Chương 56: The Kitchen

Joe started moving out three days after announcing he wanted to go on an adventure. I heard him before I saw him, dragging something heavy across the floor upstairs while I cut onions below. Evelyn glanced toward the ceiling as another scrape traveled through the beams.

"Should we help him? Whatever that is sounds heavy."

"If he wanted help, he would've asked before moving it." I pushed the onions into a bowl and reached for the carrots.

"Although with Joe, that isn't guaranteed." Something knocked against the floor above us. Evelyn looked at me again.

"That sounded expensive."

"It probably was." The rain from earlier in the week had finally cleared. Pale morning sunlight reached through the front windows, catching on damp patches along the street outside, while Mara's bread delivery sat warm beside the stove. The kitchen smelled of yeast, onions, and the stock I had started before breakfast. Joe eventually came downstairs carrying a wooden case against his chest. Metal showed through one corner, and something inside clicked whenever he moved. I pointed at it with the knife.

"That was stored above the dining room? I feel like I should've known about that."

"It was above my room." Joe looked down at the case, then back at me.

"So yes." I finished the carrots before following him outside. The rear yard was still damp between the stones, and beneath the awning Joe had already stacked four boxes, a rolled mattress, two bundles of books, and enough metal pieces to make the whole pile mildly concerning.

"Where are you taking all this?" I asked. Joe shifted the case onto the pile before answering.

"I found a place four streets over. Small house, shed in the back." He pressed down on one of the box lids.

"The shed needs a new door, but it was cheaper."

"That explains why you chose it." I looked at the boxes and wondered how much money Joe had spent on things that eventually needed new doors. Money had become difficult to think about normally. Seventy-four thousand, three hundred and seventy-five kamera sat in an account with my name on it. I had checked twice yesterday and once more this morning, mostly because the number still looked like somebody else's mistake.

At The Long Table, I used to know exactly which bill could wait three days and which supplier would stop delivering if I asked for four. Some evenings I moved numbers around by tens and twenties, trying to find enough space for another week. Seventy-four thousand would have kept the restaurant open for years. The thought had bothered me yesterday. It bothered me less this morning, because money would not have made the food better, and it would not have made me better at running the place.

It might have delayed the end without changing it. That helped. A little. Joe looked toward the upper windows.

"Once the rest is out, we can start using upstairs properly. The restaurant needs the space more than I do." I waited until he looked at me again. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You're lead chef now," he said. His tone was the same one he used when telling me a delivery had arrived. For a moment, I thought I had missed part of the conversation.

"I already run the kitchen when you're gone."

"Yeah. That's why." Joe rested one hand on the wooden case.

"You decide the menu. Kitchen purchases that aren't ridiculous don't need me, and if something needs changing, change it."

"And if I make something terrible?" I asked. Joe barely had time to answer before the back door opened.

"Nessa will tell you," he said.

"Probably before I hear about it."

"I would tell him first," Nessa said from the doorway. She had a folder tucked under one arm and looked entirely unsurprised to find us discussing ownership beside a pile of scrap metal. Evelyn stepped out behind her with folded napkins in her hands. Nessa glanced at them, then at Joe.

"Since we're apparently doing important business in the yard, Evelyn should know that Joe intends to transfer ten percent of his ownership to her." Evelyn stared at her.

"You can't tell me that while I'm carrying napkins. At least let me put something down first."

"I suggested we use a table." Nessa gave Joe a look.

"He said the paperwork could wait." Evelyn set the napkins on a dry crate and turned to Joe.

"Why are you giving me part of the restaurant?"

"You handle deliveries, cupboards, routes, and half the things everyone forgets until they go wrong." Joe shifted his weight against the case.

"If I'm gone sometimes, you'll be doing more of it."

"I'm already paid for that." Evelyn folded her arms, though she still looked a little stunned.

"You should own part too." Joe said it simply enough that there was not much to argue with. Nessa took over before Evelyn found another objection.

"Joe will have seventy percent, and the three of us will have ten each. I'll prepare everything properly, and Joe will sign where I tell him to sign."

"I usually do." Joe frowned when Nessa looked at him.

"Eventually."

"That last word is the problem." By ten, the boxes were gone and the first customers had started coming through the front door. I found yesterday's slow-warmth loaf while checking the bread shelf, still good beneath the firm crust but no longer something I wanted to serve beside Mara's fresh loaves. I slipped Joe's observation ring onto my finger and held it close. The markings responded faintly, showing lower moisture but a steady spread of mana through the bread. Joe came in while I was slicing it.

"What are you making? That loaf is still holding well."

"Something that doesn't involve pretending yesterday's bread is fresh." I turned my hand so he could see the ring.

"The mana hasn't scattered much."

"Most of it is still through the crumb." Joe touched two fingers to one slice, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed something I couldn't see. I toasted the pieces and fitted them into a shallow dish, then poured over eggs, milk, cream, honey, and salt. As the bread soaked it in, the ring's response widened instead of weakening. I frowned at the markings.

"It's spreading into the custard. It isn't becoming unstable, though." Joe leaned closer.

"The custard is taking part of the warmth without pulling the rest out of the bread. Keep going." The first pan came from the oven browned along the edges and soft through the center. The ring showed two steady responses now, one stronger through the bread and a softer one spread through the custard. I spooned two portions into bowls and added cold cream with tartberries left from breakfast.

Warmth settled through my chest after the first few bites, then traveled more slowly down my arms until even my fingers felt comfortable. Joe watched his bowl rather than eating for a moment.

"The loaf usually settles mostly through the chest and shoulders. This is spreading farther."

"And slower," I said. The ring's reading had barely weakened. Joe nodded.

"It should last longer too. Maybe an hour, depending on the person."

"Good for winter."

"Or someone coming in soaked." I took another bite and frowned.

"Too much honey."

"The two mana structures are staying separate, but they're working together." Joe finally tasted his portion properly.

"And yes, too much honey." The second pan used less. That one worked. By lunch, we had twelve portions on the board. Nine disappeared before the tables began clearing, and Evelyn returned to the kitchen carrying two empty bowls.

"Table four wants another, and they asked whether we'll have it tomorrow." She set the bowls beside the wash basin.

"We will." I plated the next serving and spooned cold cream over the warm center.

"Tell them this is the last one today." Behind me, Joe packed notebooks and potion glass into another crate. He stole a piece of fresh bread from the counter, glanced once at the custard, and headed upstairs again. I turned back to the stove. Dinner still needed starting, and the kitchen was mine to run.