Welcome back to Cilantro and Sage! Enjoy your visit!
Kate scowls. “Why the hell has this dish come back?”
“The patron doesn’t eat pork.”
“But it says lardons right there. Who doesn’t see that?”
“Someone who doesn’t know what lardons means?”
“Seriously? Someone coming into our restaurant doesn’t know what lardons means?”
Ewan laughs. “Come on, Kate, not everyone knows what lardons is. I told you that when we did the menu. It’s best just to—”
“It’s my fault?”
Ewan smiles, takes a mental step back from the battlefield. “No, of course not.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“Your average American doesn’t know what lardons means.”
“The average American eats more than their share of bacon. Suck it up.”
Ewan nods. He’s thought a lot about Aruba these days. The climate’s nice. No hurricanes. Always hungry for new restaurants. Or maybe Victoria, Canada.
“Are you listening to me?”
How could I not when you’re screeching? he thinks.
His humor gives way to sadness. He looks at Kate, her furrowed brow, her lips pressed unhappily. Her pale, creamy skin that he once loved to kiss, her wide reflective green eyes he loved. They don’t reach each other anymore.
“I don’t feel like you listen or care anymore,” she says, her voice cracking.
He looks at her, notices the glossiness in her eyes, how she bits her bottom lip, her fingers strangling the ties on her apron. How did he not notice how much she was hurting?
“I care. We just need to cook. Make people happy. That’s what we’re about, right?” he asks.
She nods, silently. The fight leaving her. She seems to think and nod even more, looking down at the linoleum, her bottom lip trembling.
He touches her cheek. She kisses his fingers. He feels something stir in him that’s been gone for months. Maybe, just maybe they aren’t lost.