on an almond rice pilaf, she had a brief flash of herself eating here every Wednesday. She really needed a job, and for the first time in years, she’d have to consider other options besides cooking.
Dinner started, distracting her from her personal troubles, and she went out into the crowd after most of the people had been through the line. There was a fantastic turnout tonight, with nearly every chair full and most of the food gone.
She collected an empty basket from one table. “Let me get you some more bread.” It did her heart good to be here volunteering instead of lounging at home feeling sorry for herself.
She approached the serving area and spotted Beth, the center’s director. A petite woman with red hair she always secured in a bun, Beth wore a smile all the time but used a commanding voice when giving directions. Nikki had never known anyone to disobey her.
“Wow, such a big turnout today, huh?” Nikki eyed the bin of Valentine’s Day decorations in Beth’s hands.
She set them in an empty spot at the end of the paper goods table. “Well, that’s because you’re here.”
“Uh, what?” Nikki cocked her hip as she lifted her eyebrows.
“People love your cooking. Once word got out that you volunteer here on Wednesdays, everyone comes. You’re like a rock star chef to those in need.” She beamed at Nikki like she’d solved world hunger singlehandedly. All she’d done was make some chicken.
A well of resentment opened up in her soul. “Well, at least someone appreciates my cooking.” She had a hard time keeping her voice even, and she dropped her gaze to the gaudy Valentine’s Day items in the bin. The roses looked like a giant had sat on them. “Wow, Valentine’s Day already, huh?”
Beth beamed into the offending box of red and pink. “Yeah it’s coming up.” She sighed. “I think we’ll get some volunteers to help us decorate once we’re done.”
“Count me in.” Even though Nikki would rather not celebrate Valentine’s Day in any way, her alternative was going home to an empty apartment and waiting up for Angela so they could talk about Holly Hanson’s.