Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,97
time since I’ve worked here. His clear brown eyes are heavy and bloodshot. He has eyelashes any woman would kill for and I can’t believe I haven’t noticed them before today. What I notice most of all, however, is how worn out Jace looks.
He continues with an obliging nod. “I’ll grab the Dent boys for you,” Jace says. He excuses himself and is about to leave me in the kitchen by myself.
“Does it ever get any easier?” I ask.
“No.” No hesitation. He turns around.
“Why do you do it?” I ask, almost unable to hold his gaze.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it. Maybe that was on purpose. It’s a good-paying job and I’ve got a wife and kids,” Jace says, looking uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry if I’ve—”
“It’s no problem,” Jace says.
“Thank you for being in here, Mr.— I don’t think I even know your last name,” I say.
“Murdoch. Jace Murdoch. And yours?”
“Wake,” I say. His face changes. Just a bit. Enough.
“You related to BJ Wake?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jace just nods. I brace myself.
“She used to own that shack over in North Star. She made this chicken fried steak, what was it called . . . the Number One. That’s right. My mouth’s watering just thinking about it. Well, no wonder you cook the way you do, girl. Damn. Your momma was the best there was. Ain’t that something. Always wondered what happened to her. Now I know! She had you and you’re doing the cooking for that family. Ain’t that something.” Jace smiles wide and is as animated as I’ve ever seen him. I just keep smiling and nodding. It’s brightened his mood thinking about my mom’s cooking. His heaviness is momentarily gone. He sighs and walks out of the kitchen in search of the Dent boys.
Ain’t that something, indeed.
I put the groceries into their proper places and set up the Dent boys’ stations once more. I pull pots and pans from the cabinets while I refer to my notes about the day’s schedule. The door clicks and Jace and the Dent boys walk in.
“I’ll be right here,” Jace says, settling into his chair by the door. He flips open his paper and begins to read.
“Chef,” they say in unison.
“Harlan. Cody. This is going to be a tough one today,” I say, setting my notes on the counter in front of us.
“Yes, Chef,” they say.
“Harlan, we’re going to do the tamales. We’re going to have our own little tamalada,” I say.
“Tamalada, ma’am?” Harlan asks.
“Oh right. Sorry. It’s a tamale-making party. Women gather, gossip, and make tamales,” I say. Harlan and Cody just look at me. I continue, “I realize we’re doing our own very special version today.” The men can’t help but crack a smile.
“I doubt you’d want to hear the gossip we have to tell,” Jace says from behind his paper.
“I expect not,” I say, my voice playful. I continue, “We have to mix the masa, spread it on the banana leaves, and fill and roll them. Cody, I’m going to have you put together the ensalada de noche buena, but that won’t happen until much later. Until then, you’re going to be in charge of the cabrito dish,” I say, scanning the list.
“Cabrito?” Cody asks.
“Goat,” I say.
“Goat?” Cody asks.
“It’s actually quite good. But it can be a little tough. They don’t have much fat on them,” I say.
The Dent boys are speechless.
I continue, “My point being, it takes a bit to cook. So you’ll be doing the Mexican rice while the pinto beans simmer.” I walk Cody through the Mexican rice dish as Harlan checks on the pinto beans.
“Chef, I don’t see anything about salsa here,” Harlan says, scanning the list.
“Oh shit,” I say.
“No problem. I can do a red and a green with the stuff you bought. We’ll be fine,” Harlan says, picking through the vegetables that I have.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say. Harlan allows himself a small smile.
And we’re off.
When Jace says it’s time to break for lunch, I can’t believe hours have gone by so quickly. The Dent boys file out and I sit on one of the stools and eat my turkey sandwich. I pace around the pots and pans, stirring, tasting, and checking the time. When the Dent boys arrive back an hour later, we hit the ground running.
I pull out the big pot with a steaming rack in it and put it on the stove. I set up the rest of the tamale assembly line on down the counter.