Love at Second Sight

Chapter 8

"Well?"

"This is so, so, so amazing. It is incredible. Oh God. How do you make such stuff? Ugh, now that I've tasted it, I'll want to have more."

"Glad you liked it."

"Is that Cajun seasoning in there?"

"Not bad, Lily. It is Cajun seasoning. I know it usually doesn't go in pot pies, and I don't know how it's made here, but I make it like that. Everywhere the pies look so plain and prosaic. Adding spices and all is my twist."

"Wow. Okay. Wow, wow. It really tastes delicious."

"Good. Well, thank you for all your praise. Come on, now get back to work."

Meanwhile, as the gravy cooked, she added flour, baking soda, butter and salt in a bowl and mixed it till it was chunky before she added buttermilk and worked it to form a dough. She took the dough out and placed it on the workstation to knead it thoroughly. Next she rolled it into a thick layer and cut out the biscuits using a cookie cutter. When finally she had all her would-be biscuits ready, she took the pot off the heat and let it cool down a bit before she placed the biscuits on top of the gravy, after which she put the pot in the oven to bake for around half-an-hour at 375F.

She let out a sigh. It'd been too long since she'd taken orders, and she loved to be a subordinate for once. All she'd done since she'd decided to be a freelancing Le Cordon Bleu chef was giving orders. Of course, she would be giving orders from Tuesday on, but till then taking orders seemed better.

All her contracts for the past two years were long-term ones—four, five or six months—which meant she got a longer time to adjust to the extant chefs in that place as did they to warm up to her. Here, at the Magna, she had only three months to produce an exceptional meal for the party—which required polished teamwork and excellent cooperation which she had to master with her current coworkers in a mere time of three months.

When the oven dinged, she put on her mitts and took out her biscuit pot pie and sniffed thoroughly. Sighing at the wonderful smell of thyme and basil, she set it aside to cool down.

"Something smells good," an Italian voice said.

"I know!" what she supposed was Joseph's voice, agreed.

"Uh, it's the biscuit pot pie Xavier delegated to me. Fresh out of the oven," she told them.

"Ah. That smells fucking gorgeous." Giovanni again.

"Smells gorgeous?"

"Yup!"

She laughed. She could see herself missing these people once she left Magna after three months. They were an amazing team, and even better individuals.

—x—

Four-thirty. Her watch showed four-thirty when she walked past the fountain—the second time—towards Zac's office. The first time, she'd bumped into Gerald, who looked severely disappointed and worried—and her sensitivity had gotten the better of her which had resulted in this unpunctuality.

"Hi, Mr. Sifton," she'd greeted.

"Savannah Reece. What brings you here? The kitchen disown you, Chef Reece?"

She laughed. "No, no. Nothing like that, Mr. Sifton. I have a rough menu ready...for the gala. Just going to run it by Zac."

"That was fast," he admired.

"What can I say, I'm pretty quick like that."

"Oh, yeah. I definitely see that."

She laughed. "Anyway, what's gotten you worried?"