Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [27]
Ignoring the dig at my culinary prowess, I reply just as coolly, “That’s impossible, I’m afraid. And even if it were possible, I don’t take orders from you, Nicola. You work for me, remember?”
“Yes, well. Would you like me to call Jake so he can tell you himself?” Her tone is proprietary and condescending.
Concealing from her the horror that particular suggestion evokes, I begin to consider the odd fact of Nicola’s presence here this morning, which cannot be explained solely by Jake’s specious case of food poisoning.
Jake would not have told her what happened at the apartment yesterday. That would have been a mistake of gargantuan proportions and one that an experienced adulterer like Jake would never make. There’s a strange glimmer in Nicola’s eyes as she fixes me with her intense gaze, and suddenly it dawns on me that she’s worried. Worried that something happened yesterday between Jake and me, and she’s here looking for clues she thinks I will reveal. And so I smile at her, an utterly false smile, one that hints of secrets and clandestine meetings, of satisfaction.
“Don’t disturb him,” I say casually, taking off my raincoat and depositing my bag next to her on the pastry station. “I’ll take care of it.” Without giving her a chance to respond, I set off in the direction of the walk-in. Tony is there, crouching in the corner, riffling through a basket of wild mushrooms.
“Good morning, Tony,” I call, my voice louder than it needs to be. “Do we have any pumpkin pasta sheets left, or do we need to make some more? How are we on sage?” Tony and I have worked together long enough for him to know that this let’s-get-down-to-business tone is all for Nicola’s benefit, and he has the good grace to play along.
“Plenty,” he says, tossing me a bunch of sage and gesturing over his shoulder to the pasta. “How about we do some fried sage leaves?” He lowers his voice. “Don’t worry. The crew will be here in a few, and we can figure out what to do about tonight. About Jake.”
I nod, and he gives me a wink as he squeezes past me with the basket of mushrooms. Nicola is on the phone when I come out, probably with Jake, because she turns away and lowers her voice as I pass.
I set out my supplies for the pasta and head into the office, where I write Jake a note, including a draft of my proposed winter menu and suggesting that he go ahead and place an order for the Castelli Farms pork. I also attach the meat and fish orders for the week after Thanksgiving, which need to be put in today. Normally I would leave them for him in the office, but since he won’t be in, I’ll send them home with Nicola, figuring that he can take care of them from there.
When I see that she is off the phone, I hand her a large, brown envelope containing the orders and tell her that Jake needs to see this ASAP, and if he is not up to taking care of this, he’s to call me this afternoon. Nicola eyes me speculatively as she takes the envelope. She doesn’t stay long and leaves without saying good-bye, a fact I barely notice because by then I’m deep into the pappardelle. Tony appears a few minutes later with two espressos, into which he pours hefty shots of anisette.
“It’s still morning, so I thought we needed the coffee to be legit. It’s not tippling if you have it in coffee, you know. Besides, you look like you need it.” He hooks the stool from the pastry station with his foot, drags it over and sits. “What was she doing here this morning?”
“I have no idea. I thought her kind only came out at night.”
Tony smiles as he raises his cup. “Salute!” he says, knocking his back and standing up. “I’m on for tonight, if you need me.”
“Thanks, I might be able to stay, too, if I can get Hope to watch Chloe.”
“Don’t worry; it won’t be a problem,” he says. I’m not really worried, but wonder if I look it, because Tony has now mentioned it twice. It is, after all, a Monday night, and Mondays are notoriously slow in the restaurant world. People have eaten out all weekend and are more inclined to eat