Chapter Nine

Peaches got to work early the next day, determined to put together a terrific chili that would banish all memories of her meatloaf. She swung into the kitchen, only to find Alicia at the stove. Since Alicia never came in for the early shift, Peaches stood staring for a moment, trying to make sense of her presence. “What’s going on?” she asked, finally.

“Oh, I just thought I’d come in and get my chili going. It’s so much better if it’s had time for all the flavors to blend.” Alicia gave Peaches a bland smile and turned back to the stew pot.

“Your chili?”

Alicia nodded. “Right. What we discussed.”

“I don’t remember that you were supposed to do the chili,” Peaches said after a very long moment.

“Oh, really? I remember we talked about my recipe. I thought I was going to do it today. My bad.” Alicia reached for a container of cinnamon on the spice shelf. “Sorry. It’s all ready to go, though.”

Peaches turned away, her shoulders tensing as she hung up her coat. They had, in fact, discussed Alicia’s recipe, which sounded a lot like Cincinnati chili. However, Peaches hadn’t given her the go-ahead. In fact, as she recalled, she’d told Alicia that most people in Western Colorado preferred their chili closer to New Mexican style. She actually had some roasted Pueblo chilies defrosting to add to her own chili version, which had been really popular every time they’d served it. Maybe she could put them back in the freezer if they hadn’t defrosted too much.

Rather than delay their opening to read Alicia the riot act, Peaches got to work on the muffins and scones and coffee cake, which were her main morning business. However, she wasn’t about to let this particular kitchen mutiny stand. She had a feeling if she let Alicia get away with high-jacking her chili, it would set a very bad precedent.

Once she had all the baked goods into the display cases and the bed and breakfast orders boxed and ready to go, she headed back to the kitchen. Only to find that Alicia had left, having placed her pot of chili on a back burner where it could simmer all morning.

For a few moments, Peaches considered sabotage. Pots fell over now and then with nobody around to be blamed for it.

But almost as soon as she’d considered the possibility, she rejected it. She had people to feed, and she didn’t have enough time to throw something together instead of the chili. Besides, she hated to admit it, but Alicia’s chili actually smelled good.

Not great, but definitely good.

Alicia reappeared at her regular time, around ten.

“Glad to see you.” Peaches raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone when I came back into the kitchen this morning.”

“Oh, that chili pretty much takes care of itself once you get it on the stove,” Alicia said airily as she wrapped her apron around her slim hips. She began pulling the rest of her containers out of the cooler, setting up the sandwich prep at the side of the kitchen.

Peaches took a breath, ready to let Alicia have it, but then she paused. Lunch service was less than an hour away. If she told Alicia off now, it would probably affect the way both of them did their jobs. It would be far better to take time after lunch to let Alicia know just where she stood.

And didn’t stand.

She walked back into the dining room to write the specials on the blackboard. She considered calling it Cincinnati Chili, just so the customers would be prepared for something different. But in the end, she let it go. Alicia’s chili would stand or fall on its own.

Lunch was busy, but Peaches managed to keep an eye on the orders. The chili was popular at first, but she noticed some drop-off after the initial rush and several bowls came back half-finished. Still, they managed to serve most of the pot.

Alicia gave the pot a stir around one, smiling a bit smugly. “Looks like my chili was a hit.” Peaches figured Alicia hadn’t kept track of the half-eaten bowls—she didn’t have enough experience yet to realize she needed to do that.

“We’ve got a bit left over.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to repurpose. Peaches figured she’d be relying on Colin to have it for his dinner again.

Alicia shrugged. “It makes great spaghetti sauce, too. In fact, we could put it on the menu as chili mac. My guess is it would be really popular.”

All right, enough. “I’ll consider it when I make out the next round of menus. And I’ll start posting who’s doing what on the white board so that we can avoid mix-ups like we had today. We don’t want to waste food.” Fortunately, she’d been able to refreeze the Pueblo chilies, but she didn’t want to risk this happening again.

For a lot of very good reasons.

Alicia’s smug smile curdled slightly. “It was an honest mistake.”

No, it wasn’t. “Writing down the menu should help us avoid that kind of mistake in the future. We’ll be a lot more efficient that way.”

Alicia looked like she was biting her tongue, but she turned back to her meal prep. Peaches poured herself a cup of coffee and went out into the dining room to cool off.

Blanca was straightening up the take-out counter. “What happened to the chili?”

“What do you mean?” Peaches grabbed a scone and took her coffee to a table. She figured she deserved ten minutes off her feet.

“It tasted weird. All tomatoe-y and sweet. Everybody knows you don’t put tomatoes in chili, for heaven’s sake.” Blanca grimaced. “Didn’t taste like yours.”

“It wasn’t,” Peaches said. It’s immature to feel good about hearing that.

“Well, tell Miss I-went-to-culinary-school to keep her hands off the chili. If I see chili on the menu, I want yours. And so does everybody else.” Blanca went back to cleaning the counter, and Peaches bit her lip to hide her smile. Apparently, Alicia had managed to insult Blanca as well as Colin. And from what Peaches could see, Alicia pretended Tug was invisible except when she had to step around him at the dishwasher. More and more, her liabilities were beginning to outweigh her assets.

She’s a good cook. That was true. Replacing her would be a bitch. That was equally true and an even better reason for keeping Alicia in her job. Right then, Peaches just didn’t have time to run down a new chef.

She took another sip of her coffee, trying to figure out a compromise, something that would get Alicia to stop being a jerk but at the same time wouldn’t drive her out of the kitchen altogether. She took a bite of her scone, trying to decide if it really did seem drier than usual. Alicia’s machinations had made her start second-guessing everything she was doing, which was so not a good idea.

“So what was up with the chili? Were you trying something new?” Ruth dropped into the seat across from her, pulling her cap off her hair. Anyone else would have looked washed out in her white cheese-making overalls and cap, but Ruth just looked striking, with her feathery dark hair and brown-gold eyes.

“Sort of. It was Alicia’s recipe.” Peaches suddenly felt unwilling to tell Ruth how Alicia had out-maneuvered her. It made her sound like a wimp.

Ruth’s smile was dry. “She’s not from around here, is she? That chili didn’t taste like any chili I’ve run into on the Western Slope.”

“She’s from back east somewhere—Michigan, Wisconsin, one of those states.” States where Peaches had never been but where they apparently put cinnamon and allspice in their chili. As a former Texan, Peaches had some strong opinions about that.

“It’s good to try new stuff,” Ruth mused. “We don’t want to get into a rut. But it needs to be stuff people want to eat. Around here, people already have very definite ideas about what goes into chili. The only acceptable arguments are about red versus green.”

“I agree. I don’t think we’ll put this on the menu in the future.”

“Probably wise.” Ruth gave her another of those dry smiles. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your assistant cook.”

Something unpleasant was coming, she was pretty sure.

“She hung around late yesterday,” Ruth started.

“Her prep time ran long apparently.” Although Peaches got the idea she was deliberately drawing things out.

“When I came out of the cheese room, she was sort of waiting for me. I don’t know if she’d really planned on talking to me or if it was a coincidence. Anyway, she had some things to say.” Ruth looked away, tapping her fingers on the table.

Definitely unpleasant. Peaches took a breath. “What was the problem?”

“She had some thoughts about our contribution to the pub opening. According to her, you haven’t been able to come up with the right thing to serve because you’re into diner food. She’s hot for some kind of Italian spaghetti sauce, which she thinks, and I quote, ‘would be a huge hit if it were prepared well.’”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Peaches blurted. “Is she still harping on that damned Bolognese sauce? It’s way too expensive for us. And spaghetti wouldn’t work for the kind of crowds we’ll be serving.” It definitely wouldn’t show off the Salty Goat’s strengths.

Ruth leaned back in her chair. “You could fire her. If she’s causing trouble in the kitchen, you might be better off without her.”

“No.” Peaches sighed. “Right now, I need her. I’m not sure I could replace her at the moment. It’s not exactly hiring season.” If she wanted to increase the restaurant’s clientele, she couldn’t very well get rid of her assistant cook.

Ruth nodded slowly. “Is there any way you could get her to be less of a problem? Does she listen to advice at all?”

“Not much. She’s still in that ‘I-went-to-culinary-school-so-I’m-special’ phase. It probably would have been better for her if she’d gone to work for some holy terror of a head chef, like Gordon Ramsey. He’d have whipped her into shape in no time.” Peaches herself had worked for a series of holy terrors. She’d come out of it knowing her own strength and knowing how not to take any crap. Now she was in charge, and she had some great plans for the future.

“You’ll whip her into shape. And if she doesn’t start behaving herself, you have my permission to fire her ass. Not that you need it, since you’re the restaurant manager. I can step back into the kitchen myself and help out if I have to.”

That was something Peaches wanted to avoid, since it might convince Ruth that expansion wasn’t worth considering. “I’ll figure something out. The whole town would blow a gasket if you stopped making cheese.”

“The whole town will blow a gasket if you stop making scones.” Ruth gave her a quick smile. “It’s your kitchen, kid. Do with it what you will. I’ll look over your updated business plan soon. I promise.” Ruth stood up, reaching for her coat.

“Thanks.” Peaches watched her go. She just had to figure out a way to rein Alicia in. Before she did something that would force Peaches to fire her.

…

Colin spent the next day trying to convince himself he wasn’t feeling sick. He managed to get an IPA run going while he finished up on the ale.

At six, he dragged himself to the Salty Goat. By then, his head had begun to throb along with his throat. He decided he’d still do a light cleaning, make himself some tea, and maybe grab a roll or something. Then he’d head back to the shed and fall into his sleeping bag. With any luck, he’d have slept off whatever this crud was by morning.

Peaches greeted him brightly, as usual, then paused. “Do you feel okay? You look flushed.”

He nodded. “Just a cold. I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.”

He nodded again. “I’m all right. I can do it.”

Peaches didn’t look convinced, but she wrapped her scarf around her neck and headed for the door. “Take care of yourself,” she said as she stepped into the street. “Don’t overdo it.”

For a moment, he had a mad impulse to beg her to stay with him or maybe to take him with her, but he tamped it down. He could do this. He would.

He managed to make it through his cleaning routine by drinking a lot of tea with honey and popping a couple of aspirin he’d found in the pantry. But when he’d finished, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. All he really wanted to do was crawl into his cot and sleep for several hours.

He pulled on his down jacket and hat and headed across the street, buffeted by the winds howling down from the mountains along with a snowstorm. Falling snow drifted across his vision, white in the velvet darkness, and for a moment he was disoriented. Had he wandered too far?

He stared up at the immense block of mountains, trying to place himself on the road. Dark silhouettes of trees loomed in front of him. Was he going toward the mountains rather than the brewery? Snow swirled around him, tiny pinpricks of cold against his heated face, the wind hitting him with another blast.

He took a painful breath, trying to focus. Then he recognized the building to his left—the main brewery building where Bec and Liam worked. Gritting his teeth, he worked his way through the gathering drifts until he reached the shed.

Inside, the baseboard heater was still pumping out heat, but wind whistled through the cracks in the wall. He pulled off his boots and pulled on another pair of wool socks, then hung his coat on the back of the chair before he climbed into the sleeping bag and zipped it up to his chin. For a moment, he thought about pulling off some of his clothes, but he decided against it. He needed all the warmth he could get. Plus, pulling off clothes took too much energy.

He was going to sleep until dawn. And when he woke up, he’d feel fine.