She heard their small pick-up truck pull up as she finished dressing, donning her white coat before adding another layer. The heater in her Nova was not working, and she couldn’t afford to have it repaired right now. These boys ate. A lot! And feeding them so they could continue with their track and field activities was her priority. They both had scholarships to the University of Connecticut, but they still needed to finish the season strong.
And just exactly where her earlier thoughts had taken her, they both kissed her as she stood by the door but bypassed her quickly and then proceeded to raid the refrigerator. Standing over six feet tall, they crowded the door peering in at the slim pickings inside. Wesley grabbed the plate of cold chicken and Lesley followed him to the counter snatching a piece before they faced her.
“Please stay in tonight. You both have research papers due at the end of week,” she reminded them.
“It’s not due until Friday!” Wesley complained over a mouth full of chicken.
“Yes, but you have track practice all week, and you both have two shifts each at the gas station.”
“Yes, Jewels,” Lesley replied not even making eye contact as he passed her on the way to the sofa using his hand as a plate to carry his chicken so as not to get crumbs on the carpet.
“And if you could pass the vacuum, I’d love you forever,” she said as she picked up her purse from the small rickety table by the door. She reached inside and grabbed her keys and her employee ID badge. She quickly snapped it onto her uniform.
“You’ll love us any way,” Wesley added as he joined his brother on the sofa.
She smiled at her brothers indulgently, “And there is a lasagna in the oven for you when you get back from track. 350 degrees for forty-five minutes.”
Both brothers gave her broad smiles at this bit of news. “You’re the best Jewels.”
“Yeah, the best,” parroted Lesley.
“Okay, I’m the best, but please work on those papers.” And with a parting wave she left her two brothers to their own devices.
She couldn’t wait for their graduation. She was proud of them, and knew her parents would be too. Their deaths had shattered them, but unlike many teens who rebelled, they’d stayed focused most of the time, and both were committed to pursuing a college degree. It was what their parents had wanted. Both boys had scholarships to UCon, and with the financial aid they received from the tribe, they would be covered completely. They just needed to cover the expenses of the car they shared, and insurance, though she would help them for incidentals if they needed it.
Once they left for college, her plan was to get a small apartment in town, with two bedrooms for when they came home, and continue to work at the casino. She would also begin to save again. Her dream was to open her own restaurant. However long that took, she was determined to try again.
She would do whatever it took. Whatever it took, she told herself as she drove towards the massive casino she could see off in the distance though it was still miles off. Tower One and Two both were visible above the tree line. This casino, though she didn’t care for gambling much, was the bread and butter for her people. Hers too. Now. But it wouldn’t always be. She wanted a place of her own. That was her dream.
*
The moment Jewel walked into the kitchens of The Mystic, she felt at home. She’d only been working a few months, but loved it there. The noise, the sounds of cooking and chopping, and dishes clinking, and the heat and steam from the dishwashers, fryers and cooktops, enveloped her. The scents were overwhelming, but she had always felt at home in this environment. From the time her mother first taught her to bake a cake, she had known this was what she wanted to do.
The head chef, Louis, greeted her warmly, gave her the assignments for the evening, and went over the specialties with her. She loved working with him, and had learned a lot these past months from the European trained chef. When he finished with his rundown, the boisterous French men left her to her tasks confidently. He’d come to depend on her and she didn’t want to disappoint him.
They worked together well. After his initial instructions, they worked beside each other symbiotically, he barely having to direct her after that. Although his eagle eyes were everywhere, and he watched all acts in his kitchen, he could get mad when needed, when things weren’t happening fast enough for him, or the way he wanted it to. French profanity flew. “Colis, de tabernacle,” was one of his favorites. When those words were heard everyone buckled done to their tasks and refocused their efforts. But overall, he ran a smooth kitchen.