I turned my attention to Chet. He folded his hands across an impressive belly and rocked slightly in bright blue Crocs. The group quieted.
“All right, everybody. Hope you’re fat and happy after that meal. Thanks, Doug and Aldo, for hooking us up. Great meatballs, right?”
A smattering of applause and whoops rose from the group. Meatballs sounded fantastic and a deliciously far cry from fussy Beef Wellington. I felt my shoulders begin to relax.
“Let’s get to logistics. First, I’m exec tonight. Chef Michaels is needed elsewhere.”
I leaned closer to Avery while Chet went over menu changes. “Who is Chef Michaels?” I whispered. “I thought you were exec.”
Avery kept his eyes on Chet. “I am. I go by Avery Michaels now. Didn’t I tell you?” He flashed The Grin at me, but I wasn’t distracted this time by the upper and lower arches.
“No, you did not,” I exclaimed in a whisper. “What’s wrong with ‘Malachowski?’”
He looked at me like I was the only kid on the bus who didn’t know what vagina really meant. “Michaels makes far better sense for what I’m trying to do here. You get one shot for the public to remember you, and I don’t want them tripping over some Polish tongue twister.” He turned his attention back to Chet but added in a more gentle tone, “And don’t worry about me sharing duties with Chet. I’ll be on the line when you start next week. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
I turned back to Chet as he enumerated the merits of Thrill’s extensive wine list. “Remember, folks, no booze, no job. We keep the lights on around here because of your efforts to sell the fine people of Seattle a lot of alcohol. A silky risotto or an inspired asparagus salad can only do so much.”
“So get ’em sloshed,” a petite blonde server called from the periphery of the circle, teasing conspiratorial laughter from everyone but me. I was heartily in favor of a glass of wine or two with dinner. In fact, wine could often be the perfect accompaniment to enhance the flavors of a dish. But I didn’t like the idea of pushing the wine list at the expense of the food. Call me a sentimentalist, but if diners were schnockered by the time the dessert menu arrived, who was to notice if I was sending out a perfect meringue or a Rice Krispie treat?
Avery nudged me. “Get the pissy look off your face. Chet’s introducing you.”
I came to attention and noticed all the faces in the group had turned toward mine.
“… top of her class at CIA in Hyde Park, and then to a restaurant you might have heard about in New York. Chef Michaels, what was that place again?” Chet winked at Avery.
“L’Ombre,” Avery supplied, nearly bursting with pride. “I’m happy to note I completely and shamelessly stole her from Alain Janvier.” An appreciative murmur vibrated through the room, and Avery clapped me on the back. “I’ve known this woman for many years, and let me just say that she will absolutely floor you with what she can do with a little butter and sugar.”
“I’ll probably use a few more ingredients than that,” I added. I noticed Vic approved of my comment with a smile of his own.
Avery looked like a proud papa. How long has he been building me up around here? I wondered. I hope I don’t disappoint … He didn’t appear to want to say anything more, and the room was silent and staring, so I stepped forward.
“Thank you for the very kind introduction, Chet and Avery, and for the warm welcome, everybody. I look forward to making great food with all of you, and, as a side bonus, I will happily indulge anyone who wants to dish about how your esteemed Chef Avery went through an inappropriately long phase during culinary school that involved hair gel and a nose ring.”
Avery groaned when the room erupted in laughter, but I could tell he was loving it.
Chet dismissed the staff, and many of them stopped to welcome me to the team before heading to their stations. Avery was keen to introduce me to a devastatingly beautiful young woman who walked as if her sternum were tied to a helium balloon. Shiny, thick black curls bounced halfway down her back as she walked, and her wide brown eyes and olive skin made more than one head turn as she passed through the dining room. When she reached our little group, she pulled me into a bony but strong embrace.
“Oh,” I said into her slender neck. “Hi. Um. Hi.”
“Charlie!” she said. “Or should I say, ‘Boss’? I really should. Sorry.” She looked at Avery, but her expression looked more like an excited puppy than a repentant one. “I’m Tova. So great to meet you.”
“Tova is your second-in-command,” Avery said. I thought a look passed between the two, but Avery continued quickly with his introduction. “One day Tova will be a fantastic pastry chef herself, but she’s just starting out, aren’t you, Tova?”