She cleared her throat, smoothing her hands down the front of her white jacket. "So, is there something else you'd like me to wear? Or...?"
"Forget I mentioned it," I said. "Really, honestly, just...forget it."
She turned back to her station. Her hand was clenched around the handle of her knife in a way that I didn't like at all.
"You must have brought it up for a reason," she said, quietly.
I almost wished she would stab me. This quiet tension was so much worse.
"You don't need to do anything differently," I said. "Just, your normal uniform, everything - everything normal. Honestly. It's fine."
Fuck. Why had I opened my mouth?
Suddenly, the knife clattered onto the table. I jumped a little, but hid it well, I thought.
"If I'm doing something wrong, please, just tell me," she said. There was a slight quiver in her voice, and her lower lip was firmly wedged between her teeth. The nibble would have been adorable if she weren't so obviously pissed the fuck off. "I'm well aware that I'm out of my depth here, but I think you'll find that I'm always willing to learn and improve myself."
It had the sound of a prepared speech, and I briefly wondered how long she'd been bottling up that feeling of inadequacy.
"Jillian, listen to me." I had to gather my thoughts for a moment, and the look on her face wasn't helping with that endeavor. "If there's a problem, ever, I promise I'll address it with you directly. That's one thing you can count on. I never would have hired you if I wasn't confident that you'll thrive here. I don't play games. I know this restaurant will succeed with you here. All right?"
She let out a long breath.
"Okay," she said. "Thank you, Chef."
It wasn't quite the reaction I'd hoped for, but at least she hadn't killed me.
Yet.
***
One thing I loved about charity dinners was the simplicity. When everyone was ordering either "the chicken" or "the fish," it was hard to get things too muddled in the kitchen. Even without my proper kitchen staff yet, we were more than able to handle all the orders with just me, Jillian, and a prep cook borrowed from Chef Shaw. Aiden couldn't make it, but I counted that as a plus.
Jillian arrived looking fresh as a daisy, but I noticed her biting her lip more than usual even during the simple tasks. I'd managed to make her feel self-conscious about something that really didn't matter at all, and she had no reason to even think about.
Excellent.
It was my stupid instinct to try and guide her, to help her as much as I could. She couldn't work under me forever. I hoped she'd be working for me for a very long time, but if I was eventually able to promote her to head chef, she'd need to handle all these things on her own. Of course there was a selfish impulse to mold her into someone who'd represent me well - but I also did care about her. About her career.
In spite of appearances, I really did want the best for her.
When I talked to Barbara about this whole situation, she always developed this tolerant smile, like she was just indulging me in some silly childish whim. And maybe that was all it was. I had a feeling she was holding something back. I hated that, but I hated the idea of finding out what it was even more.
I knew her well enough that I could imagine it, anyway. She's not a child, Max. You need to start treating her like an equal, or she's going to resent you even more than she already does.#p#分页标题#e#
When the entrées were all out, we finally had a moment to breathe. Jillian immediately started tucking her hair back under her hat, and trying to delicately dab the sweat off of her forehead.
"Think we should make an appearance," I said, a few minutes later.
"Do they even care about seeing me?" She leaned against the prep table. "Aren't you the main attraction?"
"Come on," I said. "I can't talk to all of them at once."
She sighed, turning around and trying to peer at her reflection in one of the stainless steel shelves.
Before I could stop myself, I said:
"You look beautiful."
Instantly, I froze. If there was anything less appropriate to say in this situation, to try and undo the damage I did - well, I'd be hard-pressed to come up with it.
Jillian turned and stared at me, then bit her lip again, before swallowing reflexively. For just a moment, my heart stopped beating.
And then, she smiled.
***
"Thank you so much, I appreciate it.....yes, next week....thank you, thank you....yes, it's one of my favorites..."
I could hear snatches of Jillian's rapport with the customers as I conducted my own, and she was doing quite well. I was distracted, but it hardly mattered. Every once in a while, I enjoyed the opportunity to coast on reputation alone.