The Secret Ingredient (22 page)

‘And I don't see why I should have to put up with you,' he retorted. ‘Oh wait, I don't have to.' He turned on his heel but then he stopped, turning around to face her again. ‘And you can get off your high horse, because I know exactly how this all came about in the first place. You're married to a rich, successful businessman and you're bored. You think you might like to try being a chef, just like the ones you've seen on television. You have a word in your husband's ear, and he has a word in the ear of an old friend who happens to own a restaurant. You stroll in, right past all the kids, the hardworking kids who would kill to get a chance at a place like this. But they don't get the chance, and what do you do with yours? Run away when it all gets too hard.'

Andie met his gaze directly. ‘Mr Gerou, I wasn't a bored wife looking for a hobby. I am a trained chef, but I hadn't been in a commercial kitchen for . . . some time, and I wasn't prepared for the pace. But I don't think I deserved to be treated that way.'

‘Then it's just as well you left, because that's the way it is.'

‘Why?'

He frowned at her.

‘Why does it have to be that way?' said Andie. ‘I mean, what is it with chefs and this arrogance? They don't train it into you. What happens to turn you all into . . .' He could fill the blank in himself.

‘Maybe it's because we have to work with people like you?' he suggested.

Andie bristled. ‘You don't even know me, so please don't judge me,' she said. ‘You prepare and cook food to
serve
to people. This is a service industry. In previous eras you'd be called servants. So when did being a chef become a licence to be arrogant?' Maybe she should have shut up, but she was on a roll. ‘It's such a cliché. How can you think it's a good way to run a workplace, verbally bullying everyone into submission so they're scared of you?'

He was glaring at her now. ‘That is not how I run my kitchen.'

‘It's certainly how it looked that day.'

‘Well, you don't know what was going on that day, do you?' he returned. ‘Perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to judge me. Bill didn't clear it with me that you were coming, I would have told him it wasn't a good time. We were introducing a new menu and I already had to train existing staff, let alone someone who had never stepped foot in the place.'

‘Well, if it was such a bad time, then you really do owe me a second chance.'

‘I don't
owe
you anything,' he shot back.

‘So you've never screwed up, Mr Gerou?' she asked him. ‘You've never needed help along the way to get to where you are? No one has ever given you a second chance?'

He seemed to be thinking about that. Andie wondered if she'd finally struck a chord.

‘So why should I give you a second chance?' he asked.

‘Because I don't think you're as big a jerk as you make out.'

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘Because no one could be that big a jerk.'

Andie wasn't sure, but it looked like he might have been suppressing a smile. He leaned back against the bench behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

‘Why the delay?' he asked finally.

‘Pardon?'

‘If this means so much to you, what made you wait so long to come back?'

Andie took a breath. ‘It's been . . . well, it's just that a lot of things have happened,' she said. ‘My father died. I had to move —'

‘You lived with your father?'

‘No . . . it's complicated, and it's personal,' she said. ‘The thing is, a month ago I didn't really need this job, but I wanted it. Now I really need it as well.'

He was watching her closely, and something twigged in his eyes. ‘Look, Miss . . .'

‘
Ms
Lonergan, it's Lonergan now. But you can call me Andie.'

‘Well, Ms Lonergan, this isn't the place to get over . . . whatever it is you're getting over.'

‘Why not?'

‘Pardon?'

‘Why not?' she repeated. ‘It's as good a place as any.'

He frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?'

‘You have to move on, whatever life dishes up. Seems to me you have a better chance of doing that if you're busy and focused and passionate about something. You might as well pour all that emotional energy into something useful.'

‘I don't need you crying over my stockpot.'

‘I'm not going to cry over your stockpot,' she said plainly. ‘I'm not going to cry over anything, except maybe chopping onions, and I don't think you can blame that on a broken heart.'

He was staring down at the floor, but he was listening. She nearly had him, she was sure.

‘Mr Gerou . . . Chef, this was always my dream. I was one of those kids who would have given anything to work in a place like this, and I didn't get the chance. And then . . . circumstances took me in a different direction. I let go of my dream, and I regret that I did.' She paused. ‘I know I screwed up that day,' she continued, ‘and I must have seemed pretty hopeless to you. But I know I can be good at this. I am good. And I'll prove it to you, if you give me another chance. Like I said, I was just unprepared.'

He was still staring down at the floor. Finally he lifted his head to look at her. ‘Are you going to be prepared this time?'

‘You can count on it.'

‘Oh my goodness,' said Donna. ‘Why are there so many chickens in your fridge?'

‘Ahh,' said Andie, coming up behind her, ‘they're the reason we're gathered here tonight.'

‘I thought we were here for a slumber party?' said Jess.

Andie had invited them over to put their minds to rest, more than anything. They both called every day; if it wasn't Donna, it was Toby, and Jess always found some work-related excuse to call, not-so-subtly adding at the end of the conversation, ‘So, how's everything going there?'

Andie had the feeling they were worried she was going to become a mad recluse, locking herself away in the deceased estate like . . . she was thinking Miss Havisham, but that wasn't right, she'd been jilted on her wedding day. Andie had been jilted ten years later. In fact the term jilted didn't even apply, really.

The truth was, she had been absolutely flat out. She had to begin work on the house, because once she started at the restaurant there wouldn't be time. So she had got over her squeamishness and started clearing out the bedrooms. Her dad's had been the saddest, packing up his clothes and belongings, as though a whole life could be packed into a few boxes. She held on to some of his things, his reading glasses, his rosary beads. She even kept the book on his bedside table. It wasn't her preferred genre, a big fat spy thriller, but she had taken to reading it at night when she went to bed, hearing her father's voice in her head, as though he was reading it to her. It made her feel closer to him.

She forced her way into her old bedroom, and as she expected, it was filled mostly with her mother's things. Her father had obviously not been able to part with them, and now she knew how he felt. She didn't go through all the boxes of clothes and shoes and handbags, what would be the point? They'd been packed away for more than a decade, they wouldn't be in any state to keep. Meredith had instructed her not to toss anything until she had a chance to have a look, but she had been too busy to come over and go through it all. So Andie stacked them along the wall in the hall. But there were a couple of boxes of documents and old photos, other mementoes. She would really have to go through it all carefully, and she simply didn't have the time. So she stored those boxes away in the wardrobe in the room where she was sleeping. If need be, she'd take them with her when she left, worry about them then.

In the meantime she called a real estate agent to come out and inspect the place, and the woman made a list of her suggested repairs and improvements. Andie asked Toby to take care of all that, she could trust him to come and go from the house when she wasn't there, and she knew he'd do a good job. At least Meredith had given the go-ahead for that, and Toby would be starting in earnest next week.

So, Andie had decided to have the girls over tonight, have some fun, and show them that she was absolutely fine. More than fine. And in the spirit of killing two birds, or at least deboning them, she had an ulterior motive.

‘We are having a slumber party,' Andie reassured them. ‘But I also need your help with something, Jess.'

‘Does it have to do with those chickens?' she asked warily.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, it does,' said Andie. ‘I want you to teach me how to debone them.'

Jess frowned, bending over to peer into the fridge. ‘How many are there?'

‘Twelve.'

She turned to look at Andie. ‘We're going to debone twelve chickens?'

‘No, I am, with your expert guidance.'

‘Sounds like a fun evening,' Donna muttered, still clutching the bottles she had been planning to stow away in the fridge. ‘You know I don't get out much, what with a toddler and all . . .'

‘We are going to have fun, I promise,' Andie said, with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘I've made a heap of food, and we can gossip, and drink – well, I won't be drinking until I get through all these chickens. Keep a bottle out, Donna, I'll get some glasses.'

‘Okay,' said Jess, ‘I know you've been on this whole cooking frenzy, but why chickens, and why tonight?'

Andie smiled as she placed the glasses on the table in front of them. ‘Imaginary drum roll, please,' she announced. ‘I have another trial at Viande. I start on Tuesday.'

‘Wow,' said Donna, pouring the wine. ‘That's great.'

‘I don't understand,' said Jess. ‘After what happened . . . did they contact you?'

‘No, of course not,' said Andie. ‘I walked in there myself, and more or less demanded it.'

‘You did?'

‘Well, it'd probably best be described as a cross between begging and demanding,' Andie said wryly.

‘Good for you,' said Donna, raising her glass. She glanced at Jess who seemed to be in a slight daze, and elbowed her.

Jess stirred. ‘Yeah, it's great.' She picked up her glass. ‘I just wish you'd told me this was what you were planning.'

‘It only happened this week.'

‘But, you know how we were talking about expanding the shop?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, I've already had Toby over to take a look.'

‘He mentioned,' Andie nodded, retrieving a chicken from the fridge.

‘So, I should just tell him to forget about it?' said Jess.

Andie looked around. ‘Why?'

‘Well, you're doing this now.'

‘Jess, it's only a trial at Viande, and you're only investigating possibilities at the shop,' said Andie. ‘We can go ahead with both, take things a step at a time, see how it turns out. I don't want to limit my options any more.'

‘That's very brave talk,' said Jess.

‘I think it's great,' Donna grinned.

‘Yes, well, speaking of brave talk, I really blew my own trumpet to Dominic Gerou —'

‘You approached him in person?' said Jess.

Andie nodded. ‘So the thing is, I absolutely cannot screw up this time.'

‘That's why you have to debone twelve chickens?'

‘Do you think it's enough?'

Jess gave her a withering look. ‘If you can't get it after twelve, you'll never get it.'

‘Oh, don't say that,' said Andie. ‘I'm determined to get it right.'

‘Why do I have the feeling that all my chickens have come home to roost?' muttered Jess. ‘Well, we better get you started.' She picked up her glass and joined Andie at the end of the table. ‘I assume it's okay for me to drink?'

‘As long as you don't think it'll impair your judgement,' Andie gave her a nervous smile.

‘Trust me, I'm going to need a drink if we've got to dismember a dozen chooks.'

It wasn't that difficult in the end; as long as Andie followed the steps as Jess showed her, in the exact order, using the correct knife, it was pretty much foolproof. She appeared to have mastered it by the fourth chicken. But Andie wanted to keep practising; she wanted to look like a natural, or a pro, whichever was better.

‘So does Ross know about the trial?' Jess asked, as she took a seat at the other end of the table with Donna.

‘No, he doesn't,' said Andie, not looking up at either of them. ‘It's not really any of his business.'

She hadn't told them the latest with Ross; she hadn't seen Donna, and she had managed to avoid the topic when Jess came over last week. But she knew she wasn't going to be able to avoid it tonight. She wanted them to know, she did, she just wished she could send them the information telepathically so she wouldn't have to talk about it. And she dreaded having to break the truth, the whole truth, to Donna as well.

‘Have you seen him lately?' Donna asked tentatively.

Andie shook her head. ‘I haven't seen him at all for a couple of weeks.'

Ross didn't try to contact her for a few days after the fateful telephone call. He must have discovered that Tasha had answered his phone, and decided to allow for a cooling-off period. Andie had debated with herself whether she would talk to him if he called, or whether she'd just ignore him. But her confidence was buoyed after her meeting with Dominic Gerou, and Andie decided if she could handle him, she could certainly handle Ross Corcoran.

‘I'm sorry I wasn't available when you called the other day,' was his opening line.

What the hell was that? Was he going to make out that the woman who answered was a business associate or something? He was clearly not aware that she had told Andie he was in the shower.

‘Ross, please, for the love of God, will you just stop the bullshit?'

There was silence down the phone line.

‘I know it was Tasha who answered the phone. I know you went to her place after you left here, after you told me you weren't seeing her any more.'

‘You turned me away, Andie, what was I supposed to do?'

For Chrissakes.

Andie looked at Donna. ‘There's something I haven't told you – Ross has been having an affair.'

She waited for the reaction, but Donna just looked at her, biting her lip. ‘I know,' she said in a small voice.

‘You do? How did you find out?'

‘I told them,' Jess owned up.

‘Them?' said Andie. ‘So Toby knows as well?'

She nodded. ‘Actually I didn't really tell them, as such.'

‘That's right,' said Donna. ‘Toby figured it out himself.'

‘I only confirmed it,' said Jess.

‘I'm just surprised he hasn't mentioned it.'

‘He didn't want to upset you,' said Donna.

Andie shrugged. ‘Well, he needn't have worried. I'm absolutely fine, and it's definitely over.'

Neither of them said anything, but she could tell by the look on both their faces what they were thinking.

‘I assure you, it really is over this time.' Andie held the knife with both hands above the chicken, before plunging it inside and slicing right down the centre of the breastbone. Donna looked vaguely horrified.

‘All right, I'll give you the whole story, once and for all, so we can move on,' Andie said, as she began to cut around the bones with the tip of the knife. ‘Ross came over the night I moved in. He wanted us to get back together, he told me he wasn't seeing the woman any more, that he'd do anything. He tried to come on to me, and I almost succumbed.'

‘You did?' said Jess.

Andie nodded. ‘A girl has needs, you know.'

‘What happened?' asked Donna, her eyes wide.

‘I couldn't go through with it . . . I thought about him and the woman together, and I got to thinking about all his lies, and how I couldn't tell the lies from the truth any more. I asked him to leave, and he did, but he'd been drinking and he got into his car, so I ended up worrying about him all night.'

‘It wasn't your fault,' said Jess. ‘You didn't make him drive.'

‘Well, that's not really the issue,' Andie went on. ‘I rang the next morning to make sure he had made it home all right, and the woman answered the phone. Said he was in the shower.'

‘Sprung,' said Jess.

‘Oh, Andie, I'm so sorry,' said Donna.

‘It's okay.' She looked up from the chicken. ‘In a funny way I'm actually kind of glad it happened.'

‘You are?'

She nodded. ‘Obviously I needed another dose of shock therapy to see things for the way they really are. You would think finding your husband in bed with another woman would do the trick, but I must be a slow learner.'

‘Don't be so hard on yourself,' said Jess.

Andie ripped the carcass out of the chicken with a satisfied smile. ‘Anyway, the end result is that now I know for sure that I can't believe a word Ross says. That he's lied to me since the beginning of our relationship.'

‘He has? What about?' asked Jess.

‘It doesn't matter any more. It's over.'

‘So are you going to make it official and file for divorce?' Jess asked.

Andie looked up suddenly. ‘Oh, I don't know, I suppose, eventually . . .'

‘Andie, if you're serious, and you want Ross to take you seriously, you have to sign off legally, divide the property and assets and be done with him.'

‘But I told you I don't care about all that. I don't want a share of the apartment.'

‘Why not?' Donna asked.

‘Because he slept with the skank in her bed,' Jess explained.

‘Don't call her a skank,' said Andie, even though she was beginning to think Tasha might just be one.

‘Throw out the bed,' said Jess. ‘Burn it, but don't give up a whole apartment.'

‘Look, I don't even feel like it's mine to give up. It's Ross's money in that apartment. I'm only trying to do what's right.'

‘That's fine, but let a lawyer figure out what's right, and fair.'

‘You think a lawyer's the best person for that?' Andie joked, as she proceeded to trim the chicken.

‘Why are you so reluctant to deal with this?' Jess persisted.