Home is where you are loved the most and act the worst.
~Marjorie Pay Hinckley
***
Today was the day she was going to officially enter the kitchen as the head chef. She was up for an hour now, working on the breakfast. She'd decided on two dishes—pancakes and breakfast casserole—so that the Siftons had an option as to what they wanted to have. Last two meals, they'd eaten whatever she'd made without a single complaint.
"Good morning," she heard Zac's voice.
"Morning."
"Why're you up so early?"
"Well, you know, I could ask you the same question."
"I have been up since six."
"Oh? I was awake too. How did I not hear you?"
"I was at the gym, working out."
"Ah. Okay," she said, mixing the pancake batter. "Um, coffee?"
"Nope, thank you. What kind is it, though?"
"Black without sugar."
"Do you drink sugar-free black coffee?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well, not many people like it that way. They claim it tastes bitter."
"Well, it is bitter. But, I need the caffeine kick, so the bitter black coffee does the deed for me."
"Hm. How does your body function on a mere four or five hours of sleep?"
"You could say I'm habituated by now. Last night was the longest I've slept in, say, six months."
"And how many hours did you sleep last night?"
"From eleven-thirty to five-thirty."
"What! Six hours is the longest you've slept in six months?"
"Yup."
"I think I know why you need the bitter caffeine kick."
"Glad you figured," she chucked.
Zac: 6, Rhett: 8.
"Anyway, what's for breakfast?"
"Reece's pancakes and breakfast casserole."
"Sounds yum."
"Well, come here."
"Yes?" he asked as he came to stand beside her.
"Is there anything on this chopping board that you don't like?"
He saw mushrooms, bell peppers, onion, spinach, garlic, herbs and sausages.
"Nope."
"Sure?"
"Absolutely. But, wait. You said you're making a casserole?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I don't see any cheese in here?"
"Well, yesterday's lunch had a lot of cheese and fat. So I decided to cut down the fats in dinner and breakfast."
"No, but, I don't get it. How're you gonna make a casserole without cheese?"
"Just wait and watch," she smirked.
"As you say."
He stood there carefully watching her as she moved around his kitchen as if she was extremely familiar with the place. He was impressed to know that she knew the nooks and corners probably better than any Sifton did.
She was smooth as she worked. He studied her as she checked on the pancake batter, tasted it and nodded in affirmation before covering it again and setting it aside. Then she focused on the casserole. Taking out a large casserole dish from one of the many kitchen drawers, she set it down on the counter beside the cut ingredients. She was about to drizzle olive oil on the bottom of the casserole when he suddenly remembered—he marveled that he did.
"Wait."
"Yeah?"
"We have cooking spray somewhere."
"I know you do. It's on the top shelf of the third cabinet from the left over there," she pointed towards the kitchen's farther end.
Wow. She definitely knew their kitchen better than anyone else did. Dammit, she gave him the exact location of where the cooking spray was.
"Well then, why aren't you using it?"
"Because according to my chef instincts, olive oil always tastes better."
"Oh, is it?"
"Yup," she agreed and got back to work.
She felt a certain pair of gray eyes boring holes into her back, but she chose to ignore them. Once she was satisfied with the generosity of the olive oil in the casserole, she arranged the bread slices neatly over it and put it aside so that the bread could absorb all the oil goodness. Meanwhile, she started sautéing the veggies, sausages and herbs over medium heat in a pan.
He was too busy staring at her long legs and perfect ass—not that he would admit doing either—to notice her making an avocado shake until she gave it to him.
"Here."
"Huh, what?"
"It's avocado shake. I found avocados in the fridge, so I made some shake for you..."
"For me?"
"Yeah. I've read somewhere that it's healthy to have some sort of whole fruit or fruit shake after a workout, so I thought why not?"
"Well, thanks a lot."
"No problem," she passed him a genuine smile and returned to layering the casserole.
As much as he'd've liked to admire her swift movements, endless legs and shapely ass, he was distracted by her sweet gesture. She'd made avocado juice for him? Because he'd worked out and it was healthy to consume liquids after exercising? Why? The woman who barely made eye contact with him had done something so considerate?
Why had she made him juice? she chided herself. It wasn't like she was here to take care of him. She was here to lead their hotel's kitchen for the next three months till the gala, and to repay the Siftons' favors by cooking for them whenever possible. Making him healthy juices was nowhere in the deal, then why?
Yes, she realized, it had to be because of that stupid damn crush.
It was eight before she knew it, and the bar table was bursting with noises. She'd insisted on sitting at the bar table because she wanted to serve them steaming hot pancakes directly off the heat.
"Okay, Siftons! Who's eating what?"
"Oh, we have to choose? I was thinking more on the lines of everything you've made," Gerald said, earning one of Savannah's signature delighted laughs.
"Well, whatever floats your boat, Mr. Sifton," she shrugged.
"Savannah Victoria Reece," Zac interrupted, making Rhett's head snap towards him. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Rhett broke the silence by answering the question with another question. "You are on a full name basis with my girl? I don't approve."
Oh, that. That was just to get her attention, but now that it had gotten Rhett all riled up, well... This would be fun.
"Yeah, so? That's her name, right? Plus, it's not like I asked you, whether you approve or not." Zac countered.
"Well, you see, it's rude to be playing around with her."
"Really? What else are you doing, sir?"
Savannah watched their banter with wide eyes switching from Zac to Rhett and back from Rhett to Zac, while Stella tried hard not to laugh.
"Enough, boys!" Clair said. "Zac, you were saying something?"
"Yeah, to Savannah Victoria Reece," he deliberately said.
What was wrong with him? Talk about awkward, she sniggered.
"Um, yeah?"
"Where's the casserole?"
"Wait," Stella interjected, "how do you know what's for breakfast?"
"I got to see her making it, kiddo," he smirked, while Stella looked disappointed.
The aroma of freshly baked casserole wafted throughout the kitchen and that's when they realized that Savannah had left, returned and placed the casserole in front of them.
"This looks so delicious," Gerald commented and dug right in.
Savannah looked around the table to see all happy and delighted faces except Clair's, whose looked worried.
"What's wrong?"
"It's nothing..." she tried to shrug it off but failed. The worry was clear on her face.
"If you're worrying about the fat count, you have nothing to worry about." Clair just looked at her perplexed. "There is no junk-ish stuff in there. Only sautéed and baked things."
"Cheese?"
"No cheese, believe me."
"But cheese is very important in a casserole, as far as I know," Clair reasoned.
"And you're right too. But health is most important, and just because I'm here to spoil y'all doesn't mean I'll compromise with your health, Mrs. Sifton. Never would I do that. Rest assured; everything is perfectly healthy."
"Oh, thank you, dear."
"My pleasure. Come on, dig in."
Zac had watched and heard the whole exchange from start to end. He was touched with the way Savannah had handled his mom. She was a wonderful chef without being reckless or inconsiderate towards health. It had only been 21 hours since he'd met her, and she continued to flaw him incessantly. Her work ethics, her functioning methods, her compassion, her amiability, her humility... everything.
"Stop!" Savannah's voice beamed, and everyone stopped dead, making her burst out laughing. And, when she realized what she was doing—laughing her ass out in front of an audience, who were her client's family—she straightened up. "I am extremely sorry. That was extremely rash and indecent. I don't know what got into me... seeing y'all so alarmed made me laugh and then I couldn't control... so I burst out," she sheepishly added. "Sorry."
Now it was their turn to laugh. She looked at them as if they'd all grown two heads. They were laughing?
"Jesus, Savannah. You are one specimen of this world. We never said anything. It's okay to laugh, kid, and I'm glad you feel free enough in front of us. You are one cheerful soul, like my baby girl there," he nodded at Stella, who sprang out of her chair and raced to Gerald, to press a hard kiss on his cheek.
She could sense the love between the father-daughter duo, and her heart swelled remembering its resemblance to what she once had had with her father.
"So, what I was saying was, though we have a business relationship amongst us, right now, this isn't business. This is personal, so you are allowed to laugh your ass out," he said purposely adding the last part to get a certain reaction out of his wife.
And it came too. "Gerald, language."
His laughter echoed. "Of course, honey," he pecked her lips.
"Ew. Gross, dad. Cut it out." Rhett scrunched up his nose.
"Dad, not here," Zac muttered, disgusted by their public display of affection.
Savannah found the couple really adorable. Their love for each other was clear in their eyes when they looked at each other. Though she'd chosen this life for herself, without commitment, she was a woman after all. And being a woman, she, too, wished to see that look in someone's eyes for her.
She sighed. Never mind. This wasn't something she was ever going to get, so there was no point in longing for it.
"Well, I stopped y'all so you wouldn't stuff your tummies with the casserole only. Reece's pancakes are still available."
"Bring them on."
"One for everyone, to start with?"
"Yes!" everyone except the disciplinarian chorused.
She came out with a stack of seven pancakes after ten minutes.
"Here," she said, serving each person one. "There are two extra. I just made them in case any of you finish before I have the next set ready, you shouldn't have to wait."
Throughout the breakfast the sarcastic comments, snide remarks and loud laughs continued. The Siftons were immensely friendly and lovely people. And their family was close and well-knit with strong, unbreakable ties. She would like to believe she had such ties with her family too, but God knew that would be past tense. They lost whatever ties they'd had; they loosened that day.
"Well, guys, it's nearing quarter to nine. I have to be at Magna before ten, so I'll see you guys later—mostly directly on next Sunday, when I'll be going in only for a bit."
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow's also Sunday, right?" Stella asked.
"Nope. Tomorrow's Sunday you won't see me because I'll be working with the other chefs in the kitchen. I'm going in today. If I skip tomorrow, the way we'd've adapted to each other by the end of today will return to how it was before, when I wasn't there, because of the one-day gap. So, me being there till next Saturday for regular working hours is very important for them to adjust to me and vice versa."
"Oh. That's smart on your part, and thoughtful, I guess. So, directly next Sunday?"
"Yes. You won't see me because of my weird schedule. I'll most likely leave by six in the morning and return only around one at night. So, I'll see y'all later. I hope you guys enjoyed the food. And Zac, you were a real sport about the broccoli fiasco. I appreciate that. Not many people would've done that, thank you and sorry once again for serving you something you disliked."
"Not a problem."
Jesus, this woman just refused to believe that he'd actually really liked the broccoli-almond soup.
"Well then, I'll take your leave."
—x—
When she rushed down the stairs checking her tote to see if she had everything she needed, she barely noticed Zac waiting for her at the end of the stairs. She walked right past him.
"Savannah!"
She spun around. He was standing here? "Oh, sorry, I didn't see you."
More like, purposely ignored my presence, he sniggered but said not a word.
"Well, what's up?" she asked.
"Um... you're going to the hotel, right?"
"Well, yeah." Obviously.
"I was wondering if you'd want a lift?"
"Oh, don't bother. I'll walk. It's a short distance, anyway."
"I'm headed to Magna too; you won't be a bother."
She contemplated it for a while, but then decided it was a win-win. "Okay."
"Well, come on."
He took her to the parking lot where a long array of sporty and sleek cars were parked.
"Jesus! You have a car fetish?"
"Of course. Have you seen these machines? The loves of my life. You see that one there?" he asked pointing to a metallic blue sporty car—what she guessed was an Audi. "Such a stunner."
"That's an Audi, right?"
"Not bad."
"Hm. And that's a BMW, beside that a Merc, right?"
"You know cars, wow!"
"Uh. No, not much. Dave has had an automobile obsession since he first looked at a 1953 Chevrolet Corvette. He used to bug me with the images and features, that's all."
"That explains the knowledge. Anyway, let's proceed," he said, leading her to the said Audi. "Audi RS 7 Sportback, this beaut."
"Uh, well. Okay." She opened the passenger's door and seated herself.
They reached the hotel in not more than two minutes. She couldn't comprehend why he used a damn car to travel to a place that was a walking distance from his palace.
She checked her watch. It wasn't even nine-ten. "Uh, Zac, do you mind showing me the banquet hall you mentioned yesterday? I mean, if you have work to attend to, we could do it later as well. It's just that I have time before I have to go to the kitchen so I just thought we could do it."
"Savannah, breathe. I don't have any pressing matters as of now, so we sure could take a look at the banquet."
"Oh, well, thanks!"
The banquet hall was huge.
"Zac, can you tell me what you have in mind?"
"As in?"
"The décor, I mean. Stage or no stage? Things like that, and what goes where, according to you."
"A small platform, probably. You know, so I can address the guests and the works."
"Yeah. Okay. Now where will the tables, like how and where?"
"All around the banquet, round tables."
"Sure. Okay. I got what I needed, and I know where to come if I have any problems. So we're done here. I'll proceed to the kitchen. Um... bye. See you around," she smiled and left while he stood there looking at her retreating figure.
While he was gawking at her, he noticed that she was wearing a pair of black Nike runners on casual clothes. Huh? Didn't women usually prefer footwear that increased their height, or looked wonderful? And, here she was, wearing joggers instead of sandals or heels.
Uncanny, he decided. He'd ask her about that the next time he saw her.
—x—
Okay, a small (perhaps disappointing) warning for all the Zac-Sav lovers, Zac's gonna be kinda MIA (more like, less in action) for the next two chapters. Bear with me. And, oh, I couldn't upload this Monday. Will surely do from coming Monday.
I hope y'all liked Chapter 6. Please vote and comment if you did.
Thank you!!
Until next time...