“Hey. Welcome. C’mon over. I got a temporary badge from security for you, but before you leave, stop by and get something permanent,” Deacon said, handing over the name badge.
“Sure thing. Just point me toward the kitchens?” Sara asked.
“I’ll walk you down. I wanted to give you a quick tour and talk about next week anyway.”
Nodding, Sara said, “Lead the way.”
Headed out the door of the executive offices, they headed for the elevator, pressed the down button, then stepped in.
Immediately aware of the closed in space, she tried to make small talk by asking, “Had a good week so far?”
With a somewhat sardonic smile, he said, “It’s been an interesting week, that’s for sure. You?”
“Insane week. One of my employees went into premature labor the other day. We’ve been scrambling to fill her spot in the meantime. She’s gonna be on bed rest for another three months. Luckily, we’ve got some folks coming in on Monday to interview. God, I hope one of them is a fit. I’ve made more mini-appetizers in the last week than I have in the entire rest of my life.”
Deacon winced. “Ouch. Death by jalapeno popper? Your employee. She’s okay though, right?”
Nodding, Sara said, “Yep. That’s really the only bright spot. This is her first child. She was terrified. I’m so glad she’s okay.” Pausing for a moment, she looked slightly disgusted and said, “And seriously, jalapeno poppers? Not in my kitchen.”
Deacon held up his hands and laughed, as if to say, “Okay. You win.”
The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival. Walking through the main lobby of the building, he stopped to point out the security office, a commissary that appeared to serve small snacks, and finally walked through the large swinging double doors into a monster-sized kitchen.
Taking in the stainless appliances, the large refrigerators, and fryers, she whistled.
“You weren’t playing around when you said industrial kitchen!”
“It came with the building but we never really had use for it before. We added the refrigerators, another range, and this.”
He gestured to the small doorway off to the side of the kitchen.
Poking her head in, she looked around the office, taking in the desk, chair, phone, printer, and giant couch against one wall. Looking at him curiously, she watched as he reached into his suit jacket pocket and fished out a key.
Handing it to her, he said,
“You’ll need some sort of work space when you’re here, probably. So here you go. If there’s anything I missed, let me know?”
Laughing, Sara took the key and said, “I’m really trying not to notice the fact that this is double the size of my office at the shop. But you’re right. This is a great space. I brought my laptop with me, so I’ll be able to get to work on next Tuesday’s menu and the ordering.” Pausing for a minute, she looked around again and met his eye, saying, “Thank you.”
He stared at her for a moment, watching the unguarded pleasure in her eyes, then refocused his attention, responding with, “You’re welcome. I know you and Chris had briefly discussed Tuesday. We were thinking something buffet style. We’re announcing the acquisition of a new account. We’re taking over PR for the New Orleans Jazz. If you can put together some sort of theme, then that would be great. There should be one hundred and twenty of us in all.”
Nodding, Sara said, “Absolutely. Monday, I’d like to look at the actual space to see where I’ll be setting up. For now, I think I’m good, though. Thanks again for setting up the office. That makes it a lot easier if I don’t have to go back and forth. Oh, and once I have the menu, I’ll e-mail it to you if you want.”
“Absolutely. On that note, I’ll leave you to it,” Deacon said as he walked out of the room.
Heading back up to his office, he pulled a slight face as he thought about the invoices. Somehow accounting had managed to double-bill some clients, and not bill others. After cleaning house a few weeks ago, Deacon needed to figure out what the hell they were doing down there, so he’d taken the last six months’ worth of invoices and tried to match them to payments.
Finally making headway after a solid two hours of work at his desk, Deacon leaned back and stretched his legs. Seeing the new e-mail from Sara in his inbox, he clicked on it. She had outlined the menu she had in mind. It all sounded pretty good to him.
Soups:
Cajun Meatball Stew
Shrimp Gumbo
Main Entree:
Blackened Redfish