I don’t move. I’m too stunned. Twenty grand is a whole lot of money: enough to move out of my mom’s place. Enough to buy a new car.
Enough to fund at least six months of travel to somewhere that isn’t Sprucevale. Enough to start my own business if I feel like it.
Shit. Twenty thousand dollars.
This is a hell of a first day on the job.
The people around me start talking to each other excitedly, drifting toward the pie and coffee, but before I could go anywhere Violet turns. She catches my eye.
And gives me a look. A look I’d know anywhere, any time, in any country and on any continent. I’d know it because I used to stay up late studying or practicing or honing my debate skills, fantasizing about finally wiping that look off of Violet’s face.
I’d like to say that, as a grown man, I rise above that.
I don’t.
“They didn’t mention a twenty thousand dollar prize in my interview,” I say, as casually as I can manage.
“Last year it was two thousand,” she says. “And I thought that was cutthroat.”
“Who won it?”
She cocks one eyebrow, and that’s how long it takes me to know the answer.
“Guess.”
I glance around, unwilling to fall into her trap right away.
“Naomi,” I say, watching the sous chef chatting with someone from Maintenance, cheerfully grabbing a piece of cherry pie.
Violet doesn’t bother answering, just looks skeptical. The sharks in her eyes circle.
“Janice,” I said, naming our wedding cake person.
“She’s not even staff, she’s an outside vendor,” Violet says, like she’s explaining something to a four-year-old.
“She’s right over there,” I say, nodding in her direction.
“She probably likes pie,” Violet points out. “I like pie. Presumably you like pie, unless you really are that difficult.”
“Difficult?” I ask, putting one hand to my chest. “Violet, I’m anything but.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m a team player. I’d even say I’m a valuable team player,” I go on.
Her eyebrows rise, and I swear the side of her mouth twitches like she’s about to smile. In the corner of my vision, I see Montgomery — my new boss and presumably also hers — coming toward us, probably so he can introduce us.
You know, professional stuff that sounds a lot less enjoyable than giving Violet Tulane hell.
“Maybe even the most valuable player,” I say.
“Not a chance,” Violet says, deadpan.
“Best be on your toes, Tulane.”
She takes one step closer, eyes flashing, and suddenly this feels very unprofessional. It feels profoundly personal. It feels like a long-held grudge coming back to life and blossoming in the pressure cooker of the first day at my new job.
Also, goddamn she’s pretty.
“You’ll win this over my dead body,” she says quietly.
Montgomery closes in. I force myself to keep my cool, even though inside I’m close to my boiling point.
I want to tell her that shit has changed in ten years. That I’m back and I’m going to knock her down a peg.
I want to tell her that I’m going to win that twenty grand, buy myself a big-ass pickup truck, and drive it by her trailer with the radio blasting fifty times a night just to rub it in her face.
But I don’t say that. I clench my fists in my pockets and make myself smile.
“Hope you don’t mean that literally,” is all I say.
Then Montgomery is there, his good-old-boy smile blazing away. Violet steps back, her face softening, and she makes herself smile.
“I see y’all have already met,” he says, clapping both of us on the shoulders at the same time. “But just in case, Eli, this is Violet, our Lead Event Coordinator. Violet, this is Eli, our new Executive Chef. Eli, did you meet Martin yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Martin!” Montgomery calls, his hands still on our shoulders.
Violet makes a face. It’s subtle, and she controls herself almost instantly, but it’s a face.
Another man saunters over. He looks to be about our age, with dark blond hair, blue eyes, and a sharp nose. His button-down shirt has a Polo logo on one pocket.
Between the look he gave me and the face Violet made, I already don’t like him.
“Martin Beauregard,” he says, taking my hand and pumping it vigorously. He’s got a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and I give him back the same.
“Martin here is in charge of the guest experience,” Montgomery says. “You have any questions about that, just let him know.”
I’d like to know what, exactly, being in charge of the guest experience even means, but I decide to figure it out on my own.
“Fantastic meeting you,” he says, giving me that insincere smile again. “I’m looking forward to our working partnership. Nice seeing you, Violet.”
“Nice seeing you too,” she says, her voice pure ice.
“Fantastic,” Montgomery says to Violet and I as Martin steps away. “Eli, let me steal you away so I can introduce you around. Have you had any pie yet? They’re from Ruth-Ann’s and her strawberry rhubarb is simply out of this world…”