Tropical Holiday Tails - Zoe Chant Page 0,22

love of her life enjoying himself for the first time in a very long while…she knew she was going to get a dinner worth waiting for.

“That’s it,” Breck said. “They’re all gone.” He sounded tired, and happy. He was carrying a last load of dishes back to the sink, where the young lady washing up had been singing a soft counterpart to Chet’s opera.

“Magnolia?” Chet said, in sudden concern. He’d forgotten that she must be wondering what had happened. Had the food been worthy? Breck had brought him secondhand praise for the meal, but was that only in comparison to the previous cook’s work? He’d been working hard for several hours, unable to take a break and see for himself.

“I had a lovely talk with her,” a new voice said, and Chet turned to find the owner of the resort standing across the counter behind him. “She said the meal was exquisite and wanted me to tell you she would be retiring to your cottage, but not to rush if you were having fun.”

Chet could not decide if the woman looked disapproving or not, but swiftly bowed his head. “Madame, I have taken great liberties in your kitchen without authority. I apologize if I have overstepped the bounds of propriety.”

“Please call me Scarlet,” she said, with a slow smile. “It is safe to say that the liberties you took were quite appreciated. Possibly even sorely needed.”

Breck gave a snort of laughter. “Sorely indeed,” he said, as he took off his coat and began wiping down counters.

“I’d like a word with you, if you’re finished here,” Scarlet said firmly, ignoring Breck.

“We’ll finish the cleanup,” Breck said cheerfully. “Hail the conquering hero!”

Chet took off his apron and hung it on a towel rack, then followed Scarlet out to the deserted restaurant deck. It was full night, and most of the illumination was from Christmas lights. Below them, holiday music was drifting up from the bar, where a few last guests were capping their night.

“I understand you witnessed our cook’s decision to quit,” Scarlet said easily, as they sat across from each other at one of the empty tables.

“I did,” Chet said simply, with a frown. He could have been more colorful about it, but chose not to.

“And from there, you were able to take over his duties and serve a meal that my guests were delighted with.”

“I did,” Chet said again, unable to keep a little of his pride from his voice.

“Do you have formal training in the culinary arts?” she asked mildly.

“A few classes in Savannah,” Chet said, equally mildly. He didn’t suppose that watching an absurd amount of cooking shows counted for anything; he often entertained himself with them when Magnolia was enjoying other pursuits.

“Have you ever considered a career in cooking?”

Chet’s niggling suspicion that she was working up to offering him a job in her kitchen turned into a full-bloomed assumption. But… “My first duty is to my…Magnolia.”

Scarlet looked at him seriously. “My staff contracts are generally for room and board, with a share of profits near year’s end, but I hope that you understand I could not afford to board my chef in the cottage you are currently renting.”

“Of course,” Chet said distantly, trying to tamp down the desire that was rising in him. To live here, to settle down, to have work to do—meaningful work!—but it was selfish of him to want that. Magnolia loved to travel. They would stay in one place a week, a month or two, and then she would find some new location with new sights and delights. He couldn’t have tied her down even if he wanted to.

“I would happily negotiate for a reduced price on a long-term lease of that cottage if you felt that we could come to an agreement.”

It was so tempting…

“I’m afraid we’ve only talked about staying through New Year’s,” Chet said regretfully. He couldn’t resist adding, “But if you needed some assistance until then…” It was better than sunbathing and yoga. So much better.

“I would be very grateful for it,” Scarlet said with a hint of a smile. “As isolated as we are here, it is challenging to replace staff at a moment’s notice. I could pay cash wages for a short term; please let me know your required wage.”

Chet knew nothing about going rates for self-taught cooks for any terms. “May I have time to consider?” he asked cautiously.

“Certainly.” Scarlet seemed to think that this concluded the conversation; she stood and offered Chet her hand as