“Oh, waitress,” a customer seated in a corner called out to Sadie as she passed by on the one-week anniversary of the restaurant’s opening.
After she and Suzanne had giggled in the beginning at being mistaken for one another, they’d decided to wear markedly different dresses because it was harder for them than the customers. They’d laughed, but never knew what the customer was asking for if it hadn’t been the table they’d taken the orders at.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie said to the woman seated with a man who she took to be her husband.
They were dressed quite finely, the lady actually wearing a fur and hat. Sadie would have been surprised if Suzanne hadn’t told them that their town was very close to Tombstone, which had recently struck the biggest silver vein in Arizona Territory and people of all kinds—merchants, bankers, entertainers, doctors—were streaming in along with the money.
“My dear, I saw on the menu that this was supposed to be Chicken Fricassee. In my experience in France, it tasted quite different,” she said, her nose crinkling as she sniffed at her fork.
“Our chef was trained in New York, madam, so that may speak to the difference in creativity,” Sadie said, trying desperately not to wring her hands. This was the third person this evening to have questions about Tripp’s special of the day.
“Well, it certainly isn’t that it’s not good. It’s just—different,” she said, actually taking a bite.
“I think it’s delicious, Marjorie. Just eat your dinner,” her husband said as he sopped up the last of the gravy Tripp had slaved over with one of her biscuits. “And please give my compliments to the chef on his biscuits. They are lighter than air and absolutely delicious,” he said as he popped the last bite into his mouth.
“Oh, I definitely agree there. The biscuits are delightful. As was the bread served beforehand,” the lady said, and Sadie followed her eyes as they darted to her bag—and covered her smile with her hand as she saw a napkin full of bread sitting on top.
“I’m so glad you like them,” she said as she turned back toward the kitchen. “I will let the chef know.”
“What is that you’re taking to that table?” the customer said, her eyebrows raised as she tried to see the plate Sadie was carrying over to Beau and Hank.
“Oh, this? This is one of the chef’s special dishes from long ago. It’s beef stew and he makes it special for his friends over there,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of Hank and Beau’s table.
They’d been coming in several nights a week for the past six weeks and Tripp always accommodated their requests for his trail cooking. Tonight it was beef stew.
Her husband sat up a little in his seat and said, “My, that does smell good. I think I’ll have that next time I come.”
He smoothed his napkin back over his lap and reached for another biscuit.
“Oh, this isn’t on the menu. It’s just something he does for…”
He sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, that’s a shame. I believe we might come more often if that kind of thing was on the menu. The regular items are delicious, but not something that we would seek out every day. Beef stew, on the other hand, I love and could eat until the cows come home.”
“Oh, yes,” said his wife. “If I knew how to make it, I would, and I’ve never smelled one quite like that before. Truly, a shame.”
She turned back to her dinner and grabbed another biscuit as well.
The rest of the night went by as most did. All the tables were full and Tripp was busy in the kitchen, and it seemed like the restaurant was packed. People tended to linger—in addition to the extra length of time it took Tripp to make their complicated dinners, no matter how fast he went—and Sadie, who had been in charge of the cash bag every night, was worried. They’d been able to pay the first month’s installment of the loan, but now, as the second one drew near, she wasn’t sure they were going to make it.
As she set another plate by the sink in the kitchen, her shoulders sagged and she rubbed the back of her neck. She watched Tripp happily stirring his sauces and grabbing new sauté pans with every order.
A little knot of anxiety niggled at her as she remembered what the customers had said, and the other conversations she’d heard that were similar in the weeks they’d been open.
Suzanne walked in the kitchen, and nudged her head toward the door back into the dining room.
“Sadie,” she whispered just inside the dining room but back away from the customers so they were out of earshot. “We need to talk about this.”
Sadie shook her head, looking out over the sparsely filled dining room as the last customers got ready to leave.
“I know. I get the same thing. How many times a night do you get requests for things Tripp makes for Beau? When they come out of the kitchen, it’s as if it’s a magnet for their noses.”
Suzanne laughed, her eyes dancing. “It really is amazing. He really was a legend as a trail cook, and word seems to have spread like wildfire. People are asking for those dishes who’ve never been here before. And besides, it takes Tripp so long to make the other dishes that we really only have one group of people. It’s not as if they can eat quickly and leave.”
“I’m not sure what to do, Suzanne. It would break his heart if he knew it wasn’t going over so well. He’s put his heart and soul into this.”
“Sadie, the bigger problem is that I don’t imagine you’re making much money at this point. Have you checked? I think the loan payment is due in a few days, isn’t it? Do you have it?”
Sadie clasped her hand to her mouth. “I…I haven’t even looked, really. We had enough supplies for quite a while and so I’ve counted it but we haven’t balanced the books.”
“You’d better do that and see if you can cover the loan payment.”
Tripped poked his head out of the kitchen door, his eyebrows furrowed. “Ladies? Everything all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Sadie said as she exchanged a quick glance with Suzanne. “Fine. Everything’s fine. We’ll be right there.”
She felt Suzanne’s elbow in her ribs as soon as Tripp was out of sight.
“Ouch. What was that for?” Sadie asked as she rubbed her side.
“You know that’s not true. And you’d better count that money and talk to him,” she said as she turned to clear the dishes from customers who were finishing. “And soon,” she said over her shoulder as she turned toward the kitchen.