Page 7 of Tattered and Torn
“So,” I ask, “when can I expect the next influx of hungry guests?”
“Lunch is served from 11 to 2,” Betty says. She glances at a clock on the wall. “We have an hour to clean up after breakfast and start gettin’ the sandwiches made.”
“That’s not much time,” I say. “When’s dinner served?”
“From five to eight,” her sister adds.
“When John gets back,” Hannah says, “I’ll ask him to take you into town so you can visit the grocery store and the butcher shop.”
“John?” I ask. “Who’s John?”
Hannah gives me a funny look. “He picked you up at the airport.”
“Oh, you mean Burke?”
“Well, yes. Everyone calls him Burke, but his given name is John. He’s not much of a people person, but you probably already figured that out. He’s out on a trail ride right now with some guests. They should be back by one, and they’ll be hungry. Travis and Maya took a group of ten out hiking this morning. They’ll be back around the same time—also hungry. People tend to work up an appetite around here, especially when they’ve been outdoors. There’s another group of eight out for a wilderness camping trip, but we won’t see them back for another few days.”
“What do you think your guests would like to eat?”
Hannah shrugs. “They’re usually so hungry they don’t care, but I’d guess a varied menu. The obvious things like burgers and steaks. And comfort food, of course. Macaroni and cheese goes over really well, as does chicken and dumplings. Fried chicken, chicken tenders, pork tenderloin, pulled pork, country-fried steak. Sandwiches are always a hit at lunch time. We need to offer vegetarian options, as well as some vegan ones. We get all kinds of clientele from all over—L.A., Seattle, Portland, Chicago, New York City, Atlanta, Miami—even from abroad. And for anyone who misses a meal time, we have self-serve items available twenty-four hours a day in the snack room you saw earlier.”
“I won’t have time to prepare anything for lunch, but if I can get to a grocery store this afternoon, I can have a homecooked meal ready for the dinner rush.”
Hannah reaches out to touch my arm. “Thank you, Gabrielle. Honestly, I was afraid when you saw what you had to work with you’d change your mind and return to Chicago.”
I chuckle. “I don’t back down easily from a challenge. This is what I’ve been working toward for years now—running my own kitchen. You’ll have to try harder than that to chase me off.”
“Thank you so much.” She looks utterly relieved. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some office work to attend to. If you need anything, just go to the front desk and ask Tammy or Kevin to track me or Killian down.”
“Will do.” I walk over to the buffet and pour myself a cup of coffee before I head into the kitchen. The first priority is for me to get better acquainted with Nelle and Betty. I’m sure they know more about this kitchen than anyone here.
“So, what’s the plan for lunch today?” I ask the ladies.
“Lunch today, and every day, is deli sandwiches,” Betty says. “And potato chips. For dessert, Nelle’s making brownies.”
“Can’t go wrong with those choices,” I say. “I’ll start with cleaning up the breakfast dishes. I’m hoping to go shopping this afternoon for groceries. I’ll plan to prepare something homecooked for dinner this evening.”
“That’ll be nice,” Nelle says. “I think folks are tired of eating canned soup.”
I stare at the counter piled high with dirty dishes, not to mention the pans soaking in the sink. “I’d better get on the dishes, while you two start on the sandwiches.”
* * *
The first two hours of the lunch rush are pretty quiet. But a little after one o’clock, just as I’m finishing up making some initial sketches for the kitchen renovation, I hear them before I see them. Eager, excited voices filter into the dining room from down the hallway. Four people walk into the restaurant, two men and two women. Wind-blown and a bit disheveled, they look like they had the time of their lives.
I greet them at the host podium. “Did you just get in from your ride?” I ask.
One of the women nods. “Yes, and now we’re starving.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” I tell them. “Follow me, and I’ll seat you.” That’s not hard to do as there’s hardly anyone in the restaurant at the moment, besides me, Nelle, Betty, and a few guests.
The two couples order two coffees and two Cokes. Two of them order the ham and cheese, one wants a BLT, and the other goes for a turkey and cheese sandwich. They all want chips and, of course, brownies.
While the ladies in the kitchen are filling their order, I bring a pitcher of ice water to the guests’ table. It’s funny, I never worked the front of the restaurant when I worked at Renaldo’s. I was always in the kitchen preparing dishes. But now that this is ostensibly my restaurant, I feel a sense of ownership and responsibility I’ve never experienced before. And I already like it.
Another swell of excited voices flows into the restaurant, and I go to greet the group of ten hikers and their two guides—a guy and a girl about my age, late twenties.
I push a few tables together to seat the group of twelve.