between you and me, he voluntarily stepped down when I called him about it a few days ago. He said he didn’t want to do the weekly service because he didn’t have it in him. He said you would do a better job of it anyway.”
I’m rendered speechless once more.
“Honestly, Nikki, he doesn’t give out compliments easily.”
I remember Ted making that exact same comment the night Callum and I collaborated on Easter dinner.
“I’ve been friends with Callum for years, and I’ve never known him to gush about anyone like he does about you,” Ted says. “It’s certainly a significant gesture that he would do something like this.”
Ted’s words trigger an image of Callum and me cuddled on his couch guzzling pink champagne while watching The Office. Our playful discussion of romantic gestures replays in my mind, how I said I preferred low-key ones—kind of like what he’s done for me just now.
My heart thuds. I swear it reverberates all the way to my throat. Maybe this is his way of showing he remembers what’s important to me—that I’m still important to him. Maybe it’s a signal that we can be something more. And maybe it’s my turn to show him how much he still means to me.
Ted clears his throat, cluing me in on the fact that I’ve said nothing for several seconds. I refocus.
“So what do you say? Are you still interested in my offer to have you cook at Travaasa?” he asks again.
He explains how much it will pay, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from squealing. Adding that to our weekly food truck earnings and the festival prize money would give our savings the boost we need. Ted also mentions the prospect of heading special event dinners throughout the year. I have to remind myself that it’s unprofessional to cheer loudly while on the phone with my prospective new boss.
This is it. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, the chance to showcase just how much I can do when someone gives me an empty kitchen, a fridge full of ingredients, and creative freedom. It’s the big break I’ve been aching for since I set foot on Maui.
I take a breath and finally speak. “I’m absolutely interested.”
Ted says he’ll email me the official offer and contract soon. I hang up, feeling an ounce lighter than I did when I answered the phone.
I turn to relay the news to Mom, who takes a break from taking orders to squeal, then pulls me into a jump hug.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
She chats about how she’s going to book a holiday dinner at Travaasa for her book club so she and her friends can try my gourmet menu.
I smile till my cheeks ache. Then I go to the truck window and wave over Penelope to see if she can help me pull off the idea that popped in my head while talking to Ted.
“So this is going to sound nuts, but hear me out.”
* * *
• • •
“You ready to do this?” Penelope glances at me as we sit side by side at my dining room table.
“Definitely.”
I smooth the low ponytail that’s slung over my shoulder with one hand, then run my other hand over the fabric of the silky blouse I’m wearing. This is the most dressed up I’ve been in weeks. But today’s the day I need to pull out all the stops.
“Okay,” she says. “Then let’s get started.”
She adjusts her phone, which sits atop the table, so that there’s a clear shot of her and me on the screen.
I’m about to make the grandest gesture I can think of. For Callum. My stomach is doing roundhouse kicks at the thought of how personal I’m about to get.
In the end, it will all be worth it. I hope.
I glance at Mom, who’s watching from the living room. She flashes that same encouraging smile she used to give me when I was nervous about a test or presentation in school. “You’re going to do great, anak.”
“Thank you, Mom.” I really, really hope so.
Penelope pulls up Instagram on her phone, then starts to stream a live video. My heart thuds against my chest harder than ever before. I’ve never done a live interview on social media before, let alone one where I’m about to get this personal. From the inside of my chest it feels like my heart and lungs are playing the bongos. The frenzied movement even shakes the fabric of my white blouse.