A Dash of Love. Liz Isaacson
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that I don’t have a culinary degree.” No one liked that, it seemed.
“That is so unfair.” Her light eyes flashed with indignation. “You are, hands down, the best cook I know. And I’ve worked at a lot of restaurants.”
Nikki shrugged and tried not to focus on the negative. She glanced around the restaurant that had become her refuge, grateful for the time she’d had here. “I sure am going to miss this place. They just don’t make diners like this anymore.”
Gus sidled over as Angela took her bin of dishes and trash into the kitchen, the rest of the employees finally slipping away into the night. “Not too late to take it on. I’m telling ya, someone is gonna come in and turn the place into a juice bar or something.” He looked horrified at the thought, as if juice were the wrong liquid to consume at all, ever.
Sympathy settled in Nikki’s heart. “Oh, Gus. You know I wish I could.” And she’d never meant anything more sincerely. But working as a cook and making her own way in the city didn’t leave her much money to buy a restaurant. “It certainly is a dream of mine to own a place like this one day.” She watched as a waitress took the bunch of balloons floating outside the diner and walked away from Gus’s. “But I don’t have the money. Not to mention the lack of business experience.”
“Business can be learned,” Gus said in his wise voice. “But talent? That’s something that just comes as a gift to you. And you, kiddo—you are talented. So you just keep your eye on the prize, and someday I’m sure you’ll get your dream.”
Nikki’s smile returned in full force. She’d been lucky to know Gus, and she hoped she’d see him around the city after today. In fact, she made a mental note to make sure she did.
“Just don’t forget to let me know when that happens.” Gus leaned forward, his face open and kind. “I may be retiring, but I’ll never be too old to come and have some of your chili.” He covered both of her hands with one of his. Nikki’s heartstrings squeezed, and she masked her tears behind an affectionate smile.
“Speaking of chili,” he said. “Will you finally tell me what your secret ingredient is?”
Nikki gave a little chuckle and tilted her head to the side. “Cinnamon candy.”
“The ones I keep by the cash register for the customers?”
“Those are the ones,” Nikki singsonged.
Gus chuckled and shook his head. “Well, that would explain why the jar was always empty.”
As they laughed together, he switched off the last of the lights in the diner.
Nikki admired the framed menu of Gus’s Kitchen she’d just picked up from the custom art shop down the street. She hung it next to the menu from King of the Court and above Alfredo & Sons.
Gus’s made five framed menus, and Nikki took a moment to think about her time at each restaurant. She possessed experience in spades. Surely, someone would see that. Soon.
Sunlight streamed through the front windows of the apartment, declaring another day had begun. Another day without a job. Another day closer to Valentine’s Day. She banished the thoughts of her least favorite holiday before they could infringe on her good mood.
Angela came out of her bedroom and stalled at the sight of the bright red toaster on the table. She eyed it for a moment and then sat down. “Another toaster? Where’d you get this one?”
Nikki admired it. “Got it at the flea market yesterday. Beautiful, isn’t it?” She really didn’t have a lot of money to be spending on frivolous things like toasters, but she did have a lot of time on her hands. And if wandering through Lakeside and looking at antiques made her happy, why shouldn’t she do it?
Angela poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the table. “So, what’s wrong with modern toasters?” She took a sip and glanced at Nikki like she already knew the answer.
Nikki shrugged, her voice much too high when she said, “Nothing. The older ones just brown more evenly.”
Angela only barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Right. You do know that our place is starting to look like a diner museum, don’t you?” Her playful tone told Nikki that she didn’t really care that it appeared as if a fifties diner had thrown up in their apartment.
“I’m sorry,” Nikki said, a plea in her voice. “It’s that I see all these things, and I just can’t help but picture them in my own restaurant one day. I can’t help myself.” She nudged the frame a bit to the right and cocked her head to see if the menu was straight. She pushed it left again and backed away from it.
But now some of the others looked crooked. “So how was work yesterday?” She made minute adjustments to each frame.
Angela exhaled. “Tense. Going from Gus’s Kitchen to Holly Hanson’s is definitely a challenge. Last night, she yelled at me for carrying too many plates on my arm.” She spoke with an incredulous note in her voice and took another sip from her mug.
Nikki thought for a moment. “Well, Holly Hanson’s is formal dining, so I kinda see her point.” Not that she’d ever been a waitress. Or eaten often in such a ritzy setting. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything.
Angela gave her a look that said she was going to let that comment pass because of their friendship. “Listen, hate to break it to you, but your favorite chef isn’t the nicest chef in town.” She tossed her dark brown hair over her shoulder.
Nikki abandoned the fruitless quest to ensure all the menus hung in perfectly straight lines. Disbelief tore through her. “Really?”
Angela looked a bit pained. “Really.” She sighed in an I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-go-back-there-tonight kind of way. “She’s condescending, and she’s got this diva quality about her. And to tell you the truth, you’re a better chef than her.”
“No, I’m a cook, not a chef.” Nikki shook her head and picked up her favorite coffee mug, a tall green piece of stoneware with hand-painted red and purple flowers on it.
“Tomato, tomahto. Point is, her recipes aren’t even that great.”
Nikki was halfway to lifting her mug to her lips when she paused. Shock traveled through her. “Okay, I don’t believe that.”
She ignored Angela’s little half-shrug and kept going. “I mean, she just, she came out of nowhere, and she built an entire brand. She’s an award-winning chef. She’s opened up an entire restaurant, and—and she’s published four cookbooks in four years. It’s amazing.”
She didn’t mean to speak so emphatically, but surely Angela didn’t get it. Holly Hanson was phenomenal. They didn’t just hand out awards for cooking if recipes were bad.
“Nikki, you’re amazing,” Angela said. “You have all the skills to achieve the same success.” She watched Nikki, who simply stared at her. She and Holly Hanson weren’t even in the same league. How could Angela not see that? “I’m just saying…”
Nikki appreciated the vote of confidence, deciding to take it for what it was. “Thanks, Ang.” Her friend had always believed in her, and Nikki seized on to that knowledge, needing to use it as ammunition for the day’s events. “Well, I’ll just be happy if I can get a job.” She smiled like she was thrilled to be out there, dressed like she was heading to the symphony, practically begging someone to let her cook for them. “Two more interviews to go.”
“Good luck,” Angela said.
Nikki picked up her mug as she stood. “Thanks.”
She couldn’t go to an interview—especially this first one at Finique—with only coffee in her stomach. The very idea was laughable. All women everywhere knew that a job interview, whether it was at a restaurant where a very bad