Chapter 3 The plan

“Pasta’s done, Chef,” Jeff yelled from the opposite end of Marcella’s busy kitchen, the sound echoing across the big room. Daisy grabbed the ticket from the counter as she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her chef’s jacket. Adrenaline pumped Daisy’s body. This was dinner service, and she expected a spot-on performance from the new sous chef, Jeff. She always told her crew to put food out like there was a food critic at a table. She stood next to the silver counter next to the kitchen window. “Behind,” Sharon, another sous chef, yelled as she rushed from behind Daisy and placed a colourful-looking dish next to a plate of appetisers. Daisy scanned the ticket before glancing at Sharon. “Amazing looking Insalata Caprese, Sharon.” “Thanks, Chef.” “New ticket. I need one Parmigiana, two Vitello Tonnato and three Malloreddus alla Campidanese. How many minutes on ticket ten?” “One more minute, Chef,” someone yelled. “You’re amazing guys. Keep pushing it.” Daisy smiled before she turned her attention to the waiter standing on the other side of the window. “Table thirty’s appetisers are ready.” **** Daisy removed her hair clip as she sighed. Her body ached, as usual, from running around the kitchen, cooking and overseeing the kitchen staff. Daisy’s shoulders slumped, but she still smiled. I can’t wait to do it all over again. She ran her fingers through her long hair and used her back to push through the double doors and into Marcella’s dining area. The darkly lit, authentic Italian five-star restaurant’s green and red decor with lacquered wood looked hauntingly beautiful after hours. Daisy buttoned her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder while heading towards Mr. Carda. Mr. Carda, a pudgy, elderly, kind-hearted man with a thick moustache, stood behind the bar, mindlessly wiping the counter. Daisy frowned as she watched him. “Mr. Carda, you wanted to see me?” Mr. Carda looked up, rattled. He shook his head, then warmly smiled. Mr. Carda’s blue eyes weren’t warm or friendly. After a moment, he looked down and threw the towel into the sink behind him. He flashed a smile but didn’t make eye contact. Mr. Carda said, “Great dinner service, Daisy.” Daisy relaxed and sat at the bar. She placed her purse on the barstool next to her. “Thank you. I know Jeff will make an excellent sous chef.” “I’m glad. You are a fine executive chef, Daisy, truly a rare find.” Mr. Carda nods but doesn’t smile. “I’d be honoured to provide a recommendation for you—wherever you go.” Daisy cocked her head to the left and studied Mr. Carda. When he finally made eye contact with her, she smiled. “I’m not going anywhere soon, Mr. Carda. I enjoy cooking here too much. Besides, we’re all like family.” “I,” Mr. Carda started, before pausing and grabbing two glasses. “How’s Leo?” Daisy grabbed her phone from her purse and searched for her latest photographs of Leo. “He’s great. I think he’s five going on thirty-five. Emma says I’m exaggerating.” Mr. Carda poured orange juice into the glasses. “I know you don’t drink alcohol.” Daisy watched as Mr. Carda lifted his glass and did the same. “Salute,” Mr. Carda said in a low, sad tone. The sound of glasses touching breaks the loud silence. Daisy smiles. “Salute.” **** The smell of orange-vanilla scent greeted Daisy when she entered the apartment’s living room. She stretched. Emma’s obsession with the orange-vanilla scent always made Daisy want to sit on the couch with a good book and a blanket and vanilla ice cream with orange sprinkles. “Hey, you’re back late,” Emma walked into the kitchen, carrying her tablet. “Do you think Mr. Carda will fire me?” Daisy places her purse and jacket on the coat hook next to the front door. Emma sat in the chair closest to the hallway and gave Daisy a questioning look. “I read that review in the Times. The critic raved about your food. Why would he fire you?” Daisy shrugs. She walked into the hallway, still thinking about Mr. Carda. Shake it off. Emma’s right. The Times review isn’t the only great food review I’ve received. Maybe it was an off night for Mr. Carda. He was so happy last week when his daughter arrived in New York. Maybe he’s sad she’ll be leaving soon. Daisy opened Leo’s bedroom door, expecting to find him peacefully sleeping. The lights were off, but his night light shined brightly, which allowed her to see. She gasped, “What are you doing awake, young man?”  Leo, who sat at his small desk, dropped his tablet, and scurried to his bed. He pulled the blanket over his chin, closed his eyes, and remained very still. Daisy pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. You do stuff like this all the time. I don’t know where you get it from, Leo. I used to daydream until I fell asleep. You do this. With a sigh, Daisy enters the bedroom and grabs the tablet. A spelling game is on the screen. Well, it could be worse. She places the tablet on his desk before she studies him. Leo’s not giving up the act. Daisy shook her head, took a deep breath, and scowled. After she sat on the bed, she yanked the blanket down and tickled Leo until he had no choice but to giggle. “Leo Lang, I’ve told you before to rest in bed until you fall asleep.” She stopped tickling him. Leo, however, kept giggling. “Mommy, I’m not sleepy.” Daisy kissed his forehead and placed the blanket to his shoulders before smoothing out the wrinkles. She told him in her best authoritative tone, “Now, go asleep.” She grabbed the tablet and left Leo’s bedroom. **** Daisy learned early that there were no calm days in the restaurant industry, and today was one of those days. Sharon was late, the prep cook called off and two chefs on the lunch crew went home early. Jeff jumped on the appetiser station while Daisy rushed, calling orders and filling the gaps at the cook stations. Daisy rushed a plate of pasta to the kitchen window where a waitress stood in the dining area. “Come on guys, I need to see some hustle. We’re two tables behind on two appetisers.” She hit the bell and said, “Order for table forty-five.” “Behind,” Jeff yelled and rushed to deliver a salad. “Oh, I forgot the dressing.” Daisy grabbed the salad, ready to place it on the tray when she looked at it. Jeff hurriedly placed the dressing cup on the plate as Daisy sighed. “No, no, no Jeff, please, pay attention to the ticket.” She dumped the salad in the garbage. “The ticket calls for one salad without onions--” “And pepperoncini,” Jeff quickly interrupted before cursing. “Damn. I could have picked them out.” “Remember, Jeff, always make the ticket as written. We never know if the subtractions or substitutes are preferences or because of allergies. Understand?” Daisy watches Jeff hurriedly remake the salad. Jeff’s head snapped back, and he stomped his foot like he remembered something. He quickly blurted, “Yes, Chef.” Daisy returned to making food when she heard Mr. Carda enter the kitchen. “Daisy, uh, can I speak with you for a moment?” Mr. Carda stood near the door. “Mr. Carda, would you mind giving me twenty minutes?” Daisy said, walking a plate of lasagna to the window. Mr. Carda wrung his hands and nodded. He told her, “Well, no.” “Behind,” Sharon shouted, before glancing back at Daisy. “I’ll take over until you get back.” Daisy nodded, grabbing a towel and wiping her hands. She walked past the dishwasher as she entered the kitchen with dirty dishes. Daisy stood in the hallway between the dining area and kitchen and looked from Mr. Carda to a well-dressed woman in her forties. “Ava,” Mr. Carda pointed at Daisy. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember, Daisy? Daisy, this is my daughter.” Ava’s ruffled blue dress glimmered under the dim hall lighting, and with her hair down and nose stuck in the air, she looked very intimidating. “It’s nice to meet you again,” Daisy tried to sound like she remembered meeting Ava. She extended her hand. Ava shifted her Prada purse from one arm to another before crossing her arms over her breasts. Daisy straightened her chef jacket and forced a smile. “Ava, Daisy has a son. He’s adorable and has the cutest dimples.” Mr. Carda looked from Ava to Daisy and back again. “We’re a family here.” Daisy looked at him. She could swear that his expression looked more like he was pleading with Ava. After a long, painful silence, Daisy pointed to the kitchen and excused herself. “We’re short-staffed.” **** It was a chilly morning in New York. Remnants of snow on the ground had turned black and icy. Daisy gripped Leo’s gloved hand while they walked down the street, rushing to Leo’s school. Today was Tuesday, Daisy’s favourite day of the week. Marcella’s was closed Tuesdays. This meant that Daisy would drop Leo off at school and go to Marcella’s to do some weekly housekeeping like menu changes and taking stock of food items. What made this day her favourite was picking Leo up from school. Emma usually picked him up and stayed with him until Daisy returned. Today, Daisy would have the pleasure of listening to Leo go on and on about the day’s events in real-time. There was no hearing the stories second-hand from Emma. Sometimes Daisy asks Leo about what happened at school the day before and got disinterested answers or had to play twenty questions. Yes, Daisy loved her career and felt blessed to have it, especially with a boss like Mr. Carda. However, she’d love to enjoy the mundane tasks of picking Leo up from school and reading him bedtime stories. “Do you want to say the alphabet before we go inside?” Daisy asked as they approached the Federalist-style red brick building on the corner. “Um, no, I think I got it.” Leo skipped and jumped along and clasped her hand. “Uh, Mommy...” “Yes, Baby.” “When I grow up,” Leo paused, stopping to jump over a crack in the sidewalk. He stared up at her before finally finishing his thought. “Will I meet my daddy?” Daisy’s grin faltered. They stopped in front of the door. She frowned as children and parents approached the school. “Mommy?” Oh shit, what am I supposed to say? Do I lie? If I say yes, I’m setting my son up for disappointment. If I say no, he’ll be devastated. Daisy bent down to his level. His beautiful, wide eyes looked curious. Daisy kissed his cheek and forced a smile as she made eye contact with him. “Maybe you’ll meet him sooner.” Leo pursed his lips and looked to the left. After a few minutes, he said, “I think I should practise my ABCs. Daddy might ask if I know them.”