“I understand,” I said finally. “So, let me ask you something. How do you like this restaurant?”
The question took them by surprise. Marlene frowned. “What?”
“The restaurant,” I repeated, making a wide gesture with my hand. “Did you like it? Did you find it high quality? Exclusive enough for you?”
Marleene exchanged a confused look with Michael. “It’s excellent. You know that. It’s one of the best in the city. Why are you asking?”
“Just curious,” I replied. “Because earlier you said I had only worked mediocre jobs—cleaning, cooking, that sort of thing. And you’re right. I worked cleaning houses for years. I worked in kitchens for even more years.”
“What are you getting at?” Marlene’s father asked, losing his patience.
“I’m getting to the fact that I did indeed work in kitchens,” I continued. “Including the kitchen of this restaurant. In fact, I spent many hours in that kitchen developing the menu, training the staff, making sure every dish that went out was perfect.”
Michael looked up, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about my work, Michael. My mediocre job, as Marlene called it. I’m talking about the long hours I spent building something from scratch. Something that is apparently good enough for you.”
Marlene let out a nervous laugh. “Helen, I don’t think you understand. This restaurant is owned by—”
Wait. Her face changed. “You work here? You’re a cook here?”
“I worked here,” I corrected, “but not as a cook.”
At that moment, as if perfectly orchestrated, Julian came out of the kitchen. He was wearing his immaculate uniform, his posture erect, his expression professional, but with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. He walked directly toward us, and every eye in the restaurant seemed to follow him.
He stopped in front of me with a slight bow.
“Mrs. Helen,” he said in a loud, clear voice, “pardon the interruption. There’s a matter in the office that requires your attention. Could you please review it before you leave for the night?”
The silence was absolute.
Michael blinked. “Mrs. Helen.”
Julian glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to me. “Yes, Mrs. Helen—the owner of this establishment.”Marlene’s jaw dropped. Literally. Her jaw fell open and her eyes went wide as plates.