Chapter 40

Penelope stepped onto her kitchen truck after sliding the side door open. She decided to leave the sparring Madison siblings on their own.

“How’s it going in here?” Penelope asked.

Francis turned to her from the grill and smiled. “All good in the neighborhood.”

He flipped over a row of chicken breasts with one smooth motion, then picked up a sauté pan and flicked his wrist, sending a wave of mushrooms into the air.

“How you doing?” he asked.

Alex, one of her other chefs stuck his head in the service window. “Hey, Boss. We’re all set up inside.”

“Okay,” Penelope said. She opened a small closet right behind the front driver section and pulled out a chef coat with Red Carpet Catering stitched across one side and her name right below it.

She and her two chefs transported hotel pans full of food through the back door of the theater and up a few wooden stairs to the dressing room hallway and through to the break room.

Alex had already set up the serving tray holders and lit the burners beneath to warm the water the food pans would sit in. Delicious smells of grilled chicken and salmon filled the small space. Penelope eyed the tray of ice on the counter next to the sink where they would have their salad bar with three different kinds of lettuce and a variety of toppings.

After a few more trips to the truck and the table outside behind it, they’d moved all of the food inside. Penelope reached under the tablecloth and pulled out a bag full of disposable dinner plates and another filled with cutlery. She set them out on the last table closest to the door, so the crew and dancers would be able to grab them first before going through the line they’d created to grab dinner.

“Smells wonderful,” Armand said.

“Oh, great,” Penelope said with a smile. She straightened her chef coat and brushed the edge of the tablecloth. “I hope everyone will enjoy it.”

“Oh my dear, I’m certain they will,” Armand said, peeking under the foil covering the nearest steam table. “I think Arlena is filming tonight’s show. Well, not Arlena herself, you know, the crew.”

“Do you normally record any of the shows?” Penelope asked.

“We do one or two each year for the archives,” Armand said, his eyes rolling over the salad station. “And news crews come sometimes to film a few scenes to go along with their coverage of the theater, or Broadway in general.”

“How long have you been doing that?” Penelope asked.

“As long as I can remember,” Armand said. “I’d have to check and see how old the tapes go back. And you know, video disintegrates, so…”

“Right,” Penelope said. “I was thinking maybe you’d have footage of Ruby for Arlena.”

“Quite possible,” Armand said. He rubbed his palms together. “Shall I ring the dinner bell then?”

Penelope laughed, picturing Armand in his elegant suit on a country porch ringing a bell. “Yes, let’s let them through.”