A Recipe for Rivalry Page 2

  “You don’t have to do this, you know... I can manage on my own!” she said.

  “What sort of gentleman would not help another in need?” I pleaded.

  We were just walking out of the restaurant when a car pulled up to us. It was the Chef’s daughter, Danielle. She jumped out of the back seat, restless as ever. Her cat-like grin grew so wide when she saw us, I was afraid her face would snap in two!

  “Hiii, guys!” she exclaimed. “I see you two are getting along well...”

  “We were just closing up,” Chloe replied, then turned her attention to me. “Would you like us to give you a ride home?”

  “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t live too far from here, plus I like the exercise,” I explained.

  “Come on... we can’t let handsome guys such as yourself walk around unattended. There are a lot of crazy women out there, you know,” Danielle argued, making us all laugh. I relented and agreed to hop on in next to the girls.

  On second thought, that ride seemed like the perfect excuse for them to find out where I lived. Grinning to myself, I realized I didn’t mind their interest in my private life. My place wasn’t big by any means, but it was very comfortable. I was renting a cozy little apartment overlooking one of the less busy neighborhood streets. Chloe looked up as we stopped in front of the entrance to my building.

  “Are those your windows, Michael? That must be at least two rooms... do you live with someone then?” she asked.

  “Uuu, someone’s clearly interested...” Danielle mused to herself, loud enough for everyone to hear. That remark got her a swift elbow to the ribs from her fast-reddening friend.

  “No, I’m not!” Chloe retorted, almost fuming from her ears.

  I chuckled and waved my goodbye to the girls who seemed to have started a friendly fight in the back of the departing sedan.

  Chloe

  “Michael’s so handsome... and the way he talks to you, it’s no wonder you like him!” Danielle continued with her not-entirely-baseless insinuations.

  “I don’t like him that way!” I protested for the umpteenth time, but I knew my side of the story wouldn’t matter to her in the slightest. Once she had an idea fixed in her head, it was impossible to get her to shut up about it. Right then, she was obsessed with a crazy vision of Michael and me forming a couple.

  “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t want to mount that rugged face of his right on the kitchen counter! Say what you will, Michael likes you, it’s plain for me to see,” Danielle kept teasing.

  I had other things on my mind then, though. The two weeks of training at the restaurant went by like days, and we were set to start working the competition stalls soon. Chef Didier’s ultimate goal was to see who of us could attract the most customers. I was glad to be his student, and I’d already learned so much from just working for him, but there was still something I couldn’t stop worrying about.

  Unlike Michael, with his natural charisma, I was terrible at talking to people. Chef Didier himself also had an unstoppable flow of words, and his daughter inherited his flamboyant exuberance. Thanks to my parents’ controlling attitude toward me, I unfortunately had neither of those gifts.

  If I’m not any good with people, how can I ever draw in customers?

  Chapter Three

  Michael

  Chef Jean Luc Didier was the real deal.

  His cooking was incredibly popular, his dishes – world-renowned. For such a man to take students under his tutelage was not something to be taken lightly. I’d been his mentee for almost six months, and just then, I had my most significant opportunity to prove myself to him.

  The Chef’s veritable trial by fire was set to go on for two months, with the winner being awarded a full scholarship to the Le Cordon Bleu in Tokyo, Japan, as well as funding for a state-of-the-art restaurant of one’s own.

  Chef Didier himself was an alumnus of this fabled culinary school, and he always recognized the impact it had on his international success. Graduation from Le Cordon Bleu would mean instant global recognition. I craved that opportunity for myself, and there was no way I’d get it without that scholarship.

  Our two stalls flanked the Génie on both sides, near the end of what was usually a bustling touristy street. They were shrewdly placed so that a customer who walked toward us would have to pick one over the other. Chloe and I had identical menus to serve food from, but we could always pick our own daily specials. Therefore, the contest was based on pure cooking talent and chef-customer relationship. Luckily, I have both!

  Chloe and I worked on personalizing our stalls late into that first evening, relishing the decorating work and reveling in the possible realization of our individual dreams.

  “So, how do you feel about all of this?” I asked as I backed away to study my stall’s elegant chalkboard signage.

  “Overwhelmed would be one word for it,” she replied honestly from my right.

  “Would you be angry at me if I won?” I kept prying, stealing a peek in her direction.

  “No,” she answered, but her voice was noticeably quieter. “If you won, then it would mean you were the better chef. I could never be angry at that.” Her honest answer made my respect for her grow even more. I was just going to comment on that when Chloe decided to surprise me yet again.

  “Umm, so... would you, maybe, want to have dinner with me tonight?” she asked timidly.

  “You know what, I’d love that! And, if you don’t mind, I know just the place.”

  Chloe

  The restaurant Michael chose was nothing special at first glance. It looked so much like all the others I’d been to during my early meanderings around Paris. Its top-floor interior was roomy enough, with large glass windows and solid oak furnishings. Nonetheless, Michael insisted we dined on its rooftop terrace, and soon enough, I understood why. As we took our seats, I noticed how the myriad stars all around us framed the Tour Eiffel perfectly as it shone brilliantly above the city’s skyline.

  “I didn’t pick you as an old-school romantic, Michael,” I laughed, most pleasantly impressed. “So, what would you recommend I get?”

  I knew he must’ve had something in mind for me to try, and I was right. With a sly wink, he denied me a straight answer. Instead, he gave our orders to the waiter in fluent French, ending with a perfectly-accented merci beaucoup. Even though he was my opponent, I couldn’t help but appreciate how Michael was always so polite and gentlemanly.

  “You’ve never told me where you’re from, you know,” I asked coyly.

  “Well, mum’s Irish, but I grew up in Manchester, England,” he replied as he adjusted the napkin on his lap. “I actually came here by myself last autumn.”

  “So, she must be waiting for you back in the UK then?” Suddenly his demeanor visibly changed, and I could feel the air around us getting heavier. “Oh, goodness... I’m sorry, Michael, I didn’t know!”

  “It’s fine, love... That’s actually the reason I live alone in a two-bedroom apartment. Mum was supposed to relocate here with me, but she passed away before she ever got a chance to do so. She... apparently suffered from an undiagnosed heart condition and passed away one night in her sleep. I guess there are worse ways to go...”

  I suddenly felt terribly sorry for him. Michael seemed to notice my concern and gave my hand a short squeeze.

  “It’s really okay, Chloe. I’ve made my peace with it already... But what about you? You haven’t told me about your parents, either. I hear they’re pretty well off, aren’t they?” he asked with a smile.

  Michael’s question hit me like a kick to the gut. My parents had always been a touchy subject for me. But, since he had opened up, I felt I had to show him the same courtesy.

  “Yes, they are quite rich and well-known around New York, especially Wall Street.” I could tell he expected more, so I sighed and continued. “Let’s just say my father didn’t take kindly to me wanting to become a chef...”

  All throughout my recollection, Michael listened intently, almost
like he was hanging onto every word. He looked like he was about to say something in return when our waiter suddenly placed our orders in front of us. The tantalizing aroma of my boeuf bourguignon and his tartiflette made my taste buds water in anticipation.

  “So... halfsies?” I suggested smiling, and he chuckled his agreement.

  I sampled one bite from my own dish and promptly decreed it the single best piece of beef I’d ever tasted. “This is simply amazing, I’ve never eaten anything like it!”

  Michael noticed the expression on my face and couldn’t contain his mirth anymore. “Welcome to Paris, mademoiselle américaine! There’s so much more I’d like to show you.”

  ***

  After we’d finished our dinner, Michael walked me home with the promise of taking me on a pedestrian tour of “his fair city” soon. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about Paris made him look so attractive. As we walked at a languid pace toward my place, he kept talking on and on, yet I was somehow unable to register a single word of his. I found myself completely mesmerized by his presence the whole way back. How come I never saw this side of him until now?

  “What about your mum, though? You haven’t mentioned her to me at all,” he asked, snapping me back to reality.

  “Oh, sorry... I actually thought she’d be the one who’d have my back, but all I’ve heard from her is how I should be apologizing to my father and be grateful for everything he’s given me. That’s just the thing, though: I don’t want anything handed out to me. I want to build something of my own, something I could be proud of having earned it myself!”

  When we entered my building, Michael escorted me all the way up to the apartment I was sharing with Danielle. He held open the door of the rickety elevator for me, but made no motion to come any further. “Tonight was just lovely, Miss Wester. I’d very much like to do it again sometime.” Then he bowed his head, turned around, and headed back down the stairs.

  I walked into the apartment to see Danielle already sitting by the living room windows, waiting for me. She was wearing the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her.

  “Tell... me... everything!” she squealed with delight.

  Chapter Four

  Chloe

  He couldn’t possibly be that lucky, could he?

  It was our first day of working the stalls, and Michael had attracted the majority of customers. He was so damned good-looking and charismatic... He even turned up his British accent!

  Half the people who came by looked at me once, but all he had to do was smile and wave, and off they went, running in his direction. Our little competition was starting to feel like an uphill battle.

  Later that same evening, I sat at home and tried some new recipes for the next day’s special. I needed to come up with something so good it would wipe that smug look right off his chiseled face.

  As I kept looking for inspiration, a particular dish caught my eye. It was something simple, traditional and utterly scrumptious – the classic English shepherd’s pie.

  All right, Michael boy, two can play your dirty game!

  ***

  One thing our competition taught me was that I loved people watching. Not in a creepy way, of course, but just by looking at them, you could sort of guess what they might be willing to try.

  That day, I had my warm shepherd’s pie ready, and it seemed wildly effective. I still didn’t count as many customers as Michael did, but my special’s irresistible aroma drew in a lot more people than I’d managed the previous day. I was just about to close shop for the evening when my adversary walked up to me.

  “Good day today, love?” he asked as he strutted over to my stall.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. I’m still getting used to the French, though!” He laughed and sat down beside me.

  “Say, do you think I could maybe have a taste of your pie? My mum used to make it often when I was a tyke. I haven’t ever tasted one that we didn’t make ourselves, but I’d be willing to try yours if you’d let me.”

  With a smug grin in the corner of my mouth, I handed him a big slice, and his face instantly lit up.

  “Mmm, this is delicious, Chloe!” he mused while wolfing it down.

  “One day, you’ll have to stop sounding so surprised every time you taste my food,” I retorted smugly. Michael couldn’t help but laugh. I was starting to really enjoy those moments where it was just the two of us, spending time with one another. Something was still in the back of my mind, though, and before I could stop myself, the words came out on their own.

  “Do you think I might not be cut out for this stuff?” My insecurity appeared to startle Michael. He’d clearly not been expecting it, but before he could say anything, Danielle’s sing-song trill interrupted us out of nowhere.

  “You two look so cute together, have I mentioned that before?” her voice reached us before she did. “I just came over to tell you that Papa wants to see you both soon. He’d also appreciate a detailed report on your progress and a look into your stalls’ accounts to see how many customers you’ve had by then.”

  When it came to our little contest, Danielle had decided not to pick a side because she knew her dad wouldn’t like that at all. Therefore, she tried to stay neutral whenever she visited our stalls. I knew she’d have loved for us to get a scholarship each, but Chef Didier could only recommend one student to Le Cordon Bleu. The tuition alone was too expensive to accommodate both of us.

  Michael and I knew full well neither of us would suffer being the loser.

  Michael

  “C’est magnifique! I haven’t anticipated so much growth in such a short time, I’m truly proud of you both.”

  It was always good to receive praise from my mentor. I’d done very well with my own stall. I knew it, and the Chef only confirmed that.

  “Fletcher, your results have been excellent, as always! Chloe, you’ve done terrific work for a novice, but you’ll still need to do better if you wish to overtake him.”

  I noticed he liked addressing Chloe by her first name. He always called me by my last name, even though all I ever got from him was praise. I could never understand why that was, but I let it go.

  The remainder of that first progress meeting was just some more words of advice before the Chef had to leave in a hurry, leaving us alone in the Génie’s seating area. Chloe and I decided to share a meal before we went home.

  “Look, Michael... How do you do it?” Chloe started suddenly.

  “Do what?” I asked with genuine surprise.

  “Draw all those masses of people toward you! I realize you’re an amazingly talented chef, but how do you mesmerize them like that? It’s almost like you can read their minds. How do you always seem to say just the right things?” Chloe appeared genuinely upset and confused.

  “There really are no secrets!” I laughed. “People are just easy for me to understand. It’s not that hard to find out what they want. You, however, are someone I’ve had a little trouble reading, you know that?”

  Chloe shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, I respect you both as a friend and an opponent, but you still seem a bit insecure. Do you believe you can compete against me?”

  “Yes, I do!” she blurted, straightening herself up, a fierce determination burning in her eyes. “You might think I don’t deserve this chance, but when I win, I hope that’ll be enough to convince you otherwise.”

  It was as if she was a different person just then – the fierce competitor I witnessed every time she cooked.

  “Don’t hold back then, Miss Wester,” I grinned, accepting her stern challenge.

  Chapter Five

  Michael

  The day is nearly over...

  Right then, when time was everything, I hadn’t seen Chloe since the previous evening. I felt like I should’ve called her, but I figured she’d show up eventually. Still, a whole day was too much for her to be missing.

  “Hey, what happened to your lady friend?” a
steady customer asked me. “I used to like her specials... Did she drop out or something?”

  “I sure hope not,” I said to both him and myself.

  After closing up shop, I went to her apartment building once more. It would be better if I found out in person if something had gone wrong. A quitter was the last thing Chloe was, especially after the determination she’d shown the day before. I climbed the stairs up to her floor, to what I remembered was her door. I’d barely pressed on the doorbell button, before the door swung wide open, almost like I’d been expected. It was Danielle who stepped out into the hallway, though, fully dressed to the nines.

  “Michael! I’m happy to see you, but are you here because of what happened to Chloe?” she asked after closing the door behind her.

  “What do you mean... what happened to her?” I tried to keep the worry from my voice, but I was doing a poor job of it. “Is she okay?”

  “I had second thoughts about leaving her like this, but since you’re here, I really need to go now. I have a fashion event we were supposed to attend together, but I know she isn’t up for it anymore. I’ll see you later, Michael.” She then rushed off, leaving me standing in front of their door. Without ringing the doorbell again, I let myself right in.

  With all of their collective wealth, I was surprised to discover that Chloe and Danielle’s apartment was smaller than mine. Their living room was occupied by two armchairs and a cushy sofa overlooking a central glass coffee table, and a large TV recessed into the opposite wall. The tall window looking out onto the street below was covered with heavy lavender drapes. Chloe sat on the sofa, a half-eaten tub of ice cream melting on her lap. I took a seat beside her and moved the tub onto the table in front of us. She barely made any move to acknowledge my presence. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

  “Chloe... are you okay? Danielle refused to tell me anything,” I started.

  “Yesterday evening, after I got back home, my mother called me...” her voice barely above a whisper. “She said she was done with me, that they were both done with me. My mother was the only one who ever tried getting close to me. Maybe I made a mistake coming here, maybe I-” Chloe tried pushing further, but her sobbing had taken over again. I placed an arm around her, and she leaned into my shoulder.