Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [114]
Brockmeyer considered himself personally responsible for lunch and dinner for the crew and all of Jake Dominic's meals. The meals for the crew, since they were presented cafeteria-style, were less elaborate, but Brockmeyer still insisted that they be excellent. The meals prepared for Dominic were epicurean delights.
Jane gradually became aware that her hard work and un-complaining attitude were earning Brockmeyer's grudging respect. This fact was brought home to her when a mistake by Ralph, the steward, who was entrusted with serving Dominic's lunch, threw Brockmeyer into a towering rage.
“What's the fool trying to do to me?” Brockmeyer howled, his spaniel eyes shooting fire. “I make Trout Almondine and the idiot serves red wine! I'll strangle him with my bare hands!”
As the guilty party had discreetly vanished at the first blistering words, this was not very likely to happen. However, Jane and the other kitchen minions busily went about their own tasks knowing that any word would immediately bring the chef 's wrath down upon their own heads.
“How can I be expected to tolerate these blunderheads?” he raged, storming to the phone and dialing rapidly. Jane could not hear what he said and was quite surprised when a frowning Marcus Benjamin strode into the kitchen. Jane hid a smile. So even the captain was not immune to Brockmeyer's autocracy.
“I won't use that ass of a steward again!” Brockmeyer declared explosively as soon as Benjamin walked in the door.
Benjamin shrugged. “So I'll assign you another one,” he said soothingly.
“And have the same thing happen again?” Brockmeyer asked caustically. “Your men are all ignorant philistines where fine cuisine is concerned.”
“They're all good seamen,” Benjamin said. “Ralph's mistake was surely minor.”
“Minor!” Brockmeyer roared, “You call red wine with Trout Almondine minor?”
“Well, perhaps—”
“It will not happen again,” Brockmeyer interrupted. “You'll assign her as Dominic's steward.” He punched a finger in Jane's direction.
Jane almost dropped the potato she was peeling. She looked up, her eyes wide and startled.
Benjamin looked equally startled. “You want her out of your kitchen?” he asked slowly. “I suppose that I could change her duty assignment again.”
“I didn't say that,” Brockmeyer snapped. “She's adequate at her job.”
Jane grinned happily at this grudging admission, which was the equivalent of the highest praise.
“She can be excused from her kitchen duties long enough to attend to Mr. Dominic. At least she can't be worse than those other idiots you sent me.”
“Then it's done,” Benjamin consented, relieved. He turned to go, obviously eager to escape.
“Just a moment,” Brockmeyer said. “We're not finished.” He waved a hand at Jane. “Look at her. Just the sight of her is enough to put anyone off his food. Even my food. You must get her out of those monstrosities she's wearing, before tomorrow. Do you understand?”
“We happen to be at sea,” Benjamin reminded him dryly, “or didn't that occur to you?”
“That's your problem,” Brockmeyer said tersely. “I won't have her serving my meals looking like a ragpicker.”
“I'll speak to Mr. Dominic,” Benjamin said, “but I can't promise anything.” He turned and left the kitchen.
Whatever the tenor of Benjamin's conversation with Dominic, that evening the Sea Breeze anchored off the tiny port town of San Juárez. The next morning a launch was sent to pick up a number of packages that had been flown there, first by jet and then by helicopter, from Mexico City.
When Brockmeyer piled the packages into Jane's arms a few moments after they were delivered by launch to the Sea Breeze, he had a grimly triumphant smile on his face.
“You'd best check to see if they fit,” he said gruffly. “You'll be serving lunch today.”
Jane hurried happily to her cabin, more excited by the gift of these garments than she could ever remember being before. It wasn't surprising,