Chasing Shadows (3 page)

“He can come in if he wants. Makes no difference to me,” she sniffed, once again contradicting what she'd said earlier.

“He looks pretty unhappy,” I mentioned. That seemed to cheer her, and I watched her rapidly changing expressions with amusement.

“Yeah?”

“Really. What harm can it do to talk to him for a minute?”

“I suppose … just for a minute, though,” she agreed.

Even though she sounded reluctant, I knew better. I could tell she was dying to talk to him, and I knew I'd been right when a good half hour passed before I saw either one of them again. When I did, they were holding hands and smiling from ear to ear.

I was almost late on my first morning at work! You know how it is when your alarm rings and you swat it — kind of annoyed because you know it's a weekend and you don't have to get up? Then you remember that there was a reason you set it for this particular day? Well, that's what happened, and I nearly fell back to sleep before I realized what I was doing.

But anyway, I got up and got there on time after all. Lisa, the lady who'd interviewed me, led me to the kitchen and introduced me to the cook, whose name was Ben.

I don't know quite what I'd been expecting, but the guy in the kitchen sure wasn't it. He looked like he was barely in his twenties, with long hair tied back in a ponytail and earrings in his eyebrows and lip.

“Hey, Shelly.” He grinned at me.

“It's Shelby, actually,” I said, feeling foolish for some reason, as though it was my fault he'd gotten my name wrong.

“Well, then,
Shelby
,” Ben waved a hand about the room, “welcome to my kitchen.”

“Thanks.” I felt awkward. It wasn't that he was saying or doing anything to make me feel that way. I suppose it was just that I was already nervous and ill at ease.

“Together, we will create magic here, no?”

It seemed a strange way to phrase a question — with the word “no” at the end.

“I believe the magic is your department,” I said, trying to sound casual when in truth my stomach was all tight. “I think I'm just here to wash dishes and peel vegetables and stuff.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and letting his whole body vibrate with it, as though I'd made a really funny joke. I managed to force a smile.

“So, your first job will be to cut out our lunch special,” he said, once he'd gotten himself back under control. “There's a cutter there on the counter.”

I picked it up and followed him to the other side of the room, where something pale was spread out over a table.

“Just cut this out. Dip the cutter in warm water if it gets sticky, though it shouldn't. The portions can go on this tray.”

“What
is
this?” I asked.

“Polenta. I prepared it this morning and now it's cool enough to cut. It's served with a sauce over it.” He smiled and chuckled. “Cornmeal. That's all it is. But it sounds fancy, no? Customers love to order things that sound elegant.”

“They're kind of small,” I commented as I lifted the first few onto the tray. Each circular shape was about as big around as a doughnut, but not as thick.

Ben laughed again and made some remark about how the less you give people to eat, the more they think they're getting the royal treatment. It didn't make sense to me, but then I'd
starve
if I had to make it from one meal to the next on the amount of food in each of these polenta servings.

When I'd finished with that, I had a whole bunch of vegetables to chop up for soup and to be served with main course dishes. It seemed as though I'd never make my way through the mountain of produce, and I started worrying that I'd get fired because the soup wouldn't be ready in time for lunch.

“Here,” Ben said at one point, taking a pile of peeled carrots and laying them on a chopping board. The blade on his knife flew up and down so fast I couldn't follow its movement. They were chopped in seconds! Next, he took celery stalks that I'd trimmed and washed and did the same with them. It seemed as though my
work had been reduced by twenty-five percent in less than a minute. It made me feel like a total snail.

“Before Madam Anorexia comes in and bites your head off,” he said when I thanked him.

“You mean Lisa?” I asked, kind of shocked that he'd speak that way about his employer. It
did
sort of suit her, though, thin as she was.

“Yes. Only her real name is Alessia, after our grandmother. Just like my name is really Beniamino.”

“After your …” I began. “You mean, you and, uh, Lisa, are related?”

“She's my cousin. Our fathers are brothers. But don't hold it against me.” He turned back to the stove, where something was simmering in a pot. “I'd like to tell you that deep down inside Lisa is really a warm and loving person. I can't, though, because I dislike lying.”

At that very moment Lisa came breezing through the doorway. I felt my face grow warm and red, as though I'd been the one saying those things about her.

“Lisa,” Ben said with a smirk and a little bow. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your charming presence? And how may I be of service to you?”

“You can stop the nonsense,” she suggested. She turned to look at me, and past me, to the pile of vegetables behind me on the counter. Then her eyes strayed to the smaller pile still waiting to be peeled or chopped.

“You aren't finished yet.”

“Very good!” Ben cried before I could answer. “Your powers of observation amaze us, one and all. Now, shoo, be off with you. I have work to do.”

Lisa frowned but didn't answer him. Instead, she rolled her eyes as if to ask why she had to put up with such a moron.

“You have to work faster,” she told me.

“I'll try,” I said.

“There are already pots waiting to be washed,” she pointed out. “You're not even finished the vegetables, and you haven't started…”

“Because I have been giving her other tasks to do as well,” Ben cut her off. “Will you please leave the kitchen matters in my hands. If Shelby doesn't work out, I'll let you know, but leave it to me to put her to use where she's most needed. Everything will get done.”

Lisa looked as though she had a few things to say to him. Her mouth opened, but a sudden, strange noise in the walls distracted her.

“What's that?” I asked, startled. It sounded as though there was something trapped in there, banging and howling all at once.

“It's only the pipes.” Ben's hand swept downward, dismissing my alarm. “I just turned on the water to fill the sink. It does this sometimes. Air trapped or something. Nothing to worry about.”

Having been cut off for the second time, Lisa sighed in exasperation and left the kitchen. As she passed me on her way to the door, she hissed something that sounded like “Faster!” though I couldn't be certain.

Ben must have heard it too. “Don't worry,” he grinned. “She never brings her whip to work. Anyway, you're doing fine.”

I didn't feel as though I was doing fine, but I can say one thing about my first day on the job: it flew by faster than I could have believed possible. There was so much to do, and when the waitresses, Nadine and another, older lady named Ruth, got there, things really got busy.

I don't know how Ben kept up. Nadine and Ruth kept coming in with lunch orders written on the pads they carried in pockets of their aprons. They'd clip each order to a wheel that was hanging over the main work area, and Ben would glance at it and fly into action, while still taking care of everything else that was already on the go. It gave the illusion that he had about ten hands, all moving at once.

If I'd had as much to do as he did, I'd have been so overwhelmed I would have given up, but rather than getting flustered, he whistled and hummed as he worked. As for me, I could barely keep up with the rapidly growing piles of dishes even though all I had to do with them was load them in the dishwasher. It wasn't like the kind people have at home but rather reminded
me of a car wash. Rollers slowly moved trays of dishes through the machine until they came out the other side, washed and rinsed and almost too hot to touch. I left them for a few moments before unloading and by then they were dry because any remaining water on them had steamed off.

Nadine went out of her way to be friendly to me, stopping for a few seconds now and then to offer a word or two of encouragement. The other waitress was nice too, but quieter and less inclined to chat.

By the end of my shift, I was worn out. I almost hoped Lisa would tell me I wasn't working out, but when I was getting ready to leave, she came into the kitchen, looking around carefully.

“You did okay,” she said, without the slightest sign of being pleased. “Come in Tuesday, after school, and I will give you your schedule for the next few weeks.”

I told her thanks, but if she heard me she didn't acknowledge it.

The first few days at work were the hardest, but by the end of the second week I was getting used to the job. Most days I even finished my work with time to spare for a few extra things, like taking glasses or bread and butter plates out to the dining room, something the waitresses usually did when they had a few free moments.

We were all kept pretty busy most of the time. Between the lunch and dinner rushes I had piles of dishes, as well as whatever Ben needed done, while the waitresses had to clean and set the tables and do things like shape the big, soft cloth serviettes into cones and stand them upside down at each place setting.

And then of course there was always the odd customer who'd stop in for a meal, or even just dessert, between normal mealtimes, so the place wasn't often completely empty.

One afternoon, Nadine came into the kitchen looking a bit agitated. “If you're not busy in here,” she whispered, “would you find something to do in the dining area for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” I agreed. “I have some cutlery and stuff to bring out to the trays anyway. What's up?”

“It's nothing, really. Just me being overly nervous, probably. But I have this customer who kind of gives me the creeps. He comes in the middle of the afternoon some days — for coffee and pie — and he just sits there and stares at me. Normally, Lisa is around, but she's gone to do the bank deposit or something, so I'm like totally alone with him right now.”

“Well, let me just get this apron off and I'll come help you set the tables up. By the time we get that done, Lisa should be back.”

“I feel silly asking you to do this,” she admitted. “It's not as if he's ever actually said or done anything — it's just that he's so strange, staring but never saying a word.”

“It's no problem,” I assured her. Ben waved me away when I went to explain to him that I was going to the other room with Nadine for a bit.

“My dear cousin may care
desperately
what you do every moment that you're here,” he laughed, “but I am the sane one in the family, remember?”

I could see right away what Nadine meant about the guy in the dining room. It was definitely a bit weird,
the way he sat there, his eyes following her under big, bushy eyebrows. He watched every step she took. I wondered if he was from Little River or not, since I couldn't remember ever seeing him before. Of course, I don't know everyone in town.

Lisa was a while getting back that day, but it didn't matter. The guy finished his pie and coffee, dropped some change on the table, and got up to leave.

“Come with me,” Nadine said, talking through clenched teeth, her voice low.

I went along, even though I felt a bit foolish accompanying her to the cash register. It was good that I did, though, because she was so flustered that she couldn't get the cash register to work. It won't operate until you put in a key and turn it, but Nadine forgot about that and tried to ring in his purchase without the key until I reminded her.

“Thank goodness you were here!” she declared after he'd taken his change and gone silently out the door. “I was so rattled I'd never have remembered the key. As it was, I could hardly remember which one to use.”

“What are all the others for?” I asked, noticing how full the ring was.

“I dunno. Probably for the entrance doors and stuff they keep locked in the office.”

“If they ever lose this key ring they're sunk then,” I said, “though maybe they have a copy.”

“Yeah. Probably. Anyway, thanks again. I don't know what I would have done without you.” Impulsively, Nadine leaned forward and gave me a quick hug.

“Hey, it was nothing. I like getting out of the kitchen once in a while,” I assured her.

“You don't like your job?” she asked.

“It's not that,” I said. “It's just that, well, I feel a tiny bit uncomfortable around Ben sometimes. I feel almost silly mentioning it. It's not like some huge problem or anything. But he's kind of flirtatious, if you know what I mean.”

“I know
exactly
what you mean,” she said, nodding. “He's the same way with me. My boyfriend, Leo, gets ticked off about it too, but I think it's harmless enough. I don't think Ben really means anything by it.”

“Well, just tell your boyfriend that he acts that way with everyone,” I suggested. I couldn't imagine Greg getting upset over something like that, when it wasn't even my fault.

She sighed. “To tell you the truth, Shelby, I've been kind of wanting to break up with Leo for a while now. I just don't like the thought of the hassle.”

“Really? How come?” I asked — just before I realized that it was none of my business. I was getting as bad as my gossip-loving friend Betts!

“It's not only that he's a bit jealous and possessive,” she said, “he's full of himself too. He works out
almost every day, and he's fanatical about what he eats and drinks.” She smiled ruefully. “A girl likes to think her boyfriend cares about her, but if Leo loves anyone, it's himself.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “He even looks at himself every chance he gets, if you know what I mean.”