***
It was our last day of work before officially opening. I could feel the buzz before I even walked into the restaurant, and suddenly the place was crawling with activity - I'd grown so used to it being mostly empty, most of the time, as we prepared.
There were a few people here that I hadn't met, including one who was standing in the corner - I had to look twice, to make sure I wasn't going insane.
It wasn't quite like seeing double. He did look like Chef Dylan, but he was a little shorter, a little smoother around the edges - younger, I judged, though not by much. He was dressed in a well-pressed suit and basically looked like he belonged somewhere much fancier than a kitchen.
"You must be Jillian," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Beckett. Chef Dylan's brother."
"No kidding," I said, before I could stop myself. My face started going bright red, from my chest to the roots of my hair, but Beckett just smiled. "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know what came over me. It's nice to meet you."#p#分页标题#e#
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I guess it is pretty obvious, isn't it?"
"Just a little bit." I held up my thumb and forefinger, a hair's width apart. "So, are you working here too?"
"Sommelier." He jerked his head in the vague direction of the wine cellar.
"It's funny," I said, pulling down a sauté pan. "I never heard about Chef having a brother."
"I try to keep a low profile." Beckett grinned - the same infectious smile that his brother displayed from time to time. "But I'm guessing this job isn't going to help too much with that."
"Just duck if you see any cameras. I'll help keep a lookout."
"I appreciate that," said Beckett, just as his brother swung the door open.
"Jill," said Chef Dylan, nodding at my prep work. "I see you've already met my brother. Good. Could you take him through the menu for me? I need to conduct a few more interviews today."
"Don't make any hasty decisions," Beckett called after him, as his brother walked into the office. "You've got at least twenty-four hours to staff the rest of this place, you know."
I grinned. I could already tell Beckett and I were going to get along famously.
***
The day went by in a flurry of preparation. After I spent the first few hours with Beckett, I didn't see him again until it was time to leave. Just as I was reaching for my coat, I heard a soft muttering noise coming from the back hallway between the kitchen and the dining room. I went to investigate. Beckett was standing there, with a few large boxes and a pile of assorted furniture pieces, staring at a piece of paper with a frown.
"What's this?" I nudged a box with my toe.
He started a little. "Oh. Jillian. I didn't see you there. Just a wine rack, thought I'd put one here - easy to get to, customers will see it passing by, functional and attractive, you know? I might have made a huge mistake."
"Having some trouble?" I smiled sympathetically. It had been a few years since the last time I moved, but I could remember the "putting furniture together" saga like it was yesterday. "I'll help. My train doesn't leave for another hour, anyway."
"Are you sure?" Beckett looked up.
"Course. This beats hanging out in South Station any day." I looked at the instructions, then down at the pile of parts, then back up again. "I...what the hell is going on here?"
"If you figure it out, be sure to let me know."
I had to give Beckett credit for handling this better than his brother would. I couldn't help but picture Chef Dylan trying to shout the furniture parts into submission, and I giggled a little.
"What's so funny?" Beckett blinked at me.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing. I was just picturing your brother trying to put this together."
"Yeah, there's a reason this job fell to me."
"He'd probably just Hulk Smash it," I said, absently, picking up a piece and hefting it in my hand, as if estimating the weight would get me somewhere. "He's got a lot of frustration stored up from being so nice to Aiden. It's not really in his DNA to bite it back."
"Hmm," Beckett agreed, still staring at the stupid little line drawings that revealed nothing.
Something occurred to me. "Aiden's not - he's not your son, is he?"
Beckett shook his head. "No, no." He looked like he was on the verge of saying something else, but he didn't.#p#分页标题#e#
"Oh." I didn't know why, but I was suddenly deathly curious about Chef Dylan's upbringing. Until I'd met Beckett, I didn't even know he had any siblings. "So was it just the three of you, growing up?"