Chef Part 2
Chef Part 2
Elias lifted the lid from the green beans and stirred. Ben leaned over just far enough to look into the skillet. “Those actually look good.”
June stared at him. “They’re green beans.”
“I know.”
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I don’t usually get excited about vegetables.”
Marcus reached for another cracker.
“We gathered that from your international hamburger tour.”
“It was one hamburger.”
“In Canada.”
“I’m not discussing this anymore.”
Clara laughed. “My sister’s husband would be standing right where you are.”
“Eating crackers?” Ben asked.
“No. Inspecting.”
Elias glanced over. “Inspecting what?”
“Everything.”
Clara leaned against the counter. “My sister has been trying to cook more. She’s never been comfortable in the kitchen, but lately she’s decided she’s going to learn.”
“Good for her,” Elias said.
“Her husband makes it nearly impossible.”
“Bad for her.”
“He cooks. Or at least he believes that because he cooks, he has been appointed Executive Director of All Kitchens.”
June smiled. “Oh, I know this man.”
“You do?”
“Different man. Same certification.”
Clara nodded. “She’ll be chopping something, and suddenly he’s behind her.”
Marcus lowered his voice. “Why are you cutting it like that?”
Clara pointed at him. “Exactly.”
June joined in. “Is that the pan you’re using?”
Ben said, “You put that in already?”
Clara laughed. “YES.”
Elias shook his head. “He’d be banned from my kitchen.”
“My sister has tried.”
“Locks,” Marcus suggested.
“She’d need one on the refrigerator too. He opens it every six minutes while she’s cooking.”
“For what?”
“Nobody knows.”
June nodded knowingly. “Inspection.”
“Apparently.”
Clara reached for a piece of cheese. “The worst was this casserole she tried to make.”
Elias stirred the green beans. “What kind?”
“Egg casserole. Vegetables, cheese, eggs. Something she could make ahead and have for breakfast.”
June looked interested. “That sounds good.”
“It probably is.”
“Probably?”
“The first one never technically became food.”
Elias stopped stirring. “What happened?”
“She followed a recipe. At least she thought she did. Put everything in the dish, poured the eggs over it, put it in the oven.”
“So far so good.”
“She baked it.”
“Yes.”
“Checked it.”
“Yes.”
“Still liquid.”
Elias frowned.
“She put it back.”
“Good.”
“Checked again.”
“And?”
“Still liquid.”
Marcus looked concerned. “How long are we talking?”
“I don’t know. Long enough for her husband to wander through the kitchen several times and ask whether it was supposed to look like that.”
June groaned. “No.”
“Oh yes.”
“What did she say?”
“The first few times? ‘It’s still cooking.’”
“And after that?”
Clara smiled. “Things I won’t repeat at Elias’s dinner table.”
“Thank you,” Elias said.
“Eventually she took it out and cut into the middle.”
Clara paused. June waited. “And?”
“Lake Egg.”
Marcus nearly dropped his cracker.
Ben grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”
“She said the outside looked cooked, but the center moved.”
Elias made a face. “Moved?”
“Her word.”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“What did she do?”
Clara took a slow sip of her drink.
“She waited until her husband left the kitchen.”
June was already smiling. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
“She threw it away?”
“Not in the kitchen.”
Marcus sat forward. “Why not?”
“Evidence.”
Elias started laughing. Clara continued. “She knew if she put that casserole in the kitchen trash, he’d find it.”
“What was he going to do?” Ben asked. “Conduct an autopsy?”
“Possibly.”
June nodded. “Oh, absolutely. He’d stand over the garbage with a fork saying, ‘See, here’s where you went wrong.’”
“Exactly.”
“So what did she do?” Marcus asked.
“She wrapped the entire thing.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Foil. Grocery bag. Possibly classified documents.”
Elias laughed harder.
“And then she carried it outside.”
“To the garbage?”
“To the big garbage can.”
June put a hand over her heart. “Secure Document Destruction Facility.”
That did it. Elias bent over the green beans. Marcus slapped the table. Ben laughed into his hand.
Clara nodded solemnly. “Operation Remove the Evidence.”
“Did he ever find out?” Elias asked.
“No.”
“Excellent.”
“My sister said it wasn’t a failed casserole.”
“What was it then?”
“Research and development.”
Elias straightened. “I respect that.”
June pointed at him. “See? That’s what I’m saying. We don’t make mistakes.”
Marcus raised his cracker. “We conduct R&D.”
They lifted pieces of cheese and crackers like champagne glasses.
“To R&D.”
“To R&D.”
Ben raised his cracker too. “To food that doesn’t move.” They lost it again.
When the laughter finally settled, Clara smiled. “She made it again.”
“The casserole?” June asked.
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“She changed a couple of things. Cooked the vegetables first. Used fewer eggs. Watched the time.”
“And?”
“Perfect.”
Elias smiled. “There you go.”
“She sent me a picture.”
“Of the casserole?”
“Six pictures.”
Marcus laughed. “She was proud.”
“She cut it open right down the middle so I could see there wasn’t any liquid.”
June put both hands in the air. “Technical bake!”
“Exactly. You would have thought she’d won a television cooking competition.”
“She did,” Elias said. “Just without the television.”
Clara smiled. “She was so ridiculously happy.”
“That’s the best feeling,” Elias said. “When you’ve screwed something up once and then nail it the next time.”
June looked at him. “R&D.”
“R&D.”
Elias opened the refrigerator. “Speaking of eggs.”
June immediately shook her head. “No.”
“What?”
“I’ve been having a problem with eggs.”
Ben looked alarmed. “What kind of problem?”
“Hard-boiled.”
Elias took out the carton. “What about them?”
“They come back.”
He stared at her. “What does that mean?”
“Burps. Or worse, south.”
Marcus closed his eyes. “Oh.”
“Egg burps or....”
Ben put down his cracker. “We were having such a nice evening.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did.”
Clara nodded sympathetically. “I know exactly what she means.”
“Thank you.”
Marcus looked between them. “Are egg burps different from regular burps?” Four people turned toward him.
June said, “Yes.”
Clara said, “Very.”
Ben said, “Don’t ask.”
Elias said, “Absolutely.”
Marcus looked fascinated. “How?”
June thought about it. “They remind you where they’ve been.”
Ben stood. “I’m leaving.”
“You asked,” June said.
“I did not ask.”
“Marcus asked.”
“I’m leaving on his behalf.”
Elias laughed and set the eggs on the counter. “I’ll make deviled eggs.”
June stared at him. “Tonight?”
“Sure.”
Ben sat back down.
“Why?”
“Because they’re good.”
Marcus looked at the carton. “I’ve never had one.”
Elias turned. “You’ve eaten balut but you’ve never had a deviled egg?”
Marcus shrugged. “Apparently.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“What is it?”
“Hard-boiled egg. Cut it in half. Take out the yolk, mix it with mayonnaise, mustard, seasoning, put it back in.”
Marcus nodded. “Sounds easy.”
“It is easy.”
Ben looked at Elias. “Is there a heavenly egg?”
Elias stopped. June slowly turned toward Ben. “A what?”
“If there’s a deviled egg.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Ben continued. “Seems unfair.”
Marcus nodded seriously. “Good point.”
“No,” Elias said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Angel eggs?”
“No.”
“Sainted eggs?”
“No.”
June was laughing again. Ben looked genuinely bothered by the imbalance.
“So eggs can be deviled, but they can’t be redeemed?”
Elias pointed toward the stove. “I’m making deviled eggs.”
“I’m just asking for theological consistency.”
“Ask somebody else.”
Elias filled a saucepan with water.
Marcus watched. “So you boil them?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
June raised an eyebrow. “That’s not very checklist of you.”
“I know how to boil eggs.” He placed the eggs carefully into the pot.
Clara looked at him. “Famous last words.”
Elias turned on the burner. “Please. This is the easiest thing I’m making tonight.”
Ben looked at the saucepan. “Those eggs don’t know what’s coming.”
“No,” Marcus said. “But apparently it’s the devil.”
Elias shook his head and went back to the green beans. Behind him, the water slowly began to heat.
“Are eggs even good for you?” Ben asked.
Elias looked over from the green beans. “What?”
“Eggs.”
“What about them?”
“Are they healthy?”
Marcus groaned. “Oh, here we go.”
“I’m asking a legitimate question.”
“You just spent five minutes demanding equal religious representation for breakfast food.”
“That was separate.”
June laughed.
Ben pointed toward the stove. “I’ve heard eggs are good for you. Then they’re bad for you. Then they’re good again.”
Clara nodded. “I’ve heard that too.”
“Exactly. Nobody can make up their mind.”
Elias shrugged. “I’m a cook. Not your doctor.”
“Thank you,” June said.
Ben looked at her. “For what?”
“For somebody finally admitting that.”
Marcus pulled out a chair. “What did your doctor tell you?”
“About eggs?”
“About food.”
June leaned against the counter. “Mostly that I needed to stop thinking there was one magic food that was going to fix everything.”
“That seems disappointing,” Clara said.
“Extremely. I was hoping she’d prescribe a vegetable.”
Marcus nodded. “Three green beans twice daily.”
“Take with water.”
“Refills available.”
Elias pointed his spoon toward them. “Leave my green beans out of this.”
June smiled. “She wants me paying more attention to the whole picture. What I’m eating. How much. Whether I’m actually hungry. Moving more.”
“Cheek rehabilitation,” Marcus said.
“My cheeks are not in rehabilitation.”
“They’ve retained counsel.”
“They’re considering litigation.”
Ben sighed. “We’re back to the butt.”
“We never really left.”
Clara laughed.
June took another piece of cheese. “The weird thing is I’m realizing some of the stuff I thought was healthy wasn’t necessarily helping me the way I thought it was.”
“Like what?” Ben asked.
“Salad.”
Ben stared at her. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Salad is the healthiest food there is.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Marcus looked interested. “What did you do to the salad?”
“Nothing.”
“What dressing?”
“That is not the point.”
“That sounds like the point.”
“It had vegetables. Protein. Avocado. All kinds of perfectly respectable things.”
“So what was wrong with it?”
June hesitated. “The bowl.”
Marcus smiled. “How big was the bowl?”
“We don’t need to discuss dimensions.”
“You brought up the bowl.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
Clara was smiling now. “How big, June?”
“It was a salad bowl.”
“For one person?”
“It became one.”
Elias laughed. June pointed at him. “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re holding a spoon and judging me.”
“I breathed.”
Marcus immediately pointed at him. “Judgment. We’ve established this.”
Elias went back to the green beans. June continued. “I used to think if everything in the bowl was healthy, the bowl had diplomatic immunity.”
Marcus put his cracker down. There was a beat, then Clara snorted. Elias turned away from the stove. Ben frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“It means calories apparently still exist in lettuce.”
Marcus was laughing. “How big was the bowl?”
“We have moved past that.”
“I haven’t.”
June ignored him. “The problem wasn’t really that I made a big salad. The problem was that halfway through it, I knew I was full.”
The laughter softened.
“And I kept eating.”
Clara nodded. “Because it was there?”
“Because it was my dinner.” June shrugged. “I’d made it. I’d put it in my bowl. Somewhere in my head that apparently meant I was supposed to finish it.”
Ben looked at the table. “I do that.”
June looked at him. “With hamburgers?”
“With anything.”
Marcus nodded. “Me too.”
Elias didn’t say anything. He was listening.
“So now,” June said, “I’m trying something extremely revolutionary.”
Marcus leaned forward. “What?”
“I make the food.”
“Yes.”
“And then I put only some of it in the bowl I’m eating from.”
Ben stared at her. “So you’ve discovered serving dishes.”
June pointed at him. “I’m being vulnerable, Ben.”
Clara burst out laughing.
“Sorry,” Ben said.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m a little sorry.”
Marcus nodded. “He regrets the timing, not the joke.”
“Exactly.”
June shook her head. “But it works. If I want more, I can get more. I’m not banning myself from anything. I’m just trying to give my stomach a chance to participate in the decision.”
Elias nodded. “That makes sense.”
“I’m also trying to figure out hunger.”
Ben looked confused. “You know what hunger is.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I thought I did.”
June took a sip of her drink. “I used to treat hunger like it was an emergency.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What kind of emergency?”
“Any kind. If I felt hungry, my brain went, Food. Now.”
“That’s generally what hunger means,” Ben said.
“Not always. Sometimes I’m just a little hungry.”
Ben stared at her. “There are levels?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Marcus sat up. “We need a scale.”
“We do not.”
“We absolutely do.”
Ben was already considering it. "Isn't there a scale for hurricanes?"
Elias nodded, "One through five, five being the most dangerous."
“Category One.”
June closed her eyes. “No.”
Ben ignored her. “Category One: I could eat.”
Marcus nodded. “Minimal threat.”
“Category Two: What’s in the refrigerator?”
Clara laughed.
“Category Three,” Marcus said, “you’ve opened the refrigerator three times hoping new food appeared.”
Elias laughed. “That’s real.”
“Thank you.”
Ben continued. “Category Four: Why is dinner taking so long?”
June looked at Elias. “Don’t take that personally.”
“I didn’t. By the way, sometimes we just say Cat One, Cat Two, etc.”
Ben snort laughed, "I'm picturing cats flying or having a food fight."
Marcus raised one finger. “Cat Five.” Everyone waited. He spoke gravely. “I ate shredded cheese directly from the bag.”
Elias nearly dropped the spoon. Clara bent over laughing. Ben pointed at Marcus.
“Cat Five has made landfall.”
June covered her face, “You people are idiots.”
“Do you disagree with the scale?” Marcus asked.
She thought about it. “No.”
That made them laugh harder.
“But that’s actually what I’m trying to learn,” June said when they settled down. “Not the cheese part.”
“Important clarification.”
“That a Category One doesn’t require evacuation.”
Marcus nodded solemnly. “Shelter in place.”
“Exactly.” She smiled. “I can be a little hungry. I don’t have to panic about it. Sometimes I wait and it stays mild. Sometimes it goes away. Sometimes it gets stronger, and then I eat.”
Clara nodded. “That sounds simple when you say it.”
“It does.”
“But it isn’t?”
June looked at the piece of cheese in her hand. “Not when you’ve spent a long time doing it differently.”
For a moment nobody made a joke. Elias turned back toward the stove. He lifted the lid from the green beans and stirred them slowly. Then Ben said, “I still think eating cheese directly from the bag should only be Category Four.”
June looked at him. “Why?”
“Cat Five should involve driving somewhere.”
Marcus considered this. “Fast food?”
“Possibly.”
“At night?”
“Definitely.”
Clara nodded. “After you’ve already eaten dinner?”
Ben pointed at her. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
June groaned. “My medical journey has become a disaster-preparedness seminar.”
“Preparedness saves lives,” Marcus said.
“And snacks,” Ben added.
Elias shook his head, smiling. And the water was rolling.
Elias checked the rice. “Good.” He gave the green beans another stir. “Good.” Then he lifted the lid from the Dutch oven.
Marcus leaned forward. “Also good?” Elias smiled. “Very.”
“Look at him.”
“What?”
“You’re pleased with yourself.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Clara laughed. “That’s usually when something goes wrong.”
“Nothing is going wrong.”
Elias tasted the sauce from the end of the spoon. Almost there. The rice was ready. The green beans were tender. The base had simmered down exactly the way he wanted it. For the first time all evening, everything was happening on schedule. He glanced toward the table. Cheese half gone. Crackers considerably more than half gone. Five glasses. Four people who had somehow made themselves completely at home in his kitchen.
He smiled. “Okay.” He opened the refrigerator. “Last thing.”
June looked over. “What’s last?”
Elias reached down and pulled out the container. “The shrimp.”
Clara stopped moving. Elias didn’t notice. He set the container on the counter. “I don’t add them until the end because if you cook shrimp too long, they get rubbery.”
Nobody answered. Elias reached for the lid.
“Elias.” Something in Clara’s voice stopped him.
He looked up. She was staring at the container.
“What?”
“Please tell me those aren’t shrimp.”
He looked at the container. Then at Clara. “They’re shrimp.”
Clara closed her eyes. “Oh.”
June looked between them. “What?”
Clara opened her eyes. “I’m allergic to shellfish.”
Silence. Elias stared at her. “What?”
“Shellfish.”
“I heard you.”
Elias looked at the shrimp. Then at Clara. Then back at the shrimp. “You’re allergic to shrimp?”
“Yes.”
“How allergic?”
June turned toward him. “Elias.”
“No, I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” Clara said. “Allergic enough that I don’t eat shrimp.”
“Right.”
“Or anything cooked with it.”
“Right.”
Elias looked at the Dutch oven. The shrimp were still sealed in their container. He looked back at Clara. “I haven’t put them in.”
“I can see that.”
“So this is okay.”
“The pot?”
“Yes.”
“As long as nothing with shellfish has gone into it.”
“Nothing has.”
Clara exhaled. Elias did too.
Marcus looked into the Dutch oven. “So we just don’t add them?”
Elias hesitated. The answer should have been obvious. Except he had spent all afternoon making shrimp étouffée. Without the shrimp, he had— He wasn’t entirely sure what he had.
Ben looked at the pot. “Vegetable gravy?”
Elias looked at him. “Don’t.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Not now.”
June was trying not to smile. Clara looked miserable. “I am so sorry.”
“No.”
“I should have told you.”
“How would you know?”
“You invited me to dinner.”
“And I didn’t tell you what I was making.”
“You said étouffée.”
“You’d never had it.”
“I didn’t know what was in it.”
“And I didn’t ask if anybody had allergies.”
They looked at each other.
Marcus lifted one hand. “So technically this is nobody’s fault.”
Elias pointed at him. “Correct.”
“R&D.”
June snorted. Elias looked at her. “Not yet.”
“I’m just saying.”
“We are not at R&D yet.”
Ben sniffed.
Everyone looked at him.
He sniffed again.
“What?”
Ben frowned. “Do y’all smell something?”
Elias went still. June sniffed. Marcus sniffed. Clara’s expression changed. “Oh.” Elias turned slowly toward the stove. The saucepan. The back burner. The eggs. “No.”
He crossed the kitchen in three steps. “No, no, no.” He grabbed the handle and immediately let go. “Hot.”
Marcus stood. “The eggs?”
Elias grabbed a potholder. “The eggs.”
June’s eyes widened.
“Oh my God. We forgot the eggs.”
Ben sniffed again. “Those eggs smell terrible.”
“Thank you, Ben.”
“I’m just saying.” Elias turned off the burner.
Marcus approached cautiously. “How long were they boiling?”
Nobody answered. He looked at the clock.
“Oh.” Elias lifted the pot.
June backed away. “Should we open a window?”
Clara was laughing now. “I think we should.”
Elias carried the saucepan to the sink.
Ben followed at a safe distance. “What about the deviled eggs?”
Elias turned on the cold water. “There will be no deviled eggs.”
Ben looked genuinely disappointed. “None?”
“Ben.”
“You said they were easy.”
Elias looked at him.
Ben reconsidered. “Bad time?”
“Very.”
Marcus leaned over just enough to see into the saucepan. “Wow.”
Elias looked.
One of the shells had cracked. Another looked deeply suspicious. The smell rising from the pot had nothing whatsoever to do with appetizers. Marcus stepped back.“Those eggs have seen things.”
June came closer. “So much for the devil.”
Ben shook his head. “No.” Everyone looked at him. He pointed toward the saucepan. “Those eggs went straight to hell.”
There was one second of silence. Elias broke first. He laughed, not a polite laugh. Not the careful laugh he’d used the first few times he’d been around these people, when he was still figuring out how much of himself belonged in the room. He bent over the sink and laughed until his stomach hurt. June grabbed the counter. Marcus leaned against the refrigerator. Clara was crying. Even Ben looked pleased with himself.
When Elias finally managed to stand upright, he looked around his kitchen. The shrimp sat unopened on the counter. Clara couldn’t eat them. The eggs had apparently entered the afterlife. His carefully planned dinner had developed complications he had not included on the checklist.
June wiped her eyes. “R&D?”
Elias looked at the saucepan. Then at the shrimp. Then at his friends. He sighed. “R&D.”
Clara looked at the unopened shrimp, then at the Dutch oven. “I feel terrible.”
“Stop.”
“I ruined your dinner.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
“You spent all day cooking.”
“And everything is still cooked.”
“Except the eggs,” Ben said.
Elias looked at him. “The eggs are no longer part of this conversation.”
Marcus glanced toward the sink. “I don’t think the eggs are part of this world.”
June started laughing again. Elias pointed at Marcus. “You can leave too.”
“Where are we going?”
Clara suddenly looked up. “Pizza!” Everyone turned toward her. She shrugged. “Let’s go get pizza.”
Ben immediately stood. “Yes.”
Marcus looked at him. “That was fast.”
“I understand pizza.”
“Of course you do.”
“Pizza has never asked me to eat an embryo.”
“That was one time.”
“One time was enough.”
Clara looked at Elias. “Come on. We’ll box this up. You can have it tomorrow.”
Elias looked at the Dutch oven. The base was beautiful. The shrimp were still cold. The rice was ready. This was not how the evening was supposed to end. Then June lifted the lid from the green beans. “I already know what I’m eating.”
Elias looked at her. “What?”
“These.”
“The green beans?”
“Yep.”
“You can eat pizza.”
“I know.”
June picked up a fork. “But my A1C and I are currently not speaking, and I would like to keep the disagreement civil.”
Marcus laughed. “You’re eating green beans while we eat pizza?”
“I’ll get a drink.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Clara said.
“I know.”
June took a green bean from the skillet and ate it. Then another. “These are really good.”
Elias smiled. “I made enough.”
June looked into the skillet. “You certainly did.”
He shrugged. “I got carried away.”
Clara looked at him. She knew better. She said nothing.
Ben picked up the container of shrimp. “What do I do with these?”
“Refrigerator.”
Marcus reached for the rice. “And this?”
“Container.”
Clara opened a cabinet. “Where are your storage containers?”
“Bottom left.”
She crouched. “Why do you have seventeen lids and six containers?”
Elias looked over. “I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“That isn’t possible.”
Marcus nodded. “Everybody does.”
“Where do the containers go?” Ben asked.
“The same place as socks.”
June, still eating green beans, said, “Secure Document Destruction Facility.”
Elias laughed. “Don’t throw away my containers.”
“I make no promises.”
For the next few minutes, his kitchen became an assembly line. Clara found containers. Marcus filled them. Ben attempted to match lids and failed with remarkable consistency. June ate green beans directly from the skillet. Elias packed the rice. The étouffée base went into one container. The shrimp went back into the refrigerator. Nothing was ruined. Nothing needed to disappear into the outside garbage under cover of darkness... except possibly the eggs.
Marcus looked toward the sink. “What about those?”
“No.”
“We should box them.”
“No.”
“Waste not, want not.”
“Marcus.”
He picked up a storage container. “I’ve got one.”
Elias took it away from him. “Those are no longer food.”
June nearly choked on a green bean.
Ben nodded toward the pot. “Give them a proper burial.”
“They’re going in the trash.”
“Secure Document Destruction Facility?” Clara asked.
“Immediately.”
Marcus put a hand over his heart. “Operation Remove the Evidence.”
Elias picked up the saucepan. “I hate all of you.”
June smiled. “No, you don’t.”
He carried the pot outside.
When he came back, Ben had somehow found the crackers again. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“We’re going for pizza.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’ve been eating for an hour.”
“Category Two.”
Marcus shook his head. “That’s at least a Three.”
Ben took another cracker. “Don’t tell me my category.”
June pointed her fork at him. “Category Three has made landfall.”
They started laughing again. Elias looked at the kitchen. It was a mess. Crumbs covered the counter. There was a wet ring where somebody had put down a glass without a coaster. Three cabinet doors were open. His carefully arranged cheese tray looked as though it had been attacked. The spotless kitchen he’d stood in less than two hours ago was gone.
He didn’t care. Clara held up a container. “What should I write on this?”
“Étouffée.”
She found a marker. “How do you spell that?”
Elias told her. She wrote it carefully across the lid. Marcus looked over her shoulder.“Put R&D underneath.”
“Don’t.”
Clara wrote it. Elias sighed.
Ben looked at the container. “Needs a chef’s name.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Every good product has branding.”
“We are not branding my leftovers.”
Marcus snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.”
Elias didn’t like the expression on his face. “No.”
“Chef R&D.”
June laughed. Clara immediately wrote it on the lid.
CHEF R&D
Elias stared at it. “Absolutely not.”
“Too late,” Marcus said.
“That’s terrible.”
Ben nodded. “Chef R&D.”
“Don’t call me that.”
June picked up her green beans. “Come on, Chef R&D. I’m thirsty.”
Clara grabbed her purse. “Chef R&D, do you know a good pizza place?”
“Stop.”
Marcus headed toward the front door. “Shotgun, Chef R&D.”
“You’re not riding with me.”
Ben followed him. “Can Chef R&D sit in the folding chair when we get there?”
Elias stopped. “You know what? You’re getting the folding chair.”
Ben turned around. “I knew that chair was about me.”
They were already laughing as they headed toward the door. Elias switched off the kitchen light. On the table sat five plates nobody had used. Four matching chairs surrounded it and one folding chair. He looked at them for a moment.
Then Marcus called from the hallway. “Chef R&D! Are you coming?”
Elias smiled. “I’m coming.”
He turned off the dining-room light and followed them out.
Comments