If Only...

COOL AS A CUCUMBER

My heart pounds in the same frequency of the dialer as it rings, and I listen with crossed fingers.

This was the third time I was trying to reach Lily, and conveniently, she isn't taking calls. I just need to hear Rosie's voice once . . .

I sigh when the call doesn't get through this time around either, and drop the phone back into my pocket.

Oh, well.

Just because I said this was the new me doesn't mean I can't call my daughter every hour. The mother factor remains the same in me no matter what. If anything, it has strengthened.

Or maybe that's just because I haven't seen that little darling in forever . . .

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel restlessly, and stare out the windshield at the back doors of the restaurant not ten feet away, but I can see only Rosie's face. And Danny's.

How much longer? . . .

I look at the time on the dashboard, and it reads 12:27. I groan in frustration.

In one swift move, I jump out of the car and lock it behind me, deciding that it was better to work and let time pass of its own accord.

I rest my hands on the door handles, taking in deep breaths. I know it was only three days ago that I was here, but it feels longer. Feels different. Like I was a completely different person three days ago. Pessimism--heck, doubt is history.

I let out the breath I am holding, and enter what used to be my only world a week ago.

A plethora of aromas bombard with my face as I enter, and immediately I'm in my place. This is what I had missed. I would never miss this hadn't it been for Danny. It's terrifying trying to picture his absence. Well, it's only a matter of time before I see them again.

I nod with a smile still on my face at the spate of greetings from the crew as I walk past them, acknowledging each and every last one of them. Some smile back while some stare with widened eyes, and I soon realize that I've never smiled here before.

I stop in my tread.

It had started off as the intimidation and the pressure of adhering to Ian's standards in the beginning when I had just started out, but I now realize that I've never fallen out of that habit. I had assumed that it was just Rosie and I, but my behaviour affected everyone in the kitchen too. How can I blame Adam for lashing out the way he did?

If anything, I owe him an apology. I owe everyone an apology. I remember Ian telling me himself that he thought of me as a friend and asked me to lend him the same favour, and I remember how much easier it had gotten after that. Not commendably, but still.

And my fears of being taking lightly because I was the youngest in the kitchen at the time had made me the tough and heartless chef I was three days ago. I thought it would earn me respect, but it was the same intimidation and pressure that I was trying to get rid of.

Shaking off all of it, I walk straight up to my protégé when I spot him, a plan coming together in my head.

"Morning." I smile, and Adam blinks up from the skillet and his eyes widen upon looking at me.

"Chef! Uh . . . Good morning. H-How are you?" He stammers, wiping his hands to his apron and standing up straight.

"I'm great. So how are we doing?" I ask, motioning around the kitchen.

Formalities first.

A few heads snap back and commence what they had been doing when I look, and Adam clears his throat of the hitch. He was uncomfortable, I could tell. It was pretty awkward the last time he saw me, but that was about to change.