Page 26 of Love Overboard
Again. Freaking whiplash.
“I’m fine,” I said on a sigh. “Just… nervous.”
“Don’t be.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve been head chef on a dozen charters. This is my first as chief stew.”
Finn was quiet a moment, focused on his work. I allowed myself one stolen moment to watch him, to appreciate the artist he was. Every element on the plate was meticulously crafted, each dish a multi-sensory experience from start to finish.
I smiled a little when he frowned, a familiar line etched between his brows as he studied the presentation of the plate he was working on. I used to run my thumb over that line after the guests were asleep, when I’d sneak into his cabin and we’d steal a few moments together, no matter how tired we were.
“I’ve seen you step up to the plate and run dinner effortlessly when a chief has been down,” Finn said, his eyes still on his dish.“And we both know you could have run that last boat we were on ten times better than Salina. You’ve been ready for this for years. Don’t sell yourself short. Go out there and do what you do best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Dazzle them.”
His eyes found mine at that, looking more blue than green at the moment. I swallowed under the intensity of that gaze, under the weight of those words.
He believed in me.
Even still.
“Alright,” he said after a moment, stepping back and wiping his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. “These are ready to go.”
I took a slow breath, smoothing my hands down my uniform as I closed my eyes for just one moment. Finn was right. I could do this.
“Bernard, Bernard, Ember,” I called into my radio. “We’re ready for service.”
“Copy, on my way,” Bernard’s voice crackled back.
Leah and I started grabbing plates, Bernard hustling down to join us before we were all carrying the first course out to the guests. I sighed when a cool breeze hit me once the sliding glass door opened and I stepped onto the sundeck. The guests all lit up at the sight of the plates in our hands, and I hit them with my biggest smile.
Showtime.
Everything went to shit.
It was like having a rug pulled out from under my feet, how quickly service had turned upside down. One moment, Alistair and his group were happy, the service smooth, the first course delivered on time and devoured by our hungry, drunken guests.
And then — somewhere between the entrée and the amuse-bouche — everything had fallen apart.
Finn had been slow plating, figuring his way around a new galley and realizing, often too late, that he was plating Theodora’s dish with something she refused to eat. The time between courses started to drag.
Then, Finn had the audacity to yell at me and Bernard for not clearing fast enough. When he finally had dishes ready, they sat, losing heat, while Bernard and I scrambled to reset the table after an order was barked out from Finn over the radio.
After that, it was our fault for clearingtoo fast, the guests painfully aware of the stretched time between the main course and the palate cleanser with clean flatware waiting in front of them and not an ounce of food in sight.
It was a domino effect of dysfunction — guests waiting too long, plates going out lukewarm, wine pairings mistimed because the courses weren’t moving fast enough.
Now, we were three-and-a-half hours into a meal that should have been wrapped up in just under two, and the guests were over it.
Alistair didn’t hold his tongue over the last two courses we’d presented. He made it very clear that he was unhappy with the timing and the temperature of the food. Benedict had stopped drinking —stopped drinking— which was as clear a sign as any that things had gone off the rails. Even Brielle, who had been prim and proper all night, now sat slouched in her chair, swirling what was left of her wine as if debating whether it was worth staying awake for dessert. Theodora still took a dozen photos of every dish, bless her. The most difficult one and yet she seemed the easiest to please tonight. Max had already left, giving up on us after the roasted golden beet tartare with macadamia cream and citrus dressing.
It didn’t matter that every course was beautiful, delicious, and made with every single one of Theodora’s restrictions in mind.
The guests were tired.
I was frustrated.
